Dear Patriots: What a Blessed Week!
What a week! Eh? What a week!
So much has happened and y'know what? Most of it's been good. I do believe, yes I do believe, the headlines are trending in the right direction.
I was going to write another Article Proper today but what the heck! A letter is much more fun, don't you think?
Where to start? So much has happened, I have to consult my journal and daily spreadsheet to remember it all. Yes, I keep a spreadsheet of our lives...To-Dos, things that happened, things to remember, budgeting. Hey! Don't laugh! I'm German. We are a very organized people!
"Monday, Monday, So Good to Me."
Surely I'm not the only one who found it serendipitous that Tax Day fell on the 17th. Seventeen! Get it?
Actually, there've been rather a lot of seventeens lately. I'm collecting all the headlines with seventeens and plan to throw them into one fun little article. But seriously, seventeens are e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e!
For the first time since like 2017 (there's another one!), I didn't have to pay into the IRS but only because all (but one) of our stimulus checks were stolen last year! After hearing two Japanese people received stimulus checks in Japan but American citizens didn't, well! That just creams my corn. I wouldn't be quite so pissed if they sent back some takoyaki. Always wanted to taste that!
Monday was also the day our crabapple tree burst into bloom with that lovely sweet, cinnamony fragrance on the breeze. The tree is full of "busy little bees full of stings," to quote Bette Davis, all buzzing so loudly the tree itself is noisy!
Soon there will be crabapples. Buggy, wormy, sour little crabapples! (🐛More on that later. Read on!)
Monday is also the day Michael set-up my new computer system...and the last day I could get on Telegram! (The app is device specific; you'll have the same problem one day if you switch to a new smartphone.) As I posted in today's update on EatPrayLoveGoSendGiveThingummy, whatevah it's called:
All things considered, Monday was a blessed day.
"Tuesday's gone, with the wind"
The lilacs bloomed on Tuesday, oh frabjous day, calloo, callay! I also had to mow the lawn but I'm so grateful for the little lawnmower I bought from my neighbor for $50 last year. What a blessing!
Michael was in bed all day. Usually he hates being in bed and fights it but this time it's a good thing. I've hinted something was going on with Michael and now is the time to tell you.
Our story begins in the 1970s with country boy, Michael, running barefoot through the fields behind the manure spreader as it scattered raw human sewage on the fields just to say "Hi" to the kind farmer. In the 1980s when Michael was working in Texas laying sewer lines, he'd slip across the border on the weekends to eat street food and bask in the happy Mexican culture. He followed that up by traveling all across this great land, on foot, eating whatever was available. And the coup de grâce was the two years he worked for a sewer pumper truck which, yes, sometimes splashed raw sewage on him. (Do we see a theme here!?! Maybe that's why "shit" is his favorite word. Noun, verb, exclamation, term of endearment, he uses it for everything. It's the first word he says every morning! I'm his "Little Shit." Awwwww.)
He's been to a multitude of doctors who palpitated his abdomen (it hurt him!) and never suggested parasites. Never tested him for it. He's swallowed bottles and bottles of supplements...with only minimal benefit.
It finally caught up with him. For the past several years, he's been getting sicker and sicker, weaker and weaker and we couldn't figure it out. Then, suddenly, on the merest whim he decided to take an anti-parasitic.
We all regularly deworm our pets, right? Why do we never deworm ourselves? Because we're clean people, that's why, as if that has anything to do with it. We get our foods from 3rd world countries that fertilize with human sewage and the creepy-crawlies get into the foods themselves. You can't wash them off.
On Tuesday I woke up to find Michael was already awake, sitting in his recliner. He looked pale. Agitated.
"Are you okay!?!" I asked him.
"NO!" he said. "I'M NOT!"
He never says that. Even on his worst days, he never says that.
"I just passed a nest of pinworms as big as my fist," he said, shaken. "When I squirted rubbing alcohol in the toilet before flushing, the water boiled. I actually jumped back! They were still alive!"
Poor guy was traumatized!
And that was just the start, Ladies and Gentlemen. He's passed pinworms. He's passed hookworms. He's passed tapeworms. He's passed whipworms. He passed a huge ropeworm. He's passed the bloody mucous lining of his colon they were living in, with their jaws latched to his colon wall. If it's a parasite that can live in a human being, Michael's passed it and he's not done yet. He's been spending a lot of time in bed, resting, suffering through the die-off phase, gathering his strength to fight the worms another day. (He's got his computer in the bedroom so he's not bored.)
Just like that, I've got my husband back. The old Michael of 2012 who has some energy. I mean, he's still got his back problems and lung disease, but his voice is louder, his eyes are sparklier, he's excited about life and not constantly weak and exhausted anymore.
He was simply being poisoned to death. No! Not by my cooking! (You take that back! LOL) By the parasites. Thousands of 'em. If they'd breached the blood/brain barrier, it would've been curtains for Michael. There's no cure.
I believe this miracle came from the prayers of you, the Saints and Patriots, who remember us before the Throne of Grace. Thank you.
As Michael's been deworming, I've been washing all the bedding with Borax. Wormed the dogs. Tricked the cats into eating dewormer.
There's just one weak link. Yep, guess what I'll be doing for the next few days!?! I'm a germaphobe. I'm a clean freak. This is embarrassing but it must be done so the Thompsons can stop this vicious circle. Think of me kindly as, in the words of Roald Dahl, "She sits alone and dreams of glory, alone inside the lavatory." (From Charlie and The Great Glass Elevator) *
If you or someone you love is suffering from fibromyalgia, neuropathy, IBS, any other mysterious syndromes or if you/they have been overseas (including in the military) or if you haven't been overseas...consider it. This isn't medical advice but just consider it.
All things considered, Tuesday was a blessed day.
* Ladies: If you try this, be prepared for your menstrual cycle to start suddenly and immediately. And I mean, a can't-leave-home cycle. Be absolutely sure you aren't pregnant before you try it.
"Wednesday Evening Blues"
All things considered, Wednesday was a blessed day.
Mamie Eisenhower believed that if you spend one day every week in bed, you'll never get wrinkles...and I believe it!
My work week starts on Sunday and goes til 2 or 3 a.m. every night when I re-update the "Breaking News" page for the early birds so by Thursday I was bushed!
It was raining so I couldn't possibly mow any more grass (yes!!!) so I ran to the newly re-opened gas station in town for milk and then climbed in bed with Michael, Delly, Cleo, Snuggles and Cuddles and stayed there...him with his computer, me scribbling in my journal while something interesting...No Reservations or Bizarre Foods...played in the background to the sound of Cuddles' squeaky kitten snoring.
We talked about Anthony Bourdain and how we don't think he killed himself. There were powerful people after him because he'd been involved in taking down Harvey Weinstein and blowing the whistle on another famous pedophile. No suicide letter from the most eloquent, profane, endearing, kind man on the planet!?! Please! Don't insult my intelligence.
And in the back of mind, I kept thinking about Caitlin. She passed away six months ago on Thursday. I remember when she'd been gone only 24 hours and how fresh Michael's grief was. Where has the time gone??
All things considered though, Thursday was a blessed day.
Click here to learn more about Lenora Thompson: wife, caregiver, writer, patriot.
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