Long intermission:
1. Well, I’m not
dead, jut busy and slow.
2. I have lots of
excuses, but surely could have found time for a few words.
3. Today I felt so good, like there was nothing wrong with
me. After a trip to the drug store, I had a coffee and muffin at Tim Hortons,
read part of the paper and walked up our steep hill as quickly as I ever did
and wasn’t winded at the top, and finally raked the leaves.
My general health has been about the same as usual, a mix of
good days when I feel good and walk well and my voice is quite good and a day
or part of a day when I feel awful.
(Have I told you that all my teeth are out and I have an inconvenient
upper and lower plate?) A bone scan
shows that at least that part of me is normal. Unfortunately, after a good part
of many days I often end up exhausted and in need of an hour or so of
rest. Today is a pleasant exception as
I’m still going strong this evening.
We have had a remarkable fall. Up until the last week or so we often had
t-shirt days with a cup of coffee on the deck.
Even many of the cooler days have been bright and sunny. We didn’t get as much done in the garden as
we had hoped, but we are getting ready for winter: winter tires, deck furniture mostly put away,
eves troughs cleaned out (part, near a tree, was flooding over rather than draining),
outside water lines drained and garden equipment all crammed into one room in
the basement.
I find that having
projects to do suits my life-style: working out three mornings a week, writing
a short story (or something) for our monthly writer’s group meeting and
building a slightly oversize doll’s crib for a nearby
great-great-granddaughter. To help with
this I recently bought a bench size drill press – always wanted one, now got
one. My work areas (desk, storage
cabinets, workshop) are very disorganized and I have a permanent project to
tidy them all up, but it never gets done.
I hate to throw things out.
Our monthly Parkinson’s Society meeting was Tuesday and we
divided into two groups, PDers and care givers.
Our discussions centred around what was wrong with us and what was being
done to combat it. When I hear about the
problems of the others I realize that I am very fortunate to only have a few
bad or exhausted days among the good ones.
There are a few exceptions. I get
up for pills (and another pee in my pot) at 7 am. It is chilly and sometimes awkward getting
back in to bed – and I stay there until about 8 to give the pills time to
work. I have been wondering just how
long a person can continue this sort of activity – how many more days. In just over two years I’ll be 90 and will
this all be as much fun then.
This is getting long enough. I’ll try to be more regular in the
future. (promises, promises.
