A lot can happen when a prescription is written and a "patient" begins to ingest pharmaceuticals, even just one small peach-colored pill, seemingly harmless, every morning for 2+ months.
It would be difficult to go back and try to trace what happened and when, or how I began to know that not only was this drug not doing me the good that I and my doctor had hoped, but was actually doing me the great harm of destroying my serenity, my belief that all will be well, and delivering horrible anxiety in its place. Something about labs that had been done in a hurry, at the very end of my last doctor's visit, and were probably not accurate, since I had not done the fasting that would have been required, had the labs been ordered in advance, as I thought they had, but my physician's assistant had a death in her family (cancer) and was not in the office when I tried to verify that I was indeed going to have fasting labs the same day as my regular appointment (usually, they are done in advance, so that my doctor will have access to the results). Anyway, the labs were not reliable, and that fact was established, yet somehow the order was given, based on the labs, for me to DOUBLE the amount of the prescription that I had been taking since April. And right away, my friends were having to scrape me off the ceiling, when they could even see where I had landed. This has been truly the most harrowing time of my life, and I have had some pretty bad things happen, over the course of 67 years as a woman without the protection of a man or a family structure.
To paraphrase the Beatles, I have gotten by with a lot of help from my friends. You know who you are. Most of you are speaking to me now, over Zoom, and it is truly a wonderful experience, to attend my own "Celebration of Life," as my sister Donna calls it, because she hates the word "funeral" in all its forms.
Yes, we are celebrating, and laughing, and singing, and sometimes we cry a little, too. I would not miss this for anything, this two or three months of putting "My Huck Finn Funeral" together. Most of the skill involved in this rather complex project is not mine. I have learned to do my own Zoom taping, and I can actually find the recorded sessions in the odd places where Zoom sends them on my hard drive. So far, I know nothing about editing them. That is truly an art form. Perhaps I will learn some rudimentary techniques, before it is all "in the can." Mostly, I will rely on my highly skilled editor who learned her techniques at UCLA film school. She is giving untold hours as a labor of love, to help me tell the story of my life through the reflections of my friends and family. Below are photos of us editing outside, in 90+ degree weather, because of COVID. Yes. It is 90 degrees in Central Florida right now, even at night.
Because of COVID, most of the time we make desks out of picnic tables or outdoor dining areas at restaurants where we wouldn't necessarily eat, if we had our druthers. If a joint has bothered to think about their immune-compromised customers enough to make it possible for us to eat and socialize and work outside, we will eat their greasy sugary food, and bless them for it.
So far, I have avoided COVID. Many of my friends and family have not. I am deeply grateful that it has not visited me, so far, but this other thing has. This drug thing. It took two months away from me, at least. I did not know I had missed doing my June blog until July was almost over. Now it is August, and I am just beginning to come back to myself. "My Huck Finn Funeral" is telling the story of the extraordinary life I have had. We work in the heat of the day and after dark. I get to watch the magic happening. Sometimes the very serious editor is delighted, too.
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