wood sorrel

Since our last episode, Angelina rented a big cattywampus of a carpet cleaner, and offered to loan it to me. In the full expectation that the controls would baffle me to tears and that I’d end up tripping on the thing and hurting myself, I asked her to come over and help me operate it. She brought it to my place, and she just went ahead and shampooed the rug herself, at one point getting on her knees with a scrub brush to work the suds into the places where my foot bled all over. “It’s a whole new dimension to our friendship, Mare!” she exclaimed happily. How loveable is that?

Angelina was full of fun plans for this weekend. Her old dear friend is in town for a few days, for an action-packed time of worthwhile experiences. They invited me to join in. (The girls are at a rock & roll laser show this minute. I had to decline, on the grounds that after a couple hours of concert-quality sound and a ceiling full of flashing lights I wouldn’t have any neurons left.)

So Friday night while those two younguns were out and about on well-earned shore leave, I stopped by Angelina’s to walk the dogs. Bingo and Super Pup are friendly folks, and they usually charge the door with barking, spinning, jumping about, and dropping toys and bones on my foot. This causes Angelina to grab a baby gate and set it up around me so that I can sit down and visit in peace. It’s all fun and games, but now with my box cut I can’t afford to be frisked at and jumped on by dogs or anybody else. What to do?

On the way to the house I felt anxious about getting scratched by their happy little paws. I decided to visualize the possibility that space exists all as one continuum, and the house key is only a symbolic manifestation of one phase of that continuum (to wit, the door) such that there is little difference between being inside and being outside and therefore nothing to fuss about. Likewise, there is little difference in the reality of a household with dogs, and a household without them. There is less difference between a room with me in it, and a room without. Hence, it might be possible to waft through this house-entry transition in such an anti-climactic manner that the dogs would be not excited at all. In other words, aspiring to be Pema Chödrön walking a dog.

It worked great. I let myself in all calm and silent as if I owned the place and completely ignored the dogs. There was not a peep out of either one. Super Pup lifted her pretty head from her paws, and laid it down again. Bingo, 16 years old, didn’t even wake up. I took down the leash, wrapped it around my waist, passed the clip through the handle loop, and clipped it to Bingo’s harness. Then I waved my hand close so he could smell me, then started gently tapping the floor, since he’s hard of hearing and I didn’t want to startle him. Then I stroked his dog mattress in even moves, then rested a steady palm on his shoulder. Then I stood and started gradually hauling him in inch by inch like a fish. After a while he opened his big soft eyes and looked around in bewilderment. What on earth is happening to me? Finally he shook himself and stood up. “You will feel refreshed after our walk,” I promised him, though he probably couldn’t hear me. “Then you can sleep even better.” We had a productive walk time of fire hydrants and trees. Then back indoors I unclipped him and sat down quietly on the floor.

The dogs stood and watched, all interested. Super Pup gave two short sharp expectant barks. When I didn’t hand over whatever it was she wanted, she pondered a moment and then tried another tack: full submission mode. First she displayed her adorable little tummy. Then she laid back her ears and crept close, flat to the floor, dragging her hind paws behind her. Then she tried in gradual degrees of stealth to creep into my lap. Finally I realized that the leash still around my waist had a Velcro pouch attached, full of treats! She wasn’t looking to snuggle at all; she just wanted the goodies. I gave her a head ruffle as an A for effort, and got up to sit on a chair and check out Angelina’s science book collection. I read for a bit to keep the dogs company, then did the merge-reality trick again, this time passing through the door and locking it behind me. They just lay right down. Two hours later I repeated the whole routine (entry, leash, walk), and this time ended by giving them both a bite of chicken from the fridge.

Even when they are tricky little rascals, dogs are innocent creatures of God. I don’t bring them any entertainment or excitement, but I do commit to bringing them safety, security, consistency, comfort, and calm. By now the dogs know that when the visitor is Mary, she will predictably compel them to do things that they do not feel like doing, while barring them from things that they like very much. Still, they take it in stride. They survived their evening with Auntie Math Camp in good form.

On Saturday morning I hopped up early, full of interesting plans for the day. That started with the usual three mile walk. But for some reason the walk seemed to drag on. My feet felt heavy. To fortify the walk home I started chanting “Unexpected Joy,” “O Champion Leader,” and other favorite Slavonic prayers. It still seemed to take ages to get home. There I started washing and bandaging the box cut. And say, the ankle under the cut was more red and swollen and firm, and the ankle felt warm.

It’s probably nothing, I admonished myself.

Come on, you have a whole-food-plant-based diet. You walk all over the place. Give the body time to heal up on its own, the way it’s designed to. Besides, it’s not healthy or even Godly to be all obsessed and hypochondriac this way. Where’s your faith? Urgent Care saw you about this just a week ago. What will the staff think? They’ll all think you’re some older single lady looking for attention. Or meds. Going back would waste their time. It’s using an appointment that should go to somebody who really needs their help. This is not the ankle infection you had last year in the ER. This is not Ukraine. It’s not Sudan. Every human on this planet has bigger issues than a warm ankle. Get over yourself.

So okay, I avoided the issue with hand laundry, and buying vegetables and prepping them and washing the bathroom and kitchen floors. Ankle was still warm. Feeling increasingly anxious, I sat down and opened the Bible, looking to boost my spirits with Jeremiah 29: ” For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil….” But what caught my eye first was Jeremiah 30: “Thy bruise is incurable, and thy wound is grievous…. thy sorrow is incurable for the multitude of thine iniquity: because thy sins were increased, I have done these things unto thee.”

Somehow that didn’t exactly reassure me. But it did prompt me to stop procrastinating. So I booked an appointment at Urgent Care and walked in prepared for the staff to be disappointed and annoyed. I was there at 3:45 for the 4:30 slot, by visit had to be pushed back for other patients until 5:30, half an hour before closing time. For company I spent the wait studying the Gospel of John chapters 16 and 17, just taking in the words one phrase at a time. Luckily, the clinic was still able to see me before closing.

“Oh my,” said the same wonderful doctor from last week. “The area is looking more angry than last week. This is cellulitis.” She got a special pen and drew a line above the red part of the ankle. “If the redness passes this line? Straight to the ER for you. Meanwhile, here are prescriptions for antibiotics, topical and oral, plus a diuretic for this ankle swelling. On to the lab for a blood test.” It was good luck that the lab was still open. Everyone at the clinic was very nice and caring. The lab test results were fine. I picked up the prescriptions and went home to rest.

There was a lot to be thankful for, having Urgent Care open on a holiday weekend and getting medications right away and having another day or two to rest before going to work. And even though I didn’t get to be with Angelina’s old friend, we did get to say hello in the parking lot and then Angelina drove me to the library to pick up my reserved books, so there would be something interesting to read over the holiday to keep me company.

It would have been great to go to church tonight, to tackle some errands today and go out with the girls on their adventures. But this holiday at home is a chance to think of the millions of people who can’t leave their homes either, and pray for them and be more alert to ways to help them.

Off for the last round of meds for the night.