A Pumpkin Eclipse

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As the eclipse made its way over Patterson this morning, and the light in the sky dimmed like dusk, my first thought didn’t pertain to the rare astronomical wonder that was occurring. The event that captivated the country and seized the media’s attention in a way that we haven’t seen since OJ Simpson careened around Los Angeles in that damn white Ford Bronco.

No, as I peered from my kitchen window and watched the faded light dance on the trees outside, I felt something else that wasn’t celestial awe. Frankly, it was the hue of the sky that reminded me of something. Something that was very near and dear to my heart.

Why, the eclipse looked like… FALL!

My heart beats in an autumnal rhythm— it yearns for the shortening days of the fall, cool mornings and all things pumpkin-flavored. By this time of year, I actually have to tamper my excitement, lest it overflow and run amok— like a toddler in an inflatable jumpy house.

It is currently taking every effort of my soul not to prematurely put up my fall harvest decor— which includes scarecrows, ceramic pumpkins and candles so deliciously-scented that I would eat them if I knew the wax and chemicals wouldn’t make me vomit.

This kind of restraint is so difficult. I really, really want to pull out my box of autumn stuff. So badly. The same way a teenage boy longs for their PlayStation or a link to a free porn website.

To be honest, I can hear my fall decor calling to me in the hall closet each time I zoom by it in my wheelchair. It says things like:

Elizabette… we’re here, come free us!

Who cares what people think?

Don’t deny us. You know you want this.

Argh. The perky pumpkin voices are so alluring. You know that feeling when you’re a kid and you have a mosquito bite that you’re not supposed to scratch? And the more you don’t scratch it, the more you want to scratch it? Yeah, that. I bet Donald Trump gets the same feeling before he tweets something really stupid.

This would all be easier if the universe didn’t know that I adore fall. You may think this sounds insane— like the muddled ramblings of a girl that drinks too many pumpkin spice lattes. But, this doesn’t make it any less true.

pumpkinHere is Exhibit A.

A few days ago, we harvested these bell peppers from my garden. You will notice that they are shaped like mini pumpkins.

I didn’t tell them to do this. They grew like this voluntarily. Even the produce in my yard wants to be pumpkin-shaped!! It’s like an omen from the universe. A wonderful omen that fills my heart with joy.

But, I must wait just a little bit longer.

Oh, Fall, how I love thee. Soon, you shall be mine!

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Two Weeks Later…

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It’s amazing how much can change in two weeks. Wars have been fought and won in a shorter span of time and, if you are a believer, than the entire world was created by the Almighty in a mere 7 days— including, Adam, Eve, snakes, assorted shrubberies, and the Fuji apples you can buy at Savemart for $1.29 a pound.

And if all that wasn’t enough excitement, I also made the front page of the estimable Patterson Irrigator newspaper― instead of my column’s usual spot on page 5, or 7. So, yeah, a lot can change very fast.

Two weeks ago, I had my first injection of Spinraza. (For those of you that haven’t been following my journey, you can read my past writings on this topic HERE.) It wasn’t long after that initial treatment that I first began to feel that magical little $125,000 serum at my work in my spinal fluid— like busy Oompa Loompas toiling at Willy Wonka’s factory over a steaming vat of marshmallow cream.

The night following the injection, I woke up at 2am absolutely starving— like I hadn’t eaten anything for days. If you know me at all, you’d know this is an impossibility. There are few things in this life I love more than food. And if I could think of what those things actually are, I would write them right here.

I spent the next 3 days basically eating everything that wasn’t nailed down— especially things with protein. I was like a mama grizzly bear that hadn’t seen food since she went into hibernation last December. A real grizzly― not the fake ones that Sarah Palin seems to find everywhere she goes.

To give you an example, after already consuming breakfast, lunch and three snacks, one afternoon around 4pm I got hungry again and began casting my eyes around my kitchen. My radar settled upon a pouch of cashew nuts on the counter. For a few minutes, I attempted to open the reusable zippered fastener on the pouch. But, I quickly grew impatient and annoyed when my not-strong-enough fingers couldn’t open the lip. Undeterred, I grabbed my purple Crayola kid scissors (the only kind that I can use without hurting myself) and proceeded to desecrate the thick pouch until I had wormed a two-inch hole into the plastic. As the soothing scent of roasted cashews wafted up to my nose, I knew that victory was at-hand. THE CASHEWS WERE MINE!

This inexplicable hunger, this rabid feeding frenzy, culminated in a fluttering feeling in the muscles of my neck, my upper arms and my right hand. I began to notice that things were just a touch easier to do. My Sonicare toothbrush felt lighter. I was typing faster on my computer. I was able to grab my water bottle just a bit more smoothly. My voice sounded stronger. My respiratory numbers were up. I could text jokes about Mr. Trump to my friends even more swiftly than I had two weeks ago.

Things were happening.

It’s difficult to fathom that the little vial of muscle juice was already working. But, while a great deal of things are “all in my head,” I guarantee than this definitely wasn’t. Just because I could convince 11-year-old me that Santa was real, despite all the evidence to the contrary, this doesn’t mean that I’m imagining that the Spinraza was already helping. While my imagination is incredibly well-honed, it’s not that good.

This week, I head back to Stanford for Dose #2. I never thought I’d be this excited to get another shot into my spine. Never. Just as I thought I’d never live to every meteorologist IN THE WORLD go apeshit over an upcoming solar eclipse.

Seriously, though, this hype is way too much— just like the Twilight movies. Once the solar eclipse is actually done, everyone is going to forget all about it… just like they forgot how they once found Robert Pattinson brooding and charming.

Anyway, please wish me luck for Dose #2.

Who knows what the next two weeks will bring?

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