Wednesday, February 9, 2011


When I get one of my pain spells (ohgod, don't only old people use the spell word as an affliction?), I end up spending the entire time in bed.  I get up to let the dog out, and for the bathroom only.  Oh, and to let my home health aide in the door.  I ignore the phone, and the doorbell for as long as I can get away with - without worrying people more than usual.  Yesterday, I had to go out to the lobby to check my mail, which I'm trying to do more often since I'm expecting a letter from San Francisco, the people out there stood up and cheered when they saw me staggering out there.  I told them to shut up.  And that I was going back to bed.  They laughed.  They're getting used to my "spells", and know I get upset when they worry about me and knock on my door.

I've noticed a pattern.  Every time I post on Facebook that I'm sick of being sick... it seems like I'm better the next day.  I was thinking what a player I am... post and make people feel bad for me or commence them to worrying.  But no... it's just that when I say I'm sick and tired of being sick, it means I've finally surfaced from the bottom depths of the ocean of pain, and I'm actually ABLE to complain.  Progress!

I wonder if Annie knew most of her serviceness part of being a Service Dog would consist of hours and hours of being in bed with me, if she would have signed on.  Poor thing.

Night before last, she had diarrhea all night, and she had to go out about 5 times during the early morning hours.  Each time I'd start to go to sleep and then start to wonder why the hell was she pacing again, and maybe if I ignore it, she'll lay down.  Then it would dawn of me that she needed out AGAIN.  Normally she'll poke me in the belly or put her head on my leg to let me know, but evidently she didn't dare to stop long enough to do that.

Okay, 2 posts in mind to blog about.  Finish car wreck and food.

Best regards,

1 comment:

Cheer or jeer me on...