Yesterday I needed to retrieve my car from the shop, but I did not. I needed to wash dishes and got as far as filling the sink, adding the soap and the dishes. The dishes sit in a sink full of cold, yucky water. About all I did yesterday was eat and lie on the couch. Oh yes, and I am out of lasix and have been for a couple of days. I have gained 3 pounds the last two days. My bad.
Usually, for PHers, a change in medicine means a change (at least temporarily) in lifestyle. This new med keeps me close to a potty -- at least for an hour or so after doing a treatment. This may change after my body adjusts to the medicine, or it may not. A small window of time exists between the side effects subsiding and the next treatment. By the end of the day, the window closes as soon as I put down the neb.
Nutrition finds its way into my collection of woes. Nothing sounds good to me. I go stare at the food in the cabinets and refrigerator. Nope, nothing I want there. Eventually I get so hungry I grab a cookie or two or some crackers or chips. The very foods that make me feel worse. Side effects also exert themselves into eating. I cannot eat too soon after a treatment. I cannot eat too much before treatments. So a small window for eating as well.
Oh yes, and another problem. The sadness smacks me in the face again. I feel like I am covered in goo. I try to wipe the muck off but nothing happens.
Yesterday a few folks unknowingly threw me a lifeline. Thanks guys. I possess a long memory.
We have become such an electronic society. Soon, I fear, people will lose the joy of opening an envelope and reading a handwritten letter. The effort alone says "I care."
An email has no sense of touch to it. Somehow knowing that card was chosen by the sender, held in his hands, brings a closeness not realized with a text message or even an electronic "card." That the sender spent the time to write by hand says much about him and his opinion of you.
Dude, anniversaries.
Later.
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