In case you noticed my absence, I’ve been sick.  I never did test for COVID, but based on symptoms, I probably had it.  I’m still recovering.  I’ve been revaxed recently, so it could have been worse.  Every time I try to get back to work, I get sicker.  Now I’m listening to A and resting, but we hates it!

A couple of days ago (hard to keep track) I had a (more than the usual) disturbing dream.  I’ll try to describe it.

Some friends and I were each undergoing different medical procedures that were somehow queer/gender-related and experimental/controversial.  Mine had some long unpronounceable name which I immediately forgot, as I did the reason for getting it.  It was vaguely to fix something mentally wrong with me(?).

There were two doctors involved, one a reputable white-haired lady that I trusted but couldn’t access easily, and one a younger hotshot male surgeon operating in a tall, narrow, square tower, each floor of which represented one of his specialties.  Too late I found out his methods turned out to be controversial.  I couldn’t recall either doctor’s name.

When I eventually started to come out of anesthesia, I could barely wake up, or move, or call for help, but I knew something was very wrong.  As I lay in bed helpless, a crowd of observers and interns crowded into the room.  The group included Avdi and friends.  No one was really looking at me, just talking amongst themselves, like I was just some medical exhibit but otherwise invisible.  I couldn’t establish eye contact with anyone, or communicate.  I felt desperate and scared.  Cut off.  Like irreversible damage had been done.

Then I woke up, feeling surreal and traumatized, and never really shook it off for days.  It’s like three days later and I still remember almost every detail and how it felt.  The existential dread of this dream felt significant and familiar, authentic and relevant.  Not the technical details, but the essence.  Like I’m not the same, after the procedure.  Being sick and semi-quarantined just reinforces the effects.

All my dreams tend to be memorably intense and complex, but this one was so unique and lingering, that I thought I’d try to journal it.  FWIW.  Any dream analysts out there?

I know this is all about me, and maybe that’s part of the issue.  I’m trying desperately to hold onto what’s left of my self, before I just fade out.  My significant others are, as it should be, moving on and busy resolving their own issues and challenges.  I’m genuinely concerned/ proud/ wanting to be part of the solution, not sure I am.  Trying to let go of my proprietary boundaries that keep me feeling relevant and validated, in order to accede/concede to the natural order of things, my family being capable and competent to carry on.  The rite of passage that requires a death of self.

Today I wasn’t doing so well, but I had motivation…laundry!  Piles and piles of backed-up laundry at the Avdi’s.  I was determined to get to the literal bottom of it, so I did.  I nearly got washer hypnosis!  Also ran a couple of dishwasher loads.

I watered the garden, then planted the new mini-rose in front near the other one.  Y and I watched the newly-sighted pipevine swallowtail caterpillars on the dutchman’s pipe vine.  They’re a striking example of native species that evolved together to be of exclusive mutual benefit.  There were quite a few of them.

Today was beautiful and cool out, and I was able to do a little more straightening up in the garden as well as in the house, but not too strenuously.  Mostly I stuck to the herb garden and patio.

The “crops” pictured are beets and milkweed!  The latter went crazy this year, and far be it from me to disturb it.  I’d rather have a crop of monarchs!

This would have been our “Mom date night”, but we decided to postpone until I recovered.

You know I’m sick when I don’t have the energy to shop for plants, but I thought just stopping by VP and looking for a few minutes in the rain would improve my state.  Actually, it helped, and I did end up getting a few fragrant herbs (which I could smell!), a mini-rose, and a solitary strawberry plant to be a mentor to my bare root babies.  Just doing that wore me out.

It was cold and rainy all day, but I mostly did indoor jobs for Avdi.  I put together the grocery list, put in the pickup order for him, straightened up a little, and picked up Y.  E showed me the chicken project and his blueprints for the secret garden; impressive.  While out there, I did a double take at the herb garden–suddenly it’s a jungle, from all the rain!  It looks like a real herb garden, except it’s running out of room!  I have some ideas for that.

In fact, the whole garden is taking off.  Meanwhile, down in the basement “lab”, E has taken over germinating and propagating from me, and transplanting seedlings to the secret garden.  He seems to have a real feel for it and focus.  Plus he can figure out how to build stuff.  I’m very proud.

I’m slowly inching my way back to my normal routine.  Yesterday all I could do was sleep and rest (by order of Dr. Avdi).  The fever hung on but decreased, and I was starting to be able to smell things more.  Still very congested.  The surreal underwater vacuum sensation was still there.

Today I drove over there while everyone was away and straightened up the house, reassured the anxious Loucious that I wasn’t dead yet (he was whining and moaning so tragically!), picked up Y at school, then went home.  It had been t-storming out, so I didn’t do much outside.  I still don’t feel “normal”, but I’m getting there.  Speaking of abnormal…

I’ve learned that people need a pack to survive, not just group “hobbies” occasionally with rugged isolationism being the norm.  That’s true your whole life.  It’s not only unnatural to live in solitary separate units in suburbia, it’s unsustainable when the going gets tough, and it will.  No one’s going to come and save you.  Marginalized groups have already learned this for hundreds of years.  A community means surviving a system like ours by helping each other all the time, without prejudging and pre-approving, because nobody else will.

Bet you didn’t see that coming!

I’m not sure I can even do justice to the most delightful combined first B&B of the season and E’s BD celebration held yesterday.  Let me try.

It was a beautiful cool day, the friends (old and new) that gathered were like-minded kindred spirits, Stacey and S were there to experience the occasion, the food and drinks were very agreeable, we lit up a brand new fire pit, and I was happy as a clam, as was Loucious.

Jochen, the (ex) daddy of Loucious, was there, before they head to Germany, and also Akasha and Gabi, and some new-to-me friends whom I enjoyed getting to know.  Kids showed up, too.  So many good people and conversations and the always amusing badminton.  And of course Magic was played at its special table on the lawn.

It turns out I may have had COVID this whole week, according to Avdi!  Imagine, all these years later, and I finally get it (albeit a moderate case).  That would explain a lot!  I was in a very strange, surreal, almost euphoric state by yesterday.  I didn’t even recognize myself!  But nevertheless, I made it to the B&B and helped as much (little) as I could!  I fulfilled my main role as beer initiator and presider!  I did not fall over once.

Meanwhile, the BD guy himself as usual was busy bustling around in the kitchen preparing foods and confections for his separate party last night, while we were collecting donations for his German student exchange program and trip next year.  People were very generous and kind.

The whole day was good for my mental health, and more importantly, I’m hoping, Avdi’s.  We broke it up a little early to allow for E to finish setting up for his party, though with some last-minute lingering!  Then I took my leave to get back to recuperating.

I’ve reached that surreal zone I get when I’m sick at home alone for a few days.  Like the silence of being underwater, or a vacuum.  I can’t smell or taste much.  My dreams are more insane and continuous than ever.  Can’t focus.  I could eat, or not.  I made it down to 124.x lbs.  People exist as texts once in a while.  And there was NyQuil and there was DayQuil, the [?]th Day.

It’s erev, and I’m not there, unheard of.  It’s E’s birthday, and Stacey and S are in town, still not.  Loucious must think I died or something.  At least I did get the lawn mowed.  I will make it to the first B&B/E’s celebration tomorrow, if it kills me.  At least my remains will be there!  I will be haunting around somewhere.

I was determined to mow the backyard, flu or no flu, so I did.  The proceeds that would have been E’s pay for doing it will go to his birthday German exchange program fund.  And now back to bed.

I’ve been sick.  Flu or something.  I stayed home a full day.  Then I tried to make myself get over to A’s, but that was a mistake.  It’s very surreal, like being in a silent vacuum under water or in space.  I do have a few photos for you.  Other than that, I got nuthin.

It was not just one sudden tornado warning, but several waves of severe storms, t-warnings, high winds, and flooding throughout the day and night.  Oh, and predictions of baseball-sized hail.  While I was at A’s helping to batten down the hatches, it was mostly a nice sunny day, interspersed with warnings and sirens.  The schools dismissed early.

I was feeling sick (sore throat, slight fever, head stuff) so I went home to sit out the “big one”, which fortunately mostly flew over above and beyond us, leaving lakes and rivers outside the apt and I assume in A’s yard.  “Flyover state” should mean stupid tornadoes stay at high altitudes and just pass over us!  I know, it doesn’t work that way, but c’mon.  It’s getting worse every year, for obvious reasons.  I don’t want to get used to it.