Unearthing a life.....

Have you ever looked Death square in the eye and flipped him the bird? Highjacked the Grim Reaper's scythe and used it to cut re-bar? Stood up on Charon's boat and rocked it till both he and his dog were seasick and puking over the side? If you haven't, you fall into my catagory: People Wary of Termination. I find it hard to accept that, like a pint of half-and-half at the grocery store, my life has a "use before" date stamped on it.

So ... when I feel a near death experience approaching, I lay low ... which usually entails taking to my bed and drifting in and out of consciousness.

Monday morning I arose in good spirits, went grocery shopping with Allie, fed said kid, cooked and ate a fine breakfast of my special Snoqualmie Oat Meal with raisins, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Then sallied forth alone to a 9:00 AM appointment with my cornea specialist at Harrison Hospital Silverdale. I began to feel 'strange' about halfway through the fifteen minute drive. In the waiting room, I began to get dozey. In the Dr's examination chair I was beginning to fight off nausea and dizziness. Then a woozy drive home with one eye dilated ... and the immediate collapse into bed where I existed fitfully for six hours before I could sit up-right again.

I suspect some of you are snorting behind your hands and thinking "Near death experience my arse." Okay, likely no one was thinking 'arse' .... the word is maybe too antique for common useage. But I calculate that I was 912 yards due south by south east of Death and that qualifies in my book. And I didn't see any white light and I didn't hear anyone calling me back from anywhere. Just some muttering from Bookworm while she tried to figure out how to operate the digital thermometer after it was under my tongue.

Tuesday was an up-and-down recovery day, but thanks to the ministration of the good Dr. Bookworm, today I'm at about 60%.
Good enough to get back to cooking breakfast and barking at the grandson again. His other grandma brought him in a pair of sandals this morning. They have vanished.
"I am not wearing those sandals to school 'n I'm NOT GOING to school today!", he announced ... bellowed, actually.
"Yeah! Why not!"
"How can I run!" he shrieked.
Point taken.
I rustle around in the washroom closet and come up with a pair of hand-me-down lace up Timberline (Timberlake?) shoes that he appears to have finally grown into and he went off to school happy .... after we'd played frisbee, beaten a badminton birdie around , and done a turn on his bike (with training wheels). A little too much activity for my state of recovery.

He did invent a game at mid-morning that I could play sitting down. He gave me a five-inch ball and then turned himself invisible. Then he would move around the room and it was my job to whack him with the ball if I could figure out where he was. Actually a good game. One time he forgot that silence was invisibility and said something to Bookworm and I whacked him. Another time he tried to move a drapery out of his way and when it moved, I whacked him.

Ah! It's always good to be moving away from any sort of confrontation with the Reaper, be he grim or not.