Elinor Nauen

They say all of us are "temporarily abled" (if that). That we should prepare for illness, accident, disfigurement, paralysis ~ you know, all that human flesh is heir to. Until that day, like the day we die, we kind of expect to be an exception, right? I've been fine for mumble-mumble years. Instead of thinking that the odds are getting shorter of something happening, I think the odds are longer of things continuing as they've been. Despite being an accountant's daughter, I also think that the odds are always 50-50: either I win or I lose. Ah, we have glided to the safe, delightful harbor of numbers & away from the messy, embarrassing, self-pitying swamp of disease. I'm fine now, I really am. 

On Monday afternoon at around 3, I strongly felt like I had to go home. I never leave early but I guess for once I "listened to my body" & packed it in. Good thing. As soon as I got home, I "kastet opp," which is I bet not too Norwegian to get the gist without me getting lurid. (I'm looking at you, Michael Angelo frozen eggplant parm for breakfast.) Then I felt crappy & tired & then I felt better & then I didn't feel like doing anything even though I did feel pretty much OK & then I did my laundry & I guess I'm back from the near-dead, which is really the most disspiritng place to be & I see why all my female relatives are fine & then die at age 97 ~ the minute something goes wrong, they (I) don't see the point of continuing. O world, you had best hope I never become chronically ill or even sick for more than a couple of days. I will wear out my welcome from even my most devoted friends.