GOD SAVE THE QUEEN. GODSPEED TO PRINCE.

In a London hotel room, my eyes are wide open. It’s nearly 3:00 a.m. and I should be asleep but the world is heavy like a thick mist that refuses to rain. Large drops would be welcome. A lingering mist makes the heart a little anxious. The Queen’s birthday was yesterday. Prince died yesterday. My birthday is today. Two deaths and a birth. I saw a musical and ate a great meal with a dear friend to celebrate my birthday. I also dosed up on chemo in my hotel tonight. I’ll follow up in the morning with a chaser of steroid.  While the dose is significantly lower than it was weeks ago, it remains a harsh monster. I sometimes see my life in a make-believe view-master.  

I am flashing through the slides tonight. The Queen’s Royal image. Purple Rain. My legs. The impossible stairs in an NYC subway a  year ago. The very doable stairs in the London Underground… thanks to the chemo and steroids that help my legs work. Prince on the big screen playing in my home town theater. Diana marrying Prince Charles. Royals. Regulars. My teenage years. My angst. My love for globetrotting vs. my homesickness and pining for small-town Texas. My love for all things traditional and all things strange. Two worlds hard to reconcile with each other.  A Queen’s birth. A Prince’s Death. My legs taking me all over the streets of London. This time last year I thought I might not walk again. My heart should be heavier. My eyelids should definitely be heavier. I should be lonely, while I’m holed up in this room praying for sleep. But I am none of those things. I am living life and feeling every moment of it. No regrets. …God Save the Queen. Godspeed to Prince. Cheers to me. …. and to y’all I say a hearty… "go toward the light”. 

Blood Work Angels

Diane’s nails are always amazing. And she has never hurt me once while drawing blood, even when she does the hard-core all inclusive panels. She’s called me “baby” from day one. Her weave has gold tints in it, and her nails have a similar tone. They are not as long as Sheryl’s, which figures since Sheryl doesn’t mess with the needles. Her dentures click a little when she talks and her eyes are kind. She tells me where to sit each time, even though there is only one sitting option, I find comfort in the direction.There are two angels. Diane is a phlebotomist. She likes her spiritual time. Sheryl does the front desk paperwork. She’s mostly irritated. They never remember me, but I always remember them. They both wear wigs. Huge ones with no shame in their game. Like they barely had time to clip a weave in the car on the way to work. Sheryl is all business. I’ve seen her have bad days where she has to pop off at people to get them in line, and on days when the “system is down” and I know she wants to explode. She never does though.

 One day Sheryl didn’t wear her huge weave, she just had a cloth cover-wrap pinned on her head and I knew her morning must have been rough. Then her son called while she was checking me in and she tells him how much she loves him and she hopes he gets the job. Diane asks her who is keeping the baby. She rolls her eyes and says “don’t even ask.. that took all morning.” That’s the first day she ever referred to me as baby. Her nails were painted blue that day and the cloth wrap she had on her hair was tan.

On Good Friday we talked about Easter and she told me about everything she was cooking and who was coming to her house. Her niece was driving in from Temple as were her daughters from Houston. She goes to the early Service and is home before 11:00 a.m to get things ready. I always look at her gold crucifix. It matches her hair. Everyone at her Easter gathering has to leave by 5:00 because that’s her time to relax. This isn’t an “oh i’m so sassy” kind of declaration. Diane talks to me about her higher power. Blood travels from my arm to the tubes and it's a primal ritual. The vagaries of life swirl through pedestrian tenderness of two angels, and I wonder why it means so much to me that they call me baby. And each time I leave with feelings of redemption and misty eyes.