Not Just Any Tuesday

Since becoming ill in 2015, my life has slowed down significantly and the days often bleed together. About once per week, something “exciting” happens. Note that my standards are low. A neon cactus bloom, a square of dark chocolate, and the neighborhood Bernese mountain dog walking by more than qualify. Every now and then, I experience a day loaded to the brim with zeal. Yesterday was such occasion.

It began Monday evening when my boyfriend and I went out to go for a walk and noticed something on the ground. A newly-hatched bird had fallen from the nest recently built atop the front entryway light fixture. Worried about predators, we created a nest from rags inside a small box and set in on top of a heating pad and prayed that the little guy would make it until morning, when we could take it to the wildlife rescue. It was long past sunset and the mama bird, who had not moved from the nest for weeks, was nowhere to be found. I had to get some rest before a 5 AM meeting, so I went to bed as my boyfriend set up the ladder to look for more baby birds.

Tuesday morning, I peeked in the box. Two baby birds, nestled up close. Both were breathing and chirping for breakfast. While I was in my meetings, my boyfriend drove the little mourning doves to our local rescue, where he was informed that both look healthy and should survive. Without the mother, neither would have survived the night due to the temperature drop and predators. This isn’t our first rodeo. I’ve always had a soft spot for animals, but my boyfriend takes the cake.

In the evening, we pulled out our trusty new centrifuge. We set up shop on the dining room table, drew blood into a syringe, transferred into a vacutainer, and let sit at room temperature for an hour. The vials went for a swirl in the centrifuge for 15 minutes to separate serum and plasma, and then we transferred the serum to a new vial using a Pasteur pipette. Ta-da! What would have cost $150 in a lab took a total of 30 active minutes, and it was all surprisingly easy.

We should know whether we have IgG and IgE antibodies for 12 different mycotoxins within a few weeks, and then begin treatment with personalized dosing of the heavy-duty anti-fungal, Sporanox. Within a few months, I may feel like a new person if we’ve actually targeted and eradicated the root cause of my illness.

Finally, and perhaps most excitingly, Maggie, who blogs at From Cave Walls, offered to run a search of my grandmother’s name through a newspaper search, and she shared over a dozen delightful articles. There are articles from her time at Oak Grove, a Quaker boarding school for girls in Vassalboro, Maine, where she was noted as a brilliant student, skilled musician, and convincing actress. I learned that her Belgium boarding school was in the city of Namur, and that my grandmother was just 15 years old when she traveled aboard the Graf Zeppelin. In 1941, El Paso Times proudly reports that a former El Pasoan will wed a Julliard student. Wow!! My heart is so full. Thank you, Maggie!!