My husband remembers really well-thought-out, beautifully prepared meals every night. He was down in his HAM radio room about quarter to eight when I called him on the telephone's handy intercom feature tonight. It's handy because I'm having a really hard time using the stairs right now. "Here's your stupid question of the night," I said when he answered. "Did we eat dinner?" You can imagine how bad I felt, having to ask, but pain medicine makes me stupid, and I just couldn't remember.
He usually reminds me to eat, but I didn't remember that, either. "No," he said. Luckily, we had some leftovers I was able to put together in the time it took to dish it up and use the microwave. We never used to eat like that. He could help or complain, but he isn't doing either. I hope this doesn't last much longer. At least I'm losing some weight. I noticed him eating steak at lunch time, so I don't think he is. I had an apple with peanut butter, but fell asleep before I finished it.
I haven't been writing in my blog, and still owe a slide show on our return to Venice. I'm supposed to be playing a 45 minute set on my guitar at our church on the 4th of July. I haven't practiced in over two weeks. I have a pile of laundry that nobody else is going to wash. My doctor's office called, and he's out sick. No wonder I waited a week without hearing from him.
I go to physical therapy three times a week, and this Friday morning I'll be seeing a spine specialist. Early. I hope I can make it to Fort Collins by 9 a.m. Actually it'll probably be easier than noon. I'm usually awake by three or four, when the pain won't let me lie down any longer and then I'm exhausted by mid-morning. Hopefully this new doctor will have some answers for me. I know he'll have a report from my physical therapists (both of them) before I get there.
If I never see another air cast in my life, it will be too soon.