Thursday, June 18, 2026

    It’s taken a year for me to stop being angry about having sepsis after my sixth surgery last summer. Plus, why was the surgeon not concerned about pain control in the pre operation room. As if I am a chronic complainer. I get intense bladder spasms pain from a blocked catheter. And then I was annoyed with the Urology Physician Assistant’s refusal to let me talk about my sepsis and pain experiences.

    Last night I look at the Probiotic pills recommended by this PA last summer. And the anger is gone. I take my first pill this morning, Life is such a mystery.

     My personal librarian arrives in the late afternoon with a bag of library books. She stays for awhile as we talk about our lives. The most serious issue is understanding tiredness. The more we talk, the more energetic we become.

     I love watching CLARKSON’S FARM in the evening. The show isn’t for everyone but for me it just hits the right spot of humor and beauty. We also watch Monday night’s THE DAILY SHOW WITH JON STEWART. More laughter and feeling good. The political news about our unhinged leader is both alarming and not funny

 

Wednesday, June 17, 2026

     When I am too tired or anxious or bored I return to searching for the next book to read. A book that is great and unknown. I can’t describe the excitement of looking through recommendations on line until I am finally satisfied and the book is on order at the library or on line.

     I am now in the middle of three very good books. ON THE CALCULATION OF VOLUME, a sci fi novel by Solvej Balle. PARABLE OF THE TALENTS, another sci fi book by Octavia Butler. Finally NOTES ON A FOREIGN COUNTRY, nonfiction by Suzy Hansen. I guess my mind is able to keep up with the various plots. I love to read. My job lately is to just keep reading.

     I do worry about losing words when I am talking with friends. I pause in the middle of a thought and am unable to find the next word. Eventually the word returns to my mind but too late for the conversation I am in.

     My neighbor’s New Yorker shows up in my mail box a couple of days ago. The third New Yorker of the week, to arrive. My roommate and I both have New Yorker subscriptions. Yesterday I finely walk down to his mail box with his magazine.

 

   Tuesday, June 16, 2026

     I show up to my doctor’s appointment with a list of three minor issues. And of course, the doctor is friendly and kind. What more do I want. He dismisses my three items.  I leave feeling he had not listened to me. He is having an off day. And my concerns are not major. I have failed some test that is hidden from me.

     Going to the doctor’s office is fraught with my expectations. Being a good patient and appearing smart. He is seeing a dozen patients and I am just one of them. He was great when I had life threatening issues with bladder and kidney cancers. The drama is mostly over and now that I am complaining about farting and bladder stinging. My body issues are boring to me too.

     I spend my nap time lying on the couch wondering what I should do next. I want a more interesting life. Spending too much time worrying about doctor visits is a waste of time. I just don’t want to be that old woman sitting in the doctor’s waiting room. Time once again to accept the life I have.

     This morning, a flock of tiny birds move through the bottle bush trees. A hummingbird is fussing with a red blossom. The sky is foggy gray. I am wearing my green puffer jacket. The newspaper has more compelling pictures of David Hockney’s outrageously colorful work. I am smiling.