Oozing Goodness, in spite of poison

Instead of "trying to write"...I "shall write."

"Oozing goodness." That was my thought along my Weewalk-about today. Sun was shining after rain last night and this morning. The air was crisp. I walked a covered-bridge thinking of blood-soil, history, people who founded these parts...Old Salem. I thought of the indigenous inhabitants, before the founding. Did the Saura Indians ever occupy this area? Did they live in teepees, or mud houses like the Cherokee?

My "oozing goodness" thought wasn't about the blood-soil though; it wasn't about the injustices; it wasn't about the shooting yesterday in a Florida theater; it wasn't about the migrant workers in California who harvest food all day but struggle to feed their families at night.

"Oozing goodness." That's my description of Paul's blog. His blog has become a daily intake for me. His perspectives broaden my own. I drink in his style of writing. But I am not "en-thralled." I watch against "en-thrall-ment" these days.

Paul shares simply and to the point; authentically. Paul is an Episcopal Priest now retired from overseeing a parish. He, along with his wife, live in the desert. His blog is entitled, "Desert Retreat House." Almost every morning for the past couple weeks, I tap my digital electronic screen and am taken to Paul's desert meditation garden. His sharings are not "positive." They are not "negative." They are real.

The past week, I've joked to myself that the Polar Vortex has affected me in a surprising way. I have felt more confident, self-assured, clear-headed, open.

Real-ity is...it's probably the steroid shots that I received in my spine and neck last Monday, the day before the Polar Vortex. The shots have greatly improved my health condition...well technically the steroids that were administered via the syringes. I can make fists. I can put my palms together. The lumps on the backs of my hands have shrunk. I can lift my iPhone without feeling like I'm lifting a five-pound dumbbell. My biceps aren't faultering when I stretch my arms. I can dress without feeling like I'm performing an incredible acrobatic feat.

I know the shots are a bandaid. I like bandaids...especially the cartoon ones that help a child laugh a little...overcoming the real-ity of the gigantic booboo on their knees.

Polar Vortex was a real-ity in the temperatures outside.

My new real-ity is that I am now eating poison. Yes, poison...at least when I read up on the new medication I began the night before the Vortex descended. The new medication is not the shots I received the day before the Vortex. The new medication is in a pill form that I take orally. I take it once a week. It suppresses my immune system...significantly more than the prednisone.

Last Monday I sat in the neurologist's examining room. He examined the lumps on my hands. He touched them with his fingers applying a bit of pressure; he observed them change shape and bounce back. It didn't hurt.

"I'm not sure what to make of these. They appear to be effusions." He spoke kindly with his very-good-Swedish-accented English.

"What are effusions?" I asked in my very-good-southern-accented English.

"Fluid build-up, usually found around joints of people with rheumatoid arthritis. But these effusions are not on joints," talking to me but more to himself.

"But all the rheumatoid tests I've had show I don't have RA or any autoimmune disorder," I responded as I've responded at previous appointments when he has brought up autoimmune responses.

"I know. I still think your body is in an autoimmune response...something that for some reason is not showing up on blood tests. Your symptoms and that steroids are the only medicine that seem to positively affect the condition indicate something autoimmune is going on. Do you have a history of liver problems?"

"Not to my awareness. My liver has been checked at least two times in the past two years; all systems good. All my blood work is good. Supposedly, I'm healthy." Sarcasm, of course.

"I think we should try a medication called methotrexate. You take it once a week."

Doc and I discussed it as Hubby listened. More blood work, just to make sure my liver is still good and to check my blood count and another autoimmune blood test.

"You'll need to take prescription-strength folic acid; methotrexate destroys red blood cells."

Oh great, I thought.

"The steroid shots today should work within one week to give you relief. The drug takes about a month. Stay on the 5 milligrams of prednisone for now."

"I had maybe wanted to do a juice and smoothie fast this upcoming month," I responded.

"Hold off for now. We don't want to be throwing too much into the fire."

Doc was compassionate as he spoke. Oozing goodness. He is fighting for me; he is fighting with me.

He doesn't wear a white coat.

The spinal shots are much less painful than the shots that go directly into the palm-heels of my hands.