I'll save the world...tomorrow.

For most of my life, I have suffered from SS (Superwoman Syndrome). The syndrome affects mostly women born after WWII and includes a belief that one can—and must—single-handedly save the world, while simultaneously feeding, nurturing, protecting, cleaning up after, loving, and being loved by every skin-y, feathery, furry, and scaly critter on the planet.

Because of the delusional thinking common to sufferers of SS, I thought I could casually stroll back into teaching darn-near full time at Little Town U a mere 10 weeks after having a stroke. O, what a poor, misguided fool I was!

I did a fair job (I think) of covering up the lingering aftereffects of the stroke, but covering takes enormous energy and left me running on fumes. And the need to get grades done on time, plus my pesky SS, make especially troubling my post-stroke difficulty focusing, paired with short-term memory wormholes. For me, grading requires total concentration and huge chunks of quiet, uninterrupted time. But this scattery brain can make things take much longer; it’s tough to focus on a student’s argument that Katniss Everdeen is a reinterpretation of the Greek goddess Diana when my thoughts are zig-zagging like cartoon lightning bolts. 

Here’s a peek inside my post-stroke/SS brain:

Google student’s reference to Wingshooter’s Guide to South Dakota.

Cool! Look at that hummingbird nest!

(Ding) Check Facebook.

Yikes! Migrating hummingbirds can’t find enough food because of cold, late spring.

Go outside and get hummingbird feeders.

Put them in a sink full of soapy water to soak.

Do I boil water and add sugar, or add sugar THEN boil the water? Google.

Wow, I should try this dog biscuit recipe.

Grocery list: liver, quinoa, eggs, millet flour, kale.

I wonder if the coffee stain came out of my nightgown?

Yikes! Look at the lint screen!

I’d better change the batteries in the smoke alarms.

(Ding) Check Facebook.

That moth can’t be real. Google “Poodle Moth.”

I wonder if anyone’s ever crossed a poodle with a papillion? Google.

Check Humane Society puppy list.

Find Jada, put aloe on her sore foot.

Take the dogs for a walk on the trail.

Wait a minute…where’d the hummingbird feeders go?

Oh yeah. Scrub & rinse.

Google homemade humming bird food. Make it, put it in the fridge to cool.

I should grade a paper while it cools.

Google student’s reference to Wingshooter’s Guide to South Dakota.

Ad infinitum…

Hope springs eternal, though. After chewing me into a ragged cud, Semester spit me out yesterday when I turned in my final grades. (Note: Hitting the “submit” button on the online grade form always results in a bizarre narcoleptic/manic paradox that makes me do things like pass out while micro-planning a 30-day cross-country tour of orchid growers.) Miraculously, I made it through the entire semester without having another stroke.

So today, as my reward, I will stave off my SS, kick back under my fuzzy blankie, keep my iPad open to my email as I wait for the post-grade student shockwave to hit, and watch a Monster Quest or Finding Bigfoot marathon with a dog in my lap and an Icy Hot patch on my bent-neck grading hump. 

Tomorrow, though, I will save the world.