Journal of a Living Lady #219

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

            My treatments have increased to twice monthly as blood counts keep dropping. It is hard to determine whether it is the cancer or the treatments that keep pulling the rug from under me. No complaints though. I am still alive. All around the house and in the garage are relics from the really bad days of the recent past: oxygen tanks, wheel chair, walkers, a hospital bed and even a portable potty. While I would like to discard every reminder of those difficult times, the truth is I may still need them.

 

            I am not in total remission though a doctor recently noted on my chart, “Does remarkably well for the condition she is in.” Thankfully, the type chemotherapy I am presently on isn’t unduly hard. Sure, I have aches and real bone pain at times, but I haven’t lost my hair lately. There is nausea occasionally, but I don’t wretch over the toilet as I once did. Other than the easy fatigue and perpetual doctor appointments, life is fairly normal.

 

            In the last six months I have had two hospital stays totally unrelated to the cancer. TIA’s they are called, miniature strokes. The last one happened at church. My legs felt wobbly and I began to see double. A brief loss of consciousness followed. Thankfully the hospital was right next door. Nothing progressed to anything more than an unwelcome change in my plans. How bad can it be with a hospital(ity) suite complete with maid service, three square meals, and a television? I might have thought I was at a resort if it weren’t for that annoying, but compassionate nurse checking my blood pressure and oxygen every two hours while I was trying to sleep.

 

            I am truly grateful for the extended life that I have had. I am also teaching again. When you have teach in you, it becomes an insistent itch that must be scratched. Before becoming a principal, I taught everything from The Three Bears to Macbeth in day school. Yet, nothing satisfied me more than teaching Sunday school for nearly forty consecutive years.

 

            Though I retired from teaching a regular Sunday morning class, the desire to teach the Bible never left. I am now teaching a Wednesday night class called Firm Foundations. Though a basic course, even old timers, whose names are fading from the cradle rolls of the last century, are learning what was never known or forgotten. The Bible is an absolutely fascinating book with eternal value.

 

            Teaching isn’t my only activity.  I am a perpetual student too.  Last month I became an officially certified Numismatic Scholar with the American Numismatic Association.

 

            My calendar is a scribbled mess. At times I feel like Walter Mitty. If you haven’t read that high school story by James Thurber, you should.

 

            The non-profit boards and various committees I am glued on seem to perpetually invent new responsibilities.  In the interest of energy conservation, mine, I recently demoted myself from the Chair position of one board to a lesser position.  Go ahead, Donald Trump, fire me.

 

            Looking at the “X’s” on my monthly calendar, one singular day grabs my attention. That day I attended an elegant Alice in Wonderland-like tea stuffed between two unrelated planning meetings. That afternoon I had an appointment to meet an elderly couple who needed a written appraisal of some old coins. Then I was off to my cluttered little office to finish evaluating school curriculum for a friend who has too much on her plate.

 

            Poor Buddy. He got the last few minutes of that day. Actually it was night. If this pace keeps up, I have a feeling we will be getting that house pig he wants.

nancyk@alltel.net