Monday, January 13

It's been a day.
I'm grateful to have flexibility at my library;
I switched to have today off and am working Wednesday
instead.

It's been 11 years today since Mom passed over.
I still miss her so much, but the intense pain
has lessened to a dull ache over the years.
Grief still surprises at inopportune times.
I have to remember its stealth, and when it hits,
it's okay to ride the grief wave.
Let the tears flow.

I wish I could ask Mom questions about the perimenopausal
hot flashes and night sweats, along with the respiratory infection that has burdened
me since October, and like a free-loading unwanted house guest, won't go the
f*** away.

We'd then arrange to go to lunch or dinner, and then shopping,
or plan another girl's trip to Vegas.

The other allergist I visited last week had Cookie Monster socks.
I trumped him with my Yoda socks, said the intern as I was using a nebulizer
machine to open up my chest after suffering asthma from said infection.

The next steps, if the month-long super antibiotics don't kill the infection,
are CT scans and possible sinus surgery. I had sinus surgery fifteen years ago.
Steve was there; I remember Mom and Dad were there; my sister was in contact via phone
since she lived in Chicago. Mom said I looked pretty in the blue gown and cap.

If I have the surgery again, Mom won't be there this time.
That thought makes me sad.
It is what it is, I guess.