Monday, February 9, 2026

     I see the grey fog from the bedroom window.  The kitchen is flooded with sunlight.  I am living on the edge of the fog bank. Outside a flock of birds are chirping away as I pick up the morning newspaper. Now I am back in my bedroom, heater on, eating my breakfast.

     I argue with the doctor’s notes. He writes I can do what ever I was doing 5 years ago.  No, I say, I can’t. I am five years older and damaged.  Didn’t he notice. I am now 85 years old. I am just looking for arguments. My old shoes are so comfortable even if they have holes. Actually, I have very little to argue about this morning. Life is good. The fighting spirit keeps arising.

     The doctor asks how I am feeling.  I go through my body parts and mention that my feet are numb.  I can’t tell if I am wearing socks unless I look. He jumps out of his chair, What? YOU HAVEN’T MENTION THIS BEFORE.  This is a serious common side effect of the chemo I gave you.  I say, I might have mentioned it to the nurses. I had no idea what I should report in my 19  sessions of chemo.

     We watch the last season of THE BIG ‘C’.  A wonderful sit com about a woman dying of cancer. Very funny, very warm and truly scary.  Tonight, we are going to watch more of THE PITT. More action then a slow cancer death.

    Last night I go through the pile of library books to find the next read. I don’t succeed.  I spend the evening playing computer solitaire.  I am so good at solitaire.