A few nights ago, I went to sleep after a lovely day with my family that also came with some terrible news in my city and state and a somber day in my spoonie community.
At the same time, my body was exhausted from a gnarly flare that Just. Won’t. Quit. I’m improving from my hip surgery but my RA has just run amok with incredible joint pain and stiffness and fevers and now even the crazy nosebleeds that I get when all is not well.
Through that night, I woke with strange dreams and awful night sweats – which I’ve also been having with my flare – and would get up and change clothes and whatnot and try to get settled and get back to sleep because I desperately needed the rest.
However, the last dream that I had – and I usually don’t remember my dreams – was so vivid and terrifying that it stuck with me.
Somehow I dreamed that I was on death row for something I didn’t do. Just before I awakened, I was lethally injected – after it took hours to find my veins – and I was lying there thinking of my family and what they would do without me, waiting to die when I woke up.
Needless to say, I was totally disoriented and distressed when I sat up and caught my breath.
As I settled down, I began considering all things that had been on my heart when I went to bed that probably led to this awful dream. There has been so much loss and devastation – and that day there had been some awful news and I had seen some things that really bothered me.
First, totally by accident, I had come across a proud fundamentalist who was proclaiming that Jesus calls for the death penalty for all murderers, rapists, and women who have abortions – and he meant it from the bottom of his tiny heart.
Now, I have JUST written about my changed views on the death penalty and believe that NOTHING could be further from the truth. I also believe that lulu’s like this are causing terrible harm to the Church as a whole, spouting off this kind of thing for the world to hear. I was really upset and intended to do a post about this foolishness (I still do).
I made some notes about it that night – and I’m sure thinking of the wrongfully accused and being so upset that this Fundy was bringing Jesus into it played some part in my nightmare.
At the same time, my spoonie friend that I have just written about who has chosen to stop care and enter hospice posted photos of her last birthday celebration and it just broke my heart for her. While there is nothing that can be done – and she is at peace with her decision, it’s just HARD.
A memorial was also held for a young – 19 year old – precious woman in the group who died suddenly of complications of her autoimmune disease. I am just so sad for her and her family.
It was so much to take in.
I. Hate. This.
So much more research is needed to understand and treat these disease processes.
Violence In My City
That day, at our local mall – the largest in our state, a gun fight broke out between members of rival gangs apparently. None of them were shot – but four innocent bystanders were, including an eight year old who was waiting to A Children’s Place with his family to buy clothes for Independence Day.
This precious baby has been on my heart since the news broke and I just can’t stand it.
I. Hate. This. Too.
Worsening COVID-19 News
The news in my state keeps getting worse and worse. On that day, nightmare day, I received a notification that we had broken a same day record with over 1100 cases.
My county has passed an ordinance requiring face masks in public places – but I saw SO many pictures over the holiday weekend of private, laissez-faire gatherings that I expect an explosion in the near future.
Today, it was reported that only 11% of our ICU beds remain available statewide AND my county – the largest in the state – was raised to very high risk.
We are in big trouble.
I’m sure all of those things came together for the worst night – and nightmare – I think I’ve ever had.
And since that night?
There has been even more to take in.
Nick Cordero’s Terrible Suffering & Death
As many of you have probably been following the updates from his wife, Amanda, you likely know this story. For those who don’t, Nick was a Tony Award winning Broadway actor who was 41 – my age – with no pre-existing health conditions when he contracted COVID-19. He was in ICU for 95 days, having been intubated and eventually trached. His right leg was amputated due to blood clots that could not be managed by other means. He suffered multiple infections and complications before he died.
It was just a horrible course of illness and death – as COVID is – and it breaks my heart.
This post today from the New York Times says more and I encourage you to take a moment to read it:
So tragic and frightening.
I. Hate. This. Too.
If you’ve been following the news at all, you know that it seems parts of Seattle have been running riot with the recently – finally – shut down CHOP zone.
Over the weekend, a protest that had taken over an interstate there ended in two women being hit by a speeding car and one of them, Summer Taylor, dying as a result of her injuries.
As it happened, I had not yet heard about this Sunday morning when I was scrolling through Facebook and I saw the actual video of the women being hit before I knew what it was – and now the image is stuck in my head.
So much unrest and so much is wrong and everything feels broken and terrible things are happening and no one wants to lead well.
I. Hate. This. Too.
At The End Of The Day
There IS so much broken right now. It’s true.
Being confronted with our own fragility is difficult – and this COVID crisis is definitely doing so, even for otherwise healthy people.
What do we do?
We take care of ourselves and each other as best we can.
We stand up to the injustices and the wrongs and the violence we are seeing where we can.
We keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And, in the face of our own fragility, we make the best, most wonderful use of our time here that we can.
Be well, everybody. Take care of yourselves and each other.
Grace and Blessings.