Two Pages 

Of Notes To Self

This morning there was tea in a white mug with Peace Love Joy & Family written on it in red capital letters. I chose it specially as it seems we could use more of such sentiments around Witt’s End of late, and because I secretly believe choosing the right mug for morning tea will somehow help shape the day.
Is this foolish? Superstition? Downright stupid or weird? I can’t decide.
So I keep doing it.

I like to keep my bases covered.

N.T.S.: Do not have back surgery. Though the Dr. will undoubtedly advise it. The recovery time is four to six months.
MONTHS.
Good God. This is unacceptable. I’m still uncertain exactly what this recovery entails.
Whatever it entails, when can I possibly schedule up to six months of recovery?
Is the View Ahead wide enough to hold such a large number of days spent getting back to whatever normal is, as well as everything else it must contain?
Answer have I none.

This morning one son is off to the Dr., another takes his girlfriend to the commuter train, another does his schoolwork. My oldest son, the-one-who-grew-up-and-moved-out-despite-my-best-efforts-to-keep-him-still-a-kidlet, is no doubt off to work Being A Stockbroker.
Scott is vacuuming – I’m uncertain just why other than he “does a better job” than the person whose assigned chore it is.
(This is completely and utterly true.)
My Aunt Nona told me not to have back surgery. Her friend did and now can’t move her arm.
My Dr. says the nerves in my back (my lowest vertebrae are deformed, this is a long, weird story), are nowhere near the nerves in my arm.
I’m not sure who to believe. I like my Dr. but I’ve known my Aunt Nona longer.

N.T.S.: How did Jesse become a stockbroker? He who was to be a politician, a teacher, a paleontologist. This thought crosses my mind, often from out of the blue with no warning whatsoever. Leaving me wondering.

N.T.S.: Ask the Dr. about the nerves in my legs. If I wind up not being able to move my leg post surgery I’m going to be majorly pissed.

My daughter Annie tells me she had a bad dream last night involving Christmas. (I suspect Jack Skellington is somehow involved in this.)
I tell her to think happy thoughts, to read happy things before bed; then her mind will be filled with beautiful pictures, and her dreams with shooting stars and Peter Pan flying and clouds of joy.
(I believe this. Try it.)
Annie had become more difficult of late. She is ornery. Her first response to everything is “No!” Somehow, somewhere, she seems to have lost the Taking of Joy.
(It must be Taken, if you truly want it. It is rarely given. Though when it is mark that moment well; it was a blessing.)
Scott and I talk of taking her to a therapist specializing in special needs patients. She needs a physical, a heart check. (To make certain the patch upon her heart, placed there by sure hands so many years ago and now covered thick with muscle, is still fulfilling our bargain.)
Does she need an antidepressant? (As I do.)
Has she inherited the mutated gene I have, preventing the proper absorption of folic acid; preventing its role in carrying all the “feel good” hormones to the brain? Does the fact she has Down Syndrome affect such things? Will she react differently to antidepressants than someone else?

Than me.

N.T.S.:
Call the therapists you googled yesterday.

Google how antidepressants can affect people with Down Syndrome.
Do something about that old blog.
The laundry piles have taken over the laundry room. Find it.
Could weights help my back? Will my inability to bend over and lift something without exclamations of pain affect this idea?
Why is the deciding of dinner such an overwhelming burden?
Do not allow any day from this moment on to pass without making certain it is filled with a Taking of Joy. Make certain it contains some step toward the fulfillment of the Seven Realms. Embrace the View Ahead.

This moment my Peace Love Joy & Family mugs stands empty; it has been replaced by a diet coke with lemon.
As I watch Ellie and Lily chase through the back yard’s too long grass. And set myself to get down to business.

ldbtaylor lisa db taylor hyggebypost.com ldbtaylor.com

 

 

 

 

 

Rory crossing the river on our last camping trip over last weekend.
(See the fairy above him leading the way? 😉

notes to self writing prompt ldbtaylor.com

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