Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

William Shakespeare from King Lear

I’ve got some minor surgery on Monday to which I am not looking forward. I also think it’s possible it will turn out to be unnecessary. The original problem has been greatly reduced by antibiotics and hot packs. I guess I’ll find out in the very early morning. If it weren’t SO early in the morning (and today being Saturday), I’d call and ask about it. But there won’t be anyone there to talk to so I might as well go and have the surgeon take a look and make a decision. I have to assume if he doesn’t need to cut, he won’t.

I’m beginning to finally feel more like a human being. Fibromyalgia is not life-threatening or even dangerous — unless you try to do something like fly an airplane, drive a car, or use sharp tools. It does leave you exhausted with odd pains in strange places. I assume I had a drop in my immune system for some reason — which could have been the arrival of all the pollen. Everyone acts like allergies are no big deal — unless they have their own allergies.

It’s really worse than a cold because a cold hits you for a few days or maybe a little longer, but then, it goes away.

Unlike an allergy which hits you like a fast-moving downtown bus, then keep backing up and forwarding over you. Allergies are exactly like a bad cold that never, ever goes away — until the season changes. Ironically, my favorite times of the year are spring and fall — the two times of the year when I can’t breathe, everything itches, and the air is so filled with pollen it looks like green snow!

But — no doubt about it. I am feeling better. Today is the first time I’ve felt almost like me in more than a week. Which means (tada!) tomorrow, I’m will tackle the kitchen floor! Yep. Me and ye olde (not so old — I actually just bought it, so it’s a semi-new floor cleansing tool) mop are going to hit the kitchen floor — big time! Isn’t that EXCITING?

I knew you’d be thrilled. Because y’know. Housework. Thrilling for the first 10 minutes after you finish it and everything looks great. And then, the dust, dirt, muddy dog prints, big man boots and millions of pieces of bird seed arrive out of the mists of memory. They land on the floor in the same old places.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow …

Categories: #Writing, Anecdote, Autumn, Dawn, Medical, Poetry

Tags: Dawn, Floor cleaning, King Lear, Marilyn Armstrong, Medical stuff, September, Shakespeare