|A photo of me taken recently|
However, I think it is time I made a showing, as I have some rather difficult news to announce. My house maid noticed that there was a lump on my chest area and took me to the v**. She told the v** that she had also noticed lately that I've been drinking extra lots of water. Well, the v** did this and that and poked and prodded (as they will do) and took some kind of "tests".
Turns out that I have a severe uti infection (not sure what that is, exactly), and I am in beginning stages kidney failure, and the lump on my chest is cancer, although that is early stage as well.
My maid was given antibiotic liquid to give me for the infection, as nothing else can be treated, apparently, until that is cleared up. Needless to say, I was NOT fooled when she put it on my food, even when she presented me with white albacore people tuna, which I normally adore. I simply refused to eat it, and she knows better than to try to put it directly in my mouth.
So, back to the v** we went, and I was rewarded for my selective tastes with a shot of time-release antibiotic, and then 2 weeks later another one! According to my maid, the v** says that my infection is improving, and I have an appointment sometime in April (my maid refuses to tell me when!) for a re-evaluation of my condition.
All in all, I'm content with whatever my fate will be. I know in my heart that my maid has loved me all these years and that she will do what she can for my comfort. But with my 16th birthday only weeks away, lets face it, I'm no spring kitten! She cries, off and on, and is treating me with extra kindness, which I appreciate, but I wish she wouldn't cry. The price of love is loss.
I will endeavor to keep my friends updated with my progress, and in the meantime I will be carefully considering which of the four boys in my household I will entrust with continuing my blog. My maid snapped a photo of one of them, Winston, this afternoon that I thought rather charming:
At any rate, I'll leave you with a poem that I wrote about my maid, who is herself a poet of some repute. Perhaps I still have a year or two left in me to spend with her. Perhaps not. Time will tell.
A Poet's Friend
My home is where a poet dreams
of love and life and lore in verse.
When tumbling words elude, it seems
her calm and tranquil thoughts disburse.
But in a quiet reverie,
when words give way to weary sighs,
I come to share my poetry-
a murmur; gentle, soft and wise.
The poet's fingers, tired and curled,
find comfort in my sable coat
my soothing rumble smooths the world,
so poet's dreams can lift and float.
I wish that I could pause and stay-
my time with her is almost through.
Old age is calling me away.
I loved her well. I'm sure she knew.