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MaritimePine of Shadow
Nov. 7th, 2024 10:17 pmThe Sparrowhawk went to his regular visit to his neurologist. He had to fill out a survey about how much various symptoms bothered him, etc. I was supposed to fill out another part, as his caregiver--which I'm really not very much right now, but I'm on standby. I started to try, but found myself completely unable to put marks in boxes as to how much things bothered me, how often they happened, etc. etc. Somewhat to my own surprise, I threw the papers down and went on a rant about how I couldn't fill it out and didn't want to, and it didn't mean a thing anyway, because it was data points for them, and they weren't going to use it to do anything or help anybody. Which is basically true. Researchers found out about levodopa in 1913 and began using it in Parkinson's treatment in 1961. And since then, they've all researched away and gotten grants and built labs and not discovered another goddamn thing. Except they have discovered they can also do brain surgery on you, which seems to help some people but is horrible for others and occasionally causes death, because, you know, brain surgery. To hell with their useless survey. Getting mad is of no use either, of course, but it makes me feel slightly better.
Anyway. Once he left, I finished up some email, put laundry in the dryer, and un-stopped-up a toilet. Ugh. My least favorite thing. And then I ventured forth for a very slow, stiff little walk over to the woodsy path. It was a beautiful day, autumnal and cool, bathed in currents of warmth from the sun. I was amazed by how low to the south the sun's arc has sunk. I was happy to see that they've finished installing the bench on the bridge over the creek. I sat there for awhile and observed. I watched leaf shadows flickering down tree trunks and slipping through tangles of vine to vanish as they rejoined their parent leaf on the forest floor. Sometimes I mistook them for bird shadows, but the shadow birds always continued into the sky. I saw blue jays, a red-headed woodpecker, and lots of finches. I breathed in the freshness of the air. By the time I got home, I was very tired. I'm debilitated, all right. I can only hope that I will be a tiny bit less so for having taken these few steps along the path.
Tron had a consultation with her oncologist yesterday. She'll have her port taken out on Monday. They plan to start her radiation on Dec. 1--six weeks of once a day. But that is still partly provisional, since her lung capacity hasn't quite bounced back from the pneumonia yet, and they need her to be able to take a full breath and hold it when she's getting irradiated. But the Lumberjack says her hair is starting to grow back, and she is able to eat better. She's also trying to work more, he says, although he tries to advise her against it. That is so like her. There's some possibility she'll be up for us to visit at some point during the holidays, which would be very delightful for us.
Anyway. Once he left, I finished up some email, put laundry in the dryer, and un-stopped-up a toilet. Ugh. My least favorite thing. And then I ventured forth for a very slow, stiff little walk over to the woodsy path. It was a beautiful day, autumnal and cool, bathed in currents of warmth from the sun. I was amazed by how low to the south the sun's arc has sunk. I was happy to see that they've finished installing the bench on the bridge over the creek. I sat there for awhile and observed. I watched leaf shadows flickering down tree trunks and slipping through tangles of vine to vanish as they rejoined their parent leaf on the forest floor. Sometimes I mistook them for bird shadows, but the shadow birds always continued into the sky. I saw blue jays, a red-headed woodpecker, and lots of finches. I breathed in the freshness of the air. By the time I got home, I was very tired. I'm debilitated, all right. I can only hope that I will be a tiny bit less so for having taken these few steps along the path.
Tron had a consultation with her oncologist yesterday. She'll have her port taken out on Monday. They plan to start her radiation on Dec. 1--six weeks of once a day. But that is still partly provisional, since her lung capacity hasn't quite bounced back from the pneumonia yet, and they need her to be able to take a full breath and hold it when she's getting irradiated. But the Lumberjack says her hair is starting to grow back, and she is able to eat better. She's also trying to work more, he says, although he tries to advise her against it. That is so like her. There's some possibility she'll be up for us to visit at some point during the holidays, which would be very delightful for us.
