Today while the horrors
Still cling to your vines…
I’d taste your strawberries if I could get to a store to buy some…
I’m not allowed to drink your sweet wine…
😀 Not to say “LOL”….
Continuing in general misery this morning. Maybe, though, not as bad as it has been the past weeks. The gawdawful peripheral neuropathy is still present, but it seems a little milder than in past weeks…or maybe I’m just getting used to it. Ear-whistling is torture. Lip-burning hurts, hurts, and hurts some more. Afraid to take an ibuprofen or aspirin for it, because we’re told that those fine nostrums can cause neuropathy.
Who knows, then? Could be I’ve brought this particular aspect of the ailment on myself, madly gulping down pain-killers. Wouldn’t that be par for the course?
Computer says today is Saturday. Who knew? If you’d asked me, I’d have said it was mid-week.
Learned, by chance, that the old-folkerie where my son would like to consign me will send a worker to your home to babysit you.
!!!
Turns out Wonder Cleaning-Lady used to work for them, doing exactly that!
So, this presents two possibilities:
One is to call the old-folkerie and ask what they offer in-home, for how much money.
The other is to ask WC-L if she will come over on a regular basis — at least several times a week — to oversee me, drive me to grocery stores, help prepare a few days’ worth of food…and whatnot.
The latter…I think not. I’m still radically pi$$ed off at her for snapping a photo of me when I’d laid my head down on the dining-room table after a meal, because I was so, SO sick. With a wine glass standing by the dinner plate, that picture made me look like I was passed-out stone-cold drunk.
Ha hah, very funny, eh?
To add to the humor, she e-mailed the thing to my son! And “passed-out stone-cold drunk” is exactly what he thought.
This threw a monkey-wrench into the mother-son relationship. Big time!
Things have never really gotten better: he’s now convinced I sit around getting snockered all afternoon, and nothing will persuade him otherwise.
Do I indeed sit around getting snockered all afternoon?
Not so much. As in “not at all.” I have one (count it: 1) glass of wine with my big meal of the day, which I take at mid-day. At an American’s evening dinner-time, I have what you would think of as a light meal or a snack.
Back in the Dark Ages, when I was at the university in Tucson, I had a boyfriend who did indeed start to drink around lunch-time and continued merrily through the afternoon. And I did indeed keep up with him. He, too, ate “dinner” at mid-day. So we were taking in a lot of food as we were swizzling away after our morning classes.
But in fact, I eventually tired of these shenanigans — and my parents just hated the man. When it became clear that I had a choice — him or my parents — I decided that my parents were the best bet…and so sent him on his way, weeping into the night.
Life: one little drama after the next, eh?
At any rate, the Internet reports that he seems to have had a successful career as a university administrator and to have spawned three kids through a long-term marriage. So apparently he wasn’t much harmed by my giving him the parental heave-ho.
Unfortunately, though, the habit that he had instilled — starting in with the wine at noon, along with a full-course dinner — stuck with me. I passed it along to DXH, and he and I were in the habit, through two decades of marriage, of swizzling wine around every major meal.
Bad habit, apparently. Especially when that major meal takes place in the early afternoon. 😀
These days I refrain, if for no other reason that I’m just too sick to enjoy a nice glass of wine. And of course, because I suspect the alcohol may have something to do with the peripheral neuropathy.
You’d think if it did, after a few weeks or months on the wagon, the PN would go away. But it hasn’t. So either the wine has nothing to do with the ailment, or I’ve poisoned myself permanently and am headed off to the Other World with a constant buzz in my ears.
Oh, well… Just now it’s time to head off for a Doggy Walk!
