I woke up wanting to hit something. Or someone.
Though metaphorically I am. I have an art show of my mother's and my art hung for the month of July at our local dispossessed coffee house, The Boiler Room. They put out a message saying they were looking for artists and I jumped at it.
I'm still getting over the damn PANDAS. The strep is gone after a month of antibiotics. Took me two weeks to remember that sepsis requires considerably higher doses than strep throat. Duh. I worked with another local doc but my infectious disease doc was out sick himself.
Some patients are leaving because I'm not there. Others send cards. I ran into one yesterday and he is loaning me a glass bottom kayak. Cool.
The infectious disease doctor said that the antibodies rise for a month after the antibiotics are started and then fall over two months. I still think they attach to the adrenalin receptors and act as "super adrenalin". Not very fun. Wired in the morning, except that my fast twitch muscles don't work right. Slow twitch muscles are fine. Apparently vocal cords are fast twitch because my voice is not working right. Vocal cords and lungs hurt the most when I get tired. I try to avoid talking, which mostly means staying holed up in the house. Singing not ok either; I went to chorus last Monday and lasted one piece of the Rutter Requiem. Doubtful that I will get to do the Pie Jesu on July 24th, so I am mourning that.
Back to hitting someone. Hanging an art show does not require much talking and slow twitch muscles are just fine. I have a bunch of 18 by 24 portraits up, mostly by my mother but one by me. Also seven of our ten joint works: her etchings and my poems. We did them in the 1980s. Her requirement was that they had to rhyme: "None of that free verse."
I also have two poem/collages up. Support from my peers and Forgiveness. I am really tired of the local hospital messing with me. Third time is the charm. My voice doesn't work well enough yet to engage formal help but it will.
The opening is today at 5:30, our local Gallery Walk. I am going to play the CD of folk songs made by me and grundoon and our father, General Singular. In lieu of talking or reading the poems, that is...... I may have to wear a gag in order to not talk. I don't have one of those S & M ones with the ball, so might have to make do with a medical mask, or a scarf. (Do not write plague on the medical mask...... write laryngitis.)