Iris, a poem

I met Iris when I was 6 and she 76
and to this day she remains the
sprightliest woman I’ve ever known.

She’d break into Russian dance
on the kitchen floor while bending
over to pick up a dropped cookie,

and keep flinging herself all the way
’round the old oak table on the linoleum
installed just after the first world war.

She’d scale the rose trellis and rescue
some wailing cat or child or husband
and not lose a drop from her teacup.

She’d take us all sailing on her ship
and fend off every pirate with a mere
wag of her long skinny index finger.

I met Iris when I was very young
and she even younger, and I’ll never
forget her blue eyes that danced like

a squirrel who’d finally gnawed a hole
into a chef’s pecan and walnut pantry,
a squirrel with many mouths to feed.

Iris died at noon on my 111th birthday
as the last oak leaf burst from its bud,
summer tuning up in the orchestra pit.

And I still miss her.

(irises I photographed in Zilker Gardens yesterday)

And guess what?? This is my first foray into One Shot Wednesday, whoooohooooo — holy cow, I’m IN, Dudes, I’m so totally freaking IN!!!

xoxoxoxoox

Thank You, Alopecia Areata

If I hadn’t developed a few bald patches on my scalp in the past month

I wouldn’t be sharing the interior of the beautiful new Westlake Dermatology building with you.

Took these a few days ago after my alopecia areata diagnosis and initial treatment.

A nice lady shot my scalp up in several places with something to hopefully restimulate hair growth.

Apparently, my own immune system is messing with my follicles.

Very naughty of it.

This could be stress related. So I’ve identified a couple little things bothering me and let them go.

Plus, I’m going to get my thyroid, iron and blood count checked next week, have a look-see.

I bet the patches will fill in just fine and dandy. Eventually.

And won’t lead to alopecia totalis, or universalis.

(Hopefully.)

“Regrowth could take a year or two,” said the needle lady.

I see her again in a month.

You ever hear of or experience this hair loss thing? (Feel free to e-mail me, if you prefer privacy.)

Anyhoo,

I look at it this way –  I don’t have anything life-threatening.

I’ve had almost 47 really great hair years.

Yep, I’ll be 47 tomorrow, April 4th. (Happy birthday me!)

And with a “comb-over” on top, and the back patches hidden under my long locks, you can’t even tell I’m missing hair!

Whoooohoooo.
 
Thank you, alopecia areata for keeping me humble, making me thankful for all the great things I do have, and for giving me these lovely photos to share.

xoxooxo