Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Daily Prompt

Ode to Cruciferous Delight

First things first for amateur poets such as I:
Ode – a lyric, often overly embellished poem
Meant to be sung or chanted with rapture

Please note no resemblance
Between ‘ode’ and ‘odiferous’ or ‘cruciferous’
Which meaneth no clothespins or otherwise pinch-ed nostrils

I commence herewith—

Loveliest of bitters, I adore you
With every aching cell of my body
And from the depths of my deep kidney hunger

My body aches for your bitter potion
That bringeth solace and life to my most inward of inward parts
Blazing a path of glorious heat

Straight and steady as an arrow
You sweetly sour my tongue, my throat, my very life
With your healing poison

You causeth my lips to pucker
And my tongue it quivereth with heat
My kidneys anticipate the glories of your delectable cleansing

Forgive me, dear radishes, brussels sprouts,
Kale, cauliflower, broccoli, turnips, and your near cousins
Sweetly called lemon and lime

How did I live my life so long
Without your tender ministrations burning
In the most secret of secret depths of my being?

Should you e’er forsake me
I will languish tormented as I await
The joyous moment of our bitter-sweet reunion!

Thus endeth my Ode to Cruciferous Delight.

Written in honor of my CKD (Chronic Kidney Delight) diet, mostly raw and bitter
Special thanks to my trusty Vitamix that maketh all things possible

***

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 8 May 2017
Photo found at foodandnutrition.org
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Bitter

Happy Cinco de Mayo?

~~May 5, 1862, the siege of Puebla, from a 1901 series of children’s booklets

Cold rain falls steadily
Undermines foundations of trust
Changes perceptions overnight
With over-bold strokes of an executive pen

Stern pretentious words
Proclaim Our America First–
Not Yours!

Bold singing and dancing
Brilliantly costumed adults and children
Delectable Mexican food
Proclaim ‘Happy Cinco de Mayo!’
Against all odds now, as then.

To live the truth of freedom
Is more powerful than a thousand strokes
Of a cold executive pen

Thank you for inspiring us
To live freely, boldly and with flair
In the midst of dull predictable chaos

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser 5 May 2017
Image found at Wickipedia.org
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Lifestyle

Beholden to no one

Beholden to no one
Proud head held high
He sweeps past
With grace in his wings
Pauses in midair
Before dropping down
For a singular feast
On juicy insects bored
From a rotting tree trunk

My feet rooted to the ground
I watch his great beak extract
Life from dust of the earth
Still calm and confident
he lifts his regal head
Surveys the cemetery
Spreads his sweeping wings
And sails majestically over
White gravestones
Silent in awe of his beauty

Wings flapping slowly
He salutes those who are gone
Then rises into dusky air
Lost in a stand of spruce and beech
Giants welcoming his arrival
With graceful open arms

Seen on a walk with D several evenings ago, just after sunset. The male pileated woodpecker was brilliant in red, black and white, calm and confident. I hadn’t seen one in the park for more than four years. Just one call with its haunting rise and slight fall alerted us. He seemed quite comfortable being the star of his show. As though the king or queen were passing by. Unafraid, self-possessed and gracefully regal.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 May 2017
Photo found at photoshelter.com

Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: None

I don’t know where to begin…

So I’m just going to blunder along for a bit. Which is, I’m told, the best way to begin. I think Eeyore would agree with me.

I’m a total novice when it comes to Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD). It wasn’t on my horizon and it isn’t in my family of origin.

But that doesn’t matter now. I have it. Stage 3A. In fact, I probably passed ‘Go’ well over a year ago without even knowing it.

So here I am. Floundering around, lurching through each day with emotional highs and lows, energy highs and lows, eating highs and lows, and little sense of overall wellbeing.

High means I’m upbeat, alert, happy to be alive, and at peace with my body. Giving happy hugs to D.

Low means I’m virtually asleep, can’t move a muscle including my brain, and don’t want to look at another healthy smoothie or make another easy-to-chew soup or stew. Weeping silently or openly. Collecting hugs from D as needed.

Do I feel sorry for myself? No, I don’t. Nor do I ask God, “Why me?” There are millions of us out there with this disease. What I regret is the relative invisibility of the disease—often until it’s too late.

Which raises the question of my status. You might think Stage 3A out of 5 stages is fairly decent. Answer: It is and it isn’t. It’s better than Stage 3B. That’s when you start talking about what’s coming in Stage 4 (preparation for the end game). Followed quickly by Stage 5 (dialysis, kidney transplant and, sooner or later, death).

At Stage 3A I have the possibility of leading a different yet fairly ‘normal’ life. That means constant attention to self-care, lab tests, and endless appointments with various doctors. Some people are able to reverse the progress of CKD, but it’s rare at Stage 3. Difficult but possible at Stage 2; often possible at Stage 1.

So what’s the solution? For me, I’m in a crash course I didn’t want. That means reading books, finding online resources, talking with family members, facing the reality that this is a terminal illness for which there is no magic pill. And of course, writing about it, especially about how I’m feeling.

It also means reordering each day as it progresses. Do I need to take a little nap? Meditate? Write my heart out? Do nothing but sit on the porch listening to the birds? Listen to music? Take a little walk? Have a good cry? A good rant?

This is an invisible disease. If you could see me, you probably wouldn’t know anything’s amiss. Most people without CKD haven’t heard much about it, think they won’t get it, or don’t know how to determine whether they’re at risk. Yet millions of us have it. Go figure.

I’ll post more from time to time. Not necessarily because you need to know, but because I want you to know and it helps immensely to write it out and make it public.

Thanks for visiting and reading!
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 May 2017
Image found at pinterest.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Apprentice

Knackered Friday?

Are you knackered? This great word comes from England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Australia and beyond. Here are several visual definitions. For the benefit of all who are too knackered to read on.

First, a photo of Smudge (above), taken several days after he was rescued dripping wet, voracious and exhausted, by our granddaughters and their mother. Knackered. As in all tuckered out.

Here are four other helpful overviews, thanks to Google,
beginning with my personal favorite:

And three more, in case you need further insight:

Me either!

Here’s to an unknackered weekend!
With sincere apologies to my many friends
who know far more and better
than I do about knackered.

Dare I ask: Are you knackered? Feel free to share your experiences!
Or not.

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 April 2017
Photo/Image credits:
Megan Naugle Fraser, Smudge, taken 11 August 2013
Knackered Mom: doodlemum.files.wordpress.com
Knackered Dog: memesuper.com
Knackered Cat: tumblr.com
Knackered Relaxing Oat Bath Milk: fieldandstyle.com

Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Knackered

My flying carpet

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!

Poem by Emily Dickinson
Poetry for Young People, Sterling 2008

Nearly every flat space and bookshelf in my home office is blanketed with books. It seems the only thing I’m missing is an Emily Dickinson throw blanket to wrap around me on my adventures!

I found the text above in my collection of Emily Dickinson Poetry for Young People. The poem comforts me these days as I adjust to new health realities. They include not being as mobile as I would like.

Since I don’t own the blanket in the photo, I’ll dream about it and baptize one of my other throws with its magic. A bit like a flying carpet to carry my imagination far away. At bargain prices and on my schedule.

Right now I’d like to find a book filled with “prancing poetry.”

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 April 2017
Image of Emily Dickinson Poem Throw Blanket found at zazzie.com/poem+blankets
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt:Blanket

thick roots revisited

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thick roots tangled knots
barely hanging onto bank
drink deep waters

This haiku was my third post to this blog, published on 3 January 2014. It still haunts me, though not in the same way.

I first saw these roots when D and I were walking with our daughter and her husband through Hoyt Arboretum in Portland, Oregon. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The tangled roots were beautiful and foreboding.

A bit like blogging, which I’ve experienced as a formidable venture into unknown territory. Like being born and surviving. Sometimes against all odds.

Writing lets my exposed roots show, often whether I realize they’re showing or not. Writing also stakes my claim to a tiny, precarious plot of land that sits open, vulnerable and visible to passersby.

I’ve traveled a long way since my early posts, yet my roots are still my roots. Bare, and barely hanging onto precious ground that’s stronger, deeper, and more nourishing than I could have imagined.

Deep waters aren’t visible, and they don’t untangle all the knots in my life. Sometimes I wonder whether they’re drying up.

Yet even in dire circumstances, I discover more than enough to get me through each day. Sometimes with tears of sorrow and disbelief. More often with joy and sheer gratitude for the privilege of being human. Able to thrive in the forest next to redwood giants, with miniscule ferns growing around and from my feet.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 April 2017
Photo credit: DAFraser, October 2012, Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Roots

Monday Morning Zip

I love today’s Daily Prompt! Zip. One of the most elusive, malleable words in the English language.

My first thought: Infinite Zip — the name of Kim’s dearly beloved, departed dog. Also what I don’t have (infinite zip).

Other thoughts:

  • Since when did Zip-codes bring more zip into postal delivery?
  • Why don’t the promises of zip, vim and vigor ever work for me?
  • Who invented these teeny, tiny zippers that always stick on the way up or down?
  • I don’t have a clue what to write about zip.

So I went to my faithful Oxford English Dictionary under zip/nouns/colloquial and hit the jackpot!

  • 1875, Fogg in Arabastan xxi: “The blood-thirsty zip of mosquitoes by the million…”
  • 1907, N. Munro in Daft Days: “That’s how I feel…when I’ve got the zip of poetry in me.”
  • 1980: J. Krantz in Princess Daisy: “No launch, no commercials, no nothing. Zip! Finished! Over!”
  • 1940: In Punch 5 June: “Miss Fisher used to  wear some lovely plum-coloured trousers with a zip to match.”
  • 1977: C. McFadden in Serial (1978): “Spenser rummaged among the Ziploc bags in his briefcase….”
  • 1979: In This England Winter 19/3: “She folded her cap inside her apron and pushed both into her zip-topped bag.”

Wishing each of you a zippy day! Which about zips it up for now.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 24 April 2017
Ad campaign image found at https://postalmuseum.si.edu/zipcodecampaign/

Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Zip

Memories fade

Memories fade
stored in leaky shed
pierced with rusting spikes

***

How many have already died away,
leaving the most resilient and powerful behind?
Who am I without my memories?
And will my fading body be their demise as well?

*

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 April 2017
Photo taken in Charlotte, Texas; found at wickimedia.org
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Spike

Just for You | Photos

Last Christmas I received an invaluable gift from a British friend/cat lover. The title? How it works: THE CAT. An enlightening guide written and illustrated by J. A. Hazeley and J. P. Morris, authors of Cooking Your Dog. This is, I’m told, one of a beloved series for Brits, A Ladybird Book for Grown-Ups.

The book is full of peculiar wisdom and wit. Just for today, I’m practicing this gem of advice, found on p. 40:

It is important to constantly take photographs of your cat [and post them online?] or people might not know that you have a cat.

Herewith, choice pieces of evidence that I have a cat!

In case you’ve never met, this is Smudge, aka Prince Oliver Smudge the Second. So named (by the entire family) because he had a sweet little charcoal smudge just between his ears when our granddaughters and their mother rescued him from certain starvation on a cold rainy day in a state park behind their house. But that’s another story.

Here we go….

Resting like a prince on handmade placemats
I purchased in Nairobi at a business that
teaches refugee African women how to set up and run
their own businesses

I call this one Someone to Watch Over Me.
Taken in my home office on my iPad mini.
The teddy bear was a gift from seminary students
after the death of a family member.
The patchwork cushion is a handmade birthday gift
from the wife of a beloved Peruvian colleague at the seminary.
The two small brown head pillows belonged to D’s
favorite aunt; retrieved from her apartment following her death.

Don’t waste your money on fancy toys!

A better box. Actually a box within a box–even better!
Taken by our daughter last June when she came to babysit Smudge and my broken jaw.

Our wannabe King of the Lions lounging with his docile subjects!
That’s the very warm and cozy radiator cover in the living room,
with evidence that I actually vacuum from time to time.
You do see the hose in the lower right-hand corner, don’t you?

DAF, Dec 2015
Just interrupted from a long winter snooze on an old towel.

Finally, my Tooth Fairy Foto of D and Smudge, taken last week.
I’d just brought D home after an oral surgeon extracted a cracked rear molar.
He hadn’t had much sleep during the weekend because of pain.
Smudge can’t resist a heated waterbed on a cold day–hence the towel.
I gave D the small pink Valentine’s Day bear years ago–to watch over him.
The roses above the bed were painted by a friend in the 1970s.

Chuckles and warm memories. A great way to begin this day. Thanks for visiting!

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 April 2017
Photos taken by DAF, Sherry, and me
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Chuckle