The last couple of days I have felt just a little off. I shrugged it off as lack of sleep and a little bit of stress. Yesterday, I noticed that the offness felt worse when I sat down to rest in between tasks and chores. So yesterday was a motivated day to keep moving as transitioning from summer to storage and fall/winter clothes aired out either for hanging up or going to Goodwill. Last night as I pondered and prayed the thought came to me that just maybe what I had been experiencing was afib. It hadn't dawned on me that this is what it could be due to the fact it felt different and it wasn't the normal way I experience it. I truly believe that the thought of afib came from the Lord in my prayer time. I went downstairs and took a half of pill like prescribed and brought the other half back upstairs with me. An hour had gone by and while there was some relief, I felt like I should take the remaining half. Did so and it was just a minute or so that the old irregular beat went into normal rhythm. A wave of exhaustion followed and I went to bed. This morning I am still in rhythm but feel like I have an afib hangover. The heart works so hard in afib, like running marathon after marathon. This bout was opposite of everything I have experience in this heart journey, felt better moving, worse sitting when in the past felt better resting than working. I texted Roy about all this and he said, it was God not the pill. Yes, that's true and it was God prompting me to get the afib pill because like I said, I never thought it was afib.
Yesterday was an early for me morning because of wanting to get to the tag office early. There can be long lines at time. Didn't have a long wait and the ladies that work there are friendly and chatty. Got the sticker and came back home. Didn't see the state trooper either, so that is a bonus. It is odd but getting the tag sticker is one of those things that are just everyday kinds of things, but I dread the whole process. It's kind of like how I feel with getting the garbage bins down to the road.
This morning I believe I face a task that I have to do. Boodos has been missing for three days which is not unusual for male cats, except Boodos. He used to be a wild and crazy cat when it came to doing all the cat things, but King Herod has stalked, attacked and has made life miserable for him. Like I said, he has done this before but it has been a while. KH has been lurking and why he is so intent on Boodos, I don't know. Yesterday afternoon, I went out back to move some things in case Mike weed eats in the back. There I found Boodos to the side and over by the grill. He is panting and is obviously in pain. I went to him, he has really never let me be close to him unless food is involved. Many of the Feral Fam were sitting at a distance in that mournful position. With Strawyer, his back legs had given out and I could pick him up. Boodos also had saliva dripping out of his mouth. Mind went right to the rabid dog scene in To Kill a Mockingbird. Even with heavy gloves, the unknown of his reaction scared me so I made some calls but could not get ahold of anyone. He moved about a little and sat up. Then laid down. I went inside to get him some water from a low lipped bowl and when I went back out, he was not there. He has probably gone under the house, but I sure am hoping that is not the case. This morning, I haven't looked under the porch but I have a feeling he may have crossed the rainbow bridge. For a brief moment I thought I saw him but when I saw Tupac staring toward the porch, I have a feeling he is there. I just came in from inspecting what I can see under the porch, which isn't much, but hopefully, Boodos isn't under there. I think the anxiety of hiding from KH contributed to this problem and the way he maims his victims, this falls right into place. Yesterday, I cried, no sobbed. Because the thoughts of Buddy and then onto Hector Protector just overwhelmed me. HP and Boodos were too of the gentlest and kindest cats in all of The Feral Fam. Boodos was beloved and the youngers loved to hang around him. It's like all of the Fam knew he needed help.
"Stories hold us together. Stories teach us what is important about life, why we are here and how it is best to behave, and that inside us we have access to treasure, in memories and observations, in imagination."
I saw this quote on Twitter this morning and being true to my grandfather, I cut and pasted it, although back in his day that would have meant a whole nother thing. These past few days have been just that especially when staying up half the night unable to sleep, thinking of stories and memories that bring joy in the night and of course joy comes in the morning too. I will probably also write the quote in a notebook. Of course so many thoughts have gone to those summers with Grandma B. I asked her how she and Grandpa met, well she said, he was dating my friend, she broke up with him, so we began dating. At the time I thought, how sad...she came in second. But you have to remember back then people or rather few people oozed out details like we do today. Grandma had a basement and it scared me. The damp, dank and dark gave me the heebie jeebies. My brother recently told me he loved going down to her basement. For a long time, that is where her washer was, but as she got older, her sons moved it up to the back porch, which really wasn't like a porch, just an enclosed addition. It was one of those contraptions that washed clothes in the tub and then we put the washed clothes through the ringer. I would help her hang up the wash on the clothesline in the back. One day, this brilliant idea came. Take her undies and bras and hang them in the tree in the front yard. Took my first stolen goods to the tree and I used clothes pins to stretch those undies as wide as they would go. I was coming back for another load. She was watching me from the kitchen window and as soon as the jumble of unmentionables had been gathered, I took off for the front yard. Just before reaching the tree, my grandma playfully yelled, Nancy Ann, you take those back to the clothesline where you found them. She says I nearly leapt two feet in the air and my steps were widened and enlarged, but not like prayer of Jaybez enlarged. She was laughing so hard, me too. I think we both might have wet our pants in laughter when the "Coffee Man" pulled into her driveway. He was a door to door salesman that sold a plethora of merchandise. She bought her coffee and ketchup from him, probably other things too but the coffee and ketchup made an impression. He arrives with her undies still in the tree as well as the ones in my arms. My grandmother, without missing a beat says, you caught us on laundry day. So much to hang out, we are using trees. Y'all, I never loved my grandmother more than at that moment. I had to return to the clothesline for the obvious reason but also, I was about to bust a gut laughing. After he left, she gave me a playful swat on the rear end and said, while smiling, I better not catch you doing this again. I think I might have jokingly said, next time, you won't catch me. We laughed over that funny for the longest time over the years. One last funny story. Living in the country her home was on a septic system. If she didn't drink the remainder of coffee she made, she poured it in the toilet, not down the sink. That first summer I stayed with her, I thought she was dying. I wrote my mother about the observations I had made concerning the dark urine that she had not flushed. What should I do? Would she talk to her about this? Imagine how embarrassed I was when Grandma, after being informed by my mother over these concerns I had, asked, you thought that coffee was coming straight out of me? Well, yep. Believe me before being enlightened I prayed for her every night that she would be well.
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