Yesterday was my birthday and I went out to eat twice: to The Metro with Mom and to Zorba’s with Kim. I’m down to 141 llbs and I’m eating my way back to “fighting weight”, so I indulged in all the beurberry sauce and real butter and lamb grease and french fries that I could stand. To all those watching their weight, all I have to say is: I eat and eat and eat and still can’t gain a pound. Nyah Nyah Nyah. I look like the stick figures some children draw. If you thought I was skinny before, you should see me now when my pants are falling down over my non-existent booty.
Received the requisite phone calls from children, sisters and friends and a couple of mailed cards, so it was all good.
Here at St. John’s Infirmary, I’ve finally decided after much deliberation and consultation and intertubes research to decline to take chemotherapy and accept enhanced scanning. I’m comfortable with the decision and if anyone is horrified, let me know and I’ll listen and try to explain my thinking.
I’m actually feeling pretty good and cutting back on my Lortab intake as a result. I’m still walking a good bit, but mostly early in the a.m. and late in the p.m. when it’s cooler and a bit less humid. I’ve loved this rain, although I find it unexpected. I don’t care what Gary England says, it seems to me that we are really and in fact experiencing climate change. I noticed that in today’s news, it seems a British inquiry has cleared the climatologists from all charges of “cooking the books” as the Inhofe people asserted.
Very soon, I think, I’ll be back to the place where I have my life restored, although what life that will be is somewhat a mystery to me. I feel that I have overcome three deadly diseases — alcoholism, depression and cancer — and that there is something more I can do with my life other than merely spill out a few sentences on this blog for less than two dozen people to read. Some parts of my life seem to be falling back into place, but I see no need to speed up matters until after I see my children, grandchildren and youngest sister next month when they all visit. I’m still spending at least part of every day taking naps because I still tire fairly easily and the Lortab keeps me … shall we say? … quite relaxed. I continue to think almost everyone would benefit from a few hundred of these little white pills; they seem to make the day to day world rather pleasant, for a time. I’m told they have a bite if you try and break up with them, but I’m not there yet.
Last year, with my zero birthday, I was committed to changing things to achieve a “bucket list” since I felt quite young for my chronology. This year, I don’t feel that way. I feel every single one of my sixty one years. On the other hand, I’m grateful to have those years and this one day past that. Every single day seems like a gift. It’s not such a bad way to live, to see each day as a chance to live and enjoy. You might try it; I suspect it will turn out better advice than the whole Lortab suggestion.