Tdap

            So yesterday I finally got my Tdap shot—it’s been over ten years since I had a tetanus shot and, with the pertussis outbreak earlier this year in Washington, I had been meaning to get the “dap” part as well.  The pharmacist at Walgreen’s was very nice, and the shot in my left arm didn’t hurt a bit.  One of the possible mild side effects is pain at the injection site.  However, it’s my right arm that hurts today.  Maybe my nerves need to be rewired.

Light

            With all the lights blazing and a DVD playing on his computer in the shop office/guest room, my son heard a tapping at the door late last night.  Steve, our handyman who is here for a while to work on various projects, asked for five minutes of Joseph’s time.  That five minutes morphed into several hours and the transformation of his life.

            Steve is a friendly guy and simply wanted to get to know Joseph a bit.  As they visited, Joseph sensed that God was at work.  They talked some more, and Joseph asked Steve if he had ever accepted Christ as his Savior.  Joseph prayed and Steve prayed, and God gave Steve a little extra benefit in addition to the assurance of eternal life:  Steve, who suffers from a variety of health ailments, suddenly found himself pain free. 

            I ran into Steve this morning on my way over to the shop office to wake Joseph.  With an awestruck look on his face and many tears, Steve told me the whole story in far more detail than I have here.  A little later, I gave him a New Testament.  Opening it to Ephesians 2, I started to read a couple verses out loud.  Steve joined in and then continued reading alone, smoothly, flawlessly.  When he stopped, he looked awestruck again.  “I’ve never read that fast before,” he said. 

            Now I have a new appreciation for my son who has faced so many obstacles and so much hardship in his 27 years.  Even as his own life is fraught with difficulties, God uses him to share Christ effectively and powerfully.  I’m glad his lights were on late last night because now Christ’s light shines in Steve, too.

           

Bargain Day

            The book sale in Clinton today was a treat.  It’s not that I need any more books, but it is so much fun to scour the sale tables.  And at a dollar a title, I can get carried away. 

God Never Blinks:  50 Lessons for Life’s Little Detours was the first book to catch my eye.  I opened it up and was immediately taken by scrumptious details that made me want to read the rest of the stories:  for instance, “a bottle of burgundy nail polish and a receipt for 69 cents.”  What will be the lesson there?

            Another find was Adventures in the Mainstream:  Coming of Age with Down Syndrome.  That one will go to Dana and Shawn when I’m done with it.  It’s hard to imagine twenty years into the future when Benjamin will be 23, but I know he will grow up whether I can imagine it or not.  (I still remember being unable to imagine my two-year-old daughter ever turning eight, and now eight is a 22-year-old memory.)

            Then there was something to share with my son when he visits next week:  The Butterfly Book:  An Easy Guide to Butterfly Gardening, Identification, and Behavior.  As a child, Joseph became somewhat of a butterfly whisperer.   Summertime and the smell of dill are synonymous to me because he always had a crop of caterpillars that ate the dill in their jars at an astonishing rate.  The best part, though, was after the chrysalis stage when the butterflies broke free.   A common sight in our living room was Joseph patiently waiting for the wings of a newly hatched black swallowtail to dry as it hung from his finger.  Maybe he and I can enjoy some reminiscing about the good old butterfly days.

            I have to admit, though, that the fourth one-dollar book is likely the one I will read first.  I am intensely curious about The Slug Manual:  The Rise and Fall of Criticism.  I haven’t experienced any slug inspiration this summer even though there have been plenty of them sliming along the ground.  Maybe this book will help me rediscover the slug side of life.

            Naturally, my bargain day did not end in Clinton.  At the Bayview Farmer’s Market, I was pleased to find cucumbers and zucchini at two for a dollar.  (We won’t go into the other thirty or forty dollars I spent on other produce.)  After lunch and a refreshing nap, I headed back out to buy a couple T-shirts at the farmer’s supply store for $1.78 each and then followed the signs to a free garage sale—held at the side of the road near WAIF in Freeland.  Yes, free, which meant I was free to pick up a pair of funky sandals, a pair of comfortable (though slightly too large) walking shoes, a unique bag, a canvas tote for future farmer’s markets, and a salt and pepper shaker set made in Germany.

            In conclusion, just in case any former English students of mine are reading this bargain blog, I am aware that I’ve broken at least one composition rule:  straying from my original topic in the previous paragraph.  But, hey, this is a free blog and you’re getting a bargain.

Where has all my blogging gone?

Inspiration has struck, at last . . . fortunately in just one verse.

Where has all my blogging gone?

Long time passing.

Where has all my blogging gone?

Long time ago.

Where has all my blogging gone?

Not evicted, everyone.

When will it all return?

When will it all return?

Hypochondria Revisited

            Doubtless, some people believe that fibromyalgia is a simple matter of hypochondria.  I’d say, though, that the truer statement is this:  persons with fibromyalgia worry about becoming hypochondriacs.  I am a prime example (though some may say I’m past my prime).  Take last night . . .

            Sitting in my recliner, I am enjoying an evening of reading and petting my ever-present cat.  Pretty soon, though, I realize that holding Time (magazine, that is) hurts.  The purring cat keeps me chair-bound as I thoughtfully rub my knuckles instead of jumping up to get and swallow some pain relief.  The stabbing pain in the knuckles is accompanied by the deep ache in the biceps and the almost-numbness stretching down my right forearm.  My shoulders and back don’t feel too good either.

            Is this some new, alarming indicator of another deeper problem?  Will rheumatoid arthritis or West Nile or some medical mystery disease be added to my litany of conditions?  (Sorry; I am exaggerating.  “Litany” sounded so dramatic there that I had to include it, even though my “litany” consists of one official condition—fibromyalgia—and my sneaking suspicion that a second, subclinical condition—Sjogren’s Syndrome—feeds into the fibromyalgia.)

            Before I blast the cat off my lap to do some Mayo Clinic Internet searches, I think back through the day.  Almost immediately, the pain producers come to mind.  The day started with a little bit of ironing.  Later, in the afternoon, I carried multiple loads of heavy grocery bags into the house.  And then during the evening news, I played Spider Solitaire on my laptop even though my right arm was complaining.  Add to that the earlier flurry of activity as I punched holes in papers, cut poster board pieces in half, and typed away on a procrastinated writing project.  Clearly, my arms have done too much today. 

            Oh, well. Except for the ironing and grocery lugging, I enjoyed all of my “too much.”  My modus operandi is that if I have to have pain and fatigue, it might as well be from things I enjoy doing . . . which is why I pay someone else to clean my house so I can invest my energy into writing about not being a hypochondriac and surfing those fascinating Mayo Clinic symptom trails.