20 January 2022

spring is just around the corner

Every morning I wake up with my very best intentions. Honestly, I do. Having established what day it actually is, I make a list of all the purposeful tasks of the day waiting for me and, reader, I feel confident and ready. Every bloody day. 

And then the day is over and I sit here with aching joints and my intestine is screaming murder and the car engine cut out on me on a narrow uphill slope while about fifty or one thousand other cars were close behind me and for three hours I sat in a room with a person whose kid has since been tested positive and my GP doesn't like the shape of my left kidney or maybe the liver or whatever got her attention in the ultrasound and I have to go for another MRI and the city we live in has the highest infection rate in our state and on Monday I get my second (!) booster and, whoopee, the xmas parcel has finally arrived at the grandchild's house. Also, R took the car for a run and found nothing wrong. (Secretly, I still think the virus will get me any day now.)

Here is another nice sheep video.


  1. Sounds like you had a bad, awful, day. Sending hugs to you and thank you for sharing that lovely video.

  2. I send you the very best wishes from my heart to yours that you don't get the virus, that you start to feel better, that life calms down a bit there for you.
    My twin brother wanted me to tell you that he so appreciates that you posted the song by The Lost Words Blessing a while back. He said he would email you, but I told him I have no address. He has so much gratitude. Me too, Sabine, me too. The music you choose is always so beautiful.

  3. Intentions definitely count. You'll get there. Stay safe. Some days, just getting through the hours is enough.

  4. You're a woman of heart and mind, Sabine. I wish these days weren't so hard on your body. Thank you for sharing the farmer's tribute to his aunt who was so dear to him. Sending love.

  5. Hospital procedures have improved since I last had a serious enough ailment to warrant a "general". Less pain, more info, more psychological assistance (Mind you the previous occasion was back in the eighties). My only present-day complaint concerned the MRI scan, something I would have expected to be a doddle. The cannula to my wrist was not aligned - as a straight line - with the angle described by my forearm. Thus the cannula tip pressed against the inside of the vein. The pain was immediately apparent and got worse and worse as the 40-minute procedure ensued., True I had the push-button whereby I could signal my discomfort but some stupid male macho tendency - of the sort you are wont to expatiate on - told me that this would be the act of a wimp. Just sitting up, once out of the tunnel, took all my resources of energy. I may even have whimpered.

    Later I had the other kind of scan (where they use the less confining doughnut scanner) and the poor guy who did me got the full flow of the resentment I should have directed at the MRI operative. And - anticlimactically - what followed was the doddle I would have expected.

    I note you are due an MRI scan and this led me to speculate on (God forbid!) how you might have reacted to my experience. Am I right in saying you do not suffer fools gladly? Would you have pushed the button? Answers by snailmail in a plain envelope.

    1. What an ordeal! I hope you did not get a blue-black arm as a result.

      I am an old hand at MRIs or should be, had my first one in 1995 after a car crash and it was the worst thing, not the crash but the 45 min inside this noisy tunnel. I have been in rough situations, incl. almost kidnaps, bomb threats on a plane while in the air, motorway build ups inside said crashed car, very premature birth of a very sick baby etc. but claustrophiobia was a new one. Like you, I was mortified en ough to not press that button, what failure etc., instead I sang at the top of my voice and despite having a vast repertoire of family songs, all I could come up was Bach's "I know that my redeemer liveth", which I last had sung in school choir some 25 years earlier.
      I took that experience as a warning and have approached subsequent MRI procedures with the support of valium & co.
      Highly recommended!

  6. Sounds like a rough day! I am happy to hear the Christmas presents arrived for your grandchild. How fun that will be. I live in fear of MRI's. I really can't do them with out stronger drugs than valium, or being knocked out for the procedure. I'm feeling claustrophobic just thinking about it.

  7. My husband had to stop an MRI in the middle of it. He got more valium for the next attempt and did make it through but not easily. They sound like hell.
    And of course the anxiety of WHY you're getting an MRI- what are they looking for? It's all too much.
    Your ability to carry on amazes me.

  8. Fantastic video, once again, and probably the boost you needed after that day. Sorry you had all that to deal with. May tomorrow be better!

  9. I guess you are as protected as you can possibly hope to be with a second booster. Covid went through my daughter's house, 3 out of 5 adults stupidly unvaccinated. My vaxxed daughter did not get infected but the vaxxed granddaughter did. The unvaxxed grandson and girlfriend did get it but the unvaxxed husband has not. It's so unpredictable in some ways. I don't guess I've had an MRI, at least not a full body scan, though I've had my head and throat and heart scanned by some sort of equipment. I'm not claustrophobic but my sister is. She just flat refuses MRIs.