Curlew of Bluster

This morning I finally made it to the delayed dermatology appointment I mistakenly tried to attend two weeks ago, in a snowstorm. Today, it was hardly snowing at all. I went into the waiting room, sat down, and suddenly had my spirits crushed by a surprising avalanche of grief. Doctors' offices just remind me too much of my parents now. Especially when I see the old people with their walkers and canes trying to make their way through the maze. I saw a woman approaching the door with her walker, and was about to get up and assist her, when a man sitting closer to the door did the honors. On the other side of the doorway, I saw a greying adult child sitting with his elderly mother, patiently helping her with the endless paperwork just as I used to do. I heard the tone of his voice, and it sounded just as I once did--cheerful, soothing, trying hard to make this seem like a cozy social visit instead of the prelude to another onerous ordeal. Oh, God, I remembered the endless wrapping up, because my mother was always so cold: a pullover, a sweater, a puffy vest, a coat, and a hat, and tights or leggings underneath, very hard to wrestle with in case of a bathroom crisis. Once we reached the office, I'd carry most of the outer wrappings, plus an overstuffed tote bag full of necessary items--toilet supplies, snacks, bottled water, extra socks and sweater and underwear, and her purse, also stuffed with bandaids, hankies, bobby pins, and heaven knows what else. It was a precious remnant of her adult life, more essential than the bottled water. To my shock and horror, my eyes filled with tears and I had to take a lot of deep breaths and stare at the ceiling to avoid bursting into tears. By the time they finally called my name, I was a wreck.

And then I still had to take all my clothes off, a process that seems more of an indignity every time. Fortunately, the assistant was a sweet young woman named Summer, whose perky competence cheered me up greatly. The doctor was quite nice too, not nearly as much of a dork as I feared based on his official photo. In real life he was kind, if a bit awkward. He zapped three spots off me with his liquid nitrogen squirt
gun: one on my leg, one on my arm, and one on the end of my nose. This is good because they won't be around to turn into skin cancer and make me get MOHS surgery, like both of my parents. It stung at the time, though. As he left, he said encouragingly, "You look great!" I doubt he meant it literally, because it would be contrafactual to the point of absurdity, but it was pleasant to hear.

I was pretty much done for the day, as far as recovering my mood. We went to the bookstore, where I had earned a free latte with my punch card. Before coming home, we got some birthday cards for various people. Snow was flurrying. I experienced that problem one has when grieving or in pain, of being constantly restless and wanting to flee from whatever place one is in to some other place, even knowing it will be no better there. When I got home, I resolved to make the dish I'd been putting off, Strisce e Ceci, or noodles with chickpeas. You saute an onion with some garlic in lots of olive oil, add a little tomato paste and parsley, then a cup of chickpeas that have been pureed, plus an equal quantity that are left whole, put in salt and pepper, simmer it for half an hour, then add noodles and let them cook in the liquid. If you cook the chickpeas from scratch, you have the boiling liquid for the noodles. I used canned, so I had to estimate, but it came out about right. It's supposed to be not soupy, but like noodles with a chickpea sauce. It was quite tasty. We'd bought half a smoked turkey for some social events that never happened because of the Lumberjack being too sick, and I decided to disassemble that too. I put the bones and scraps on to boil for broth, which will be delicious by the smell of it, and had three containers of sliced-up meat. We ate some of that with the chickpeas, plus green beans. I'm sad and full of dread, but I can still make a good dinner. That's my superpower, I guess.