Brighid's Day
Feb. 1st, 2018 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoHappy first of Imbolc to everyone! Not that it seems very spring-like at the moment. The wind blew, temperatures plummeted, and it's 10 degrees at present.
It looks as if the whole thing with my mother is going to blow over. The Duchess spoke to the social worker on the phone and did not set up a face-to-face appointment with her, so I'm not going. I could go just to visit Mother, and I would like to, but if it's going to snow this weekend as predicted, I just can't. I'm not really satisfied with this resolution, but the Duchess seems to be. Mother seems to prefer to just let it go as well, and there's not much I can do, given that she keeps changing her assessment of the original incident.
Yesterday, the Sparrowhawk had an endoscopy to investigate some swallowing issues he had. His neurologist was sure it wasn't a Parkinson's symptom, but his PCP wanted to investigate. They discovered that he had a slight narrowing of the esophagus, probably due to acid reflux. They stretched it out by the usual method of inflating a balloon inside it, and told him to take omeprazole for a couple of months. When I went in to see him, he was still pretty sleepy, but astonished that he had just closed his eyes for a second and now it was all over. It was a perfectly routine, non-critical little diagnostic procedure, but I noticed that I was having a lot of trouble not having my face turn into Sad Face the minute I stopped shaping it into a cheery form. I don't like hospital settings now. I don't want anything to go wrong, ever.
This morning I was determined to go to the gym, because I've missed out on several days. I arrived five minutes early, but there was no parking nearby. So by the time I actually entered the room, I was one minute late--although they were just assigning people to groups and hadn't even started working out yet. They said I couldn't join in because I was too late. This is the one class where you have to be early. I'm afraid I was not very nice about it. They were still trying to explain why they were right, and I just said "Okay, fine--I guess you'll have to un-register me, then. Bye." (Because I had already put my hand in the machine that takes your palm print and gives you a point for participating.) And walked out. Normally I try to be gracious and agreeable, but today I just didn't have it. They have their rules and they are entitled to them, and I understand that. But I am still pissed off.
After endless hours of fiddling and fussing with Sprint, my phone supposedly works now. It's true that I only had to call my mother back twice tonight, and I think probably both of those hang-ups were her doing. I'm afraid tonight was one of her more unglued evenings. She spoke of their old house and said it was a pity they didn't have it any more. That reminded me of Bilbo asking what Frodo had done with his ring . . . . But I think she was confused about where she really was, because she said that she'd like to "get all these comings and goings out of the main part of the house." I'm not sure what she meant by that. She has some catalogs she wants to send me so I could order my own birthday present. I'm thinking that maybe I'd better just order something, and tell her it's from her, the next time I see her. Yes, I seem to be alternating between Sad Face and Resting Bitch Face. Or in some cases, not so resting. What I really need is to get started on some productive writing. Otherwise I will be impossible to live with.
It looks as if the whole thing with my mother is going to blow over. The Duchess spoke to the social worker on the phone and did not set up a face-to-face appointment with her, so I'm not going. I could go just to visit Mother, and I would like to, but if it's going to snow this weekend as predicted, I just can't. I'm not really satisfied with this resolution, but the Duchess seems to be. Mother seems to prefer to just let it go as well, and there's not much I can do, given that she keeps changing her assessment of the original incident.
Yesterday, the Sparrowhawk had an endoscopy to investigate some swallowing issues he had. His neurologist was sure it wasn't a Parkinson's symptom, but his PCP wanted to investigate. They discovered that he had a slight narrowing of the esophagus, probably due to acid reflux. They stretched it out by the usual method of inflating a balloon inside it, and told him to take omeprazole for a couple of months. When I went in to see him, he was still pretty sleepy, but astonished that he had just closed his eyes for a second and now it was all over. It was a perfectly routine, non-critical little diagnostic procedure, but I noticed that I was having a lot of trouble not having my face turn into Sad Face the minute I stopped shaping it into a cheery form. I don't like hospital settings now. I don't want anything to go wrong, ever.
This morning I was determined to go to the gym, because I've missed out on several days. I arrived five minutes early, but there was no parking nearby. So by the time I actually entered the room, I was one minute late--although they were just assigning people to groups and hadn't even started working out yet. They said I couldn't join in because I was too late. This is the one class where you have to be early. I'm afraid I was not very nice about it. They were still trying to explain why they were right, and I just said "Okay, fine--I guess you'll have to un-register me, then. Bye." (Because I had already put my hand in the machine that takes your palm print and gives you a point for participating.) And walked out. Normally I try to be gracious and agreeable, but today I just didn't have it. They have their rules and they are entitled to them, and I understand that. But I am still pissed off.
After endless hours of fiddling and fussing with Sprint, my phone supposedly works now. It's true that I only had to call my mother back twice tonight, and I think probably both of those hang-ups were her doing. I'm afraid tonight was one of her more unglued evenings. She spoke of their old house and said it was a pity they didn't have it any more. That reminded me of Bilbo asking what Frodo had done with his ring . . . . But I think she was confused about where she really was, because she said that she'd like to "get all these comings and goings out of the main part of the house." I'm not sure what she meant by that. She has some catalogs she wants to send me so I could order my own birthday present. I'm thinking that maybe I'd better just order something, and tell her it's from her, the next time I see her. Yes, I seem to be alternating between Sad Face and Resting Bitch Face. Or in some cases, not so resting. What I really need is to get started on some productive writing. Otherwise I will be impossible to live with.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-02 01:33 pm (UTC)Also screw those jerks at the gym.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-03 03:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-02-05 01:42 pm (UTC)