A Port and a Full Backpack
From July 9, 2019
Hi Friends --
An early, and encouraging, postcard from my climb. I left the hospital Friday night after 48 hours of nonstop Foxy bombing wondering if I would emerge like one of those exploding rats from Stranger Things 3 (sorry for small spolier, but honestly what on earth is going on with those rats). But instead it was all about napping and Wimbledon and enjoying Lucy's fabulous crepes.
The most extraordinary perk of all: the low fevers that had been nagging at me since early May disappeared within hours of Foxy showing up. My medical and scientific friends will give a far more precise description here, but all I can say is that my mighty little normal cells have been battling bravely calling out for help for weeks, and then suddenly in came The Allied Forces on all the right beachheads. I felt immediately better. So much so that I wondered around Menlo yesterday a little bit tempted to tell everyone my hot tip: "psst - get on Foxy."
In other news, I'm now the proud owner of something called a Power Port (port is just fine for me, let's not get braggy). This little guy sits under my right clavicle and will be the line to receive future Foxy bombing raids in weeks to come. No more annoying IV or wandering around tethered to polls for this lady. It was a good look for a while, but it was time for an upgrade.
What's next? I'm told I'll have a good string of days before the Foxy forces descend again. This is key because I now find myself like a kiddo on Christmas morning wading through some of the most extraordinary sets of book, music, podcast, poems, film, and other magic recommendations from you, my big extended and eclectic community of saints.
You all have such expansive taste! I've smiled all weekend with notes begging me not to give up on "Californication," a nudge to read something called "Stripease," while others are gently calling me back to the Psalms. Dead hilarious. Others love military history, others are surfacing podcast treasures I can't wait to share.
Anyhow, the point is you all are a crew of readers, joy-receivers, curiosity-seekers, and lifelong learners. Someday I'll curate it all together so we can all gaze at the magnitude of my world's best of. It's this little one stop shop of quality magic, and I'm so grateful I now get to tuck all this treasure in my new backpack for the climb.
So I'll conclude with one small gift in return. A dear friend in London happened to be conveniently up wandering around her London neighborhood while I was tethered to Fox at 2am on Thursday morning last week. We were what'sapping along, and she simply reached out and said: "Sweetheart listen to this -- it's for you and all of us on the mountain." I did. And smiled throughout. Take a minute today if you'd like to overhear a bit of music from the climb: "Gabriel & The Vagabound" (Foy Vance, Hope).
The mountain flowers here on the trail have never been so bright, or so miraculous. Stop and see them today. They are there for such important reasons.