Copied below you’ll find a text sent (yesterday) to one of my high school friends with whom I became so close in college that she has chosen to touch base with me, more than once, daily, ever since my tumor was correctly diagnosed—
Dearest Susan,
I know you’ll be happy to hear that last week’s biopsy has not increased my current level of pain. In fact, I believe my relief at having that procedure behind me re-fueled my spirit, re-energizing me mentally and physically in short spurts, because upon our return from Mayo instead of lying down, I surprised myself by cleaning out my closet, followed by resting for a couple of hours before re-organizing my collection of shoes, and having completed that task, I counted more than 20 pairs, which, along with quite a few blouses and tee shirts are now boxed awaiting Cath’s arrival from CA, later in the month, as my young friend (Barry’s classmate in high school) plans to celebrate Xmas with her family in town.
No doubt, Cath’s enthusiasm to enjoy a patio visit initiated my zest for closet cleaning, knowing her eagerness to receive much of what I choose to discard so as to space out clothing still hanging too tightly compressed together on bars, while my drawers, over stuffed with neatly folded intimate garments, offer the pack rat in me space in which to accumulate far too many choices, and whatever Cath leaves behind is donated to the woman’s shelter that I’ve come to favor most of all, so each time my neat nut floods with need to creat space to breathe within my closet, everyone wins excepting the pack rat, who’s forever in need of disciplining, because, if the truth be told, my traditional taste in clothing dictates purchases resembling everything I already have with this caveat—whatever I buy is based in a shade of color not yet owned as if an inner need to complete a rainbow of blouses and tees, all of which can be seen neatly folded in dresser drawers or hanging, colored coded, on bars extending along the walls of my closet, which is by no means small.
At any rate, the fact that re-ignited energy spurts resulted in spontaneous productivity delighted the control freak, who has had no choice, during this time of Covid, other than submitting to going underground, offering the rest of me to quarantine peacefully regardless of the fact that I, devoid of energy, feel so deeply appreciative of everything Will has taken on so graciously that my pechance for both neatness and cleanliness throughout every inch of my home has been on hiatus, with no end of messiness in sight ... why messiness? Oftentimes, my energy lapses so completely that I literally drop whatever I’m doing or holding on the spot, knowing that with only seconds to spare, I’ll barely make it to the closest chair, couch or bed before sinking straight to the floor, and wherever whatever drops out of my hand stays put, sometimes for weeks, which is why I found these most recent short lived, bursts of energy highly pleasing to say the least.
Tomorrow, Steven and Ravi plan to come over (after our family zooms the Cardinal game) in celebration of two joyful events. In addition to a redo of my b/d (a Nothing Bundt Cakes delivery arrived, today), we’ll also wholeheartedly enjoy a Chanukah party with latkes, candle lighting, singing, Dreydls, gift giving and window decorations, which Ravi will love taping to the glass panels on her side of our Arcadia doors. (Why my birthday do over? Well—actually, my awareness of personal need for diplomacy respects certain aspects of family privacy, so being protective of an extended relationship, which most often feels like a house of cards, that’s all I’ll pen about that.)
Today, having placed my pack rat in time out, I decided that a second quick run through of blouses and tops, still crowded together inside my closet, was in order, followed by resting up for tomorrow’s celebrations, both of which will keep my mind happily occupied, and hopefully, Monday will pass uneventfully until results of my biopsy have been released and received on Tuesday at which time a shadowy cloudiness hanging overhead, will see me ‘walking the walk’ holding hands with courage while thanking my creative processor for sweetening whatever may taste too bitter to swallow, yet again.
Hopefully, your rain storm has passed, offering you and Ro some time this weekend to enjoy Chanukah ala Covid with your precious family on your back porch until your masked grandkids are seen chattering, being that the temp in the Midwest has dropped into the 30’s.
Stay safe, dear friend, and feel my love and warm hugs holding you close,
👩🏻❤️😘Annie
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