July 8, 2008
Today’s blood readings indicate that I continue to hold on just above the “critical” level in white blood cells and neutrophils. I have been at this place for a good number of weeks, and it means that I have many times when I can say, “This is good”. The ongoing frustration is that I spend several days each week feeling sick, with flu-like symptoms. Even though I have thought the phrase “Get a grip” more often than I can count, the unpredictable ups and downs remain a challenge for me to deal with.
Our house has an elevator to the roof, and from there, one can see many miles in every direction. In the eleven years that we have lived here, this conveyance has responded faithfully to the “down” button excepting for a few times, when it remained silent and unmoving. (usually with good cause, but who can know the mind of an elevator?) That meant that we were left with option two. Option two is a rope ladder that can be attached to a sill and dropped over the edge of the window or house roof – it is advertised in catalogs showing a child climbing down safely and serenely. Most recently, Charles used it on a winter day when he took a DirectTV fellow up to the roof for an installation. Once up there, the cold apparently caused the electrical connectors to malfunction, and the elevator would not go. Dear Charles flung the ladder over the side and led the young man down to the roof of the east porch where they could enter the house through the computer room window. As I opened the window for them, I could not help but notice that the young man’s eyes were a bit wild, and he had an air of near panic about him. Charles was keeping him calm by talking cheerily and without ceasing in the tones of a tour guide. “Just think,” he declared, “now when you tell your friends about your day, you will have something interesting to report. . . instead of the usual boring routine, you can speak of rappelling off a roof. . .” and so on. Yesterday, we all went to the top of the house and when Charles and I were going up in the elevator, I remarked to him that should we become stuck on the roof, we could send John-paul over the edge and down the ladder so he could hand crank us down. Charles replied that no, he would go himself as John-paul is still young and has a long life ahead of him. Following that reasoning, I said that it was obvious that I should be the one to go over the side.
Charles took a deep breath and said, “This is truly a ridiculous conversation” which it was, because there was no reason for the elevator not to work, and the trip down the ladder is not death defying though the first peep over the side of a 36 foot high house is daunting. On these evenings, the rooftop view is made spectacular by hundreds of fireflies flitting about across the wetlands, fields and forest.
The little swallows are now becoming too large to stay within their tiny nest. They are sitting facing outward, and it appears that they should be on their way into the world very soon. All of Sanctuary is filled with anxious parents teaching their fledges how to fly and when we walk the paths, the air is filled with warning sounds on every side. The one that makes me smile is the catbird down by the big cottonwood tree. . . it makes the sound of a duck, and it is difficult for me to imagine a duck’s quack as an off-putting alarm, but who knows?