Dear Allison and the Onyx Savant,
I am late saying “howdy” today. I was feeling a bit low a moment ago. My “go” medicine was trying to make me go to fast, I think, and it was making me feel unequal to the task and a bit blue. I opened Threads, as I do sometimes, at moments like this. I have noticed that my Threads algorithm is usually pretty upbeat, what with all the adults in the room just wanting everyone to shut up about their perceived slights and focus on real ones. Sigh. It’s what gives me hope for the election. And, no, I have not cast my ballot yet, but I will unless the Good Lady decides to bring me home first. Anyway, unrelated to the election, I saw this post and it made me feel better about myself, as setting appointments is like planning for a conversation with General Milley. Maybe less stressful, as I at least have an inkling of what Gen. Milley might be interested in and am not afraid he will tell me I am an idiot about geopolitical affairs or that if I don’t floss, I will be sent to the fiery gates of Hades to await my eternal fate.
https://www.threads.net/@drdoylesays/post/DBcOtOPPpB8
I do wish more people knew this stuff 20 or more years ago. It would have, possibly, helped me understand myself better. Maybe not. I am very stubborn. It helps now, though. I can more easily allow myself a week to schedule 3-4 appointments because I know that is a size grande task for me, whereas for someone else, it is so much nothing. “Oh, just get it done! You’ll be done in half an hour!” That type of sentiment fills me with such horror…if I could visualise it for you, it would make for good Halloween fodder. It is just a pure wall of sheer terror most of the time. Every now and again there is a weakness in the force, and I have to time my moment just right and do it before the Great She awakes and notices what I'm about. I made two whole appointments last week (and rescheduled one). I need to make my appointment with the geneticist, but I am afraid to almost, after all the negative sentiments I have seen expressed online and by my PCP about how difficult it is to get a doctor who will diagnose EDS, and especially HEDS. It seems greatly unjust that I would not even be allowed to get tested or excluded. It could explain what some of my family deal with, if not for myself.
I am sitting in the yard today. Ms. B could not be content to stay on the patio; she must observe the entire world. So she is happily dozing on a blanket beside me. She enjoys this fall weather so much. Who can say no to that face?
Just Enough
It is too much,
the gorse and broom,
the daisies and wild grasses.
It is too much,
the wren and phoebe,
the raven and the dove.
These things they are too much
for a hairless child wrapped in flowers
without a claw or stinger for safety.
These gifts are too much
for a greedy monkey
reaching for a bite of your apple.
This glory is too much
to bear wit
as you see them,
dripping from my bones.
I would keep you all for myself,
as I know a little about too much,
but you are your own
and always a spider’s silk out of reach.
I mun’ just lie here, in the sun,
and feel and breathe and receive
your too much and stir it with my own.