November 2, 2018

Yesterday was an interesting day. I was so exhausted after planting the peony (and rooting up some mints) that I was, for once, truly alarmed. Friday morning there came a kind of haze over my eyes, and every gesture sapped my strength. It was difficult to draw a complete breath. I went to school, and while I was lecturing (on theater after Webster) I kept losing my thought, losing the word, and twice had to grip the desk to keep from collapsing. In my mind were Mike Herhold, who told me of the by-pass surgery he had to have, and Mark, the nurse in Cantaria, who said exhaustion like mine (I briefly referred to it once) is likely linked with heart problems. I cancelled my afternoon class. I convinced myself that I would go into the hospital and have a risky surgery and get some sort of horrible hospital infection and the surgery wouldn’t work and I’d been a slow decline and there would be no one to take care of me. . . . even came home before going to MAHEC and got my phone charger, trying to think of whom to call to take care of the cats, etc.  Of course, it was the least of all things it could be. My circulatory system is fine. My hemoglobin is dramatically low. Had I stopped taking the iron pills? Yes, because I thought they were doing no good. Apparently they were. My self-inflicted terror came to nothing and I sat in my car weeping with relief. I did get a flu shot (they were very insistent) and though they assured me the critters were dead, I got, for an evening, the muscle ache associated with flu. But I took iron pills and made it to rehearsal, which I had almost decided not to do. I was watching the evening news when the haze fell from my eyes. 

We read through “At the Creche” by Jon David and me. It is beautiful.