meds & bed impede the (writing) head
The rantress sometimes thinks she can do more than she can. The truth is that she’s usually realistic about what she can and does accomplish.
But having surgery to remove the three aliens living in her breast for the last 5.5 years [see happy anniversary, you tumors you!], those aliens who have taught her many necessary, beautiful, twisted, traumatic, tender, ancient, skin scorching things—about herself and about others, well, in their departure they have left three last lessons for her:
1. How to let others do for her in ways she would normally have resisted: cooking meals, cleaning the house, driving her when she couldn’t use her arm, bathing her, watering her gardens, feeding her cats, fish and chickens. And some events she never thought: allowing the quasi-spouse to floss her teeth. Stop there.
2. That she cannot write to her satisfaction any cohesive, fun, ranty sentences with sass and music in the lines while on meds. Never fear, the list of coming observations is growing daily; scrutiny of our culture doesn’t end, Hydros or not.
3. Others are not who they believe themselves to be. Delusion can and does run the day, week, years. Funny how close the words “run” and “ruin” are.
The rantress will be back in real writing action soon.