Summer Diary: 11 June 2012

The old dog insisted on going on the morning walk, but lost her legs on the way back and had to lie down to rest until she could make her slow shuffle home. It's up to me to set the limit for her, despite her initial enthusiasm. She slept the entire day, waking to eat or growl a warning at the cat and small dog. I'm getting all my yearly well check ups out of the way this week. The doctor told me to relax, but I knew what he intended and tried to calm myself in between adjustments. I ended up clenching the sides of the table. He waited until I released my grip to continue. I'm learning to breathe into it. I have to pretend I'm somewhere else. Later, I am in a dark room, focusing on a tiny blue dot, peering into a device that measures corneas. I have a flash from Orwell's 1984 and immediately pull back. The doctor is surprised. I ask him if anyone ever told him this procedure reminds them of the torture scenes from the book. He says an unemotional "no", but his forehead is fighting what looks like a war that advances and recedes very quickly. The first time he examined my eyes he said "has anyone ever told you that you are too smart for your own good" after I asked him if he was going to change the screen since I had memorized the order of the letters. His question made me laugh even though I knew it wasn't intended to be humorous. I asked him to change the screen not to challenge him, but because I knew that unless he changed it, I would repeat the memorized letters because I always want to do well on tests of any kind, and then he wouldn't get an accurate reading of my eye strength. I am a little tense when I see doctors. I planted a dozen varieties of heirloom tomatoes and basil in the last of the day's light. A neighbor waved hello and I walked over and we talked, his fence between us. He spoke for the first time about being a disabled vet, his PTSD and the strategies he uses to contain it. I pinched the inside of my arm so I wouldn't cry. He said my father means so much to him, that as vets, even though of different wars, they speak the same language. I could hear the anguish in his words. I cried, but he kept talking as if I were just standing there nodding, smiling, politely commenting on the weather.

Summer Diary: 6 June 2012

It was a brisk morning after yesterday's wind and rainstorm. The walking path was strewn with tree limbs. Each day I am walking a longer distance and at a faster rate. On the path today my small dog was introduced to Jack and Sam, two portly Beagles. They touched noses and sniffed each other cautiously, then we continued on our separate directions on the path I've joined a lunch bunch of a group of women from different backgrounds. The intention is to meet at local cafes and restaurants once a week for conversation and community. I will admit the invitation to join this group made me nervous. I spent far too much time worrying about what to wear this morning, decided against a dress, and finally chose khaki shorts, black tee, and black zip vest. I wore my diamond peace sign necklace to dress up my intentionally casual not trying too hard outfit. We met for an early lunch at a little bistro that specializes in gourmet salads, sandwiches, and desserts owned by a young husband and wife duo who look like they should be posing for Vogue Italia rather than chopping pistachios or deveining shrimp. Both were French literature majors in their earlier incarnation. I sat next to a woman who had lived in Jordan for close to a decade. The lively conversation touched on every possible topic from politics to polygamy and towards the end of the meal, of course we talked about the "it" book, Fifty Shades of Gray. One of the women keeps it hidden between the mattress of her bed. Another said she scrolled her kindle and that the book doesn't get it's kink on until about chapter 6. Next week we are meeting for authentic wood-fired marghertia pizza. I have always preferred healers to doctors, so unless it's an emergency, I will choose the former. Accupuncture is my treatment of choice, but the woman I usually go to moved back to India and the other practioner I tried has a penchant for slap-hitting the afflicted area. This ticks me off to the point of road rage levels. I finally found a small clinic that specializes in holistic treatments of every variety from cranial sacral to dermatology. Later this afternoon I met with a holistic practioner, who is also a western-doctor. He exam almost felt like a mix of psychic reading and standard well check up. He checked my flexibility, did a battery of muscle tests, then adjusted my neck and the crack sent me into total flight response. I left the clinic without the dull ache in my sacrum plaguing my every step. Earlier, when I was lying on the table, he commented on my necklace and said, we need more peace in the world. Yes we do.