Marching On

So it's been two months since I last posted. I knew it had been a while, but didn't think it had been that long. I've had better two-month periods, but I guess I've also had worse. One thing I've found that usually helps me put things in perspective is my collection of meaningful (to me, at least) posts from the Thoughts of Dog calendar I get every year for Christmas. I guarantee that these are more profound and meaningful than anything I could come up with today.

the small neighbor human came over today. with an early gift for me. it was a little box. and inside was a little pebble. they said the picked it up. the first time they ever went on a walk with me. i'm not sure if i've mentioned this before. but i would do anything for the small neighbor human.

gooooob morning. I have a feeling today will be a good day. and if it's not. well that's alright too. because there's always tomorrow. and there's always peanut butter.

there is a pattern. amongst humans. to think too much about yesterday. or tomorrow. and not enough about today. today is happening now. it would be foolish to miss it.

sometimes. when i can't fall asleep. i'll pull my stuffed fren sebastian closer. and think about all the wondrous landscapes. i've yet to zoom across.

my stuffed fren sebastian. wanted me to remind you. you are doing great. and you have to trust him. he knows everything. 

 I encourage you. to find the positive in a situation. as well as i can find. a lone beam of sunlight. passing through the household.

the human is jealous of me. they believe i am simple. with simple thoughts. and little to worry about. but if they would take a deep breath. and let the sunlight hit them. without critique. or question. they too would find. little to worry about. 

The last one in the list was the page for yesterday and today. Timing is everything, I guess. When even my watch (a Garmin Forerunner) is telling me I'm stressing too much, I probably am. Re-reading these was a good thing.

As for stress, tomorrow's medical appointment is with the Pain Management clinic. The spinal epidural steroid injection I had six or seven weeks ago worked great. Until it didn't, which was about three weeks after. I reveled in walking without pain. It. Felt. Great. I guess I'll hear tomorrow what other options, if any, I might have. On Friday, I have my every-six-months appointment in Dermatology. On my fall appointment, they found a basal cell carcinoma on the top of my head, resulting in a shaved spot about two inches by three inches. With the hair there having grown about an inch long, I'm heading back to my stylist next week to get at least the rest of my mop trimmed. I really hope they don't come across another on my head this time. Fingers crossed.

 

 

 

Are We There Yet?

In my last post of 2024, I expressed hope that 2025 would, on the whole, be better than 2024 had been. So far, so good at least on the personal level. Spouse had a double cardiac bypass on January 2, and his recovery is proceeding as it should. He is more of a Type A person than he would like to admit, so I occasionally have to remind him that there are things he should not do yet or that it's okay to want to take a nap. The literature he was given about the bypass says that the need for napping or extra rest may last for six to eight weeks. I tell Spouse that he's livin' the dream, napping with impunity.  

My medical travails continue. I will spare you the photo of the top of my head nine days out from removal of a basal cell carcinoma. It looks a lot better now than it did last weekend. In fact, I'm out in public right now without a head or incision covering for the first time. It's not really that noticeable unless someone is taller than I am or standing behind me while I'm sitting.The past week belonged to the dentist, while the coming week belongs to the orthopedic surgeon. I still struggle with the idea of surgery, but am willing to hear what it might entail. 

I'm sitting in the lobby of one of the local libraries. One of Spouse's retired colleagues died recently, and the memorial service is this afternoon. Since Spouse won't be cleared to drive for at least two more weeks, I'm his designated driver. The physicist who passed was 83. One of my friends who will turn 89 in March just transferred from a hospital to a rehab center. She texted the usual "growing old is not for sissies" when she let friends know that she was in the hospital. When do you decide you are old or growing in that direction? While aging was part of the cause of Spouse's cardiac difficulties, it's not really behind any of my medical maladies. I feel the passage of time when for example, I think of something in the past and realize how many years ago it happened.  Do I need a medical condition that resulted from my age to make me feel as if I were growing old? I am certainly in worse physical shape and more fatigued than I was even ten years ago, much of that can be attributed to the long COVID.

I end now before my fingers start typing something about our current political situation here in the US. It's not good, and it will take years, or even decades, to recover if in fact we ever do. And on that cheery note, 2025 probably will be worse than 2024 after all.