My Little Golden Book of Phobias

It's a fall kind of day. I got my teeth cleaned. My dental office is  a lovely place. I listened to folks laughing behind me as I sat in my chair. Both dentists are so nice and their staff seem happy to be at work. Not a usual dental atmosphere. 

My friend Frog was here for a few days. Came up from Eugene on his motorcycle. Big ole bearded guy who looks 70 now because he is. 

My tenant is indeed moving out. Time to go into further debt to get mold abatement services in there and hire Jim (!), my former contractor to build out a new window or enlarge an existing one. Involves concrete cutting, among other things. Fun!!! Beth, my gardener/painter friend will help restore order and repaint. I have the several many cans of leftover paint in garage and cellar and maybe some of it will be of use. 

Fall is well and truly here. The leaves are turning and we actually got rain with more on the way. We've been so dry, so dry. The grass is as brown as California, kinda scary. The fires have started to die down too, at least up north here. 

I've already swum (swam? swimmed?) in the pool today but meeting friends for a lake plunge at 4 because I AM CRAZY.  

I have figured out that swimming is the antidote to anxiety/fear/despair. At least in the lake I am concentrated on ***damn it's cold***and if it's very choppy and rough***damn, don't drown***

I'm not planning to drown, I promise. 

My blood sugar is not budging. Try as I might. I may have to go on meds (shit). I just might be that person. Too many years getting up at odd hours, stress of my baby-catching job, and disrupted sleep. Messed up my cortisol levels. 

Ah well, Reading Ted Koozer the poet who has a recurrence of cancer (age 82) on Rattle, a platform that sends me a poem a day. Bless him. 

At the Cancer Clinic

She is being helped toward the open door
that leads to the examining rooms
by two young women I take to be her sisters.
Each bends to the weight of an arm
and steps with the straight, tough bearing
of courage. At what must seem to be
a great distance, a nurse holds the door,
smiling and calling encouragement.
How patient she is in the crisp white sails
of her clothes. The sick woman
peers from under her funny knit cap
to watch each foot swing scuffing forward
and take its turn under her weight.
There is no restlessness or impatience
or anger anywhere in sight. Grace
fills the clean mold of this moment
and all the shuffling magazines grow still.