I can sympathize with Chickens...

I've had every intention of posting each day and several posts written in my head. However, it is much more fun visiting and I find myself going to bed later and later each night. I think I turned off the light around 1 am last night. Being that tired makes it easier to sleep through the gooping. The drawback to deep sleep is I don't change positions very often. As I spent the bulk of the night sleeping on my left side, which already doesn't drain well due to the port, my left eye was swollen shut this morning. Add to a puffy face, goopy trach/chest/shirt, and late nights, and you get the lovely visage I am sporting today. Not my finest look.

I still have the mystery sores on my scalp, likely the Erbitux acne or ingrown hairs I can't seem to leave alone. Goopy head wound. Yet another attractive feature. I forgot eyebrow pimples and unibrow.

But why do I sympathize with chickens?

Our chickens love to eat spiders, among other things. But chicken's eyes are on the sides of their heads. They can't look straight ahead. To see the spiders on the side of the house, they cock their heads and look at them. Then they put their heads straight and jump into the air and peck wildly at the spot they estimate the spider to be. It is one of the more hilarious things I have ever watched.

Because my neck doesn't move well and my eye is swollen shut, watching me harvest produce is a bit like watching a chicken catch a spider, minus the jumping (that would just be out of the question for me.) I turn my head to look at what I want to pick, but then I have to put it back straight to bend down to pick so I don't fall over. Cherry tomatoes, strawberries, and raspberries are the most challenging. I hate it when I come back with a green one because my estimated grab was off. I was able to get about a pint of cherry tomatoes without too many errors today. I also did not step on a snake barefoot or fall down. All good things.

This also gives me some idea what life was like for Karina before eye therapy. As some of you know, she had some pretty serious eye issues that went a long time undetected. Her eyes didn't work well together, so as a result, she saw double. To solve the problem, her brain would just shut off her right eye when it got too bad. Since she never saw normally, she didn't know. It wasn't until sports got competitive and she started to drive that the problem was discovered. The bike lane is the center if you are only seeing through your left eye...

Today is Alexis' last day. She and Karina are at opening day of the Scandinavian Festival in Junction City. It is Norway Day, in case you care. This event has more food than any I have ever attended. The first year we went I had just finished radiation. At that point the food obviously wasn't a big draw for me either. Patty was visiting. It seems like forever ago and yesterday, as so many things do.

Thank you to my Facebook friends who jumped on my challenge and sent idea. The acupuncturist really wants me to try using some sort of block to keep my head up during the day. I use a rolled up towel at night, but it doesn't work all that well once I am upright. My sleuths found a model that would avoid the trach and the port. However, the cut piece of pool noodle may end up being the winner. It is inexpensive, infinitely adjustable, and firm yet soft.  He is hopeful this will help retrain my neck to stay upright while providing those angry, abused muscles with a crutch.

Thank you to Alexis for last night's dinner and your wonderful company this week, and the lovely afghan.

Thank you to the great friends who are coming over to work in our yard today. I am ashamed of the amount of apples on the ground. Our tree generally produces heavily, but this year it was early and outdid itself. As it is far too tall to pick most of the apples, I usually pick up drops daily and cut out the bruised parts from impact and make applesauce. Of course this year, there has been no picking up. They are everywhere. Each time one bangs off the room and cringe and feel guilty. Guilty that food is going to waste. Guilty that someone is going to have to do something with them, even if that is just running over them all with the lawn mower. Guilty that someone else is going to have to fish them out of the gutters. Guilty that I won't have made any applesauce when latke time comes.

Not that my children will mind no applesauce. I realized yesterday that food is not miraculous to them. Going to the mailbox and coming back with a pint of raspberries and two cucumbers is old news. It just means mom took longer to bring the mail in. They would rather have applesauce from the store that comes in little pouches and looks like everyone else's. This is Eugene, so I know that there is no such thing as everyone else's, because there are such a range of people, from everything store bought to everything homemade, that I know this argument is invalid. For Karina to complain about being the only kid with organic food in glass containers in Las Vegas was the truth. Most of the kids who did not have hot lunch either had a lunchable or their lunchbox looked like a display from an end cap at 7/11.

Even though I can't eat in the traditional sense, food is still miraculous to me. I still marvel at the tomatoes, raspberries, and cucumbers and all the rest. That a seed grows up into a plant that makes food. That miss a potato and you have a dozen more the next year. That a sliver of root from a comfrey or a horseradish will make another plant. That the strawberries will spread and colonize as will the raspberries. It never loses its excitement for me.

I know I promised the fish hook story. It is even all written out inside my head. I can't do anything about the apple guilt plaguing me, but I can do something about the three baskets of clean laundry sitting here waiting to be folded. Any guilt abatement is good.

So, until tomorrow, I sort of promise...

Love,
Kiara