Now Playing: “Comfort Eagle” by Cake

Word Raccoon has lots to say, but let me slow her down just enough to start here:
a poem that is very dear to me has found its home.

“Comfort Eagle,” a layered piece about, in part, my grandson, and in part, about a friend of mine with grandparent aspirations, will appear in The Louisville Review in May 2026.

TLR published my first short story, and its publishing arm, Fleur-de-Lis Press, brought out my debut novel, so it means something to me. I’m thrilled they’re making space for this poem.

So. Before today begins in full (a breakfast meetup, assuming my friend feels like putting on pants; last time she didn’t, literally said she was too tired to, and I don’t care if she shows up in pajamas, but society might), I just wanted to mark the moment.

Side note: Am I the only one who used to tell their students they could wear pj’s to class as long as they were decently covered? Some of them took me up on it. Joke’s on them. I said it because I knew they would anyway, and it takes the fun out of it if you’ve already got permission.

(Also, my friend won’t mind I wrote that here. And I didn’t name her. LOL.)

After breakfast I will head to a hair appointment. I enjoy catching up with my stylist, which is a bonus, and while I’m sitting there “processing” (I call it marinating, because that cracks me up), I’ll sneak in some reading time. Forty-five minutes with a book and no place to go? Yes, please.

What was I going to say…
Oh. Right. The rheumatologist.

First of all, he described me in his notes as a “nice lady,” which made me laugh. He seemed nice, too.

He ordered a small parade of scans and labwork. I’ll do most of it tomorrow. Still need to schedule the MRI.

He tested the areas I pointed out and then a few I hadn’t. “If it hurts, you have to say it hurts,” he said. And sure enough, some of them did. I hadn’t even noticed.

In the meantime, I’m on a flotilla of meds.

You should know: I’m wary of medication. Until recently, I was taking ibuprofen as needed and a weekly megadose of vitamin D. That’s it, besides a Benadryl now and then.

Unless I’m on a short course of steroids, which I have been a couple of times lately.

He’s got me back on one of those again now. I told him it helped with the pain but not the swelling. He said it’s going to take time to see results.

The nurse warned Barry that I might get grouchy on them. When I texted that to my brother, he said Barry better book a few more gigs and stay out of the house. He’s not wrong, especially now that the cold is chasing me back indoors.

It’s only for seven days, though. Hopefully not too terrible.

But then there are these other meds. And reading the pharmacy pamphlets about possible side effects? Let’s just say I freaked myself out. It felt like we were sending a bulldozer after a gnat.

I know, I know, I’m not a doctor, Word Raccoon. But still.
When one med’s job is to protect you from another med’s side effects?
That’s where my internal alarms start sounding.

To top it off, while I was shopping at Burlington, the pharmacy texted:
“We have some questions for you.”
I picked “I don’t know how to answer that.”
They replied, “We’ll need to talk in person.”

Great.

And also, the only thing I wanted at Burlington, a gym shirt, claimed to be my size on the paper tag but when I looked inside, not even. I knew it just by holding it up. Dang it. (Also kinda wanted a pair of pants, but that’s “me who used to teach” wanting them, not “me who works at a laptop,” so I passed.

When I got to the pharmacy, they just needed to warn me in person about the most serious risks. You know, fun things like: “Make sure you take this correctly or you could overdose. Accidental overdose may result in death.”

Comforting.

I mean, what writer hasn’t gotten a little distracted now and then?

But also….no alcohol. I was looking forward to a Halloween party coming up. And though obviously I can still have fun without it, since there’s going to be Karaoke, I was really hoping for a beer first. Well, the good news is my friends will have a DD now.

So yes, I’ve set alarms on my phone to remind me when to take my meds.

Word Raccoon had to talk me down a bit. Remind me that the doctor is the one walking that line, weighing daily function and long-term risk.
(Also, speaking of weight: mine’s down a bit. Not surprising, since I’ve been moving more. The hip is coming along nicely. Yay mobility.)

I’ll go back in a couple months for re-evaluation.
This all seems like such a fuss for something that isn’t life-threatening.
It’s not fun. It’s annoying. But other people have it so much worse.

Still, the doctor said, “We don’t have the exact name for what ails you pinned down yet, but now that you’re being treated for the symptoms, you’ll start to feel better.”

My hands are drafting a thank-you note in advance. Or, you know, warming up to sign copies of the May TLR. 😉 I’m very grateful.