Month: July 2020

I’m Fine.

I know, I’ve been slacking off on writing. There hasn’t been much to report. Life is on hold due to COVID-19, except I’ve been insanely busy with work. Apparently when everything goes online, they realize how important accessibility is! I hope that continues once we are all back in-person.

 

Yesterday I had an oncology appointment. I will have one of those every three months for forever or five years or whenever they get tired of seeing me that often and move me to every six months. Examination: passed. CBC panel: passed. I’m still waiting on some more blood work, but if I don’t pass it I’ll update here before I post this blog.

A sign that says: Just a friendly reminder - please keep your mask over your nose and mouth. It has a picture of a smiley face with arms wearing a mask.
Nose in mask, please.

 

I’m in quarantine. Every now and then we have a socially distanced outside dinner with the neighbors, or a socially distanced drinks outside with some friends. But mostly I’m just home. Working. Although I decided that the laundry room was ready to get done NOW. So, that’s in progress as well.

A selfie. I'm wearing a red dress with a white V on the chest with some black details, there are three buttons down each side of the dress.
Not sure how this fit when the tatas were still present...

I have not picked up any additional hobbies like I should have. It’s been so hot and I’ve been working so much that the weeds in the garden areas are having a great summer. Thankfully, so are our perennials, except for it being so hot that we finally had to start watering.

 

Have I mentioned it’s hot?

 

I was out walking the dogs today and someone on the other side of the road walking said, “Gotta get the walk in before it gets too hot! Better than snow, at least!” And I was like… “No.” I would prefer a foot of snow over this heat.

 

Could it be menopause? Or the fact that all the grass is dead it’s so hot? Or both? Snow sounds wonderful. That’s all I know.

 

So, basically, I’m fine. I’m hot. Or I’m frozen because I stay inside too much. I’m thankful we replaced our air conditioner a few years ago. It works great! My numbers are getting where they need to be, except the scale, but I’m not worrying about that one yet. I’m maintaining the 8 lb weight loss from surgery. All good.

A white hibiscus flower with a pink center.
Hibiscus.

I will try to find things to write about soon. I have several friends going through problems - cancer, brain tumor, other stuff - and I’m a little preoccupied with that as well. I just want everyone to be healthy and safe.

 

So, to sign off: The science is clear - wear a mask when you are around other people, especially inside! You spit when you talk. It’s time to accept this. We all do. The sooner we all buckle down and behave, the sooner I can get back to traveling for work and being more normal.

 

I hope everyone is staying healthy and safe!

 

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St. Agatha

I’m not Catholic, but I’m a fan of Saints. They give us feast days and my life goal is to return to Wales on St. David’s Day and eat some more of those amazing biscuits. They were life changing, and almost 20 years after I last had them, I still remember them and crave them in the spring. St. David’s Day, his feast day, is March 1. I’m sure he is important for a lot of reasons, but I see him as the patron saint of Welsh biscuit cookie things.

 

So, who is St. Agatha and why am I writing about her?

Little pink flowers with 12 points, light pink outer, darker toward the middle, and a green/yellow center.
Alien flowers*
*May not be true name of flower.

 

She is the patron saint of breast cancer patients. Also, of Sicily and Palermo, bellfounders - people who make bells, rape victims, and wet nurses. You can celebrate her feast day on February 5th. She is often depicted in art with her breasts on a plate, making the depiction of her chest flat like mine.

 

My first thought on hearing that there was a patron saint for breast cancer was, “Cool!” But now that I’ve read a synopsis of her short life - approx. 231-251 A.D. - I’m slightly horrified.

 

She was born to a rich family, but from a very early age, she devoted her life to God. She was, by all accounts, very beautiful, so her decision to become a consecrated virgin was apparently too much for some dude to take.

 

One dude - Quintianus - thought he was so very important that he could force her to marry him. When she kept saying no, he did what every normal spurned man does and had her arrested under an edict from the Roman Emperor Decius that required Christians to sacrifice to the Roman gods and the emperor. Because, naturally, this made sense.

 

Okay. This makes no sense. It’s like that time in history where they would put animals on trial. Look it up.

 

Anway, Jews were exempt from the Decian persecution thing in 250 A.D., so that’s good that they weren’t being forced to sacrifice animals and stuff.

Peach-colored daylilies that are about to bloom.
Daylily not yet open.

Anyway. This arrest brought her before a judge. You’ll never guess who the judge was!! Quintianus. The dude who wanted her to forego her vows and become his gorgeous wifey person. The offer was: Be my wife, or be tortured and maybe die.

 

She said, “No.” Well, with more words and more tears I’m guessing. She would not give up her path in life to marry this obviously well-adjusted dude who couldn’t take no for an answer.

 

So, he had her imprisoned in a brothel, naturally. She suffered for a month, not wavering in her faith, so Quintianus had her brought back. She still would not marry him. She’d found her freedom in Jesus Christ. She would belong to no man on earth.

 

Result? He sent her to prison and ordered her to be tortured. Stretched on a rack, torn with iron hooks, burned, whipped, and finally he ordered her breasts to be cut off. He sent her back to prison with no wound care, not even a band-aid, and she miraculously healed after St. Peter came to her in a vision.

 

Quintianus pretended that hadn’t happened and had her rolled over hot coals that they’d also added sharp shards to because, well, who wouldn’t think of that? After this torture, she prayed to join God in heaven and passed to Heaven. Even a future saint can only take so much of this earthly torture.

 

As I said, I’m horrified. But also happy that I can now and forever refer to her torturer as Mr. Anus. You know, for short.

 

Conclusions: Don’t question anyone else’s path in life as long as it’s not physically hurting anyone. People are going to go different ways, and it may seem odd to you, but it’s better if everyone is just able to be who they are. In fact, I recommend being friends or acquaintances with as many different people from different walks of life/different backgrounds as you can. You learn stuff and oftentimes they have some really amazing food that I did not eat growing up in the Midwest USA. Seriously.

Arthur on the couch, on his side, eyes closed, mouth partially open, looking blissful while getting pets from me.
THIS is what love looks like. Peaceful and happy.

And abuse should never be used on someone you claim to love or who claims to love you. I mean, I’m not sure he ever loved her - he just wanted arm candy - but you know what I mean. If you need to escape abuse, visit thehotline.org or call 800-799-7233. If you’re unable to talk, text LOVEIS to 866-331-9474. Love shouldn’t hurt you physically *or* emotionally.

 

I’ll leave here with St. Agatha’s prayer:

Saint Agatha, you suffered sexual assault and indignity because of your faith and purity. Help heal all those who are survivors of sexual assault and protect those women who are in danger. Amen.

 

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