Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.
—Romans 12:2
As I write this, I’m dealing with my usual reaction to the Pfizer COVID vaccine—headache, body aches, chills, and a migraine for good measure. It’s not pleasant, but I know from experience that it will pass, and by tomorrow I should wake up feeling fine. My body is working hard right now to protect me, and in that small reminder of how healing happens, I can’t help but think of Paul’s words to the Romans.
Transformation and renewal—whether of the body, the mind, or the spirit—are rarely comfortable. They require energy, patience, and faith. For LGBTQ+ Christians, that renewal often means shedding the false messages the world has pressed upon us and allowing God’s love to restore our sense of worth. It’s not always easy work, but it is holy work.
So today, as my body does its healing, I’m reminded that renewal often begins in discomfort. If you’re also in a season of weariness or change, take heart—God’s love is already transforming you, one tender act of grace at a time.
May you find peace and renewal today, even in your weariness.
Even though I’m not working from home today like I usually do on Fridays, I’m glad it’s finally Friday. This has been a long and rough week—actually, it’s been a long and stressful month so far—and I’m ready for it to be over. Next week will hopefully be better. I have my last program of the month, and I’m praying it all goes smoothly. Monday will be a full day of meetings, and Tuesday might not be an easy day depending on what comes up. I’m hoping to take Thursday as a vacation day, and Friday I’ll be back to working from home again.
Today will be busy. I have a meeting this afternoon, and I’ll be putting away artifacts I used in a class yesterday. Once the workday is over, I can finally head home and relax—though I’m not so sure it will be the most relaxing of weekends. I’m scheduled for my COVID and flu vaccines tomorrow. The flu shot has never really bothered me, but the COVID vaccine tends to hit me hard. I don’t react much to Moderna or Novavax, but Pfizer always knocks me down. About twelve hours after getting the shot, I start getting body aches, fever, and chills—it’s much like actually having COVID. It lasts for a solid twenty-four hours and then, thankfully, it’s over.
You might wonder why I stick with the Pfizer vaccine if I react so strongly to it. The answer is simple: when I’ve taken Moderna or Novavax, I’ve ended up catching COVID afterward. It’s always been a mild case, but still unpleasant. Every time I’ve taken the Pfizer vaccine, however, I haven’t gotten COVID. So, twenty-four hours of discomfort seems a fair trade for something that works best for me. Medical preventatives aren’t always pleasant. After all, every twelve weeks I get thirty-seven Botox injections in my head, neck, and shoulders—definitely not enjoyable, but they help, which is why I keep doing it.
So, while this weekend might not be the most relaxing, at least I’ll be home with Isabella. And honestly, that’s not a bad way to spend a couple of days.
I hope everyone has a wonderful and relaxing weekend!
It’s Monday again, and I’m heading into the week already tired. I have an upcoming event at the museum, and let’s just say the required food contractor has been the bane of my existence lately. I’ve done everything I can to get them to confirm the order, but so far, nothing. They only acknowledged it after I physically went to their office to demand answers. I’m hoping that today my bosses will let me cancel the order and go elsewhere. At this point, I’d gladly take a sandwich tray from just about anyone else—especially since the two places I have in mind would likely produce far better food anyway.
As if that weren’t enough, one of my speakers had to cancel because of the government shutdown. Thankfully, there were supposed to be two speakers, so at least I still have one. Now all I need is the food to feed the audience—no small feat when bureaucracy gets involved.
All of this has been more stressful than it should be. I like to plan things well in advance and make sure everything runs smoothly (knock on wood). Usually it does, but this one has been keeping me up at night. I went to bed early last night, but woke up around midnight worrying about it all, and it was after 2 a.m. before I finally fell back asleep. Isabella decided that 4:30 a.m. was the perfect time for breakfast, so I opened my eyes to find her sitting next to me, staring at me like I’d broken some sacred promise.
I’ve got two meetings at work today, and I’m honestly not sure how long I’ll make it. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I had a migraine, and it’s still lingering this morning. If it doesn’t ease up after my first meeting, I may wave the white flag and head home. I really do need to attend that first meeting—let’s just say there are complicated reasons—but it’s one more thing to juggle on top of everything else.
At this point, I’m reminding myself that the semester will slow down after mid-November. If I can just survive the next six weeks, maybe I can finally catch my breath.
Here’s to hoping the food order gets sorted, the migraine fades, and the day goes better than expected. And if not—well, at least there’s coffee.
Wishing you all a smoother start to your week than mine.
I had planned an art history post for today, but honestly, I just haven’t been up to writing it. I’m working from home today, so maybe I’ll have some time to pull it together later. For now, though, I don’t have a lot to say.
Yesterday was rough—not only was I very busy at work, but my back gave me trouble all day. One of the issues with the bulging disk between my L4 and L5 is that it presses on the sciatic nerve on both sides, which is why I’ve had pain in my left leg for the past few weeks. Yesterday, however, it was my left leg and the lower left of my back that gave me the most grief. Add a migraine on top of that, and I was pretty miserable. It took me forever to fall asleep last night.
At least Isabella was kind enough to let me sleep until 5 a.m. Speaking of sleep, here’s one of my favorite photos of her napping—for the Isabella Pic of the Week.
Even when the pain flares up and the days feel long, I’m grateful for the little comforts: working from home, a quiet morning, and the steady presence of Isabella. Sometimes those small mercies make all the difference.
I saw my doctor yesterday for my annual physical. I know I’ve said this before, but he’s the first doctor I’ve ever felt completely comfortable with—and one I actually look forward to seeing. For the most part, all is well. My weight loss continues to progress, my blood pressure has improved enough that he lowered my medication, and my A1C (the test that measures average glucose levels over the past 90 days) came in at 4.3. That’s not bad for a non-diabetic, though he’d prefer mine be closer to 4.7. He also suggested I contact the sleep clinic because I may no longer need my CPAP. When I was in the hospital back in the spring and couldn’t wear a mask, I didn’t snore and my oxygen levels never dropped below 90%.
I’d talk about where I was versus where I am now, but I’ll admit I’m embarrassed about how bad things once were. The truth is, I was very depressed during those first few years after moving to Vermont. Just six weeks after arriving here, a close friend who had always encouraged me died suddenly, and it felt like my whole world collapsed. I was 1,200 miles (or more) away from everyone I’d ever known. I missed my family. I missed the food I’d grown up with. I’d broken up with the only boyfriend I’d ever had because I couldn’t face a long-distance relationship. My health worsened as I turned to food for comfort. Susan helped me through those years, but there were still nights I cried myself to sleep.
Over time, though, I began to find my footing. I eventually made some wonderful friends in Vermont, and I leaned on the recipes my mama and grandmama had taught me, cooking the foods I’d grown up with—sometimes with a healthier twist. Little by little, life started to feel more like home again.
My doctor was one of the first people in Vermont to really help me turn things around. He diagnosed me as diabetic and worked with me until I became a diet-controlled diabetic who no longer needed medication. He kept at me until I finally gave in and went to the sleep clinic to deal with my sleep apnea. He worked with me on my depression, adjusted my diabetic medications until we found one that helped me lose weight, and sent me to the headache clinic at Dartmouth where I finally got relief from the migraines that had controlled my life for so long. They haven’t gone away, but they’re nowhere near as intense as they once were.
It’s been a ten-year journey, and I still have health issues to manage—my liver, my back, my migraines—but my overall health is so much better than it used to be. I owe that progress to the patience, persistence, and genuine care of my doctor. Sometimes, that care goes far beyond prescriptions or test results. They might even cry with you when you break down in their office because your mother has been diagnosed with dementia. My doctor’s mother was facing a similar decline, and in that moment, he truly understood the pain and worry I was carrying.
Through the lows and the highs, what I’ve found most of all is hope—hope that healing is possible, hope that progress continues, and hope that life can feel good again when you have the right care beside you.
Today is finally MRI day, and I’m both relieved and a little anxious. I had to be up earlier than usual this morning since my appointment at the hospital was at 6 a.m. Isabella didn’t seem to mind me stirring around at that hour—she was just happy to have breakfast a bit earlier. For weeks now my back has been bothering me, and while I’ve tried to push through the pain, it’s clear something isn’t right. Hopefully, the MRI will give me some answers and a clearer path forward. It’s one of those things where just knowing what’s going on will be a huge relief in itself.
Since I have the whole day off, I decided to make the most of it and head up to Burlington afterward. There are a few shoe stores there that carry some really nice options, and I’ve been needing a good pair of shoes for a while. It feels like a bit of a treat to mix something necessary with something enjoyable. After all, if I’m going to be dealing with back issues, I might as well do it in style with a comfortable (and hopefully sharp-looking) new pair of shoes.
It was a busy weekend, and it’s shaping up to be a busy week ahead. Saturday was spent watching college football (Roll Tide!), and yesterday I went clothes shopping. That may not sound like much, but for me, it was a little milestone.
I haven’t really talked about this here, but I’ve lost some weight. My clothes just don’t fit the same anymore, and shopping has become a necessity. I don’t often bring up my weight because in the past it has sometimes led to rude comments or unsolicited advice. The truth is, I’ve struggled with my weight my whole life. Now, for the first time, I’m no longer overweight. I still have a way to go before I’m fully happy with my body, and with my back issues, I haven’t been able to get to the gym the way I’d like. Hopefully, that will change soon.
Yesterday’s shopping trip also meant a lot of walking—something I haven’t been able to do in months. By the time I got home, my body was completely exhausted. I used to love shopping, and if I only need to go to one store, I still enjoy it some. But going to half a dozen crowded stores is more than I can handle these days. Still, it was worth it to find clothes that fit and look nice for the events ahead.
As for this week, today is just a regular Monday at work—and Mondays are never fun. The bigger push comes later in the week with events Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. That’s part of why I needed those new clothes. I like to dress nicely anyway, but as the public face of the museum, I feel like it’s even more important to look put-together. First impressions matter, and I want to give a good one not just for myself, but for the museum as well.
It’s also a big week for my back. On Wednesday, I go in for an MRI of my lower back. I’ve been feeling much improved, so I’m hoping that the prognosis will be good. Between that and the long hours later in the week, it’s going to be a full schedule. Thankfully, I have tomorrow off as a bit of breathing room.
Here’s to a good week ahead—for all of us.
The picture above is not me, but like him I also need some new shoes—though that might not happen this week.
I’m not going to dwell on politics or my health today—just two quick statements on both.
First, politics. I don’t think political violence should ever happen in the United States or anywhere else. Sadly, it happens far too often as it is, though thankfully, more often than not, it’s unsuccessful (and sometimes staged—ears just don’t grow back). The United States is gripped with a political fervor that seems rooted in hate, violence, cruelty, and greed. What’s most troubling is that most of the political violence, both successful and unsuccessful, has been against those who themselves have not been calling for it. Infer what you want from what I’ve said.
While I’m not going to change what I wrote above, I think it came off as more offensive than it should have. I do not meant to blame a victim for what happened, but I firmly believe that rhetoric from the far left and the far right have caused this extreme polarization that is tearing apart our democracy. Charlie Kirk, no matter how awful the things he might have said were, he did not deserve to be murdered. Also, the conspiracy theory part, while it is my belief that it was at least portrayed much worse than it was for political gain, whatever else was behind it is not known.
Second, health. My Botox seemed to go really well yesterday. I liked the new provider I saw. We talked about how the treatment usually wears off for me around week ten of the twelve-week cycle. She’s going to try to convince my insurance to allow for treatments every ten weeks instead of every twelve. The woman who does scheduling for the Headache Clinic even set up my next two appointments with dates for both possibilities—ten weeks if it’s approved, twelve weeks if it’s not. That way I’ll have an appointment either way. Like my previous provider, she said if there’s ever a problem getting me in on time, to have them talk to her and she’ll adjust things to make sure it happens.
So, those weren’t exactly “two quick statements,” but I’ve said what I wanted to say on both topics.
On this day especially, I want to pause in remembrance of September 11. I think nearly all of us—maybe even all of us—remember where we were when we first heard the news. The confusion, and then the horrifying realization of what had actually happened, is something we’ll never forget. It’s been more than two decades, yet the memory of that morning—the shock, the grief, the uncertainty—still lingers deeply for so many of us. We remember the nearly 3,000 lives lost, the countless families forever changed, and the first responders who ran toward danger with courage and selflessness. We remember too how, in the days that followed, communities came together in ways that reminded us of our shared humanity and resilience. And it’s that spirit of unity, compassion, and strength that we especially need in today’s world.
May we all carry that spirit with us, today and always.
The day is finally here—Botox day. Every twelve weeks I go in for my migraine shots, and as I’ve mentioned before, the relief usually wears off around week ten. These last two weeks have been especially rough. Because my boss has been difficult about my back issues (though she’s been a bit more sympathetic the last few days—sort of), I haven’t wanted to ask to leave early for a migraine. I know I shouldn’t worry about that, but I also don’t want to cause further tension. So, I’ve mostly just suffered in silence.
Most people wouldn’t exactly look forward to 31–37 injections in one sitting—especially when they’re all over your head, neck, and shoulders. Honestly, though, it’s not that bad if the provider knows what they’re doing and keeps it quick and accurate. The only ones I truly dread are the shots in the back of my head; I’m told that’s because of the occipital nerve. It usually takes a couple of days before the relief sets in, but it’s worth every single poke.
If nothing else, it’s made me pretty fearless about other shots. When I got my monkeypox vaccine, the nurse warned me, “Everyone says this one really stings, so just bear with me.” After it was done, she looked surprised and said, “You didn’t even flinch.” I just smiled and told her, “Honey, when you endure 37 Botox shots to the head every three months, this is a piece of cake.”
I hope your week’s treating you kindly so far—hang in there, we’ll get through it together.
Thank God today is my work-from-home day. I woke up with one of the worst migraines I’ve had in a while—the kind where the pain is so bad it brings on intense nausea. Honestly, it was almost bad enough that I forgot to write a post this morning. Hopefully, my meds will kick in soon so I can actually get something done today.
In the meantime, I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend!
Joe
The Closet Professor 