I wrote a partial draft of this next installment a couple days ago, put it aside while filling in introductory posts, and want to post it today where you'd see it upon opening the Window. However, Blogger wants to put these posts in chronological order, by date written, not date posted. And I'm too tired (lazy?) to rearrange them.
So, please scroll down a little bit to the title "On a Wing and a Prayer" for my most recent chronicle.
Also...tidbits for you to know:
Today is my dear Paul's birthday. He shares it with Silas K. Maybe we could dub June 29th "Paul and Silas Day"??
If you are a man reading this post, please stop here. Click out of this window. Do not pass GO. Do not collect 200 dollars. The following paragraph is for WOMEN ONLY. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.
Speaking of DUB (dysfunctional uterine bleeding) and the Apostle Paul, I PLEAD with you, my Christian sisters, to pray for me. It's gone from bad to worse. I'm pretty sure what I have was NOT the thorn in the side of which our late, great, brother Paul wrote. While touring Red Square (which was an apt description for my condition as well my surroundings) I knew I had to get home to the States and get checked out by a doctor. In my only email home, I begged Paul to call my mom to make an appt for me. (He did and she did.) It's July 12th, but I can't tell you how far away that date sounds. I'm hemorrhaging. Been losing blood every day for over a month now. Have dry, tingly feet and a hoarse voice. I looked up my symptoms online and they point to menorrhagia. Bless Sarah's heart, she went out and bought me the foods highest in iron (Total cereal, Raisin Bran, 2 bags of spinach, Cream of Wheat) and an iron supplement. I continue to take progesterone, which helps a tad bit. I'm trying to stay off my feet, which isn't hard considering how tired and sleepy I am. The sleepiness comes on as if you'd just put a mask of nitrous oxide to my face. In Vladimir, I had the great support of all my women team members, including one nurse my mom's age. She was an answer to prayer. One gal needed "stuff" from the drug store, as did an interpreter, so I asked if they'd please pick up a box for me. Didn't matter how many rubles it cost, I was desperate. They came back with a box for each of us. One of the gals said, "They told me we bought the last 3 boxes in Vladimir, and there's none in Moscow." Yeh, sure. Moscow out of tampons? The city whose Kremlins have protected her people from bloodshed for millenia cannot protect her women on a monthly basis? Hmph! Well, I might not believe it, but I'm glad I'm prepared, just in case. We laughed and I paid her the nearly 73 rubles without blinking.