kvetching up

"The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone." -George Eliot, Scenes of Clerical Life , 1858   If I Needed You My mom was many things. She was a nurturer, a kind and caring woman to the world. Jenny and Brian circa 1996, MDA Camp at  Camp Waskowitz . She was a binge alcoholic bipolar mess when I was growing up--and could be cruel and dismissive as easily as she could give a hug when I scraped my knee. Both aspects can be true, I know. It is rare to find people that can be almost or completely one or the other, we are all some sort of admixture of fuckery and kindness at one point or another. Your mileage may vary, I am speaking only of my own experience.  I have been a person who so desperately wants to believe in the innate goodness of humanity and fails over and again to latch onto that view. When I see things like the mass disenfranchisement of black voters, t...

Benign paroxysmal positional vertigo (BPPV). Also known as fuck my life.  Why do I get all the weird disorders?  Some years ago I had scleritis in my eye.  If I recall correctly, my left eye.  It looked like a popped blood vessel covering half of the white of my eye.  It was benign, thankfully.  If not, it could have signaled a much worse disease and a shortening of my life.  It causes great pain that can't be reached by the use of opiates or other pain relievers, which was fun.  As it was, I wore an eye patch for months until it cleared up.  It also was benign, like the BPPV.   I had tests this morning, again, at Kaiser.  They finally nailed down the issue when they moved my head rapidly while laying me down, and checking to see if there was involuntary movement of, yep, my eyes. There was.  I'm not pleased.  The only treatment, except in the most extreme cases, is this weird head and body exercise I am supposed to d...