Life-angst is again crowding in. My b.i.l., Don, was in the hospital 5 days for emergency gall bladder surgery. During that time I was running over to take care of my sis, who will not eat without monitoring, nor take her meds. Ed took us to the hospital so she could see him (he won’t let me drive that far and I won’t fight that fight) and stayed in the car with a book while my sis, Tula, and I, went up and visited. Her post-herpatic neuralgia (pain that follows shingles and can last for years) was so bad, that I had to put her in a wheelchair for the lengthy trek to his room.

Don has been staying up late because she can’t sleep and he needs to be sure she doesn’t have any problems. A few months ago, she misstepped, fell, and broke her femur. All this wakefulness is taking its toll and he says he has to try to get back into shape.

Meanwhile, the good news is that I went to Moffitt yesterday (3 hours to Tampa) and had a mammogram and everything is okay and I don’t have to go back for six months.

While I was checking things out at their place, I noticed Cocoa, one of their cats, a Persian, was in one hidey place on a lower shelf of an end table, for three days. I took him some wet food that he ate. He’s winding out they tell me … he is 19 years old.

So although these things are not that complicated to do, they are emotionally draining. And my sis resists urgings to eat and says she will, she will, and when you check back with her 3 hours later, the food is uneaten. So I yelled at her.


Das all,
xx, Teal