The MRI didn't work out this morning, problems with authorization and instead of just doing it, they wrangled on the phone with my insurance and a tracking number and many different people and faxes and automated phone systems. The radiology people were super nice about it all. I laid on a gurney reading my book and Being Calm and Brave. It is all rescheduled for Tuesday. On the way out, I asked for a push up to the main entrance where Rook was going to pick me up. It was okay to ask and I felt okay about having been all INDEPENDENT CRIPPLE coming in and slightly exhausted cripple going out...
The radiologist also very nicely put on my right shoe for me. I should probably be wearing my other shoes that are a notch less difficult. Or get new super natty mary janeish fluevogs. When I feel fancy or a bit more able to move and walk and bend, I wear my fluevog boots. Right now I'm on the lightweight black shoes, very slick looking, but with a tongue and laces so I have to work too hard to get that right shoe on.
I sat in a patch of sun at the hospital entrance, letting it soak into me, birds chirping, the bustle of people coming and going, the valet parking guys' cheerfulness bubbling up, reading my book (Crystal Rain by Tobias Buckell; it's good) and feeling at peace with everything.
A handyman is coming today to talk about ramp building. I want a small wooden deck at my door, so I can wheel out, turn, and then go down a ramp. The metal ramp going right up to the door doesn't work for myriad reasons.
Speaking of new shoes, I'm feeling the itch to get Rook to take me to the local Whore Store to get some of those ludicrous lucite high heels way too high for a non-stripper to walk in, the kind that light up inside with little LEDs and that have marabou feathers on the toe straps. I've always wanted them, and what better place to wear them than a wheelchair. Iris wrote me a hilarious note recommending I wear romantic flowing clothing and cultivate a "slight, grateful smile welded to my face" for the moments when other people are scrubbing the floor or bringing me chocolates and soup. Excellent advice but I will tweak it just a bit to make it more slutty, adding a hint of invitation and suggestion to the graceful smile (I can't pull off "graceful" or gracious anyway) to turn it naughty... then, the stripper shoes.
I started working again on a medium length poem ("Unease") and it feels good to get into that head space -- it's what I need.