Writings of Constance Ore ( 1937 – 2010 )

Yesterday was given over to two projects; the first was going to Heidi’s house where we made foods together since she had the holiday off from work. This happy time resulted in excellent chicken soup, apple pies, and trying out a new biscuit recipe.

After that, it was off to the hospital into the day’s second project which was going to the pulmonarist to continue the conversation about my lungs. The inhalants had helped somewhat, but the dreadful coughing spasms and lung pain had not been addressed, and by now, he had studied my medical history and was ready to go on in the search of the problem. I had two Cat Scans, one of my sinuses without dye, and another with dye injected into the blood stream to make sure there was not a blood clot in a lung and also to study the lungs more completely. Because the reason for the arterial blood clot in my kidney had never been found, he said that even with the blood thinners, he needed to make sure clotting wasn’t happening and we were to stay until the Scan had been read before we returned home. (We spent the afternoon “killing time”, a phrase that always sends up exclamation points in my brain since one doesn’t wound time, or birth time, but one can kill it. I counted the fish in the salt water aquarium and watched them doing their lives in that small space. They seemed to be into repetitive behavior, big time.) No blood clotting was found, so we were sent home with that good news at the end of the day.

Sometime later this week, we will be given a more complete readout of the findings of the scan, and I was told to cease using the Advair inhalant and begin one called Symbicort 80/4.5. This one has possible side effects that include “immune system effects and a higher chance for infections” so I will follow up on that; the reason for the change was the hope that it would be more effective in controlling the symptoms. When I used it the first time, it did bring relief very quickly, and I said to Charles, “Perhaps you could write a little song like, “Oh Symbicort, you bring such peace to my bosom . . .” After a short pause he looked over the top of his glasses and said, “and is there a second line to that?” I have been trying to think of a good rhyme word to “bosom” ever since, but to no avail.

As Judith recommended, I ordered some face masks that our doctor friend found on the Internet for me; they should relieve anxiety about going out because they apparently stop 99% of the bad microorganisms. I just have to mentally prepare myself to appear in public with this over my face; another friend said that she thought there would be a business in designing arty and seasonal face masks. . . I could go forth in masked mystery rather than with this blue thing that cries out, “Oh dear, sick!” Ah well, life goes on, ever changing, ever challenging and not “business as usual” but we will enjoy our chicken soup and apple pie and biscuits and give thanks for another day.