Whacked Out of My Mind

I know there is nothing unique in my charmed life’s recent downturn. Without over-thinking it, I could name a half dozen people enduring far worse.

Still, I need to rant. And anyone reading who is knowledgeable of the film “Jacob’s Ladder” will learn just what pervasive morbidity my mind harbors.

Anyway, the whiny rant:

This morning we got bad news about kitty Jezebel’s blood work. At fifteen plus years of age, she didn’t surprise us with news of some kidney dysfunction. But the old girl could be in the early stages of actual disease.

Worse, the technician left word that elevated calcium levels could well indicate cancer. Not very good at staying optimistic of late, my thoughts went right to that leg pain and the fact we may not be bringing her home after her Monday morning appointment.

I know we will not put her through the aggressive treatment her predecessor Luna received before passing away in 2014. My husband still admits profound guilt over those extreme efforts to stave off my inevitable pain, despite the fact our sweet girl fought hard herself to stay on this earth. Even hearing me insist her chemotherapy and that radical mastectomy furthered veterinary oncology can’t assuage his regret.

Meanwhile, thinking of all that’s happened in the last thirteen months, starting with my father’s estrangement over a dumb misunderstanding to every major or minor insult and injury since, I developed an eerie sensation. I mean, come on. Yesterday afternoon I netted one of my four adult ‘typhoid’ mollies, the poor creature found dead at feeding time.

What more can go wrong?

More poignant, what if my reality isn’t what I think?

That wonderful flick “Jacob’s Ladder” introduces us to Jacob Singer, a military veteran of gentle disposition returned from the Vietnam war. He soon begins experiencing demonic sightings. Reunited with his fellow servicemen, they compare notes and start suspecting nefarious governmental, wartime experimentation. One by one they begin dying mysteriously. There are fantastic twists and turns, so I won’t say more and spoil it.

If you’re unfamiliar with the plot but interested in how the movie provokes my surreal sensation, please leave a comment and I’ll visit your blog with the answer.

On another ‘whacky’ note, our tiny back stretch of grass is so long I fear any regular lawnmower will choke. So I plant to try and run the weed whacker out there this afternoon. Wish me luck.

You know I have to ask if you have seen “Jacob’s Ladder”. And have you ever considered that the term talkies gave way to movies from ‘moving pictures’? I just thought of that while typing this.

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