The side effects alone have kept me on my toes— or flat on my back
Think dizziness, blurred vision, muscle spasms, weakness, headaches, neuropathy, mood swings, hot flashes, and night sweats. Just about the only side effect not listed for the inhibitors I’m now taking is California falling into the ocean, though I’m not too sure about that one. The good thing is that I’m only scheduled to take these drugs for five to seven more years, so there are only another four to six years and eight months to go. Who’s counting?
Muddling through the various appointments, surgeries, scans, tests, treatments, and decisions, not necessarily in that order, has left me with a profound sense of time loss.
Watches are good at ticking off the fleeting seconds, minutes, and hours. Calendars do the same for days, weeks, months, and years. Where’s the gizmo — the whatchamacallit — for making time stand still so you can celebrate the present — the presence of this very second, this rhythmic heartbeat.
Has anyone invented a thingamajig that captures the swelling of an overflowing heart when you are holding a blessing for the first time? Is there a camera to memorize the stolen glance, the knowing look, or the sticky kiss? Where do you store that minute that measures the anticipation of a new life and new beginnings?
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