Adjusting the Routine
Tue., March 29, 03:18 PM
If you read a lot of what I write, you know I’m a routine-driven person. I’m not compulsive about it, for my routines are flexible and I’m used to making adjustments as needed. I’ve gotten a little lazy over the last year, since U.D. was taking on some of the urgent tasks. But I guess it’s time to get off my tail and start being the mother again.
About three years ago U.D. injured her hands/wrists at work, and for three years the employer’s insurer has been disputing the need for surgery. At last they have “graciously” allowed her to have this work done. Ten days ago the right hand was done, and in a couple of weeks they will do the left hand.
So ten days ago I got up at five (the way I used to do before I got sick), did the basic stuff, and got U.D. up to go to the hospital. I took a book with me so I could read while I waited. There wasn’t a lot of waiting. The surgery itself took thirteen minutes. I accompanied U.D. to the preliminaries with the nurse and anesthesiologist, read for a while, rested, and went back to sit with her while her IV finished. Less than five hours from leaving the house to returning.
U.D. was never in a lot of pain. As she pointed out, any pain from the surgery was less than what she was experiencing before. The procedure is not dangerous, and there was little or no mental stress on my part.
So can anyone explain to me why I was so tired? After lunch I slept for three or four hours; I got up for supper and a little television and slept the night through. So what, you may ask; what has that done to “the routine”? I didn’t read diaries for two days. I’ve been trying to catch up ever since. Spend a couple of hours reading back entries, then get tired and sleep and get behind again.
Meanwhile, of course, I’m coping without my helper. U.D. is trying to do as much as she can, but I can’t very well ask her to do laundry or shopping with her arm bound up. I must say, she hasn’t been this considerate in a long time; I’d like to think it’s the decrease in pain and that it will be even better when she gets the other hand done.
It seems to me that a lot of fatigue is tied to reading. Even with the new reading glasses, I lose track easily. (And then, of course, I have to reread to figure out where I was.) Rather than bring The DaVinci Code with me to the hospital, I brought something lighter in content, in a hard-cover version that had somewhat clearer print. I think I’m going to have to concentrate on hard-cover books. Nevertheless, I got tired of reading after about an hour or so. What a revolting development that is!
The book I chose was The Cat Who Went Bananas by Lilian Jackson Braun. I’ve enjoyed “The Cat Who…” books for years, and I have to keep reading them, because each one could be the last. (The author is about ninety.) Yeah, I enjoyed this one too, but I have a funny feeling about it. In a couple of instances, I read something I thought I had read before; on checking back, I was right. And the story didn’t end. People died, perhaps in strange circumstances, but no mystery was solved. Now my feeling is that – as happens with so many long series –the author-in-name is not the author-in-fact. There’s an outline, and some hired writer kind of follows it; perhaps the author reads it over, but it’s missing her touch. I figure there’s one more in the pipe.
