Dragon’s Mom (I being “Dragon“) was admitted to the hospital early yesterday morning with a blood infection/infected cut in her arm. It’s apparently severe…intravenous antibiotics and a stay at least until Friday are involved.

Mike (my friend and stepdad) called and said, “Guess where I am?” I didn’t need to guess. Even over the phone I could hear hospital sounds. Even over the phone that…atmosphere…that spirit…permeates.

The buildings themselves overwhelm me…I feel nothing but intensly strong emotions the entire time I am there. Everybody in the building is either feeling joy or despair…the latter being the most prevalent. My own emotions…as passionate as they are, get ripped away by the torrent of energy. It can actually make me physically ill if I am there enough. A lifetime’s exposure doesn’t seem to have helped me develop a tolerance either. Ugh.

Besides, we were overdue. Three years ago it was a horse trompling that brought her within an inch of losing her leg and within a mere fraction of that from death. That was closer than most know. Two years ago it was cancer. Last year it was a heart attack. As serious as this is, it’s minor by comparison.

Somehow I’ve got to convince her to simplify…she’s far too busy with all the (deep breath here) dogs cats horses chickens geese rabbits genuie-pigs goats minature-horses and did I mention the chickens cats dogs rabbits horses genuie-pigs geese minature-horses and goats?…(gasp, wheeze).

She still works full-time too…and with the built-in obligation of all the animals she never seems to be happy anymore…and I know she needs to rest more…and have more truly recreational activities (those are impossible because she can’t get away from the menagerie for more than a few hours at a time).

The time-critical obligations are a form of stress. The massive required daily feeding/maintenance, even when she is tired or under other stress, sets her up for additional illness or injury. The built in cost, I expect, is going to prevent her from ever being truly able to retire. Of course, I expect convincing her of that is hopeless too. After-all, the horse-trompling, the cancer, and the heart-attack didn’t do it.  I expect I’d just end up the “bad guy” if I pointed it out. It’s not like she’d listen to me anyway.

Yeah, she’s a hard-headed cuss. Can’t imagine where I got it from.

Anyway, thoughts for her.

I’m a bit numb this morning…and not expressing the depth of emotion terribly well. Some related reading might help…check out these links:

Even Dragons need their Moms
On Death and Dragons
The Flower Falls

Dragon’s Mom (left) shown here while recovering from a horse trompling (technical term). I (right) had just finished building the porch we’re standing on…complete with wheelchair ramp.
Dragon's Mom

Daniel Meyer

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