Chapter 152 - Life Becomes Flat & Dull
Our lives have rutted, in the way of a path I mean. Grey, non-active. Apart from selecting which type of garbage bin to put out each week our most regular activity is attending the Procedures Rooms for dressing changes on Mondays and Thursdays and Physio also Mondays. I asked the surgeon on Monday "How much longer?" "Slower than we had hoped; probably by Xmas" he replied as he screwed up his face in concentration "Slow but we're making progress." So I rang my eye specialist, well his reception people he had said would ring me early this week but didn't, and made an appointment to be in his rooms at 7:30 one morning in mid-January. We will stay three nights in a nearby motel where corporate rates are offered to patients. The specialist's scheduling lady will send me a quotation for the work to be done; I do hope our private fund will be understanding about this; corporate rates and quotations suggest a degree of "up-marketishness".
Early in the week parcels for the embroidery course we have embarked upon (I encouraged rather than pushed her, or as she says "bullied") arrived. After some initial stress she has completed the introductory reading material & on-line "games". Both embroidery machines in her sewing room were chattering away yesterday, one producing Xmas card designs, the other making some lace. The latter frustrated her more than a little because registration problems caused holes on the first two attempts, almost 3 hours each.
The Physio has told her to use her walker around the house - she mostly does. Her right knee is "getting better" but still hurts when getting into bed. She wants to see our GP for advice on increasing meds but can't see him before he goes on holidays on 12th January unless there is a cancellation; she was advised to ring each morning an 8am to check. I tell her that she knows more about medicating herself for PD than he does, yet I think she needs some bedside manner, stuff which he mostly lacks.
Xmas cards roll in from every which where. She began making address labels, as I said some embroideries for a special few, maybe they won't be sent. I think I will have to dedicate some hours to hurriedly scribbling names & comments to dispense the task before the cards are too late for this festive period. I wouldn't object so much except that the sense of compulsion makes the act of sending messages of peace & goodwill just a sodding chore.
Just a scrooge & grey at this time of year.
I just went over the last 10 or so posts because she told me I had spelt "Sifrol" incorrectly. She had been searching for information on side effects and found that Google kept offering her hits on "Sofril" which she says is something to spray on paddocks. I think all the typos have been corrected now. She normally avoids reading these bits I post; like others, she says I say more than others need to know. Others? No I'm just whimpering into a vastness, where I dispose of things inside me.
Early in the week parcels for the embroidery course we have embarked upon (I encouraged rather than pushed her, or as she says "bullied") arrived. After some initial stress she has completed the introductory reading material & on-line "games". Both embroidery machines in her sewing room were chattering away yesterday, one producing Xmas card designs, the other making some lace. The latter frustrated her more than a little because registration problems caused holes on the first two attempts, almost 3 hours each.
The Physio has told her to use her walker around the house - she mostly does. Her right knee is "getting better" but still hurts when getting into bed. She wants to see our GP for advice on increasing meds but can't see him before he goes on holidays on 12th January unless there is a cancellation; she was advised to ring each morning an 8am to check. I tell her that she knows more about medicating herself for PD than he does, yet I think she needs some bedside manner, stuff which he mostly lacks.
Xmas cards roll in from every which where. She began making address labels, as I said some embroideries for a special few, maybe they won't be sent. I think I will have to dedicate some hours to hurriedly scribbling names & comments to dispense the task before the cards are too late for this festive period. I wouldn't object so much except that the sense of compulsion makes the act of sending messages of peace & goodwill just a sodding chore.
Just a scrooge & grey at this time of year.
I just went over the last 10 or so posts because she told me I had spelt "Sifrol" incorrectly. She had been searching for information on side effects and found that Google kept offering her hits on "Sofril" which she says is something to spray on paddocks. I think all the typos have been corrected now. She normally avoids reading these bits I post; like others, she says I say more than others need to know. Others? No I'm just whimpering into a vastness, where I dispose of things inside me.
posted by Kilpike | 8:19 am
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