Tuesday, May 14, 2024  

     Something is wrong at the infusion center on Monday afternoon. The treatment takes twice as long as usual.  Of course, having a foley catheter inserted into the bladder, my bladder, is an intimate act.  But staff is hurried and distracted.  The small dark room for bladder patients is isolating as I wait for the nurse. Beeping and voices come from the main room filled with patients in lounge chairs by the large windows. Several times during the appointment I feel tears in my eyes. I don’t know what is happening.  And then I am done and can return safely home to finish the treatment.  Sigh.

    I do sleep well last night and today is a rest day, a day to recover my equilibrium. Foggy morning, no dogs are barking, the day is starting with a deep silence.

     In the evening I watch the news of the trump trials. I will miss them when the jury finally makes a decision, probably next week.

     I started reading EVERYONE COME ALIVE, A MEMOIR IN ESSAYS, by Marcie Alvis Walker. Too early to tell if I am going to like it.