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Monday, August 04, 2003
Just a quick breakdown of the past week's events here:
My parents' house is finally getting a makeover after the fire of some months ago. My mother's in absolute misery: washing dishes in the bathroom sink, eating takeout every night, etc. Coincidentally, after several days of this chaos, a pipe burst, flooding the basement. My entire record collection - stored down there for want of any other place to keep the thousands of albums - is ruined. The flood reduced my mother to despairing tears. Since Peter's death (and the subsequent, unexplained removal of her great grandaughter from her life) she's been prone to severe depression anyway, so it's always scary when there are major disruptions.
The loss of my records sucks, but there's no use mourning it too hard. I only wish I'd sold the entire collection on eBay or something, though I'd never have done that. They meant a lot more to me than money, which is ludicrous.
Shelley has had a problem with congestion/coughing that got bad enough to warrant another hospital visit the other night. Doctors feared that the violence of her coughing fits might threaten the pregnancy, and so have put her on new meds. We'll see. Miles and Lily are, as of now, OK. Shelley remains on bed rest.
My sister is the victim of "identity theft" ...some fucks stole her credit info and such, and have been charging up a storm. In order to unravel it all she must endure a nightmare of repeated "on-hold" phone calls and the like. She discovered this crime upon returning from Ireland, a week-long visit that temporarily rejuvenated her spirits. Just returning to New York was depressing enough without these new headaches. She brought me some souvenirs: a tin whistle and a bottle of whiskey. Ahhh. Dunno about music, but I can use the booze.
I had several days of tests to try and determine why my EKG was irregular. Nothing has been discovered, but I was cleared for surgery and had it on friday. Now I have a stitched-up middle section that hurts a little less each day. I underestimated the post-op pain, though. Got a prescription for Vicodin, which I did not want but agreed to, in case of "severe pain" (but mostly for its resale value). The dickwipes at the pharmacy gave me a "generic substitute" instead. I only used one, and it kept me up all night. I don't know whether there's any significant resale value, but inquiries from prospective buyers are invited. I am also mostly resting in bed. It's maddening even for one as inert as yours truly.
That's a week in the life, boiled down to essentials, with several major omissions in the interest of the privacy of others. An old friend called the other day and chastised me. Been a while since we chatted, but he'd checked this blog to see what was new with me, and feels that my attitude is overly negative.
Fancy that.
My parents' house is finally getting a makeover after the fire of some months ago. My mother's in absolute misery: washing dishes in the bathroom sink, eating takeout every night, etc. Coincidentally, after several days of this chaos, a pipe burst, flooding the basement. My entire record collection - stored down there for want of any other place to keep the thousands of albums - is ruined. The flood reduced my mother to despairing tears. Since Peter's death (and the subsequent, unexplained removal of her great grandaughter from her life) she's been prone to severe depression anyway, so it's always scary when there are major disruptions.
The loss of my records sucks, but there's no use mourning it too hard. I only wish I'd sold the entire collection on eBay or something, though I'd never have done that. They meant a lot more to me than money, which is ludicrous.
Shelley has had a problem with congestion/coughing that got bad enough to warrant another hospital visit the other night. Doctors feared that the violence of her coughing fits might threaten the pregnancy, and so have put her on new meds. We'll see. Miles and Lily are, as of now, OK. Shelley remains on bed rest.
My sister is the victim of "identity theft" ...some fucks stole her credit info and such, and have been charging up a storm. In order to unravel it all she must endure a nightmare of repeated "on-hold" phone calls and the like. She discovered this crime upon returning from Ireland, a week-long visit that temporarily rejuvenated her spirits. Just returning to New York was depressing enough without these new headaches. She brought me some souvenirs: a tin whistle and a bottle of whiskey. Ahhh. Dunno about music, but I can use the booze.
I had several days of tests to try and determine why my EKG was irregular. Nothing has been discovered, but I was cleared for surgery and had it on friday. Now I have a stitched-up middle section that hurts a little less each day. I underestimated the post-op pain, though. Got a prescription for Vicodin, which I did not want but agreed to, in case of "severe pain" (but mostly for its resale value). The dickwipes at the pharmacy gave me a "generic substitute" instead. I only used one, and it kept me up all night. I don't know whether there's any significant resale value, but inquiries from prospective buyers are invited. I am also mostly resting in bed. It's maddening even for one as inert as yours truly.
That's a week in the life, boiled down to essentials, with several major omissions in the interest of the privacy of others. An old friend called the other day and chastised me. Been a while since we chatted, but he'd checked this blog to see what was new with me, and feels that my attitude is overly negative.
Fancy that.
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