UNDER THE JANUARY WIRE

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31 de janvier

I am running behind on my posts.

I stopped taking oxycodone as I am pretty sure it was adding to my despair. Things are bad enough without chemical encouragement to complete darkness and despair.

Not a lot going on, neither in life nor my thinking. I am well enough to not feel comfortable lolling around in bed. My pain is pretty low and I am able to go long periods of time without any meds. Going to bed is harder as it is not always easy to get comfortable. The cats and covers complicate matters. It can take awhile to fall asleep. 

Janet is doing relatively well. She never wants to get out of bed in the morning (no news there for any of us). She flip flops on going to play dominoes but generally settles on going. That is, until we are nearly there and then she wants to know why I am making her go.

I am getting around well, although I tire more easily. I managed to get to AAA to get my temporary disabled placard, do three loads of laundry, return library books, practice Duolingo French, get in a nap, and start reading Marcella Hazan’s Amarcord: Marcella Remembers. It’s an easy and pleasant read, taking no toll on the brain. 

Janet just went through a coughing spell. I had to make her a hot lemon and honey "tisane" which usually calms the phlegm. She keeps apologizing for living so long. I tell her that this is not necessary.

When I was informed that one of her children thinks she should go into a death accelerator (also known as an inexpensive nursing home), I suddenly changed my attitude about her. Which is probably a good thing. Trying to be nicer and more patient, although that doesn't always happen. I have some short fuses.

I need to take some pain meds and get to sleep. My friend Wendy is making an across-town pilgrimage to see me in my hour of pain and need. I am oddly ambivalent about healing so rapidly, as I did not get in my hours of narrative series watching, writing, or reading accomplished and now I must to the many other chores of my life.