The Turquoise House
When you paint your house turquoise expect trouble.
Posted May 27, 2013
I have been Xrayed and CTscanned so much I probably glow in the dark. COPD and lung cancer were quietly discussed though I have never been a big cigarette smoker and gave it up sometime ago.
I now have my own heart, lung and kidney specialists. My kidney function was and is low though I don't have kidney disease. I don't really understand that and can't find anything worth reading in the Internet to explain it. Must call doctor.
My incredibly horrible insurance only kicks in after I spend 10 and 20K though I pay a premium most people who get theirs through work would consider too high and bitch about. That makes me hate every person who is lucky enough to work for corporate America. Not really but I would like to.
Fortunately here in South Carolina where a medical professional who dares talk about Obamacare might be committing a felony, good doctors––and they are good, (I live on the Coast and it's filled with "richer," more demanding people,) give discounts for being uninsured (which I'm not but might as well be,) discounts for paying in full at the visit, discounts for being intelligent, and for being "nice," and apparently discounts for dressing well. I don't dress well compared to how I dressed when I was a young New Yorker who thought anything in life was possible. But if they want to think so––hey I will take any discount.
I haven't accomplished much this year. My writing was put to the wayside. I did paint the outside of my house turquoise as it makes me happy. I needed something to cheer me up and we don't have a Homeowners Association or even the unwritten restrictive covenant, an old couple who left claimed we have, and the rest of my neighbors, in the court, always make fun of.
I don't like not getting along with people. It doesn't matter that she's a sickening snob who would (when we were talking) tell me "well for a primary home I suppose you can...." And would always try to make me feel less than. I need neighbors who smile and ask me how I am or at least answer when I ask them how they are. And that particular week I would have loved to have neighbors to cry to or at least ones who didn't ambush me about something the electric company said would be almost impossible to do. (I asked.)
My heart and lungs are fine. Better than just fine. Now they're talking the conditions of the decade––GERD better known as acid reflux, and/or severe allergies. I'm incredibly congested and feel miserable. I was sick all last summer so I know allergies no longer know seasons. I have been on strong antibiotics so often this year (I don't believe in them but....) I'm afraid if the pandemic hits and it will antibiotics will be as effective as candy dots.
I can't take pain killers. The thought of spending another summer in, and a lifetime spent in AC or walled in makes me incredibly depressed. I need to walk to feel human but this all began when I was on a normal five mile walk and felt my breath constricting.
I need to relax. To find pleasure in life and to walk the five blocks to the beach without spending half the walk coughing outrageously.
Let me close this very personal tirade by saying how much I care, indeed love, so many of the people I have met in my NLD journey. This hasn't been the best of years for me obviously and I turned to Facebook where I found much love, consideration, joy, and friendship.
I know I don't fit the NLD mold. That's the point of the blog. Few of us do. We're individuals with individual strengths and weaknesses. Some of us are great readers; others don't enjoy reading. Some of us have grad degrees; others have GED's—but are truly much "smarter" than I could ever hope to be.
Don't type us. Don't think you know everything about NLD because you have an eleven year old daughter....Listen to us. We know more than the books. We have actually lived with NLD and survived––well I'm not sure I did this year, but....
Some of you will love my turquoise house. Others will find it garish. We're all entitled to live life our way. And if you want to find me this summer, I will be at the beach or on one of my decks writing stories with a large cold glass of cucumber water—let it not be said I don't live dangerously.