May 3, 2018


Day Two of Maynia dawned bright and early for me, so I decided to regain consciousness with needle and thread in hand.

Is it an age thing? I used to be the kind of spinster who would be wide awake and ready to start the day the moment my toes hit the floor.  I would put my glasses on my face, pat a sleeping Stewey, look out the window, and then get on with it.

But now? Not so much at all.

do try to get up at the same time each day, but I can honestly tell you that I am utterly and completely zombiefied for at least two hours upon waking. I stumble to the ladies...mix up my juice and fiber stuff...swallow my pills...and then make my first cup of damn good all under the veil of Sleepytown. It's not until the second cup goes down that I realize I'm upright and that this is indeed the planet Earth.

My nurses and techs have explained to me that dialysis hangover is a real thing, but I had hoped to be an old pro by now.  Until I get the hang of this thing, though (no pun intended), I have a total of twenty-four hours in a week that are...normal. Those twenty-four hours happen Saturday afternoon to Sunday afternoon, and I am determined to make the most of them.

What am I doing the other hours of the week, you ask?

Well, if I'm not nursing a hangover from treatment the day before, I am fretting the prospect of treatment the day after.

(It's a simple formula, actually. Twenty-four hours a week I am a fully-functioning pleasant human. The other hundred and forty-four I am an incoherent lump.)

So today I will get suitable for outside company (shoes and a bra), I'll visit with Dr. Melfi for a minute, and then head to the library to pick up a big stack of books. If the weather holds out, Lovey and I are going to attempt a round of golf, and then it's home for salmon and a big salad.

But in the meantime, there is a little stitching to report. I confess that I went off script with the little white house (which was supposed to be a little pink house), but by the time I caught the error it was just a stitch past the "Oh, screw it" portion of the program.

So with all due respect to Mr. Mellenkamp...I give you little white houses for you and me:

I hope your very own Thursday is wonderfully swell, my Dears!  Do something that blows your skirt up and come tell me all about it!


  1. Hi Coni: I can only imagine the hangover affects, I used to transport a patient who did dialysis three times a week, she said it took her a good year to get used to it, good luck to you.
    Love the house it is pretty in white, I make mistakes all the time I just go with the flow, I hate ripping.
    I hope you did not get bad weather this week, everything is going around us.


  2. A gentle start to the day is one of the best perks of being retired for me. It takes a large mug of tea on waking, pills, a slice of toast and marmalade, a small coffee and an hour on the computer, checking the weather forecast, Facebook, email, Blogs etc. before I am fit to hold a conversation or perform any important tasks, like sorting the laundry or moving things.
    Incidentally, someone once described being hungover as 'My eyeballs aren't opposite the holes in my face' - that's how I feel sometimes when i've overdone the stitching the night before!

  3. Love the houses! I'd call what you did a "color conversion".