I was going to post last night, but there appeared to be something wrong with my 'mouse' on my computer. It had finally 'died', according to the computer expert, Steve.
He installed a new one for me, but I was so ready for rest that I gave up on the notion of posting last night and just went on to bed.
Stumpy slept the whold night with me, and I slept very lightly, so I would not crush the precious little thing in my sleep. She snuggled and cuddled with her mommy (whom she adores) until just a few minutes ago, and mom decided to call it a night and got up. I gave the girls a treat, which was a can of cat food. They usually get dry, because of the odor of the canned food, but everything tastes and smells differently to me now that I'm on Chemo, and I don't mind the smell so much.
They had advised me before the initiation of chemo that things would smell and taste differently. They sure do, and I can be sitting on the living room floor, working away on my hats for the chemo patients, and start smelling cooking foods, and tasting them, as well.
This morning, earlier, I was seeing 'the lights', which is like little sparks surrounding common objects. They look something like very tiny twinkling Christmas lights, except these have sharp little points for corners. They had the most interesting colors, too.
Chemo sure is a trip, but one I'd never advise anyone to take.
Cherokee came by for just a little 'drop in' visit yesterday afternoon, and to tell me that she loves me. I think perhaps someone had gotten on her nerves at home, and she needed a restful place to get to.
It was so nice to have her for a while. We ate some watermelon together, and she and I sat in the living room and had a lovely visit.
I had called Angie Slagle yesterday morning to see how she was doing. She confessed to me that she had been crying earlier, but that she just shed tears of joy while we were having our little visit. She told me that I had brightened her whole day. She is the lady who does stained glass in her private studio down in Joppa, and she had almost cut her left hand off a while back with some sliding glass. She's in a great deal of pain, and has to wear braces on her wrist until her hand heals. Two of her fingers on that hand still might not recover, and it has her somewhat depressed. She told me that I was the best anti-depressant that she had ever had.
It makes my day to cheer someone, especially someone that I love so, and admire.
She made the lovely stained glass window that is in the bay window in my music room. It is such an inspiration and joy to me. I'm glad I can give her something back.
It appears that Barbara's story about me in the Grainger Today has opened many doors for me to give others hope and inspiration. Mrs. Jean Jarnigan and Mrs. Mary Roberts huddled with me and we had a small 'tea party' in the meat section of the IGA night before last. Mrs. Jarnigan is one of the last of the famous (locally) Jarnigans, and she lives in the Jarnigan Mansion up on 11W next to the Jarnigan Ford dealership. That's a lovely old home, and she keeps it immaculately, though she's became somewhat feeble. I sometimes notice that her car is parked in front of the house on the grass, and I presume she has had trouble getting back to the house, or has too many groceries or something to carry inside.
Mary Roberts is a Senior Executive at the Grainger County Citizen's Bank, and she is still hardy and hale. They live down on Rutledge Pike between Clairemont and town. They have a beautiful home that sets just below the road, and it is always so well kept. She is locally famous for having the most beautiful Christmas Tree in her front window. It sparkles with a million lights. She told me a couple of years ago that her husband wants her to discontinue it, but it's such a favorite tradition that she wants to keep it up. It sure is beautiful.
We stood and talked in the meat department for quite a spell, and Mrs. Jarnigan asked me a bit about my illness. She said that she was hesitant at first, because she didn't know if I would want to discuss it. I figure that open discussion is something I can help with, and I don't mind a bit.
Lynn sent Steve a picture of a purple butterfly that I had painted for her while she was here. It is the symbol for Fibromyalgia, and she had it perched beside her computer screen. She's very adept at taking pictures with her phone. I'm so electronically challenged that I can't do anything like that.
I get all the nice cards and letters that I've recieved together and look through them often, and they bring me such comfort and happiness that so many people care enough about me to send me something. I've been truely blessed.
I don't have any doctor's appointments today, for anywhere. That seems strange. I do have to take some insurance papers to Doctor Duck's office from the insurance company. They say they can't reach him by phone to verify the need for some prescription, so I'm taking him the letter, so that he can contact them and let them know that I'm not some sort of dope fiend that wants to feed my habit.
They can be so cranky.
Margaret Southerland, at Smith's Drugs in Rutledge sure knows how to handle them. She has had to deal with them a lot of times before, and I'll bet by now they dread the sound of her voice. She don't take their 'bunk' about getting sick people their needed medications.
I had to give the house cats a dose of Ivomec last night, as Stumpy and Sweety both were crawling with fleas. It amazes me that cats who never go outside can get so many fleas. Sweety really got mad at me, and tried to scratch me, even though she very well knows better. I'm going to have to get her to Doctor Morgan and get her declawed and neutered. Doctor Morgan doesn't take any guff from pets.
Janie didn't work yesterday, She wanted to have a 'Lazy Day' at home, and I did, too. She did some of her own housework. Her daughter, Sandy, is coming Saturday, and she wants things nice for her. She wants to bring her to Clairemont and Creekside and let her know where her mother works. She's heard so much that I'd think she would already be pretty familiar with both places.
I re-worked my wig last night, and this time, I think I might have it just right. Steve said that it looks just like my hair. I haven't lost mine yet, but I'm trying to prep myself for the melt-down that will happen if I do. My hair has always been my trademark, and it would be such a loss to me if I lost it now.
Much of my hair came out last early spring, and I wouldn't leave the house for several days. I wore several 'helping hair' pieces, and finally got comfortable enough that I would go out in public, and I used several medicinal remedies to get my hair to come back. It has made a remarkable recovery, though too slowly for me, and I so hope I don't lose it to the scourge of chemo.
Lynn assured me when she was here that I would make a beautiful bald lady, but I think she was just being nice. I DON'T WANT TO BE BALD.
I just couldn't go the route of wearing baseball caps or those tragic turbens, so I've something else ready....my lovely (and quite expensive) wig. I wanted it to look like I wear my own hair, and getting the hairline to look realistic all the way around my head was a bit of a challenge.
My friend, Faune Gerber, told me that this might be a good time to try a new hair-do, but I'm stuck wanting to look like I have always. There are just too many other changes going on with my body right now, and I want what shreds of my former self that I still have to linger with me. I've aways liked my hair long and put up nicely, and I will continue to keep it as long as I can.
Shannon, my 'adopted' sister, is working on something for me to wear, and I'm getting pretty anxious to see what she has come up with. She's a WHIZ with hair, up OR down, and I'm eaglerly awaiting the visual treat she has for me. I think it's rather good of her to do so much for me. She's always been around, and always will be, I hope.
I went by the mobile home with Janie day before yesterday, and it looks like John and Annamae have not been living there. A neighbor told me that they had not been living there, so I'm taking possession of it again, and will have the locks changed, so that Janie and I (with whatever help we can get) can begin renovations there as time permits, and get it ready to rent to someone else.
I'd say John has 'skipped', oweing me quite a bit of work and money. He's told so many tales to so many people that no one seems to know where he is, where he might 'pop up', or what he's doing.
I can't have any more to do with him. He's broken the trust he had built with me. The lights are still on in the trailer, but I'd doubt that they will want to pay the bill, or that they ever will. They had disappeared with the air conditioning on. People can be so decietful.
There's much more to tell when there's more time, but I need to get off this computer and lay back down for a while. I'm always so tired from the chemo, and weak, also. It's not a happy experience.
Maybe Barbara could write another story about me, calling it 'The Chemo Chronicles'.
She would make it boring.
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