Differing Opinions

Fandango’s challenge word this morning is CONTRAST

I offer this poem as my response:

THE DOCTOR
by Edgar Guest

I don’t see why Pa likes him so,
and seems so glad to have him come;
he jabs my ribs and wants to know
if here and there it’s hurting some.

He holds my wrist, ‘cause there are things
in there which always jump and jerk;
then, with a telephone he brings,
he listens to my breather work.

He taps my back and pinches me,
then hangs a mirror on his head
and looks into my throat to see
what makes it hurt and if it’s red.

Then on his knee he starts to write
and says to Mother, with a smile:
“This ought to fix him up all right.
We’ll cure him in a little while.”

I don’t see why Pa likes him so.
Whenever I don’t want to play
he says, “The boy is sick, I know!
Let’s get the doctor right away.”

And when he comes, Pa shakes his hand,
and hustles him upstairs to me,
and seems contented just to stand
inside the room where he can see.

Then Pa says every time he goes,
“That’s money I am glad to pay;
it’s worth it, when a fellow knows
his pal will soon be up to play.”

But maybe if my Pa were me,
and had to take his pills and all,
he wouldn’t be so glad to see
the doctor come to make a call.

From the book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co

“It’s Over”

Fandango’s prompt word for today is OVER. As I took a second look at it just now to see if the word would nudge me into a blog post, a memory popped up. So here’s my response:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s over,” I’d tell myself. Over and over I repeated those words, fighting the feelings, the sensations running through my system.

When I was 27 I found a hard, walnut-sized lump in one breast. A shocker. I thought my life was OVER — too soon! Five minutes later I’d made an appointment with my GP.  Within a week I was facing surgery for breast cancer.

Being so young, I recovered fairly fast afterward. I was booked for a trip to the Cancer Clinic at London’s Victoria Hospital. (London, Ontario, that is) I was given three different oral chemo drugs and the oncologist set up a schedule for chemo-therapy.

Every Monday morning I had to report for blood tests, then was taken to a small room where I sat and had that stuff pumped into my veins. As time went on the veins got more uncooperative and would collapse when the nurse tried to insert the needle. She tried 3 or 4 sites at times. Now THAT got painful!

It’s pretty hard to describe how I felt after chemo. Not really weak, but like you had something inside you that you just didn’t WANT to feel or think about. Even back in Jan of 1981, when I started chemo, they had pretty good anti-nausea drugs but I didn’t push my luck by thinking about how I felt. I focused on, “This will very soon be over.”

For the first eight treatments the drugs (methotrexate, vincristine, and something called FV) were cold from the fridge, injected right into my vein. Definitely chills a person! Sometimes I read that expression in a tension-filled scene, “His blood ran cold.” I believe I know what that feels like a lot better than any story character. 🙂 And before long my head was cold, too, because my hair started falling out after the second treatment and was completely gone by the third.

Vincristine—extracted from a South African primrose, if I recall correctly—has some nasty side effects: it damages the nerve endings. I had to quit that after three treatments because my finger tips and toes were numb.

The second round, Adriamycin, lasted four weeks, again once a week. This drug was so damaging to the vein the nurse would inject it very slowly through an IV drip. Thankfully, though, it didn’t knock out my hair, which had started to grow again.

During those weeks different friends kindly drove me into the city and drove me home again. We went straight home, never tried to stop and pick up this or that. And all the way home I’d tell myself, “It’s over.”

At certain times of your life, OVER can be a most beautiful word.

 

The Sweet Life, Thanks To…

…A LOT OF CLEVER PEOPLE!

Good morning everyone. I’ve evicted Pookie from my office chair and taken his place to write a few lines in response to our daily prompt words. Since he’s notorious for jumping back into my chair again the moment I leave the room, I’d best stay put until I finish.

I was awake around 3:30 am this morning — at Pookie’s insistence — and staggered to the door to let him out. Most folks are unwilling to cope with a cat getting them up in the wee hours and I shouldn’t have to, either. New management aim: cats out at 11pm. They can embrace the night with all its wonders, like the scurrying of tiny critter feet. (I’ve observed that they love embracing tiny critter feet et al.)

Anyway, the sun was up already, just starting its long journey across our prairie sky, and the internet is always live, so I took a peek at a couple of sites offering one-word writing prompts for today. Fandango’s word in particular, kudos, opens up a lot of possibilities! My mind circled around the thought for a few minutes as I crawled back under the covers, then I zonked out for the rest of the night.

At a decent hour I got up again and made my way to the bathroom. Kudos to the inventors of indoor plumbing, shower heads, and toilet paper. (How many of you remember the old outhouse with tissue supplied by various mail-order companies? I do, and infinitely prefer the indulgence of today’s softer replacement.)

My thanks to whoever invented the spinning wheel and decided to try spinning cotton into a thread. (I think Eli Whitney fits in here somewhere.) I’m quite thankful to see the end of wool undies and stockings! Speaking of decent undergarments — bless your dear hearts, Wonderbra, Maidenform and other companies that have given us the comfort and support we ladies enjoy today. My mom told me once that all they had in her youth were home-sewed cotton bras that gave neither. And corsets have been abandoned. My undying gratitude for that!

Throw in a heap of accolades to the person who invented polyester. My lightweight dress for today is all cotton, but I’m thankful for all our poly-cotton dresses and shirts that don’t need to be ironed.

Which brings me to knits. Weaving threads into fabric is fairly self-evident, though looms were a real boost in their day. But I’ve wondered different times, whoever had the brilliant idea of winding threads around two sticks and looping them around somehow to create a fabric. Being a knitter myself, I can imagine how much trial and error that would have involved? That person likely got a lot of criticism for fiddling around and wasting time.

From simple home knitted garments, some brave soul went on to inventing a knitting machine, which now give us our T-shirts, sweaters, sportswear, and fleeces. Kudos also to Whitcomb L. Judson, an American inventor from Chicago who invented the interlocking mechanical teeth and constructed a workable zipper.

I wander into the kitchen and take my morning thyroid pill, which I’ve taken steadily for the past twenty-five years or so. Where would I be without that? We visited with a young couple on Sunday and the husband was telling us he’d come through a rough time when his arms swelled up, the muscles in his legs cramped painfully, he was cold, his hair was falling out. His doctor ran tests and discovered his body was really low on thyroid hormone. He started taking synthetic thyroid pills and his symptoms all cleared up in rapid time.

When I think of all the heath issues I’ve faced, I give thanks for the wonders of science and medicine that have combined to keep me alive so I can enjoy this morning. Antibiotics, anesthetics and surgeries, chemotherapy. Kudos to the inventor of multi-vitamin pills, too, which give so many people all over the world a healthier life. And could do so much more in poorer countries, if only funds were available to purchase them.

Now, with one last word of thanks to today’s Word-Prompters, I’ll end this session of awarding kudos. Have a great day everyone.

Daily Addiction : COPE
Fandango :  KUDOS
Ragtag community: INDUGENCE
Word of the day challenge : NOTORIOUS
Your daily word prompt :  EMBRACE
houseofbailey  : NATIVE

Committed to Optimism

Arthur Tennyson, brother of the famous poet Alfred, developed cataracts in his later years and gradually went blind as a result. Nevertheless, his determination to look on the bright side was an inspiration to those who knew him. Discussing his loss of vision with a friend one day he said, “God has sent me to His night school.”

Arthur lived to be 85 and, though his sight was gone, he used his other senses to observe his surroundings. He was enjoying a walk one spring morning when he met up with a friend, to whom he expressed how excited he was by all the joys of spring he could hear and feel around him.

Modern medicine has done wonders to increase the pleasure of our older years, but nothing beats a positive outlook.