Fairly wretched celebratory lunch at Montana’s. The designer obviously can see in the dark. Reading the menu was toug. I grew tired of trying to discern my plate. If you go there bring a flashlight or a higway flare.
We skipped our other plans. Felt more like a defeat than a celebration.
Still bad days can accompany good days. Strength wells up and sits right down again. Sliding forward, like wiggling my bum to get in and out of the car seat. Looking for a small beauty under my nose. Soon I will be back facing a purposeless stay on the green side.
“How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, dreaming of home.” William Faulkner, frpm I think Absalom, Absalom.
Auden won our word tennis match, five hours to one.
The new Man from U.N.C.L.E. Is a terrible movie, Guy Ritchie is a zero.
I grew exhausted with the bone crushing, rock crushing ride of the Red Cross wheelchair van. By far the worst ride I ever experienced. Worse than any vehicle I rode on during two summers in Northern Alberta working on the start of the Syncrude Project. That included Nodwell swamp buggies. I ended that transportation. Back to being driven by my sister in our old Toyota Camry. Peace for me.
Dialysis was smooth this week.
Quiet celebration of my 62nd birthday on the 23rd.
Healing from open heart surgery slowly proceeding. I feel better each day.
Last year I put on lots of pounds. My high water mark was 130 kg. Today I weighed out of dialysis at 102.6 kg. Converting the difference into pounds is 60.28 lbs. I don’t feel weak. For surgery I was about 107 kg. My Christmas goal is to drop to 100 kg.
I think I wrote about acrobatics to get into the back seat of Red Cross volunteer driver cars. My 6 foot 2 inch form does not fit well in back seats. So this week we made a change. It was arranged for me to ride to dialysis on the wheel chair van. Be careful what you ask for. The wheel chair van has a harsh ride. The harshest I have ever experienced. I ride the 20 kilometres clutching my red heart shaped pillow to my healing sternum for some limited comfort. Still avoiding the back seat acrobatics is very helpful. Last night all the pulling and tugging made for a very sore chest and shoulders. Sore enough to keep me awake all night lying on my bed. Today is three weeks since my open heart surgery.
This morning started at 6:15 AM waiting in the dark, wind howling, but not raining and not too cold. This afternoon a ride home with sky blue and puffy white clouds, enjoying the Fall foliage, golden leaves.
The bedroom closet got culled. Removed clothing will go to Salvation Army. Walking with the walker is good. Feeling stronger. My upper chest still sore. Very pleasing to have two days without clambering into the back of a car.
One bonus from the closet cull, finding the second smart key missed for months. Welcome back. Grace was no help, but sat on my bed.
Surgery done on Oct. 1st. I had a little choice in the date. I picked the first because it was my father’s birthday.
The biggest ache is from my healing sternum. They cut it open. It will take six to eight weeks to heal. Because of it, I have to avoid front seat airbags. Trouble is I am six feet two inches tall with size twelve feet. Getting into the back seat is an acrobatic exercise. This strains my upper chest. On Friday I did two car trips, one to my family doctor and one to dialysis. Last night very sore.
No trouble sleeping. I wish my concentration was a little better.
I am hopeful.