But first...the Thursday report. I am happy to report that it was quiet, peaceful, and full of stitching:
This is a candle warmer that I got from the Amazons with a gift certificate. Thank you, Friend! This gizmo has single-handedly changed my life. I can still enjoy the scent without the soot!
A little damn good on the balcony to get the requisite dose of fresh air:
And the resulting progress on Hoity Toity:
A lovely day, indeed. Buzzy and I are off to dialysis now, armed with some anti-anxiety meds that I hope will keep the panic at bay and make the time go faster. Not being able to stitch during treatment is a bummer, but there will be plenty of time for that this weekend.
Happy Friday, Dearies! I hope you are well and safe and happy and that you'll come tell me all about it!
I'm in the good chair, but somehow that's not good enough for Mr Buzzy. Damn fistula. He's been a complete and total pill for a few weeks now, but there's not much to be done at the moment. I get it...he's tired and scared and grumpy and sore.
But so is the rest of the world.
Sadly, I don't have any stitching progress to report, Dearies. I had a very productive day of budget, bills, paperwork, laundry, cooking, and general tidying, so by the time I hit the Happy Chair it was after 7pm and I was a little fried.
I tell myself that my "off" days will be filled with nothing but stitching and damn good slurping, but somehow I manage to futz and futz until the day is done. No complaints...I am very happy to have both the energy and motivation to do things, but my stitching life has taken a little hit.
In the spirit of silver linings, I realized that after years and years of bemoaning my utter lack of homekeeping activity, I have dutifully cleaned the bath and kitchen daily and am very careful not to let the clutter pile up. It figures, doesn't it? Now that Stewey isn't here to present me with failing report cards on that front, I finally get my act together.
The woman next to me today has a terrible cough, so I am sitting here holding my breath. I know that she is OK and has had that cough for quite some time, but it still has me a bit freaked out. Isn't that awful? A simple cough now has us thinking doom.
My JB went to the Grotto yesterday and lit candles. I am so sad that I couldn't go with him, but until this passes, my only outings will be to the balcony for fresh air and here to the clinic for treatment. All doctor visits are now via video conference, and any provisions we need are on JB's list
My prayers are the same....thanks for the blessings of my happy life and the hope that I will someday be worthy of them, as well as health and safety and peace for my family. (Yup. You're stuck with me now. But, I'm kinda like the crazy spinster aunt in the attic. Just touch base with me every now and then and tell me how you're doing, and I'll be here...stitching and muttering to myself.)
Happy Futzingday to one and all! Do something fun and come tell me all about it!
I really should have explained that the bounty above is only partially my fault. I am taking full responsibility for the household items, tea, and damn good. The crap on the counter? That's all Magoo, my friends. If I'm stress eating, then he is certainly guilty of stress shopping down the wrong damn aisles of the Martins.
(But I might or might not have hidden twelve Oreos in the bottom of the freezer in case of an emergency.)
Buzzy and I are doing our thing, and I am getting ready to fall head-first into my library book and tune out the world. I was somehow smart enough to pick up a stack before this whole thing started, and we have been told to hang onto them until further notice.
I love our library.
There was a fair amount of stitchy time this weekend, but alas, I neglected to capture a photo of my progress. After completing Plum Pudding, I steadily worked on the ark in The Flood. I'm struggling a bit with how huge the fabric is and think I might have to graduate to a little bit bigger q-snap to show more of the design. Otherwise, I am having to move it around quite a bit, and that is just a big pain in the heiney nobody needs at the moment. I suppose I should put her on big scroll rods, but for now, methinks I'll try bigger q's and be done with it.
Our television watching was a little screwey this weekend, We binged the entire season of Tiger King on Friday night, watched an X-men movie on Saturday, and then binged The Jinx on HBO last night. Good grief! My head and eyeballs are spinning!
Time to behave myself now and sit quietly. I hope your Monday is full of good and happy things and that you'll come tell me all about them!
I swear on Mom and Dad's drawer that this is an absolutely true story.
I had a bad night last night with tossing and turning and nightmares and then threw up my coffee and BelVita breakfast biscuit on the way out the door to dialysis this morning. Then, when I got in the car, I started bawling and went into a full-blown panic attack and just sat there sobbing like a big baby.
As I drove, I just started praying out loud and I told God that I just couldn't take it anymore and that I didn't know what else to do but surrender and lay this at His feet and just have faith that no matter what happened, it would be according to His plan, and I would do everything in my power to calm the heck down already and stop with my nonsense.
So I pull up to an intersection and I see a man standing on the corner in front of the car wash holding a huge sign, but his back is toward me and I can't see what it says. I figured he was probably holding a sign that said the car wash was open.
As I pulled through the intersection I caught something on the back of his jacket.
It said Jesus.
I kind of chuckled to myself and then caught the front of his sign in my rearview mirror:
NO MATTER WHAT TRUST GOD.
I laughed so hard I cried all the way to dialysis and then had to sit there in the parking lot for a good five minutes to catch my breath because I said to myself "Who knew Jesus was a guy wearing a black satin baseball jacket in front of the Drive and Shine?"
So now, apparently, I'm hallucinating.
Which is nice.
I'm home safe and sound and waiting for pizza delivery...white pizza with veg and a nice tossed salad thankyouverymuch. Tomorrow I'm going to try my hand at pepper steak, and then Sunday it will be a JB request....chicken cacciatore.
My off weight today was 110kg, Dearies, which is a full two kg below my Dr Goggins weight. Next week I'm back to salads, since I can devote 100% of my energy to being healthy now because Jesus is on the corner with his sign and I promised I would stop worrying.
I mean absolutely no disrespect whatsoever, and if you are offended by this, I am truly sorry. If you knew my mom, you would appreciate that this entire episode would have been right up her humor alley. I've fretted myself into a complete snit for two weeks, and the moment I surrendered I got a sign.
A literal sign.
From a guy wearing a jacket that said Jesus on the back.
I had my FaceTime visit with Dr Melfi today, and we decided that it's time for me to get a script for Xanax on board to help stop the panic attacks at dialysis.
So I call my family doctor, Dr N, and I explain the entire thing to her medical assistant.
In great detail.
About how I am deep breathing and looking at pictures of sunsets and coloring mandalas and thinking happy thoughts and petting a virtual puppies and practicing good sleep hygiene and counting backwards from 100 and stitching and baking and reading and deep-knee bending and all of the other things I can do to just. calm. the. bleepity bleep. down.
Wait for it...
You know it's coming...
I went into the kitchen and re-filled my 27ounce cup of damn good with number seven for the day.
What can I say, Dearies?
Sometimes I am just not smart enough to work my way out of a wet paper bag with two hands, a flashlight, and a pair of scissors.
Never fear. I'm still going to slurp my damn good with impunity, but will switch it to decaf the minute I start to get twitchy and hear colors and taste sounds and smell words. I've kind of enjoyed that, and have found it a pleasant way to pass the time, but I guess keeping Starbucks in business isn't doing me any favors in the fritzing department.
On a more serious note...
If you are struggling at the moment and have issues with anxiety or depression or....anything, really, please please please do not be afraid to ask for help. You're not nuts. You're not a hypochondriac. You're a human person in an extraordinary circumstance.
In the spirit of sharing too much, being completely new-agey hippy-dippy, self-carey, and holding hands and singing KumBaYa, here are seven things I try to do every day to stay healthy.
(Betty, before you start typing, I also bathe and pray and tidy and load the dishwasher, so zip it. These seven things are touchy-feely, in my spinster head taking good care of myself things.)
(You know. All of the crap you hate.)
READ: This is a no-brainer, especially for somebody who has had her nose buried in a book for as long as she can remember. I love to read the paper in the morning, perhaps flip through a magazine in the afternoon, and then jump into a good novel before bed. Books have been a constant and soothing companion for me, and being surrounded by them is bliss.
WRITE: Before I started writing this here blog, I used to send emails to my friends and family sharing all of my silly antics. And before that, I used to scribble little thoughts and notes in various and sundry notebooks and journals. Mrs Giokaris is to blame for this. She was a favorite teacher from high school that asked us to keep a daily journal. I remember mine being decorated with lots of Ziggy cartoons and hearts and whatnot, and as the years passed, I continued the habit and filled dozens of notebooks. (I still have every single one of them down in the garage. Burn them immediately when I go, will you please, Dearies?) Now, my daily journal is visiting with all of you. I still hanker a bit for pen and paper (which is where planning comes in...see below), but we'll get to that later. I also write a bi-monthly column for Needlepoint Now, and might get enough courage to actually assemble a book someday.
EAT: The wheels are off the bus with what I have been shoving in my face lately, but I know that how and when I eat is an enormous part of how I feel. If I stick to two meals day and eat between noon and 6pm, that's an A+ day. And if the first meal is a yogurt or a BelVita breakfast bar and the second meal a salad with protein, I've really hit it out of the park and I do a little Happy Dance on the dialysis scale. Egg McMuffins, cheese and crackers, garlic stuffed olives, and chicken wings, though. Not so much. I know, I know. Staying on track and keeping within the transplant guidelines is critical. I guess I allowed myself a few days (OK, weeks) of eating like a frat boy because of the stress of it all, but I'm back on track today, Dearies. Operation Keep Going is....back on track.
SLEEP: Yikes. My sleep has been a complete mess, but thanks to the Benedril I think we're OK now, I am also making a concerted effort to go to bed at a decent hour and let myself sleep as long as I want/need to on non-d days. I finally gave up the guilt over sleeping so much when I realized it was one of the best things I could do for myself.
STITCH: No need to explain this to those of you who are in this thing of ours.
COOK: I finally came up with a brilliant solution to our dinner dilemmas around here. While I was at d yesterday I texted Magoo and directed him to the cabinet over then fridge where I keep all of my cookbooks, I told him to pull one of the Ina cookbooks, flip through it, and pick something for Sunday dinner. (Of the billion and a half things he could have picked...he went with chicken piccata.) I can't shop for the ingredients, but he can, and then on Sunday afternoon I can go into the kit hen and dice and chop and stir and sautee' to my hearts's content, and we will have a good meal. We're kind of winging it (no pun intended, since we had the Hooters) other nights, but preparing meals makes me feel good and like I'm contributing in some way, so prepare I shall.
PLAN: I know it's very silly for a person like me to use a planner, but pasting stickers and writing little notes and decorating Erin every Sunday night gives me hope.
I know, I know. TMI. But I figure there might be one or two people out there bored enough to have read this far, and sometimes I think writing and visiting with you all everyday is the only thing keeping me semi-sane. Let's face it, kids...these are strange times and any little thing we can do to survive is good.
Today I am sitting in the good chair at d (with a view of the fountain) thinking of happy things. We're having terrible trouble with Mr Buzzy. I think he's stuffed up and needs a good roto-rooter, but alas, that is not feasible at the moment. The pain is indescribable when they stick the needles in, and I am having some pretty severe panic issues to boot, so it's time to grab to bull by the proverbial horns and get my act together.
I'm implementing everything I can think of to combat the stupid fritzing, and yesterday proved pretty successful with both old and new routines.
I decided to re-start afternoon Half-Assed Afternoon Tea Time. Remember how Stewey and I would have a little tea and a cookie together every afternoon? Well, I figured that I have this lovely little tray for my Spinster Coffee Abed, so I might as well dragoon it into action:
I opted for a lovely caffeine-free peppermint tea with a thin slice of lemon and a little Truvia. Perfection!
We all know what's next:
There was more progress, but I forgot to take an after picture. If all goes according to plan, I just might finish the stitching on this one very soon! The challenge will come when it's time to bead her, because I cannot remember if I ordered the beads for this for the life of me.
Final little ritual is the lighting of my battery candles and a little kiss thrown Stewey's way. Betty hates this and calls is a shrine to a dead dog, but Betty can stick it.
(Besides. The shrine is in the bedroom.)
So as I'm typing this, one of my podmates has entered for treatment with a hearty "Good morning, Family!" and we all answered at once. This is a new tradition that I hope continues. We are all so very stressed and scared around these here parts that it's lovely to remember that we are all in it together.
My JB Magoo has been such a blessing. He has provisioned us to the gills with good things to eat, and despite his own fears and stress has managed to keep me laughing. The poor guy is in some serious sports-watching withdrawl, but he has managed not to grump about it too much. He is also taking a semi-daily walk, which I think is brilliant. Anything to keep some semblance of normalcy, right Dearies?
This is the portion of the program where I usually apologize for being me, but I decided not to do that anymore. Feeling guilty over showing my true colors is just ego. God knows I'm not Princess Polly Sunshine Twinkle Butt Unicorns and Roses. Time to stop acting like I am, I think.
What I really am is a hapless, human, flawed, terrified, grumpy but hopeful incredibly blessed stitching spinster who has hundreds of friends all over the world who put up with me and shower me with love and kindness.
That's all you, Dearies. Thank you for being gentle with me.
So today will proceed and I will finish treatment and head home for afternoon tea, and then Magoo and I will banter over our dinner and television bingeing selections. We did The Sopranos last week and finished The Godfather of Harlem last night and are looking to start something new. I usually defer to his choice, since he has good taste, but I'm kinda jonesing for Downton and we all know that is just not going to happen.
Happy Futzingday to one and all! I hope that you are safe and well, enjoying your very own routines both old and new, and that you're finding a little fun. Come tell me all about it!
I'm struggling today, Dearies. For some reason I have been in full-blown panic mode and I can't seem to calm down. Buzzy hurts, my blood pressure is acting nutso, and I feel like I could just crawl right out of my skin today.
Time to close my eyes and listen to music, I think. I can't stitch here in the d-chair, so I need to find something else to occupy my time here. The panic and stress and worry and fretting isn't doing anybody any good...especially me.
Come tell me that you're safe and well, Dearies. Come show me pretty pictures of your life, and what you're stitching, reading, eating, and doing to pass the time.
I know this will pass...I guess I'm just having a moment.
This is The Flood by Plum Street Samplers...a new start as of yesterday. I wanted to stitch something meaningful during this whole v-thing, and my sister reminded me that this was out there. Thanks to Miss Linda at the House of Stitches, I had this in my hot little hands and had it edged, mounted on q-snaps, and started before I knew what hit me! I'm stitching this on 28ct linen with DMC, and she is going to a very big girl when completed...about three feet by two feet!
A small one, but good for traveling from the Happy Chair to the big girl sleigh bed. This is Flowery Alphabet by La-D-Da.
Hoity Toity by Long Dog Samplers. I forgot how much of this one I had completed thus far!
And finally...Plum Pudding by Glendon Place. I'm still totally in love with this, but happy to take a little diversion.
So that's it...lots of friends to get me through. I hope your very own baskets are full of fun, and that you will enjoy every minute of time visiting the contents within.
I'm fully-caffeinated, showered, in fresh jams, and ready to play, Dearies! Happy Sunday!
I spent several hours this afternoon working at the kitchen table on budget, bills, and random paperwork items that I had been putting off and putting off. I'm happy to report that everything is organized and back to rights, and if I pay attention, we will be in pretty good shape for April.
Just as I was tidying up for the night, I glanced at tomorrow's schedule. Guess what tomorrow is?
The second very happy thing that happened was the arrival and set-up of the new Keurig. I had a question as to how I could afford this...which is a very good question for a spinster on a budget. I am a Keurig auto-ship customer. I get a delivery of k-cups about every eight weeks or so and accumulate points. I reached enough points to get 50% off a brewer, which made this new machine $90 instead of $180. This is a Keurig Elite and has more bells and whistles than my first car:
The last happy thing for the day was dinner....a grilled CJ Pub burger from the Martins made in the cast iron on the stovetop and some potato salad. Mustard, pickle, and onion, and I was a happy spinster, indeed!
What made you happy today, Dearies? Come tell me all about it!
This might be a little bit of a ramble. I took my sleeping aid last night and things are a bit askew this morning, I'd love to tell you that this feeling is unpleasant, but truth be told, slightly fuzzy around the edges isn't really all that bad.
I don't have any stitching to report. D-days are now no-stitching days because of our extra precautions, and I am a bit skeevy about carrying my projects out into the world at the moment. I tried to stitch when I got home, but was just too bleary to do so, so it was a nice long snoozy nap in the big girl sleigh bed instead.
The Nurse Practitioner stopped by my chair to check up on my weight, and I am happy to report that I am holding steady at 110kg despite the stress-bingeing that has occurred. I know that I am not alone in that I am eating like there's no tomorrow, but I need to keep that transplant in mind and not completely lose my mind. The transplant weight goal is 112kg, so I have a tiny little bit of wiggle room, but I really don't want/need to push my luck.
But I have to tell ya...corned beef sandwiches have really done the trick!
My day will be simple....read, write, eat, sleep, stitch, plan, and pray. Nothing too dramatic, and nothing too complicated. Dr Melfi has done a brilliant job of teaching me how to dumb it down when I am spiraling out of control, and I find that focusing on those seven things makes for a calm and happy life.
As for the praying, I have always kept my faith pretty close to the vest, but I'm not ashamed to admit that my conversations with the Big Guy are very different now. I freely confess that I'm terrified and then I change the channel and just focus on all of the incredible blessings of my life, and I pray that I will someday be worthy of them. Nothing complicated, I guess. Just an open admission of being a flawed human that is completely hapless without the help of my peoples and a truckload full of Divine intervention.
Thanks for you lovely emails and comments. I apologize that I am unable to reply to the comments on the blog here...for the life of me, I cannot figure out to do so, and I am worried that you think I am ignoring you. Please know that I read each and every one and, when possible, try to reply to you via your email.
My Jersey Boy is doing a pretty good job of holding it together despite the absence of the sports on the TeeVee. He also performed a miracle by coming home with a package of toilet paper and Clorox wipes from the Target, and my heart melted even more when he told me he only took what he thought we would need and left some on the shelf for the next person.
I love this man.
OK...now let's have some fun. As I'm sure you've seen, the Italians are singing from their balconies. (If you're not aware....go to the YouTubes and look for it. As a way to lift spirits, they have taken to singing together.) Well, guess who has a balcony here at CS2? I am trying to find a song that I can play that might inspire my neighbors here in Hoosierville to copy our Italian brothers and sisters. Something fun and lovely that says "Hey. We're all in this thing together, so we might as well take a minute to share something kind and happy and hopeful."
Suggestions are welcome and much appreciated.
I can't help but wonder how Stewey would feel about all of this. I envision him switching his smoking jacket for a lab coat, donning a mask and gloves, and jumping in to provide comfort to the masses. Either that, or he would have harumphed his way onto the ottoman and taken a nap until it was all over.
Oh, how I miss that damn dog.
Well, Dearies...I suppose I had better get on with it. This damn good isn't going to drink itself, and despite my best efforts, the chores have not yet figured out a way to spontaneously get done. I've had to cancel the cleaning lady (as per instructions from dialysis....nobody in until this is over), so methinks little splishing and sploshing might be in order today.
Happy Thursday. Please be safe and well, gentle with yourself and others, and remember to breathe. And, if you have a secret for weathering this storm....come tell us all about it!
Yesterday was a very odd but lovely day. After waking up at 5am, I had one of the best cups of damn good I've ever had from the $12 coffee pot and then I read the paper and stitched.
After a little nap, I opened the mail and happily discovered a document I was waiting for. JB Magoo was in a car accident in February and totaled the car. He wasn't hurt, thank God, but we've been in a rental for a month and a half because the collision center forgot to file paperwork. The rental expired, so we had to get it back, get the check from insurance, and buy a new car.
Which we did.
In the space of about fifteen minutes.
Without having to leave the apartment.
The insurance guy delivered the check and the new car guy delivered the car, and before I knew what hit me I was trying to figure out what to call her.
I decided on Puff, because she reminded me of the StayPuft Marshmallow Man or a Powder Puff.
Don't get too excited...she's old and has a lot of miles on her, but she will get me to and from dialysis and that's all I need.
When I get a new kidney I might opt for something fancy that I can zoom around in with the wind in my hair.
Stitching continues. I made pretty good progress in Plum Pudding:
I'm off to the d-chair, Dearies. Please stay safe and swell today, do something fun, and come tell me all about it!
It's 5am in Hoosierville, and Yours Truly is in the Happy Chair with her peepers wide open and the damn good brewing away in the new brewing contraption. I'm pretty sure that the day will involve a nap, but for now, we're here and conscious, so we're going with it.
I think I finally fritzed out fully yesterday afternoon. There really is only so much stress a person can take before their better angels step in and just shut it all down. Fret, worry, despair, and angst are my only enemies at the moment. Peace, hope, faith, and strength will get me through.
That's gonna last.
As much as I would love to tell you that it's all love and light and peacefulness and calm over here, the truth of the matter is that I'm hitting the Benedril bottle pretty hard and making no apologies for it. I am not a candidate for anything heavier (like Xanax), but I know that getting good sleep and getting myself out of fight or flight mode is as important as washing my hands at this point. (*) So thanks to the magic of a mild sleep aid and thousands of pictures of pretty things to look at on the interwebs, I am determined to have a semi-normal Tuesday.
I have been happily stitching along on Plum Pudding:
I never seem to grow tired of this one. This last corner is going to be done before I know it, and then it will be time to fish through the cube room studio to see just what in the h-e-double hockey sticks I did with all of the beads.
One more of these, I think, and then it will be time to consider framing them. I keep seeing a big wall with four of them grouped together. Swell, huh?
On the reading front, I am about 3/4 of the way through:
How I came to select this one is completely beyond me, but it has been the perfect "next book" after The Night Circus and The Starless Sea.
Sunday, my Jersey Boy had the brilliant idea that we needed a little comfort food, so we had Thanksgiving in March:
I gotta tell ya...I was skeptical at first. You know me and turkey. It's a love/hate relationship that I normally confront only once a year. But this was absolutely delicious, and just what the doctor ordered.
Speaking of...it did occur to me last night that getting out of routine during the next few weeks is going to be a killer, so I am going to do my very best to do my "five things" everyday to stay on track: read, write, cook, sleep, and stitch. For some reason, if I look back at a day and it includes all five of these things the world is in balance.
Another thing I'm going to do today is make a list of every single thing that is rattling around in my tiny little brain. If it's something I can control or do something about, then on the list it stays and onto the fridge it goes. If, however, it is completely beyond my control (like curing a worldwide pandemic and stopping any more people from getting sick and comforting those that are), the it's getting crossed off once and for all and I'm letting the professionals do their thing,
Observe...not absorb is my new mantra. I know it will probably only be my mantra for the next seven minutes or so, but at least they'll be a nice quiet seven minutes.
OK. Enough blathering. Happy Tuesday, Dearies! Stay safe and well, do something kind for yourself or somebody else, and remember to breathe!
(*) If you're terrified or sad or mad or lonely or just want to hold hands (virtually) for a bit, or if you need a friend to just talk you off the ledge...I'm here. We're all in this together, kids. Don't be shy.
After I broke the Keurig, I went into the bedroom, crawled into the big girl sleigh bed, and had a good long sniveling, hiccuping cry all over the front of my Spinster Stitcher t-shirt.
And then I sat up and called Keurig to order a new machine and discovered that I had a coupon for 50% off of all brewers, plus a discount on my favorite boxes of k-cups.
So I texted my JB (who was at the grocery store) and I asked him to pick up a thing of ground coffee because I broke the Keurig and we were going to have to use the French press for a few days until the new Keurig got here.
But when I went to find the French press, I couldn't. I kept looking in the same cupboard over and over, and then it finally hit me. The cupboard that I was looking in was the one at the house that used to hold the French press. When I moved here to CS2, I left the French press behind in an effort to downsize.
This time, the tears were accompanied with a soft wailing that came from the bottom of my very soul.
So back to the big girl sleigh bed I went, and after a good long hour or so I wiped my face, grabbed my iPad and pulled up the Targets. Twenty bucks later, a drive-up order to go, and we were back in business.
Dearies, I am about as wiped out as I have ever been in my life. I know it's not about the damn coffee maker, and I know it's not about the virus, and I know it's not about dialysis. It's about all of it together in the space of about twenty-four hours, and Yours Truly did not adequately gird her loins or remember to breathe through any of it.
I am officially unplugging everything (except the damn coffee maker), taking a shower, and breathing. I might not blog tomorrow, so please do not worry.
I hope you all had a happy, restful, healthy, and stitchy Saturday! Come tell me all about it!
I know I said I wasn't going to talk about this further, but I am overwhelmed by your loving concern! Dearies, I wanted to tell you that I am doing everything I possibly can to remain safe and healthy. I have cancelled/postponed/re-scheduled any and all appointments that I have and will only be leaving the friendly confines of CS2 for dialysis.
On that front, I just talked to our Practice Manager. Tomorrow, there will be a team in the outer lobby to test every person who walks through the door. We will be given full protective gear...mask, gloves, gown...and if we are cleared will be able to enter the clinic area for treatment. If a fever is detected we will be transported to the hospital immediately. All staff will be tested in the same way each day when they come to work.
I appreciate that this sounds like overkill, but as I reminded Betty, dialysis is ambulatory life support and many of us receiving it are already in seriously compromised positions due to other health issues like cancer, diabetes, or (in my case) Crohns. We literally put our lives into these people's hands and rely on them to keep us safe, so wearing protective gear and following the rules is the very least I can do for me, for them, and for my fellow patients.
No, I am not going to Mass or to the grocery or to Dr Melfi or to the salon or the Targets or anyplace else at the moment. I was told to stay home and stay home I shall.
Please, dear friends, I beg you. Take care of yourselves.
Another 4am rise and roll for Yours Truly, Dearies. I've stopped worrying about my crazy sleeping pattern ever since Dr. Melfi told me to just go with it and my d-tech explained to me that kidneys regulate sleep hormones and this is to be expected.
So I've read and contemplated and fretted and meditated, and now it's time for a little stitching. If I get sleepy later, I'll take a lovely nap. Simple as that.
As usual, you are all just too kind to indulge my funkety funk, but the truth of the matter is that I am full of a lot of loud screaming meemies over...everything...and I think my tiny little brain just finally fritzed right out.
I'm terrified, truth be told, and I feel like a big fat whimpy baby for feeling like a sitting duck. I'm a pretty logical gal, and despite my propensity for hyperbole on this here blog, I am somewhat measured and careful in letting my mind go too far afield.
But I am also a person who has been on high-dose immunosuppressants for the better part of 25 years and my life depends on going into a medical facility three times a week with equally fragile patients (many of whom come from nursing facilities). Catching a cold can be deadly, let alone a virus that nobody has a clue how to prevent, treat, or eradicate.
Notre Dame's decision to shut down really threw me, I think, because it felt like a moment in time when you parents had fear in their eyes. I know it was the smart and cautious thing to do, but the reality of it gave me pause.
I'm not going to talk about it again, since I know I'm probably a bit off the reservation. For now, I am staying home...from everything except dialysis....and stitching will be done as a balm to my frazzled nerves.
As to whatever else ails me...it'll just have to wait a bit. I thank you for your suggestions of having my thyroid tested. It (and many other parts) are looked at weekly with labs, so I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of it eventually.
So for now...damn good, stitching, sleeping (when possible), and a return to our regularly scheduled programming.
The big black ughs are still upon me, Dearies, but I simply refuse to give in to them. I just don't know what's wrong with me, but I am decidedly not myself and have not been so for quite a little bit. I can't put my finger on it exactly, but I've had enough of this thankyouverymuch, and am moving on.
I did manage to stitch a bit last evening, but alas, do not have a progress picture for you. I also brought Hoity Toity with me to the d-chair today instead of Plum Pudding, so we'll see if I can make some good progress on it this week.
I hope that your Monday is off to a good start and that the week ahead if full of fun. What 'cha got cookin'?