Yesterday, P remarked on how I seem to live an entire life each day, waking with vigor, walking the river, smiling and laughing and all systems go--but by the evenings, I am more like a crippled old woman, and thanks to these BP meds, even my voice becomes weak and scratchy and far from it's usual velvety self.
So I wrote a poem about it.
Haven't written any poetry or lyrics since before being hospitalized and it was good to get it out and hear the muses again.
Hoping hard that this now regular routine will soon enough, become the exception. But after so many months of feeling so rough, it's hard to imagine that happening, as I still don't know if the fatigue and pain is due to this lonnnnng and ongoing prednisone weaning, (won't reach my goal of 5mgs/day until November), the stage 3b kidney disease, or the damage done to my joints by the Vasculitis over the years.
In any case, like I said to my dad the other day on the phone, I am SO grateful for the normalcy of the mornings. If I felt like I do in the afternoons all the time, I really wonder if my morale would be anywhere near where it is. "Vive les mornings!!!"
So here it is, hot off the JG presses and done on one of the wonderful, (and sunny too!), good days:
I wake up a child, each day with new life
By three I'm much older, than what my years are