Post 500: I’ve got the dentist today.
So here we are — Post 500.
And unfortunately, it’s not exactly a barrel of laughs.
I’ve got the dentist today for a check-up, and there is a letter for him to sign regarding the acid infusion I’m being asked to take for my bone health.
I don’t really want it, but it must help me, so I don’t really care too much. I’ll let it happen and see what happens.
Reacher and a new addiction
My Darling came back from work with a new Amazon Prime membership, which we’ve never had before.
There’s a series I wanted to watch which is solely on their platform, so I binged on it for hours until just after midnight.
Reacher.
I’ve read the first 26 books Lee Child wrote, but when the writing was handed over to his brother I couldn’t enjoy them quite so much and eventually got tired of the storylines, so I gave up.
The early storylines were pretty cool, though, and they’re not an easy thing to translate onto the TV screen.
But I like the Prime version.
Not the films, where Reacher was played by the diminutive Tom Cruise. He’s a fine actor, but there’s no way he can play a giant of a man who is supposed to be 6ft 5in.
But the huge actor Alan Ritchson?
He’s a real Reacher.
And the team of the 110th Investigative Unit are a great line-up too.
The series is much more in keeping with the books.
A worthwhile watch.
But I spent the day in bed
I’ve not been feeling quite myself lately.
I’ve been more emotional than usual, and the tears seem to arrive without much warning. I don’t always know what has set them off, and that can be frustrating in itself.
I was in tears at my Big Sis’ two days ago and, while I quietly cried, I tried to keep the tears out of their sight.
Perhaps the new glasses are bothering me a little, and perhaps there are other things sitting quietly in the background that I haven’t quite worked out yet.
There’s a lot going on, after all.
Cancer.
Breathing problems.
Pain.
Appointments.
Changes to the things I can do.
And then there are all the ordinary worries and emotions that don’t necessarily come with a convenient label attached to them.
When my Darling arrived today, I just broke down.
I don’t really know why.
And perhaps that is the bit I find hardest — not knowing exactly why I feel this way.
I wouldn’t say I’m completely overwhelmed, but I’m definitely not as settled in myself as I’d like to be.
So perhaps I should tell the doctor at my check-up on Friday.
I don’t need to have all the answers before I mention it. I can simply tell him that I’ve been feeling low and unusually emotional and see what he thinks.
I’m sure we’ll also talk about the breathlessness, the cancer and the future blood test for diabetes that the optician has called for.
And maybe he’ll mention whether talking therapy might help.
Whatever we discuss, though, there probably won’t be enough time to iron out all the wrinkles.
But perhaps I don’t need to iron them all out at once.
Maybe I just need to start somewhere.
The Hospice and the pills
The call I should have had on Saturday from the Hospice about my pills didn’t happen, so I hope to hear from them this week too.
I don’t really want to ramp up the pain relief too much because I don’t really need it.
Perhaps a little to take the edge off, but no more.
The Oramorph does seem to bring its own problems, particularly the shakes and the stomach issues, so I’m conscious of how much I’m taking.
I didn’t take any for the last few days by my own choice and haven’t had any repercussions.
So, for now, I’m happy enough to keep things as they are.
My Darling
I watched the Reacher series on Prime, shedding the occasional tear as the mood took me, while my Darling tried to fill a belly that I had no great interest in filling.
And she’s worrying me too.
She’s struggling with sciatica, and going back to work certainly hasn’t helped.
She’s been on her own a lot lately, and she’s not long over the calf muscle tear, which was a big thing to get over.
Now she’s got the sciatica as well.
It’s too much.
So we limp along as best we can.
Any efforts to have fun or create a little space of peace and quiet in our lives seem very hard at the moment.
Kev and old wounds
Kev’s annual loss has been hard too.
Harder than one might think.
A keepsake is being prepared for my Darling to have and hold forever, but that digs up old wounds, and I wish it weren’t so that he is gone.
There are some losses that don’t seem to get any easier.
They just become part of the furniture.
Looking after each other
My Darling wants a full cardiovascular check right now, which would ease her tensions about her family’s history of heart problems.
Hopefully that will help us both settle down.
But that’s a while away.
For now, we just keep going.
One day at a time.
One appointment at a time.
One episode of Reacher at a time.
And perhaps one box of tissues at a time.
Post 500
So there it is.
The 500th blog is a bit of a misery.
Sorry about that.
But it’s honest.
Sometimes things are good, sometimes they’re bloody awful, and sometimes you just don’t quite know which way you’re facing.
I think I need to be a little kinder to myself and admit that I’m struggling a bit at the moment.
I’ll talk to the doctor, see what help might be available, and hopefully make things a little easier for myself — and for my Darling too.
That’s about it.
Sorry for all the ‘perhaps’, I should have edited some of them out.
And all about it.
Good night.
Happy dreams.
Take care.
