Yesterday my counselor and I discussed my apartment. I told her my concern about clutter and the apartment's age contributing to the feeling of dirty. I told her every time I feel closed in, I remove more knick-knacks.
She asked if I could rearrange things. She suggested I need to put something on the walls (I moved from upstairs to downstairs about 10 years or so ago and never put the artwork up). She said I could have a minimalist decorating scheme without clutter.
She asked if I could find someone to clean the apartment thoroughly for me. I told her I probably could not afford a cleaning service and Connie was no longer able either. She suggested I put out a call on FB and maybe one of my local friends would have ideas.
After thinking about the session, I decided I want to move my main living space into the bedroom and the bedroom to the living room. The main reason (Connie pointed this out to me): no natural light in the living room. The bedroom features a South-facing sliding glass door onto a tiny patio. Since I seldom have company other than Connie, this plan will work.
***
My doc's nurse called yesterday and told me that the numbers from the RHC were about the same as last time. That news is good and bad. The nurse said doc mulls over what to do next and will let me know. I now wonder if I imagine it all. I hate that feeling.
***
Today lunch with T. Friday lunch with Boopie and the youngin's. A regular social butterfly here. Ha. Oh yes, I have an invite to attend a gathering of present and former employees of the Globe-News at Hummer's, a sports bar. Not sure that will happen for me. The combination of lots of people and loud poses a problem for me. I have some time to reconsider, though.
***
Dude, I think of you every day.
Later.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Afternoon delight
Donkey: [Donkey and Puss in Boots have switched bodies] I've been abra-cadabra'd into a Fancy Feasting second-rate sidekick!
Puss in Boots: At least you don't look like a bloated roadside piñata. You really need to go on a diet.
Donkey: And you really need to get yourself a pair of pants! I feel all exposed and nasty!
Yesterday, Connie and I watched Shrek 2 and Shrek 3. Officially the movies were intended for Aidon and Zane. However, the great outdoors drew the boys' attention. That left Connie and me with Shrek and the gang. The donkey and Puss in Boots make those movies. The best lines belong to them. The movies draw children, but adults most certainly can enjoy them, too. The puns and jokes target adults. Most of what they say flies over the kids' heads.
I never go to movies, but over the past year, I have seen more movies than I saw in the past 20 years. Of course, the movies were children's films.
Animation has taken great strides. Computers and the digital age allow some fine effects, the characters take on a sort of real quality. More real than say Disney's "Fanatasia."
Watching two movies blew the afternoon. Somehow it also wore me out. We also made a run to the grocery store. I had not eaten all day. By the time I got home, I was about to cave in. I made a chicken sandwich, took my meds and went to bed. (I just remembered, I vacuumed the living room, too.)The SOB continues. I hope it will not become a permanent part of my repertoire. I believe I have a full dance card, thank you very much.
Just about the time my arms and legs begin to look better, I get another nick or blood bruise. I seem to carry a Rorschach Test with me all the time. I actually got a heart-shaped one on the anniversary of the day we met.
I have my second meeting with the counselor this morning. Now that we have the preliminaries out of the way, the work begins. I cannot wait to see how she chooses to begin.
* * *
I hope my PHriends realize I do not neglect them purposely. Or I guess I do, but the reason I do has nothing to do with them personally. I need time to sort out myself. Right now I am more confused than ever. I am not particularly blue, so I wonder if I cried wolf.
* * *
Dude, your family loved you very much. I hope you knew that.
Later.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Fearing the fear
Thoughtfulness represents a gift from the heart and costs nary a dime. Thoughtfulness benefits twice. Try offering something to others. The gift can be as simple as a phone call or note. Yesterday, another's thoughtfulness cheered me significantly.
Perhaps the clouds lift some. Now I feel numb. I wonder if I enjoy wallowing in self-pity. The answer resounds: NO! I want friends; I want to be liked. No one likes a self-absorbed cry baby. An Eeyore if you will. I take steps to push the gloomy donkey away, but maybe I fear losing the identity I have held onto for so many, many years.
My friends would laugh. They know the me that smiles, works hard, helps others. Little do they know inside resides a scared, depressed child. Someone who fears standing up for herself. Someone who no longer knows who she is.
The pulmonary hypertension plays a role in this fear that hounds me. I am torn. The disease kills. I know at anytime I could get worse. So that fear lurks on the horizon most of the time.
Right now PH has no glamorous telethon, no celebrity pitchman. The Pulmonary Hypertension Association serves as the clearinghouse/info center/etc. for the disease. When I first logged into the site five years ago, it was a smallish organization. Today it pushes hard for fund-raising, etc. I think the group has lost much of its personal aspects in an effort to get the disease before the public. PHA has morphed into a monster. It has a staff of 37 and moved into larger offices. The CEO twice offered apologies for incompetent emails sent out under his name. The organization has helped get the word out. They do have good programs. I am just not sure about the brains.
Later.
Perhaps the clouds lift some. Now I feel numb. I wonder if I enjoy wallowing in self-pity. The answer resounds: NO! I want friends; I want to be liked. No one likes a self-absorbed cry baby. An Eeyore if you will. I take steps to push the gloomy donkey away, but maybe I fear losing the identity I have held onto for so many, many years.
My friends would laugh. They know the me that smiles, works hard, helps others. Little do they know inside resides a scared, depressed child. Someone who fears standing up for herself. Someone who no longer knows who she is.
The pulmonary hypertension plays a role in this fear that hounds me. I am torn. The disease kills. I know at anytime I could get worse. So that fear lurks on the horizon most of the time.
Right now PH has no glamorous telethon, no celebrity pitchman. The Pulmonary Hypertension Association serves as the clearinghouse/info center/etc. for the disease. When I first logged into the site five years ago, it was a smallish organization. Today it pushes hard for fund-raising, etc. I think the group has lost much of its personal aspects in an effort to get the disease before the public. PHA has morphed into a monster. It has a staff of 37 and moved into larger offices. The CEO twice offered apologies for incompetent emails sent out under his name. The organization has helped get the word out. They do have good programs. I am just not sure about the brains.
* * *
Well, dude, Spain did it! Lance faltered.Later.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
An octopus' garden
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pogo_(comics)
http://www.pogopossum.com/
My older cat got his name from the possum. I think he lives up to the name or at least he gives a valiant effort.
* * *
Today Spain takes on The Netherlands in the World Cup final. I hope Paul the octopus keeps his prognosticative prowess. The win will be the first WC championship for either team. Go Spain!!http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgPqmRNjoTE
* * *
Connie said something which roiled in my subconscience for days. She told me I am living my purpose. By being myself, I am fulfilling my role. I guess I am afraid I am not living up to my potential or I am failing someone or most of all myself. Maybe I need a manual or some directions -- breadcrumbs? * * *
Some of your friends have gone out of their way to be nice to me. B comes to mind. He does not know me real well, yet he always sends such nice messages. Others also bless me every time I have any contact with them. I know I try to keep a connection to you through them, but I also know they are good people and I would benefit from a friendship with them. Isn't that the way you meet friends? Through other friends? Not the only way, but one good way.Sometimes I feel like I am an observer. I do not live, I watch. Suddenly I look up and I am at the end of my life. Was the whole thing a waste? Did I put my life on cruise control and just sit back?
* * *
Dude, Tour de France begins the Alps today. Chavanel owns the yellow and Contador is sixth and Lance is 14th. Today marks the eighth stage. You would have a sleep management problem right now. Ha.Later.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Energy rations
OK, time to form a plan. The enemy approaches from all angles. Rather than closing my eyes and ignoring it, I must try to eradicate the encroachers.
I guess I need to learn from racehorses. Pace. So, start. Then keep the energy spent steady, saving a final burst for the finish.
I am not known as a clean freak, after all I share my life with cats. With PH, I could not do clean freak, even if so inclined, without maid service. This week, my schedule joined the enemy to annihilate any previous efforts. You see, if I spend the day grocery shopping or paying bills with Connie, it takes the next day to recoup. This week, I ventured out all but one day. The one day I stayed home, I slept and slept. All this adds up to an enemy that uses a trebuchet against my wimpy weapons. I wish I could say time to bring out the big guns for me, but my reserve evaporated.
So I chip away at the enemy one blow at a time.
Appointment scheduled for 1:15. At 1:15, one of his two nurses calls your name. Just a few minutes pass before he comes in the examining room. We run down the medications I am taking. He listens to my lungs, then listens to me.
He limits his practice to about five patients a day. That allows time for emergencies. That allows him to take his time with his patients. That allows personal phone calls to patients who have hit a few bumps in the road. Every time I hit a snag with my health, I know I can call and see doc that day, or the next day at the latest.
This time he called to check on the cath and the counselor. He wondered how the cath went and if I had heard about the numbers. The Versed wiped memory. He also wondered if I had seen the counselor and how that had gone and did I think it would help. Then he asked when my next appointment with him was and told me he would get the cath results from the heart doc and call me if he thinks he needs to see me sooner.
How lucky and blessed can one woman be? Oh yeah, did I mention he saved my life?
Later.
I guess I need to learn from racehorses. Pace. So, start. Then keep the energy spent steady, saving a final burst for the finish.
I am not known as a clean freak, after all I share my life with cats. With PH, I could not do clean freak, even if so inclined, without maid service. This week, my schedule joined the enemy to annihilate any previous efforts. You see, if I spend the day grocery shopping or paying bills with Connie, it takes the next day to recoup. This week, I ventured out all but one day. The one day I stayed home, I slept and slept. All this adds up to an enemy that uses a trebuchet against my wimpy weapons. I wish I could say time to bring out the big guns for me, but my reserve evaporated.
So I chip away at the enemy one blow at a time.
* * *
I am not normally a braggart, but (I bet you knew the but was coming) I would pit my doctor against any in the country. The man exemplifies an ideal doctor. Appointment scheduled for 1:15. At 1:15, one of his two nurses calls your name. Just a few minutes pass before he comes in the examining room. We run down the medications I am taking. He listens to my lungs, then listens to me.
He limits his practice to about five patients a day. That allows time for emergencies. That allows him to take his time with his patients. That allows personal phone calls to patients who have hit a few bumps in the road. Every time I hit a snag with my health, I know I can call and see doc that day, or the next day at the latest.
This time he called to check on the cath and the counselor. He wondered how the cath went and if I had heard about the numbers. The Versed wiped memory. He also wondered if I had seen the counselor and how that had gone and did I think it would help. Then he asked when my next appointment with him was and told me he would get the cath results from the heart doc and call me if he thinks he needs to see me sooner.
How lucky and blessed can one woman be? Oh yeah, did I mention he saved my life?
* * *
I think the brothers must feel I am a weird nuisance, so I will evaporate. * * *
K and I had a wonderful talk yesterday. She has a way of lifting my spirits and I needed that. ♥* * *
Well, dude, one crazy World Cup nears an end. I could hear you many times hollering at the TV. Later.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Some gotta win, some gotta lose
OK, today I fear I am turning into one of those old ladies with many, many physical complaints. E. pointed out to me yesterday that my SOB could be something entirely different than the COPD and the pulmonary hypertension. Great.
Last night Connie and I talked about a sharp, stabbing pain I had just to the left of where the ribs meet in front and radiated into the back. After doing some searching, pancreatitis seems to fit the symptoms. Enough already.
I have not received a single bill for any of the medical procedures I have had done since the first of the year. Nor have I gotten a bill from BritKare. I wonder if the doctors and the insurance company fall that far behind in their billing. I guess I need to take some action. I would hate to end up with horrendous bills toward the end of the year.
Connie also told me yesterday that the docs came to see me twice after the caths. I do not remember either of the visits. Nada, zilch. She said they said my numbers registered slightly higher than last time. So now I wonder. Thankfully I have a follow-up visit July 22. I can ask questions then.
Well, dude, Spain pulled it off. Carles Puyol’s soaring header off Xavi’s corner kick proved the winner. You would be excited for the final. A hero with good hair!
Later.
Last night Connie and I talked about a sharp, stabbing pain I had just to the left of where the ribs meet in front and radiated into the back. After doing some searching, pancreatitis seems to fit the symptoms. Enough already.
I have not received a single bill for any of the medical procedures I have had done since the first of the year. Nor have I gotten a bill from BritKare. I wonder if the doctors and the insurance company fall that far behind in their billing. I guess I need to take some action. I would hate to end up with horrendous bills toward the end of the year.
Connie also told me yesterday that the docs came to see me twice after the caths. I do not remember either of the visits. Nada, zilch. She said they said my numbers registered slightly higher than last time. So now I wonder. Thankfully I have a follow-up visit July 22. I can ask questions then.
* * *
Later.
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