Pins and needles

 Oh damn. Dr. Peichun Chin is an acupuncture guru. He just touched my uncle’s arms, above the wrist. Looked at his tongue, top and bottom. Pressed on his stomach. Inserted 8 needles. My uncle moaned like a woman in labor. How does this Asian man of few words beat the hospital triage team across the street?

I must learn acupuncture. You can’t learn everything. A voice in my head says. Yes you can. Another voice says. Limits are an illusion. I had this yoga teacher who repeated this over and over in his classes. His yoga posts on FB are still all about it.

My uncle will get better. Say the things you believe to be true. Mantra.

We are strong. We are smart. We will survive.

Ellie Roo went to Urgent Care for a 103 fever on Tuesday. The doc prescribed amoxicillin for an ear infection in her left ear. Kate and I went back and forth—natural remedy or pharmaceutical. We agreed to tried the garlic mullein for the night. We don’t have one of those flashlight in the ear tools to peek inside her ear and inspect inflammation. But the baby seems to be doing fine. The garlic worked. So much so that Kate took some. She’s had bad ears since childhood. Fill with fluid each night. Dropped in the garlic olive oil magic and bam. No fluid pressure. Said that hasn’t happened in years.

Weather app calls for rain tomorrow morning. Father and son are still planning to swim the lake. One lap. Maybe two. Toes in at 5:30. It isn’t the only therapy I can afford because my health insurance has behavioral medicine covered. I don’t know how many shrink appointments you get, but I think the lake is better. Fewer words. Less couch time. More direct.

I’ll tell you what. Right now I’m at my aunt and uncle’s place looking at an admittedly drab painting of a road winding around a lake. How do we beat ulcers? Trees between the lake and the road, casting shadows. It’s very important to have family to surround you. Is what the painting means?

A woman who I was an asshole to when Ellie was a baby and I had a bridge building conversation at party a week ago and I told her about my life and being controlling and she gave me this book called 10 % Happier. I think sometimes you just need to float. Like. In times of crisis. And stress. And rock and hard place. And when family is under the weather. And when keeping food down is the going concern. And when the baby is in the urgent care. But it’s hard to float when you’re nervous. And we’re always nervous at some level because we want to move on to the next stage of the video game known as life.