Lia thank you for update! I’m still sending prayers your way 💗 such a genius, your son’s tech skills he’s figuring out those monitors! It is very ironic like a hospital room won’t let you rest! And those beds 😔 of all things!

I think every human being
eventually has a moment
where they are standing outside in sweatpants
that have lost the will to be pants,
holding a trash bag, a divorce, a parking ticket,
or some other receipt from the universe
that says, “surprise, this too is part of it.”

And then the sky bruises purple.

And the air touches your face
like it knows your whole story.

And suddenly you realize:

all the real is actually unreal.

The dirt.
The breath.
The weird little bones in your hands.
The fact that we are here,
on a floating rock with pollen counts,
paying bills,
missing dead people,
loving living people
who say “leaving now”
while still fully naked and looking for socks.

And still,
the moon clocks in.

No applause.
No benefits.
No note from management saying,
“Great work being ancient and luminous again.”

Just the moon,
working nights
like a single mother with no applause,
packing silver lunches
for every dark thing
that still has to rise.

Tell me that isn’t holy.
Tell me there is a better word
than sacred
for the way light keeps returning
with no guarantee
we will actually stop and take note.

I know people who believe in therapy,
probiotics,
tarot,
twelve-step meetings,
manifestation journals,
and waiting exactly eleven minutes
before texting back
so they do not appear emotionally available,
even though their whole nervous system
is standing in the driveway holding flowers.

And underneath all of it,
every ritual,
every doctrine,
every smoothie with chia seeds,
the prayer is the same:

Please let me be loved.
Please let me be forgiven.
Please let this strange little life
mean something
before my lower back
submits its formal resignation.

What is going on?

For real tho—What is this place?

This unbearable tenderness
of being alive long enough
to watch steam lift from coffee in winter
like a soul practicing leaving.

To see your friend laugh so hard
they slap the table
as if joy is a mosquito
they are trying to kill.

To hear a child say “pisghetti”
and, for one shining second,
realize language
has finally been improved.

I know I already noted this in the first piece,
but the older I get,
the less use I have for certainty.

Certainty has never made me pull over
because the sunset looked like God
dropped a jar of peach jam
across the whole midwestern sky
and decided to be lazy
and not clean up.

Certainty has never made me gasp
at rain on hot pavement.

Certainty has never found me
in the cereal aisle,
holding Captain Crunch,
suddenly remembering
that everyone I have ever loved
was made from stardust,
hunger,
and a series of decisions
we probably should have slept on.

No.
It has always been awe.

Awe was the first church.

Before steeples.
Before committees.
Before men got involved
and started making rules about skirts.

Awe was there
with its wild hair
and muddy feet,
saying:

Look.
Look again.
Look until looking
becomes love.

Awe, and soup.

Awe, and someone rubbing your back
when you are sick.

Awe, and old couples at Target
arguing gently about avocados,
as if marriage is not one vow
but ten thousand errands
performed beside the person
who knows exactly
how you like the cart pushed.

Maybe gratitude
was never meant to sound elegant.

Maybe gratitude sounds like:

“Damn.
That woodpecker is trying
to beat that tree from itself.”

Maybe gratitude sounds like:

“Thank you, body,
for continuing to drag me through this world
despite the many slim jims
I have done to you
at gas stations.”

Maybe gratitude sounds like:

“Thank you to the dogs
who lose their entire minds
when we come home
as if we have returned from war
and not Walgreens.”

For me, that might be my gospel.

That joy that does not wait for us
to be impressive but only needs us
to come through the door.

Because the truth is,
this life is devastating.

And ridiculous.

One minute you are 22 and invincible,
driving too fast,
eating gas station nachos
with the confidence of a Greek god.

The next minute you are googling,
“Can sneezing cause a hamstring injury?”
and the answer is,
apparently,
“Welcome to the second half of your life.”

But even now—

even tired,
even grieving,
even emotionally held together
by iced coffee, playlists,
and one very specific wolves hoodie—

we keep finding reasons
to stay soft.

We plant tomatoes
even though grief is real.

We bake bread
even though the news is on fire.

We send photos of the sky
to people we love
with captions like,
“LOOK,”
as if beauty is an emergency
and we are all volunteer firefighters.

We keep saying,
“You have to see this,”
because wonder
is the oldest form
of resurrection.

So here’s to the believers
and the atheists
and the agnostics
and the people whose entire theology
is just trying not to cry
in the DMV line.

Here’s to the people clinging to faith.

Here’s to the people clinging to Xanax
and oat milk
and the one group chat
where nobody pretends to be okay.

Here’s to the tender-hearted weirdos.

The accidental mystics.

The ones who can contemplate mortality
for six straight hours
and then become emotionally attached
to a perfect peach.

The ones who know
despair has a mouth,
but so does laughter.

May we never stop being drop-kicked by beauty
in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.

May we never become so polished
that we forget how to stand
in the Starbucks line of existence
with our dumb, gorgeous hearts open,
feeling the enormity of it all
rattle around in our bones
like thunder
looking for somewhere to laugh.

And may we remember:

whatever else this is,
whatever mess,
whatever miracle,
whatever cosmic group project
no one was prepped for—

all’ve it is astonishing.
that we are here.
that we have loved enough to be ruined.
that the moon keeps showing up.
that bread exists.

So pass it on.

Tear off a piece
with your bare hands.

Take it in as you take it down.

And then go outside and look at that moon.

MM

Poem by Matt Moberg. ❤️

As a writer it really annoys me that they can’t manage to format text correctly on this. In the high possibility that you will not get this formatted I’m sending it in photographic form. It’s worth it. Make sure you read the pages in the right order if you’re interested. I have numbered them.

Last three… The only way that you can get accuracy in order on here is to do photo shots.

Oh my goodness Lia! It’s a masterpiece. I’m thankful you read it to post! Thank you for sharing that. Those words have made my century and this time hugs is an understatement.

I’m going to see if there’s a YouTube video of someone reading that aloud so I can send it and pass it on

Titled? Let me see if I can get that off of one of your pages.

Formatting was fine on my end. Nice poem.

Let me see if I can find the title.

Title of poem by Matt Moberg “All’ve It”.

I'll need to read the poem later, as I'm leaving soon for an appointment.

Just want to comment on you son's experience. First, why not a proper hospital bed?!! Even with that, he'd be uncomfortable after all this time. I hope his room is far away from the nurses' station. Their activity is often enough to keep patients awake, especially at night. During one of my stays, I couldn't have been any closer, and it sounded like a party out there!

Good for YS for solving the blue light problem. It makes no sense that people working in hospitals don't do everything possible to ensure proper rest. So critical to healing! Quiet; no unnecessary lights, and certainly not blue; and proper bed and blankets!! One of the times my mom was in the ER--which was always 8+hours before moving her to a room--they couldn't even find a pillow!!!

The worst time for my mom, was when the nurse??? tried getting her up by pulling on her very frail arm!!! Mom immediately cried out in pain, but she kept pulling. There were three of us in the room, and we all jumped to stop her! It was infuriating! My brother talked to someone about it, but we didn't know if that helped the next patient.

I should balance this by saying I generally love all who help me in the hospital, and especially the nurses.

Hopefully the liver specialist can help with th inflammation. I don't know if he use this, but my internist wants to get me off of Celebrexe re, so he recommended Arthritis Pain Relief Gel, Original Prescription Strength. [Diclofenac Sodium Topical Gel, 1% (NSAID)] I cannot believe how much it helps!

Hang in there, Lia!

I read that poem with the magnifying glass with my glasses on and then I found it down below written that I could read it without the magnifying glass that's a beautiful poem and so true and that's a beautiful rose and I only ate the applesauce when I had meat or or something like eggs so I wouldn't get too upset but the liver shouldn't be interfering with the gallbladder but I'm not a doctor I just sometimes think I am

Thanks Lia All’ve it!

Happy I will have to research the concept of eating applesauce with food to help the gallbladder. Or to help with digestion.

…

Yes we are both concerned about what’s going to happen when he leaves the hospital. Dsimber, thanks for the Rose and the moral support. in a hospital little things matter, and while most of it has become a blur, I will never forget the kindness of some of the individuals there. If only people working in hospitals realized how totally significant compassion is in that setting.

…

I saw one of the new Young foxes on the road tonight at dusk…about the size of a cat. Beautiful, black and silver. I talked to him for a minute and he scampered off towards the water. I think he’s barking right now in my backyard actually…

That was a beautiful poem, Lia. Very moving. Thank you for posting it.

"Everyone’s dietary triggers are slightly different, and not every food will affect your gallbladder the way it affects someone else’s."

https://health.clevelandclinic.org/gallbladder-diet

This article has good information.

Seems that his doctor would have ordered a special diet for him, and told him what to try eating. I'd ask!

Speaking of foxes, my daughter went to an art class where the subject was a baby fox. The lady teaching the class actually was caring for one that she found without the mother.

Poor little baby….I have to ask my cousin Gisele about the baby fox they had once.

Maybe I can ask my brother, who lived there for a while with them, when he was a wood-working apprentice (my parents blew their fuses when he refused to go to college…..aaah, memories.)

My uncle hunted. He was a ”Garde de Chasse” for the community. He was a no-nonsense type. At least made great effort to appear that way. (this is the uncle and aunt who bought the house with my parents, then moved back to Brittany when I had just turned 7, so those cousins are like siblings)

He had various dogs, as all my uncles who hunted did. (my aunt had the beautiful cat, Lucifer (yes, Lucy for short) who would trail along behind him and whatever dogs he was taking with him…hysterical.

Anyway, apparently, he came across a tiny orphaned fox….I remember him.

Yesterday…..strangest day at the beach ever.

Air quality was bad. It reminded me of a few years back. I thought it might be better out there, but not really.

The waves were very powerful… too much for for the two of us to do anything but cool off up to knee/waist high. That was fun though. Then, the wind gusts were alternating between somewhat cool(ish) and you just opened the oven door and got blasted by infernal heat….we’ve never experienced anything like that before….and we’ve been going to the beach together since 1983.

The poem? Trying to redirect my thinking these days back to the direction it reminds us, is why we’re here. (I’m not sure that sentence makes any sense) I think you’ll get my gist.

If your son is back to trying to fix things…. that‘s a good sign!

I found this very amusing….

https://www.labrujulaverde.com/en/2024/04/iddin-sins-letter-written-4000-years-ago-is-the-earliest-known-complaint-from-a-son-to-his-mother/

I hope you can see it. 4,000 years ago….same old story 😩🤣

One more thing, I meant to ask this for a long time.

People see different things here. What do you see? (Title doesn’t help. I’ll tell you that, and what I see later)

Every child (and some adults) have a similar opinion. My husband and I don’t see the same thing.

I see a sleeping cat.

I see a woman dressed in a big coat
sitting in a chair facing the back left.

I see a woman sitting in something like they used to call the captain chair and there's a possible River in front of her and she's possibly holding an oversized cat or dog and she is wearing a c l o AK it's like a coat my phone is acting crazy it's kind of like an oversized coat that has like a hoodie that lays on top of the shoulders it's like they had them long time ago like I don't know 100 years ago it's a lovely picture I hope you're enjoying it and the Mystery in it

And…I see nothing…oh wellll….Michele, weird day at beach…maybe wind bringing inland heat? Fox barks are very odd…heard barking last night and it cannot be described well. Not at all doggish.

YS has TPN line out…on solid food only. Sending him home in the next couple of days, to continue healing pancreatic inflammation at home. Then, surgery at some point. 2-4 weeks. Now, my new anxiety is…will he continue to heal, or will we cycle around again. 😔DIL assures me there will be a medical discharge plan…that he won’t just be sent home. I hope. It will be great to not be going to hospital and he can’t wait to get out! Making a couple watercolour thank you cards today. Going in tomorrow for root canal work, step two.

The heritage home my dear friend died in last fall, is being sold…eventually. The remaining friends, a couple, are buying a lovely home in rural NS, about three hours from me. I will only see them rarely, once they move. So ends an era of many decades, in the Halifax art scene…that heritage home was a hive of filmmakers, musicians, theatre people, artists, students…and now it holds all those dreams, in silence. So fitting Jim passed away there; film maker and artist, gay rights and arts advocate. In a few months it will be turned over to a new owner who will never know the ghosts that walk there.

Good that your son will be home soon. How long is the drive for you to his house?

I have been meaning to ask about the tooth that has been bonded.

Michele, I just heard that Canada wildfires are affecting New York air quality.

I see an old crone adjacent to a fire
I see

lia, my OH just got discharged from the hospital today after an unexpected 3 night stay. A prescription was ordered for him before he left and he got a packet of discharge papers including 2 doctors he needs to set up follow-up appointments. While I know CA is different, I imagine your son will receive something similar.

kcooz07, I’m hoping that he’s feeling better real soon.

The air was horrible. It was supposed to get better overnight. It seems better, but I checked air quality readings… they don’t seem to jibe.

I had follow-up with doc yesterday…. he’s ok (meh)

I have an appointment for an x-ray of lower back at 10. (that’s just chronic, I’ve had lower back pain for years. It’s not what I went for, but still, good to see wth it is…. disc, RA etc) and he took blood for a couple of other tests.

I see a house up on top of a hilltop, at night. My husband, and a few others see a boat on rough waters. Many see animals or birds.

It’s called ”Root”

If you have to go out Michelle but it is best to stay in wearing a mass they said those I don't know what it's called it's the best one I don't know I don't want to say the wrong name I can't think

Lia my heart breaks for the Heritage home. It would be nice to know or think that the new owners would keep it authentic, so to speak. And all the art and history inside, what will become of all that?

Home from hospital…loooonggg day but here now at YS place. Catch up later.

So YS is home? I hope both of you are comfortable with that in terms of him functioning alone. Or will you be able to stay there?

Checking in here… Yes he’s home from the hospital but I will be staying in his house with him during this transition… he’s very weak can’t stand up for more than a few minutes at a time. There’s no question of him being here alone. And this is still a healing period for the pancreatitis it’s not like he is well. four weeks to the CT scan and six weeks before a consultation with a doctor on the surgery.

Lia I’m so glad you checked in. I had the same questions as Dsimber. I was thinking to ask you was his home closer to you than the hospital. I know sometimes they just send you home too soon is what I’m thinking. But I’m not sure there’s anything we can do about that except I’m glad you’re going to be there with him. I was thinking he lived alone? Gosh, that sounds like a long time to check things again? I’m thinking he’s glad to be home, but it’s a little more difficult than not having the 24/7 care of the hospital. Is there anyone that can share the care with you at his house? Just a little bit? Give you some relief from time to time.

Home is always better! With eating real food, proper rest in his own bed etc., I'm thinking/hoping he will get a bit stronger day by day.

Lia, here I think they would send him to a post-hospital caring facility instead of sending him home if he can barely stand, walk, and take care of himself. Does his medical insurance offer that option? Or maybe there aren't those kinds of facilities where he lives? If such options are available, is that something you could look into?

Can u stay with him?

happy, lia said she is staying at his house for as long as needed.

Lia, I hope he will recover better at home..his bed and just being home.

You’ve taken a tiny step forward. Hopefully he can gather strength to be ready for the next round. Thoughts and prayers continue to be with the two of you.

Jay, other than hospice, nothing like that. Pancreatitis with gallstones presents difficult dietary challenges…number one, his calorie intake. Especially if you’re trying to avoid triggering a major gallstone attack. We are starting to track everything he puts in his mouth and I’m doing a lot of online reading. It’s a catch 22… Things that are high calorie like fat and nuts and cheese trigger call pain and attacks. This is complicated with what has always been a very narrow food preference on his part. He has never been able to eat much fruit for example. He may be somewhat neurodivergent I’m not sure. It looks like I’m going to be studying up on this. There are some good cookbooks out there however I’m going to get my hands on one or two.

Lia, a search on ChatGPT came up with this. Of course, you should check with his doctor.