Mainly, my step father-in-law has transitioned from our home to an independent living facility across the street from the hospital, which is handy when it is necessary (like all day yesterday when I went with him to a last-second doctor visit to help solve a suddenly painful issue). It is supposed to be a win-win situation: a win for him since he is so social and now has tons of friends to hang out with.
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| Some really cool wallpaper in an exhibit at MASS MoCA. We were there last weekend to see the Punch Brothers in concert. My life isn't entirely about taking care of others, after all. :) |
It's a win for me since I can again--in theory--return to my writing since--again, in theory--I will be less exhausted taking daily care of his needs. That hasn't quite happened yet, but it's only been two weeks, so my frequent trips in to see him are only because we have been setting up cable, nursing visits, dropping off medicines and medical necessities that are still shipped to our home, and accompanying him on his myriad of physician visits.
I'm not complaining. Just recording daily life as a Lyme warrior who has a few other co-infections off and on, and a plethora of autoimmune disorders. To make matters worse for myself, when January and February became especially stressful (did I mention my mother has moved in with us too--meaning I am also driving her and her little dog to the dentist, doctors, and vet), I stress ate. Don't judge me. When I'm harried and exhausted, white carbs appeal to me: especially popcorn and butter toast.
I'm still making plans and canceling them. I have only a couple friends left who seem to understand this bizarre condition of mine. But at least my husband completely gets me, or at least supports me and loves me despite my being prone to needing about 48 hours of rest for every handful of hours of activity.
And I plan to return to Anna McGrory's exciting life as a Lyme warrior and amateur sleuth. When I last joined her in unlocking her journey into Book Two of my Lyme Murder Mystery Trilogy, she was about to identify a body. She's afraid it's Frank, which should be just bones by now since it's been over a year since he was murdered. She wonders if there's a real-life Dr. Brennan (on the TV show Bones) who could be called in to make a more accurate I.D. But maybe it's not Frank's remains, after all. I left off just as she and her nephew were approaching the morgue, so I don't know who's in the drawer either. I can't wait to find out!
This rambling post is to say that I'm back. The writer me, that is. I've actually never gone anywhere. I simply got distracted by real life duties that have landed me on the sofa for far too much recovery time. But look at me now: a new post. Maybe the next will be to update my progress on the next novel. I can only hope so.
