E.coli? Existential ennui of the gut?

Recovery continues. I got dressed, that's big. Actually went for a walkabout with Ruth and did a load of laundry, then had to lie down. It's 5.15 and I'm drinking tea not wine, so you know I'm still not back to normal. Chris thinks it's an e.coli infection, but though I've had stomach cramps, aches, and a bit of fever, I haven't had any of the other symptoms, and anyway, how would I get it when I eat only what's in my fridge and wash my hands all the time?

Mystery. Anyway, what's important is that it's ebbing slowly. 

Appendix? 

Luckily, I have work to do. I'm one of the four long list readers for the CNFC competition, so have 47 two- to three-thousand word essays to read and mark from Poor to Excellent - many more of the former than the latter, but what pleasure when a stellar one beams out from the pile. This is work I enjoy and can do lying down - win/win. 

Tried to remember what I watched last night, could think of nothing, had to fish last week's TV Guide out of the recycling bin. Oh yes! I tried a doc called Colorado on PBS, gorgeous scenery but a weird off-putting soundtrack - no. A movie that's been receiving great reviews called First Cow, which turned out to be dark, monosyllabic, and glacial - not for me. The Nature of Things showed the second part of the polar bear series, incredible footage of a mother bear and her cubs - I had the sound off and was reading and then looked up and she was swimming in what looked like the vast ocean, water everywhere, with the two small ones paddling valiantly behind her. I couldn't bear it - where was she going? Surely those cubs wouldn't make it. Had to change channels. 

If anyone saw the show, please let me know - why was she risking her cubs like that? I know, it's our fault. It haunted me during the night. 

And Bill Maher, who was less surly than usual - maybe he's been reprimanded for being an asshole. In any case, interesting guests and speakers, as always, some I agree with and some not, as it should be. 

The pleasure of the day - donating the gift received from my editing client to Encampment Support Network, which provides the many homeless encampments in this city with food, warm clothes, tents. And here I sit bitching about a sore stomach. 

The Dems, by dint of hard work and compromise, got their huge bill passed. And immediately, though even Bernie spoke in favour, Twitter was flooded with far lefties complaining it isn't good enough. The first rule of writing workshops: force yourself to say something good before you leap in to criticize. My daughter still cannot say a good word about Joe Biden. But she will. 

Maybe. 

Because then I remember - this is Anna we're talking about. LOL. 

blessings

Better, definitely better. What a weird thing. Yesterday, my stomach was so sore, particularly painful and tender on the right side, I thought I might have appendicitis, on top of some kind of flu. Thank God, there were no Zoom meetings, no classes or responsibilities. Spent the day in bed with devices, New Yorker, and books and the evening watching two episodes of "Little Dorrit" on my computer, another terrific British series - Charles Dickens, how many plot lines and rich characters can you dream up and make work? 

Today I woke up to conjunctivitis in one eye, which is stinging and red, but fewer aches. It is passing. Could I be luckier? I picked up a virus somehow - how? How did I get the flu when I got a flu shot in the fall and have been handwashing, distancing, and masking along with everyone else? 

But it's not the big one. When I think what could have been, at this time when the hospitals are overloaded ... Nightmare.

People have been wonderfully kind. Sam walked across town, nearly 10 k., to deliver chicken soup and fresh bread. Gina brought me tangelos and eggs, with a gift of dark chocolate truffles. This morning Jean-Marc pushed today's Globe through my mail slot. Others have written or called to ask what I need. 

Perhaps periodically it's good to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, to remember how lucky we are to be functional and walking and working and getting on with life. I want to get back to that state, but not yet. I'll get up for a bit but mostly stay in bed and drink soup and count my many, many blessings. 

PS As if to reinforce how fortunate I am, a former student and editing client just wrote. After taking my course some years ago, she asked if I'd help her write a book about life with her son who has significant handicaps. We worked together, and her marvellous book came out.

She just wrote that she has been able to sell it to various organizations; it has done really well, and she has e-transferred me a chunk of money as a thank you gift! How amazing is that? I am going to donate it to an organization that supports the homeless in Toronto, in her name. 

Blessed. 

stayin' alive

Last night I did have a temperature. Took my last sleeping pill and slept. Today whatever it is is there but not overwhelming. I'm in bed with tea and toast, the newspaper, the new New Yorker, a second book from the library - Citizen, by Claudia Rankine - with Actress by Anne Enright waiting. I've asked a neighbour to get tangelos for me from No Frills. There's nothing as good as tangelos.

Forgot to mention an interesting encounter yesterday - with a director/actor/theatre teacher from the Bay area who loved my Jewish Shakespeare and wanted to discuss it. We talked via Zoom for an hour. I didn't realize how much info is still stuffed in my head about the Yiddish theatre; it all came spouting out. He thinks the story of these volcanic personalities at the turn of the last century, the importance of theatre, the battles about ethics and personality that ended with thousands demonstrating in the streets, would make a fantastic TV series or film. I've long thought so.  

I know I'm sick when I have tea for breakfast. But I'll live. How the @#$@ did I get a flu bug, with constant mask wearing, distancing, hand washing? A careless moment. Lucky it wasn't worse.

a little bit sick and scared

This is scary. My body aches, my head aches. I'm going upstairs to take my temperature and get into bed. This morning I was only mildly uncomfortable; I did Gina's line dancing and arranged to go for a walk with Annie, later cancelled. It was a gorgeous day of bright sun. Robin my tree trimmer came and cut my willow's hair; she's all shorn now. I wanted to prune the clematis in the sun but gave up. 

Tonight I sat by my fire and started to watch a documentary about a day in the life of the planet, with amazing footage. I read one of the three library books I went to get today, three holds that of course all came in at once. I skimmed and finished The War of Art which has some good points but is just too jocky and macho - creating art as a battle, a war, phooey. 

But now it's 9 p.m. I ache and I'm going to bed, and it's scary. It feels like 'flu. I'm sure it's a little dose of 'flu. Cross your fingers for me. 

"In and Of Itself" with Derek DelGaudio: highly recommended

I've had a headache and mild sore throat for a few days. Paranoia stalks. It must be a cold - there's no fever, and it hasn't gotten worse. But these days, anything is cause for alarm. Except for the miracle - there were two emails this morning telling me that Sunnyside Hospital, in the far north of the city, had set up an online registry for the vaccine for Toronto residents 70 and older. I logged in immediately and was accepted into the system. There's no guarantee this will lead to a vaccination, they wrote back, but at least something is moving in our glacial system. I felt guilty taking the place of someone older and more at risk, but thought - if I get the vaccine, I can be useful to family and friends. 

The days flow by, one into another: teaching, writing, cooking, eating, walking, looking out the window, watching television in the evening. The other night, the film Irresistible, written and directed by my beloved Jon Stewart, a satire on the American political system, a bit lame but heartfelt, he can do no wrong in my book. Last night, the truly extraordinary In and Of Itself, a one man show with the amazing Derek DelGaudio. I had no idea what to expect, had simply read praise, and was startled at every turn - it's deeply moving autobiography, incredible magic tricks, it's therapy and Buddhist mysticism - like nothing you've ever seen, don't miss it.

One of my main tasks is keeping myself awake in the long dark cold evenings. Now that I'm getting up a bit earlier and have a long busy day with wine at dinner, I'm ready to curl up and snooze at 7, but need four more hours of activity. It's winter, we should be hibernating. But we are not bears. 

I watched a bit of the Golden Globes Sunday. Re the magnificent Jane Fonda: I'll have whatever she's having! (Except for the surgery.) What an admirable 83-year old woman. While watching, I saw a most horrifying thing: there's now a credit card for children called GoHenry. They pretend it's to teach children about money, but it shows small children gleefully checking their balance and how much they have left to spend. Can you imagine? Turned my stomach. Criminal. Like the ads that show cars screeching along city streets, speeding on highways, smashing through underbrush - should be illegal. Okay, your rant for today. 

Two nice things follow. The Leguin quote is the subtext of my Beatles book All My Loving. Cheers.