The Ropinirole Rag Time….Also Known as Dreamin’-I’m Always Dreamin’–

Dreamin’…I’m Always Dreamin’…Till my Dreamin’ Comes True!

The medical condition of concern these days is sleep apnea. I casually mentioned that my sleep patterns had changed during my annual GYN apt. Quick as a rabbit my handsome doctor had signed me up for a sleep study. After an overnight bunking up at Scott and White I was on the fast track for every kind of investigation and subsequent treatment. It never really occurred to me that my life was on the line because I snored occasionally. Every time I go for a follow up I am queried at length and given another piece of tubing, strap, or pill. The last time it was determined that I might have restless legs hence a pill—thank God no Ambien but something called Ropinirole or Ropini for short. I don’t feel drugged at all, I get sleepy about an hour after I take it, and have a nightly dream. I have dreams that are very colorful, not worrisome, not erotic (darn the luck), just pleasant even if there are challenges. Last night I dreamed Cee and I were on a cruise. She had packed wisely in a small case—I had a Jamaican/Mexican version of a suitcase: a huge plastic, mesh, zippered bag with all sorts of things creeping out at the seams. Pirates commandeered the ship but I got on quite nicely with them although they were armed with automatic weapons. I had difficulty getting my stateroom key to work thwarting my efforts to get my passport. It was a nice enough dream.

HOWEVER, the best dream of the week has been one Stephanie believes to be spiritually significant. Len just thought it was entertaining. Here’s how it went and perhaps a relevant backstory: Maybe because of the major press coverage of NAACP former president Rachel Dolezal, my dream venue is a major African American conference. I was the featured speaker and Len came with me. I was there because I was well known and accepted to be one of the world’s kindest people, hey, it is my dream, after all. I was sort of like Gandhi—very, very kind. I was so kind that people wanted me to lay hands on them! It was wonderful-certainly felt divine (no joke). I touched hundreds of people and even a litter of puppies. As I became more fatigued from being kind, my ‘spirit’ waned. The puppies even turned from cute little puppies to snarling hounds. After I rested I became kind again. I loved that dream.

Day before yesterday, I went to see Mom—stayed over night. For the first time in ages Mom had excruciating back muscle spasms. It was just awful. We found some pain medicine she had—probably old and gave it to her. It worked ok but the next morning the spasms came back. Billy spoke with her doctor and they said to continue with the medicine. I cannot bear to watch Mom in pain. I hope she is released soon.

Billy and I went to visit Daddy’s grave at Ft. Sam Houston. I asked if we could stop at one of the vendors outside the gates—as it was Father’s Day—and sure enough there was a pretty awesome display of San Antonio, Tex Mex cemetery art for sale. I looked a good while then I gave it up—it was either a wooden cross with mirrors glued on, with an American flag, red, white, and blue ribbon, and matching carnations OR an adorned turquoise cross with a glued on print of Jesus. What the heck, I bought the turquoise cross. Very ethnic….Len says it is the thought that counts. After paying silent homage to our Dad, we went to lunch at our favorite Guanijuato Taqueria. We also went to see Bill Hilliard’s crypt at Billy’s request.

When Billy was little, he used to come in to the bathroom while I was putting on make up; he would sit on the counter and torment me. He still does this.

Len and I both like Chair Yoga–I keep mistakenly calling it Chair Aerobics—that sounds kinda kinky now that I think of it. Once I get this boot off my foot I will either continue or after getting my balance and flexibility back, I may try the real yoga. I have to start walking again.

So now it is time for my night cap….Pearl Light on Ice. Three percent alcohol, often described as watery with the flavor of horse piss…still I like it and so does Mom….I call it, the favored beer of Texas third graders. I guess it is similar to Southern Comfort in that it is associated with cheap and it used to be both were easy to find….now Pearl Light is sold everywhere in Texas except Bell County. I know this because I wrote the Pearl Brewery Corporate Office. They sent me a list of all the places I can buy it.

I think Len and I may drive to Ruidoso, NM in July.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

When I left on Saturday, I could tell you were feeling blue. Then Billy called to tell me you were crying when he came in to check on you. It seems from what you told me and what you told him that you are afraid something will happen to both or one of us. Anxiety is a cursed affliction…it comes up out of the blue and it feels so real. I can speak with certainty since there was a time in my life that I was riddled with anxiety attacks. It took a lot of self-talk, therapy, and reading for me to realize that I can self-regulate to a certain degree. Mom, here is what I want you to know-You will always be cared for to the best of our ability. Here is what I learned…and it is easier said than done. Please do not entertain those thoughts….this is what my old Aggie professor called, “stinkin’ thinkin.” It will immobilize you. I’m a poor one to give advice, I know. I just can’t bear to think of you sad or worried. We will always be there for you. Always.

I think Aida and Mary Louisa are just right for you. They are both so loving and attentive. Dr. Benson was very impressed with Aida at your appointment. He said she was professional—and he wanted to know how we were able to find her. I gave Bros. Bill all the credit as much as it pained me!

I am going to get you a pair of pull on britches…I thought the white ones from Mother’s Day would fit—I think you need a size 4 or maybe a 2! Gosh I wish I could donate some of my fat to you!

The past two days I have been picking peaches off one of the four trees in the garden. It is amazing what rain will do for growth — the other three tress are loaded with small, green, peaches—Max says they will mature later. I sure hope so. I read on the Internet how to ripen peaches gently and it seems to work. You lay a cotton pillowcase or dishtowel down, set peaches 1” apart, stem down, and cover with another cotton dishtowel. The pillowcase works best. So I have four-one quart of slices in the freezer and I’ll do another tomorrow. The deer have eaten all the corn, the beets never did come up, and the bugs ate all the tomatoes and peppers. I won’t have a garden anymore. I am pretty tired of it. I figure those peaches run about $20.00 each when all costs are tallied.

A week later—and today is Billy’s birthday—I think he is 57. I will call him in a bit which may be the first time in years I have remembered.

The broken ankle bones have made me stay close to home. Wearing the boot is essential according to my many nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. I just knew that boot weighed 10 pounds but when I weighed it—only 4. It is hot, hot, hot-and soooooo ugly.

I love you and wish I lived next door to you! I wish I had some screaming interesting news to share but things are just very dull around here!