Friday, June 15, 2012

I'm really sore this morning.  I had minor surgery again yesterday to install a port in my right shoulder, so that administration of chemotherapy would be simpler.  I just wish all this was simpler for me.
I've been to so many doctors and medical facilities, my head is buzzing.  I gave up long ago trying to keep up with the appointments, doctor's names, and the reasons for the visits.  I don't know if I could keep up with it at all if it weren't for Steve.  He manages everything for me, and it sure makes things much easier.
I just have to get there and submit to all the tortuous treatments, the immodest exposure, the nausea, the depression, and the awful pain.
I've never had anything hurt so badly for so long.
My right shoulder is so sore, I can't even pull the door open on the refridgerator.  I can't lay on my right side on the bed, and I can't open a car door.  People who have ports say the soreness will go away, and I sure wish it would hurry.  Time drags without all the work I'm accustomed to doing.
I so wish I could just get back to work, as I always have done.
I talked with Steve's mother last evening.  She wanted to know all about the latest medical proceedures.  They're keeping up with the latest goings-on with us through this blog and through phone calls.  They sent a nice peace lilly when I was in the hospital for my big surgery.  It helped to cheer the long, boring hours, and it sure brightened the room. 
Jamie Combs brought me a lovely painting of one of our black swans, and everyone complimented me on her talent and ability.  She's so accomplished.
Judy is planning to come by on Sunday morning after working a 24-hour shift at Morristown for Med-flight.  She's such a good nurse, and tries so hard to work everything into her hectic schedule.
Janie has just about had to take over at Creekside.  I just can't stay active enough to be of help there right now, and my doctors and Steve (along with a certain Sister Worker) nag me to rest.
Barbara tells me to not worry about all I'm not doing now, but she's boring and I don't take her advice.
She's wanting Steve to get some pictures of the hats I've been designing to donate to Thompson Cancer Survival Center for the chemo ladies and girls, and she's going to do an interview over the phone with me to put in the Grainger Today.  Ann Cason, the Editor and Owner of the paper, liked the idea when Barbara presented it to her, so I am wanting to get it into print, so that others might recognise the need and want to do something for the Surviving Community.
Stumpy is 'going potty' all over the house, and I need to spend some time with her, training her that it's inapproiate to do that.  She's really smart, and takes correction well.  I don't know why parents can't train their children if I can train my cats.
Mary Douglas asked off for today.  She talked to Steve, so I don't know her reason.  She offered to come next Thursday or Friday.  I'm so behind with housework, I should have her come both days.
I can't push a vacuum cleaner, hang laundry on the line, or lift, stoop, or bend yet, and I feel like I'm so limited.  Steve does wonders, but men don't clean like women.
Lynn is supposed to come here for a visit next week, and I need to get a guest room cleaned for her.  She would tell me not to, but I don't want her to have to deal with my messes and the over-load of 'stash' I always have around.  I need to get the winter hats off the guest room beds, and the lovely linens I'm always buying put away in drawers and under beds in containers.
I have a huge inventory of stuff I have wanted to sell on e-bay for years, but Steve won't make pictures for me and put them on my computer, so I can't sell them.  They're also stacked against the walls in some of the guest rooms, so they need to be put in better places.
It looks like it's going to be a really pretty day outside.  That's the kind of day when I so want to be outside doing yard work and outside duties, and I feel so restricted with all this illness and disease.
There's always something to do inside, but I so long to be as active as I have always been.
We've had several bats come into the house at Creekside.  I think they might be entering through the square hole in the upstairs bath, where we plan to put a whole-house fan later.  It's stuffed full of foam rubber, but they can find even the smallest crack and get in.  I get them to crawl onto a broom, and carry them outside for release.  We love them, and we also love the insect-control they provide, but we don't want them in the house, as they would soon starve and make a horrible mess with their droppings until they did.
I saw the obituary for Scott Pruitt in the paper. He was several years younger than I am, and he once attended Blue Springs Church of God, where I was the organist several years ago.  I'll have to call Sister Valentine and see what caused his death at such a young age.
It seems there is some old friend or acquaintence in the obits every day or so.  Lawerence and I were talking about that when he visited me in the hospital.  I don't see him much, and it was a pleasure to get to see him, although the circumstances could have been better.  I wish I had been well enough to enjoy his visit more.  We used to be so close.
I need to get out to see Mary.  I have some wall paper for her, and some paving stones I've given her that I need to get loaded on the truck and taken to her.  With my limitations right now, it' would not be a good time for heavy hauling, so I guess it will have to wait.
Cherokee is leaving Steven with his dad and taking a little time for herself, and I'm glad to see that.  She's tired and sick, and it's not her duty to raise her grandchildren.  She needs rest and time for herself and to visit her friends, mainly Janie and myself.  She loves to be with us, and brought a water melon the other day for us all to enjoy.  She brought fruit juices last week.  She always wants to give something, and is very slow to take anything, even when it's freely offered.
I've been so grateful for my many friends during this time of trouble.  So many people around Rutledge have offered to get me to treatments, to take me places, to help me with work, and to sit by my side and comfort me if needed.  It's really heartwarming to have such an outpouring of sympathy and compassion from so many.
I'd better close this epistile and get my hats arranged, so Steve can make some pictures.  I don't want to be the one to hold things up.
Barbara will want a story, although when she writes it, it will be boring.