I rarely read my own writing, but now and then I go back and skim and remember what was happening at that time. I did just that today, and I am struck by how different I was at about the point where I'd been coughing for five months. I don't look back with blame. I'm amazed that any human being could cough for that long without going absolutely bonkers! And the process of cycling through doctors? I was too calm and friendly as some of them (or their office staff) unintentionally broke down my fragile psyche nearly as much as the cough. Examples? One office lost my short term disability papers and gave me the run-around for weeks. Another doctor had good results for me (that I did not have MS) and left me hanging for days because she was busy. As my daughter said, "You should go all Norma Bates on them." But that's not my style. I'm calm and friendly, and that's not always an asset.
As you can see from the baby sunflower above, I am in a good place. I disappeared, died, became a seed, sprouted, and now I'm almost blooming. I didn't rise up from the ashes as I had imagined, but I certainly have been reborn. The thing about this cough is that it is entirely isolated from other symptoms. When it's gone, it's gone. I'm 100 percent. It is as if it never existed. And I have got to put that request out to the coughing gods to leave me be.
Officially, the doctors think it is an undiscovered autoimmune disease. Which is fine. It's better than any of the other diagnoses they scared me with.
Another life event that is helping me to bloom is that I won't be returning to traditional teaching again. I am really sad about losing the remarkable students I have had this year in the seventh and eighth grade, but work-life balance is only achieved by having sixty days off in the summer (which is inherently unbalanced). Where I work, teaching is like stepping onto a merry-go-round that is moving far too fast, and being forced to stay there and live there for nine months.
On another topic, I have noticed that my illogical girl-crush on Vera Farmiga is waning. Maybe it's because Bates Motel isn't on any more, or even more likely because I expressed all of that irrational feeling via Marina. Regardless, it's on its way out and I feel a little guilty because it's been over four years. Check this out: "Thoughts After Midnight." One other depressing thing is that my desire to be like her was pure fantasy. She's thin like your average film star, blue-eyed, wealthy, and uber-confident. I'm rounded like your average American, green-eyed, middle-class, and sub-confident.
Here's another topic. I ran three miles yesterday. I miss the flat landscape of Minnesota.
As you can see from the baby sunflower above, I am in a good place. I disappeared, died, became a seed, sprouted, and now I'm almost blooming. I didn't rise up from the ashes as I had imagined, but I certainly have been reborn. The thing about this cough is that it is entirely isolated from other symptoms. When it's gone, it's gone. I'm 100 percent. It is as if it never existed. And I have got to put that request out to the coughing gods to leave me be.
Officially, the doctors think it is an undiscovered autoimmune disease. Which is fine. It's better than any of the other diagnoses they scared me with.
Another life event that is helping me to bloom is that I won't be returning to traditional teaching again. I am really sad about losing the remarkable students I have had this year in the seventh and eighth grade, but work-life balance is only achieved by having sixty days off in the summer (which is inherently unbalanced). Where I work, teaching is like stepping onto a merry-go-round that is moving far too fast, and being forced to stay there and live there for nine months.
On another topic, I have noticed that my illogical girl-crush on Vera Farmiga is waning. Maybe it's because Bates Motel isn't on any more, or even more likely because I expressed all of that irrational feeling via Marina. Regardless, it's on its way out and I feel a little guilty because it's been over four years. Check this out: "Thoughts After Midnight." One other depressing thing is that my desire to be like her was pure fantasy. She's thin like your average film star, blue-eyed, wealthy, and uber-confident. I'm rounded like your average American, green-eyed, middle-class, and sub-confident.
Here's another topic. I ran three miles yesterday. I miss the flat landscape of Minnesota.
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