Seeing Clearly: CAT scan is ok

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

CAT scan is ok

Hi, Guys,

I got a call from Dr. Lowry's office-the neurosurgeon who treated my concussion. He feels that there is nothing new going on in my noggin that might cause me trouble. The vertigo was apparently just one of those things and I have only felt slight symptoms since, so it looks like I am on the mend there as well as everywhere else. I also met with Daniel as usual this week and we discussed my recovery and my feelings surrounding returning to work with different vision and after a month away. I am really sort of nervous about being able to do my job well and just apprehensive about how it will be. Here at home, in my little cocoon, it is easy to feel secure, but getting back out there in the world sometimes sounds a little daunting!

Good news about driving--I can! I called the Secretary of State's office about my re-eval, which has not been scheduled yet. I was under the impression from the good sheriff who visited me after the accident that I was not to be driving until that was done, but I learned that I can indeed drive in the meantime. So, I took Annie and I to my Dr. appt this morning and it really did feel fine. The new mirrors that Deborah installed in my Rav work beautifully!

I got an adorable Beanie Baby Pug delivered to my door today from our wonderful Waukazoo custodian Rhonda. Thank you, girl, and please know that I miss your smiling face very much. For those of you who don't know her, Rhonda is possibly the best custodian who ever lived.

Right up there with Sue Nykamp!:)

Also, recieved a basket of goodies from my Elementary Art Amigos (oh, do they ever know what I like!) and they are coming to visit after school tomorrow. It will be good to be with them again.

My friends Lori and Mark will be getting me to and furrom a meeting tonight so that I can have someone in the car when I do my first night-driving. My program friends are pretty amazing.

thanks as always for your support....I just realized I didn't even mention my eye in this post. That is because it is just getting so much better, and I also forget about it for long stretches the past few days. Wow, what a blessing that is!

3 comments:

Anonymous said...: Hey Claudia,
You looked absolutely beautiful today when you came to school. It was like all of the love coming from the kids was reflected in your face. They were sincerely thrilled to see you. Of course us grown ups were pretty happy too. :)
Liesje; February 27, 2008 at 5:13 PM
Unknown said...: Hi guys,

It's Wed afternoon and I just got a chance to check the blog. I feel SO loved! It was beyond what words can express to see and be with you all, my wonderful family. I miss you all so much, but know in my heart that we will always be strongly connected. Claudia, I'm so proud of you girl. You have put yourself out there and shared yourself with the world, giving so many the hope they need. You are my HERO!

Love you always, Deborah; February 27, 2008 at 5:23 PM
K_to_the_ukla said...: You are a great art teacher. And, you know that.

You could do a better job than most people with both hands ties behind your back and in your sleep. Though that is not a very comfortable way to sleep.; February 28, 2008 at 6:19 AM

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The Journey

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

© Mary Oliver.

a poem from TRAVELING MERCIES by Annie Lamott

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridge to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feeling we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

--w.s. merwin

from Kabir, Indian mystic poet

Friend, hope for the truth while you are alive.

Jump into experience while you are alive!...

What you call "salvation" belongs to the time before death.

If you don't break your ropes while you are alive,

do you think ghosts will do it after?

The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic

just because the body is rotten--

that is all fantasy.

What is found now is found then.

If you find nothing now, you will simply end up with

an empty apartment in the City of Death.

If you make love with the divine now, in the next life you will have the face of satisfied desire.

Night Letter to theReader by Billy Collins

Night Letter to the Reader

I get up from the tangled bed and go outside,

a bird leaving the nest,

a snail taking a holiday from its shell,

but only to stand on the lawn,

an ordinary insomniac

amid the growth systems of garden and woods.

If I were younger, I might be thinking

about something I heard at a party,

about an unusual car,

or the press of Saturday night,

but as it is, I am simply conscious,

an animal in pajamas,

sensing only the pale humidity

of the night and the slight zephyrs

that stir the tops of the trees.

The dog has followed me out

and stands a little ahead,

her nose lifted as if she were inhaling

the tall white flowers,

visible tonight in the darkened garden,

and there was something else I wanted to tell you,

something about the warm orange light

in the windows of the house,

but now I am wondering if you were even listening

and why I bother to tell you these things

that will never make a difference,

flecks of ash, tiny chips of ice.

but this is what I want to do--

tell you that up in the woods

a few night birds were calling,

the grass was cold and wet on my bare feet,

and that at one point, the moon,

looking like the top of Shakespeare's

famous forehead,

appeared, quite unexpectedly,

illuminating a band of moving clouds.

This poem does what all good art does-it makes my heart fill as I recognize myself in it, and I say, "yes! that is exactly it!" and I realize once again that I need to tell you so many things. I feel inspired. Alive.

There are not enough hours.

a note from Kevin Griffin, author and spritual leader from Shambhala