My heart is broken. Figuratively and literally, it seems. Or at least, a routine visit to the doctor recently uncovered a heart murmur; thankfully, an electrocardiogram found nothing else wrong. But bloodwork has linked the murmur to severe anemia. There’s still no confirmation on the cause of the latter, but doctors are shoving cameras up and down almost every one of my orifices in order to find out. I like to imagine myself a fairly strong and healthy person, and I thought my utter lack of energy was the result of grief and depression and this terrible, terrible year. It is partially, of course. But my lethargy also stems from ridiculously low hemoglobin and ferritin levels. I am, I have to admit, not doing so well. I received two pints of blood a couple of weeks ago, which helped, but I’m still feeling pretty puny. There’s never a good time to be sick in this country. But now seems to be a particularly bad one.
I have a long list of things I want to write about: the (coming) toxicity of email newsletters, that classroom scene in The Mandalorian, for example. But the anemia doesn’t leave me with energy to do much, and part of me figures, for right now at least, I can just lean into my reputation as ed-tech’s Cassandra: I warned you; you didn’t listen; so no shit, it’s all a mess.
I will, however, be speaking on December 1 as part of an anti-surveillance teach-in, proceeds from which will go to fund Ian Linkletter’s legal defense fund — he's being sued by the bullies at the online test-proctoring company Proctorio. I will also be writing a couple of “ed-tech year-in-review” essays, as usual, although nowhere near as lengthy as last year’s.
This week’s pigeon is the Luzon bleeding-heart pigeon. (Image credits)
Yours in struggle,