Sunday, February 20, 2022

 Sunday, February 20, 2022  

   I went to bed after 11 last night. I had two long naps during the day. I figured I wasn’t going to fall asleep that easily. I watched a new episode of Mrs. Maisel and more of Inventing Anna, which I binged on for the day.

  I slept just fine and dandy. I had that weird feeling as I lay in bed dozing in the early morning hours. I finally have the words for it. It’s a ‘sinking feeling.”  It starts at the top of my solar plexus and drops, much as an elevator can drop when something goes wrong with its mechanism. It’s not a great feeling. This feeling was not triggered by thoughts; it just happened. The thoughts came afterward to explain the sensation. I found a few.

   As I started out on my walk, my phone rang. It was Yvette greeting me this morning. Yesterday, I asked her to do that daily. It is the daily contact that I miss so much with Mike. Someone who thinks of me daily, whether they want to or not. In Mike’s case, living with me, he had no choice. I was part of his world. 

       From the day Mike entered the hospital, Judy called me daily. Then into the second year without Mike, a few days passed without her checking on me. That felt terrible. I asked Judy to make a commitment to call me daily. She didn’t have to call daily; she had to commit to doing so. I need to know I’m on someone’s list.  

    I watched an interview with Maggie Smith, the actress. She’s widowed. She continues acting for social contact. She expressed what I expressed. I am no longer number one with any other human being. For Mike, I was his number one, and he was mine. What a loss!!

     B came back from the mainland for a month. I asked him to do the same thing. He calls once during the day. More importantly, he calls me every night to say he’s home. Mike and I saw B as part of our ohana and someone who watched out for everyone’s well-being. I told 

B that Mike was grateful for his calls. He can rest more peacefully, knowing B is watching out for me, someone who can hear my screams and come to my rescue if needed. Now, I have three people calling me daily. None of that makes up for all that Mike brought into my life, but it does take care of the basics. 

       My left foot bothered me as I walked. It helped that I forced myself to emphasize a heel strike.  

    For the last few days, I have been giving Elsa Kangen water. Today, I watched her sniff around the water bowl but not drink. I set down another bowl with refrigerator-filtered water next to it. She lapped that up thirstily. Oh, dear. That level of PH is not for her. 

   I did my morning Wordle. I got it in five tries. It’s a little too easy. I heard Anderson Cooper and Monica Lewinsky discuss their gaming obsession. They both entered one test word. I enter three. That gives me some information on 15 of the 26 letters. Then I do some paper and pencil calculations trying different combinations and permutations. With this method, I’m generally done in a few minutes. It’s still something. I don’t like things that are too challenging, so I get frustrated, but I don’t want them too easy. The NY Times mini crossword puzzle is just in my range- as long as it’s online. That allows me to cheat the way the paper and pencil one doesn’t. Good puzzlers prefer the latter. Me, not so much.  

   In this morning’s talk with Yvette, I told her that the problems with my feet are affected by tight calf muscles. She offered to come up. Then texted she would be up and 10. I applied a face mask, not leaving enough time. I asked her to make it 10:15. That would give the mask time to set and me time to figure out how to get it off my face. 

  Yvette came up at 10:15 after I had washed the mask off my face, and she massaged my calves. I asked if Graston would help. She had her Graston tools at the office. She would bring them home and do some of that work on me. 

    Judy called. We can talk forever about anything except politics. We are not on the same page. Agreed upon avoidance is our best bet.   J.D. Salinger came up in the conversation. I had mentioned a woman I knew called Esme, which is in the title of one of his stories. I told her I never got him. She had the same experience. I told Judy the story of a young family visitor who talked about how much she got Nietzsche. I told Mike I had read him and didn’t understand his writing. Mike, who taught philosophy at Columbia, said I probably did the better reading. Nietzsche is considered a dense writer, difficult for trained philosophers to understand. Really? Why bother reading him. If someone is that difficult to figure out, I imagine everyone’s interpretation is up there with reading tea leaves. 

      I spent the day working on the updates and watching Inventing Anna. In preparation for the accountant, I also sorted through tax receipts and listened to a podcast Isaac recommended. He said it expressed his point of view. I would love to know what aspect he felt represented his thinking. Some of it assured listeners that their voice was the only true one. I hope that wasn’t what he was talking about.