2000
| October 15, 2000 It is Sunday, the 15th. The old black&white rabbit is dying in its cage - I haven't had time to "kill it" - my son did not have a good reaction to my wanting to put it down so I let it stay there (paralized - the poor thing - keeps getting around by dragging itself). I put food and water in reach. My son probably connects this with himself being so helpless - his legs went out and he couldn't stand - so he is back in the wheelchair (I made him walk into the house from the car). Three months bedridden left him atrophied. Not that I didn't warn him to make the effort. When your blood pressure is 20 your can't lift your arms. All the activity of walking with a walker for two days - and his legs declared war. He could not stand up the other morning. Could not lift himself. We slid him from bed to chair - an office chair - that I dragged with him on it to the wheelchair - which cannot get into his bedroom. Small wonder my back is stiff. We get around in the house with walkie-talkies and I am his walker - he leans on my shoulders and pushes me down the hall. This works unless he trips over his feet. He has fallen twice - once when he tried to walk without me and his legs gave out - he sprained his wrist. And once when he tripped and fell into the closet door - a bifold that gave. His legs don't work right yet - it is retraining time. It should take 6 weeks. He is sometimes more stable than other times. It is just like strength training at the gym. Some days I can leg lift 265 or more, other days barely 225. They put off the 4-day hospital stay until Tuesday (I hope it is Tuesday) because I fly to LA on Wednesday - down and back (1-hour flight - 1 day trip - 1 afternoon actually) to Burbank no less (real close to the studio). Dragging Fabio standups and all along with me. They are boxed for protection. EEntertainment is doing a special on Fabio and I am supplying material. So are some other fans. This should be fun. I may miss the preview party - or I may not. We shall see. I have a 35" waist - from eating at the hospital. Food is comfort. Food keeps you awake. Food helps when you are driving at 4AM. I am not at the gym today. I am supposed to be. Every Sunday morning. I am not even dressed - at 10:30 AM I bought fabric and am sulking. I am supposed to be at the mall. But my son wants to sleep. And he isn't feeling well. He stays in bed and I fetch and carry. My hair is orange - now being died brown. I have no dress for LA - just a third bedroom stuffed to the rafters and a closet that overflows. Hmmm. My son is still asleep. I have just been informed that I am to be one of the authors escorted in to the venetian ball - at the Romance Writer's convention! And I need a dress for that too!!!!!! Instead of sewing (I was too agitated), I went out and got my bedside cabinet out of the garage and fixed it up for my kid. And I found my exercise clothes from the last time I dieted!!! (Seven years ago.) And two black body suits!!! THAT FIT!!!!! I found plaid country shirts. And a square dance skirt and petticoat. They fit! I washed everything. They've been hanging in the garage for five years. Just a tad dusty. There is rational for being a packrat! Now if one of my pretty dresses fits I am all set for LA. I need one to hide the bulge. My tummy is back. So much for metal mesh. I am back on Medifast and just ran out to get Jamba Juice for the kid - he's been puky all day and he drinks the high-protein ones. That and non-fat-free ice cream. No wonder I snack! I scrubbed the kitchen floor yesterday with Clorox cleaner and vacuumed and did 6 loads of wash. I used to complain at three loads a week. Now I do that a day. I take his temperature. Often. Mop up after he throws up and consult the doctor. He is fighting something they say - and they like that his body is fighting. I do to - but I think it needs a little help. By the time I tuck him into bed (walkie-talkies active) I am weary. So is he. And I teach another class next week. But I have packed up the stuff for the TV show and am ready to rock and roll. It will be a nice break. Short, but nice. |
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