It Still Ain't Right
Sat., July 9, 02:46 PM
What a depressing week! I’m having trouble getting my mind around it. I don’t like to publish when I’m depressed – it doesn’t get me anywhere and just depresses other people. It doesn’t help matters that I “hurt.”
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to tackle a few chores that have been left undone. Okay, they’re not vital – they had been neglected while I was sick, and the world didn’t come to an end – but this is my house, and I still like to run a few things my way.
Well, I guess I overdid the bending and stretching, because I’m sore from my back down through my thighs. It’s no different from muscle strain I’ve had before; take a few Tylenol, a hot shower, and rest. All of which I have done, but it’s taking longer to heal. I’ve gone walking a few times – just to keep everything from tightening up again. I still hurt.
Now, I know that this is temporary. I’ll continue with the analgesics and sleep a little more. It will pass. But what about the next time I do it? Maybe I have to reassess the situation here. Speed Bump kind of summed it up for me:
Even the Cheesebox. It may well be time to look at other alternatives.
Husband, of course, will have a fit when he finds out that I’m looking into senior housing. But he’s part of the problem. I know he’s feeling vulnerable just now – as well he ought to – because he’s been walking out of the kitchen when I’m there and not coming out till I’ve gone to bed. That’s the easy way of avoiding the things I have to tell him; denial is more than just a river in Egypt. I take care of everything because I always take care of everything, and he “proves he’s the boss” by not taking his pills. He is a strain on me, even when he thinks he’s not, and he never considers that I might not be feeling well.
Y’know, whenever I’ve been unable to be as active as I’d like, I’ve always curled up with a book. In fact, I always hoped that I would retire to my hobbies – reading, knitting, crocheting, maybe a little embroidery. Unless my eye doctor comes up with better glasses, it’s not going to happen, because I have so much trouble focusing that reading is more of a chore than a pleasure. I find myself watching a lot of television – more reruns than new shows, incidentally. This really is not fair!
I seriously have to weigh the advantages of having someone else take care of me against the disadvantage of losing my independence. I did indeed let everyone take care of me last year, but I was well aware of what I was missing. Even running my own kitchen was something I coudn't do.
I took another look at those forms we got from Social Security to check our eligibility for prescription assistance. My IRA – such as it is – puts us out of the running. Well, at least I don’t have to fill out the whole form, which is as annoying as income tax.
I can’t tell you how sick I felt when I woke up to the news about the explosions in London. What are those people thinking? If people don’t agree with you, you just kill them? Can’t you just go away and live by yourself?
There is a possibility you might need them sometime. As someone said, where did Thoreau get that axe?
Oh, yes, one more thing. Yesterday, while I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself, I heard a commotion outside and went to look. There was the fire department and an ambulance. Miss Neighbor-Next-Door fell once more, inside the house this time. If her friend hadn’t stopped by to bring her some groceries… I’m beginning to feel responsible; every time I’m feeling bad, something worse seems to happen to her.
