Pills, Lotions, and Potions

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Trees at the turn around point of the Skunk Railway, 2008.

Himself: Swim, applied for four jobs, hauled me to camera shops, walk, grocery shopping, et al. Herself: Swam, dropped camera and bent case tho it still works, repair shops, read, grocery shopping. Reading: Willis. Gratitude: Doctor called me back, G put up with me dropping the camera for the third time, sunshine.

It’s going to be a busy day. We are off to do family therapy with Lessa and her therapist first thing. No swimming. If we are lucky, we have time for a quickie to our favorite thrift store and lunch before heading south again.

“This would normally be the time we introduce steroids,” the doctor told me on G’s cell at the first Camera repair store. “You have an adverse reaction to steroids.”

“Not adverse, just none. They’ve been overused,” I said.

I take three pills and two sprays, and I still cough. A lot. I’m tired all the time now and grateful for thick books that keep me entertained while the world whips on by. At least this time. I haven’t lost my voice. I started a new inhaler yesterday.

“Make sure you rinse your mouth after you use it or you will get thrush,” said the pharmacist.

Today I get a shot of steroids. I told the doctor I would be a model for the non-smoking ads, but no one can see my clogged up chest. Remember the no-smoking advertisement where the woman held the cigarette to her tracheotomy hole. I didn’t stop smoking when I saw that. I didn’t stop smoking until the one doctor said he would have to cut off my leg if I didn’t quit.

I wish my kids could learn from my struggles.