The week after my return from Aravaipa I was getting progressively worse. The pain increased day after day, making me a bitch to work with as I hobbled, cried and cursed through each work day. I’ve had pulled muscles before, but this felt much, much worse.

Perhaps I have Covid? Breathing was extremely labored, sleep became a thing of the past, and my mind went to dark places the worse I got.

Cancer? Do I have freaking cancer?

Thursday night as I’m leaving the office (crawling to the front door actually) I tell a co-worker that if things don’t improve overnight, I might just have to go to a hospital.

Masked up, I drive the few blocks to our local hospital at some ungodly hour in the morning. After many tests and a shot of morphine to make life slightly bearable, they tell me they can’t find anything wrong.

Yet obviously something is wrong. I hate our healthcare system. The doctors think I’ve just seriously bruised my lungs (hematoma) and my back. They can’t prescribe pain medication due to an overabundance of drug seekers. I get told to take plenty of advil and to buy a heating pad.

Yes, our healthcare system is broken.

I go back to work later that Friday, finish up a few things, then leave for the weekend. If I am dying, I might as well be in Nature. Besides, it’s too late to get my money back on the cabin I have for the weekend. Being an invalid out in the wilderness can only help me.

So plans change, and my invalid self spends time outside Mayer, Arizona, in the grape vine cabin. Solitude and expansive porch views do me well as I try to rest and heal.

The surrounding fires from California and New Mexico lit up the skies like a devil’s eyes. Apocalyptic notions run through my head, as I welcome the end of the world in my current condition.

I throw myself a pity party, and dive right into a pool of depression. 2020 has been a shit show so far though, so perhaps this is just par for the course.

I do have big plans in just a couple of weeks, but thinking about having to cancel them bring back the tears.

I watch the clouds burst over the grape vine cabin, and just wonder what will happen next…..

2 Replies to “The invalid of Grape Vine”

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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