So we went to Nashville again today, to take James to the heart guy, who says that he will need a pacemaker, most likely, at some point, but not at this point. He will be stress tested yearly, and monitored closely. And we will see. Unless he has the genetic defect, which we will know in four more weeks, which will mean other things. We will see what we see when we see it. We are in a holding pattern. So.
I am tired. This whole thing took the whole day. I missed tonight’s class. I am tired and out of focus. Annette is in the hospital, having had a successful surgery, but seriously I just want everything to get back to normal, whatever that is.
I haven’t written a lick, not a thing, not at all. Maybe this extra Seroquel has taken all my words away. Maybe my oily brain will not offer up its secrets. Maybe I will become so balanced that no words will ever, ever come. Maybe I will never write again. I am tired. There is nothing to report. I am without form and void and there is no God moving in me. The face of my waters has nary a ripple of breath across it. There are no tears, no valleys of snow, no whispers, no secrets. No miracles. Not today.
Maybe tomorrow will be different, but just now I am stuck in this day, in this holding pattern. I am running out of fuel but there’s no place to land. My skin is stretched tight on my bones. Nothing doing, there is nothing doing at all.
~r.
