Delivered

Dream report: I was looking down at a menu that had circuits at the top of each item. There was a map of Ogden and "Elsewhere" running concurrently underneath the entire menu. It was pulsing and highlighting locations and food it knew that your body craved. Ordering from this menu meant that your food came from an alternate dimension. Food just appeared and then the waitstaff assembled it and delivered the finished dish to you. The bulk of the dream was a conversation about how we as humans don't concentrate enough of our efforts to the sheer marvel and wonder of food: the molecules, the time and majesty. The goal was that this "Restaurant" was going to be the center of a new religion. Three services of worship each day. There was also a subplot of two of the waitstaff having an affair. Also an original song about soup which I of course cannot remember now.

 Yes, I made these. My one true talent in this life is making soup.

Waitlist

I haven't written here in quite a while. Blocked, intimidated, busy, shy: there are many words to describe the motivations that kept me away. There are also many things happening behind the scenes, physically and emotionally. My physical health seems to be a never ending series of unfortunate events. I have made them the priority in my life, to battle. Somehow convinced that if I keep fighting (emotionally as well) that somehow I will magically win. I am nearly 48 years old and it seems I need to learn that I am never going to "win." It is the need to not feel so small and out of control when all of this is happening where you have never ever had control. As my therapist keeps kindly reminding me, acceptance isn't giving up, so I am learning to accept that I need to feel better about never feeling better. Flip the focus so I use what I can control, my mind, and find the best ways to live my best life my way.

The past few months have been very busy with ER visits, multiple tests at the U and then just last week I had an echo with a stress test at McKay Dee. After the echo and during the stress test my cardiologist waltzes in and informs me they found a Fibroelastoma in my Aortic Valve. He ordered blood cultures. Then he leaves. Waltzed out. No follow up. No plan. No size. Nothing. The next day when I went for my cultures, they were ordered incorrectly. A nurse from the office called two days later and had no idea about anything other than my stress test showed no ischemia which is GREAT!

We have an appointment at the U on February 5 with a new doc. I've had my test results sent to him and I'm done with my old one. This whole thing makes me sad and bewildered. I feel so many balls were dropped and I am too exhausted to pick them up and throw them at his head.

My new personal goal now is to write more. Stop talking myself out of it everytime "No one wants to hear that" "boring" "it's already been written." Sure, I may feel like crap when I write but I can't keep waiting to feel better. I've waited long enough.