six weeks

Tonight makes it six weeks I’ve been living with vasculitis.

Last weekend, for the Memorial Day holiday, I took the train up to my parents’ house. Train travel is awesome. I splurged and got the business class seat. You get a reserved seat (meaning you don’t have to stand if the train is full), and they give you snacks and a beverage. Last Friday night, I enjoyed red wine and potato chips as I looked out at the Pacific and read my Real Simple magazine.

Mom & Dad picked me up at the station, and after a stop at Carl’s Jr. for me, we went back to the house. The last time I had been up there was all about rest and recovery. While this trip was about that, too, I was feeling better so I was able to do the usual things I do when I go visit. I took Dad to dialysis and picked him up when he was done. In between, Mom & I went to lunch (Mimi’s Cafe). Later, we went to the grocery store, and then I took Lulu for a walk. Or maybe that happened on Sunday. Regardless, it was a pleasant visit. We spent some time outside, and I spent a lot of time in the recliner. I also caught the last half of The Holiday on TV.

On Monday, they took me to the train station. Unlike the ride up, where there were only 2 other people in the whole train car, the ride back south was much more crowded. But I still got a seat, snacks, and I opted for water instead of wine. Because it was the holiday, the train stopped at every station. Ones that it might usually bypass. I didn’t mind. It beat driving. I probably won’t do that every time, but I’ll consider the train more if I have the extra money.

Work has been extremely stressful. I had just written a whole paragraph about work, but I just deleted it. Though I didn’t name names or talk poorly about anything, it still seemed too much for this little blog o’ mine. Suffice to say, my days have been long.

Which means, I don’t get home some nights until 6 or 6:30 pm. Then guess how excited I am to cook? Han’s supremely busy as well, trying to finish up two records to be ready to take to the UK in July. Yikes. Needless to say, we haven’t been eating very well, so tonight I wanted to at least cook at home. I made crunchy parmesan chicken (chicken breasts dipped in egg, then covered in a mixture of parmesan cheese, bread crumbs, French fried onions, and smoked paprika and baked for 45 minutes – so good, Han’s mom’s recipe) and roasted asparagus (I took the Pioneer Woman’s recipe). Han has clients in the studio tonight so he’ll enjoy it later. Good thing they heat up well.

It’s about time to apply my creams. I’m going to see my regular primary care doctor on Tuesday. I’ll see if she can prescribe oral steroids. I meant to ask the dermatologist when I saw her last Tuesday, but I forgot because I was feeling better and she said she thinks I’m on the downhill slope with this shit. It’s true that I felt better last weekend, and this week hasn’t been as rough as the past weeks have been, but damn! It is still so unsightly, and does get achy if I don’t remember to take my ibuprofen.

In the news, there were two incidents I’d like to comment on. First, another shooting. This time on a Friday night in the college community of Isla Vista (UC Santa Barbara). The shooter was a creepy narcissist, who, despite being treated by mental health professionals and whose parents asked police to check on him not long before this incident, still did this terrible thing. I am beyond horrified that such people exist. That despite doing the things that should have helped, it still happened.

The second thing is that Maya Angelou died. Back in the early 2000s, I went to see her read/perform at San Diego State with my friend, Laurel. I have never been a fan of hers. And I’ve always been slightly bothered by the fact that so many people are so enamored of her. It’s true, my knowledge of her was limited, and since then, I have come to appreciate what she stood for. But her poetry really does nothing for me. But that’s just me. She lived a long, full life, and that in itself is something to be admired.


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