Like so many people out there, I feel overwhelmed. I’m so sorry about the state of affairs in our big, baggy, but ultimately still lovable old country right now. In my marrow I know that we are so much better than all this ugliness. I get that some people are just more comfortable staying out of the fray – that’s how they keep their wits about them. I am not one of those people, as you might have surmised by now. As the middle child of a large, festering family, I learned very early in life to assert myself against the cacophony, lest I miss out on dessert. So don’t expect me to stop screaming any time soon. I believe that those of you who aren’t screaming are lucky that you don’t feel you have to.

In the last 14 days I’ve been physically dragged down by yet another kidney stone meandering, and then sashaying, through my innards. This is stone No. 16 in 30 years for me. It’s also broken my previous record of five days for passing. My doctor says it could be a month before it decides to emerge. I am only able to concentrate long enough to write this post because the extreme pain of the first days of this stone has now morphed into only intermittent stabs at my gut, allowing me moments of calm and lucidity.

Here’s what I wish, in the order of personal, self-focused desirability: 1 – my stone gets the fk out of my body and though bruised, I begin to physically stabilize. If you’ve ever had a kidney stone, you know that they absorb everything in your life until they’re gone – so you can’t work, you can’t create, you can’t laugh, you can’t even imagine what being pain-free feels like; 2 – a tested, reliable vaccine for C-19 is released and made available for all of us who think it’s the surest way to stay alive through this pandemic and get back to lives approaching normal; 3 – the debilitating bloat of hatred and fear of The Other that our country and the outside world have been carrying for centuries (and that has only intensified in recent years) begins to fully pass through and out – and stays out, for good.

I can’t wait for that feeling – the renewed optimism, return to lucidity, and freedom to just be – that my three wishes will bring once they each come to pass. And I have to believe that they will (especially that damned stone).

Right now, we all need to heal. We’ll be bruised, for sure, but no longer debilitated and demoralized.

C’est tout! – M

Image: Sweet Moby in less chaotic times. Photo by Kobi Gwinn.

Morris Ardoin’s book, STONE MOTEL – MEMOIRS of a CAJUN BOY can be purchased on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Indibound, and other booksellers, and is also available as an audiobook on Audible.