Albert's Turkey (Albuquerque): Cinco de Mayo

I confused Cinco de Mayo w Dia De Los Muertos. So, never mind. (It's the morphine)

For the last couple of days I've had trouble breathing. I took a bunch of meds and when Michelle came in at 3:30 a.m. to check on me she couldn't wake me. I was snoring though, so she knew I was still here.

At some point i awoke to a sopping bed, as if i'd dumped a bottle. When i pulled off the oxygen mask, drops of sweat went flying. I got up and changed the washable incontinence pads Jessica gave me last week and went back to sleep.

At 6 a.m. I awoke to the feeling of drowning. No matter how much air i sucked, it wasn't enough! I got a mono-nitrate (for angina) & some ondansetron (anti-nausea) down and .75 ml of morphine (good 4 whut ails yuh) in grape kool-aid. (Don't forget the cap and a quarter of "lax" tuh keep things regular.)

I added a Guaifenesin (600mg) to clear the congestion in my throat and took 1/2 a clonazapam to ease the nervous-in-the-service anxiety (it doesn't make me aggressive the way lorazapam does), rolled a spliff & sat back to wait.

Jessica came yesterday. She'd been to another estate sale where, she said, they were practically throwing stuff at people. I think she paid $5 for this $101.46 (from Home Despot) tea kettle.

When she saw it, she said, she thought of me.

IA couple of years ago, when even a sip of cawfee became too much, I switched to tea. She'd noticed the heirloom pots atop the cabinets.

Handed down from Michelle's grandmother, I guess she figured I could do w one of my own.

I gave her a copy of Earth Power Coming, edited by Simon Ortiz.

I got my first copy of EPC from Anna Lee Walters. Her story The Warriors is in it.

We met at a conference many years ago when she was director of the Navajo Community College Press.

I was a wet-behind-the-ears Marketing Analyst for UNM Press and she was kind to me. Not that others weren't, but this is academia. I only had a masters and everyone else had their PhD.

Simon attended the same high school as Jessica, in Grants. If you've ever been to Grants you'd know it's amazing they both survived. There's nothing to do in Grants but get drunk & roll your car. Very few live past 10th grade; median age is 7. If it weren't for the promiscuity, the town'd die out.

So, i emailed Dr. Hawk & Jessica i was ready. I transferred everything from Webull, the trading platform, over to checking, emailed Steve, brother-in-law i was checking out; even accosted Andrea, neighbor who let me plant corn & melons next to her driveway and told her i was gonna do the MAID. (Sort of like the boogaloo, but more lasting.)

We held each other, Michelle and I, on the bed and cried. Parting may be sweet sorrow, but leaving is devastating.

I talked w Kristen. She was atop the mtn at Chiricahua Ntl Monument.

For stories we read three of the Holban's Frances books: Bread & Jam, Best Friends and Gloria's (baby sister) Birthday.

This morning, at 3:30, i awoke to a miracle. Try as i might, i couldn't have trouble breathing. I have no symptoms...none. I was inclined to run around the golf course. Instead, i admired the tea kettle and made cawfee...w cream.

At 5 Michelle came and we did the morphine, rectally.

The oral route was causing day-long nausea, but after 5 days, Rosebud needed a break. Even tho i only take it every 24 hours, i only got a couple hours respite, at the end, from the nausea. Rectal has its own issues incl a bitter taste in my mouth that no amt of toothbrushing will erase. The pink isn't as bad. When i asked about upping the fentanyl the nurse said it's for pain; the morph is for everything else. "Take the morph," she said.

Rosebud wasn't really happy, but he cooperated.

As i was having breakfast i noticed the light.