The Dozen Cousins and Taps on Table Tops.

Uncle Ross
sang bass
And Uncle Raymond
took lead

Uncle Bob Was a sweet tenor
and sopranoes and altos
were everywhere.
I wanted to be both

Aunt Nan
And Aunt Eunice
sang those golden bells
and Aunt Marie said
Lets try that one
one more time.

If we wanted to sing
We had to behave
We could not fight and
Yes she saw us

How did we feel
about being called
The Dozen Cousins?

Mama said to remember
we would be in the Lord's house
See if you can do better than the boys
she would whisper

She was afraid they would throw
us out of the church
if we were not sweet
So we learned to be sweet
with a mean beat

Once when we stayed awake
after the real musicians
went to bed
we danced too much
in the yard

Uncle Raymond caught us
and made us get up at 5:00 am
Did you know
It is not even
light at 5:00 am

We played taps
on the table top with
the old loose knife
from the drawer

We had to
fight to get it
And not let
Aunt Margaret catch us
Cause she said
we had to share

Donny rang bells
with half filled
water goblets
except the one
he threw the
snake in.
You could barely see it
Donny said.

Sonny played
drums with thumbs
and knuckles
on chair legs

We could all hum
a mean comb
and play
crooner sounds
with hand jive.

We loved to
do the twist!
Norman taught us all
Norm won the prize
for doing the splits

Though he lost his seams
down the back
the night he won the 100 dollars
He never missed a beat.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

I confess that I normally see my self as a basically sane person of warmth, caring and empathetic development with a touch of humor and perhaps a bit of elevated self-esteem. Today, I am relatively sure that I have been invaded by the body snatchers and that my invader is the Wicked Witch of the West or a close relative in kind with some sort of irritable, genetic affliction that cannot easily be contained. I have been able to refrain from demanding that the air not blow over my body. Trust me when I say that today that is no small achievement.

What I am reminded of in this process is that I simply do not do the sick thing well and even minor surgical procedures more poorly. I am making a note to myself now. NO MORE SURGERY. I am thinking of a tatoo with with those words and a rosebud, or better yet a small elephant, least I forget.

What do you think? I marvel at those people who seem to transend physical discomfort, loss of energy and various gross or painful symptoms all in the name of prevailing modern medicine and through assurance of recovery. I tend to come out fighting, perhaps a bit like Don Quixote and his rather demented dance with the windmill. I think there may be much to be said for chants, and incense. I am not sure if this created a cure but the sounds and smells would have been inviting.

I definitely do not find it to be better living through Chemistry. I am convinced that I have lost at least 50% of my short term memory since taking even a few pain pills..... with no assurance that it is likely to return in the forseeable future. Say a slient prayer now please for me. Some recovering people should not be left alone. Thank goodness, I am assurred by all who witness that this is not serious and that I will soon be up running around normally. HMMMM It is a toss up. Is the pain worse or are the loss of memory and sense of self...I do still remember my name....the more difficult?

The answer to this ongoing mental self evaluation changes frequently....at least every 2 to 3 hours. It sort of sneaks up on you as you struggle to respond to what you have every reason to think is a perfectly reasonable question from a family member but what appears visually to be coming out of the asker's mouth looks like colorful falling children's building blocks.

I keep telling myself....mantra like...in 15 years this will surely not matter....
I cling to the one consolation...I think...the laproscopic scars are covered with heart shaped bandages.