Tuesday, December 31, 2019

A few more posts until I can figure.

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I will continue to blog.  Therapy, habit... addiction?  Perhaps with no visitors, it will fade.  Or it will become more... legitimate.  Without having to worry about the obvious sensitivities of others, prejudices even if correct, I can just write.  Oh, hey, I completely empathize.  As a crippled man knows better than to think he is normal, I know, and every flaw and blemish is plain before one called to God.  Good God, I refuse to accept broken, wrong, fallen, as acceptable.  I... just am.  Everyone is, most simply don't explore it.  Well, and volume and depth?

I will, as soon as fog lifts, figure out privacy settings.  There are people I would allow, if I knew how.  But that would take digging into the guts of the digital beast, plus trial and error.  I'm not doing well.  Just finding the privacy setting is proving a challenge.  I had created a few posts from the flood of vids that poured in since my announcement.  I cancelled them.  I may put them back in the queue?  Anyway...  Back to regularly scheduled programming, for now.
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Rough.  Meds are doing well, save insulin.  I am out.  Days are back in session, so I will call in.  I am low on everything but should have a week or two of the pill medicine.  I can't make sense of the automatic system... too many doctors, prescriptions, long numbers, dates.  They ask too much from at least this one.  One, three, hoops too many.

Blood sugar is sub 200, but just.  Haven't been eating much.  Doing so little it doesn't matter.  The body hurts, sometimes intensely, but the fog cuts the volume to less than numb horror.  I don't bother with aspirin, it wouldn't touch the pain but might gift a bloody nose.  Life is like a crisp winter day with a fresh foot of snow and a very overcast sky.  Beautiful, quiet, alone, but deceptively dangerous.  Death is here, and patient.  I would know, it is... my game.  Was.

I don't know when I was to bed.  No later than 20:00?  Probably several hours earlier?  I kept waking cold, but shouldn't have been.  I finally opened the vent to the main room.  That keeps it five to ten degrees warmer, well into my optimal sleeping range, easily, with my bedding setup.  Couldn't figure it out, in part because sleep was so needed.  Not until three was I able to wake enough to consciously take stock.

Blankets were off, the top two layers.  An unusual thing.  I don't kick off, usually just putting feet out if too hot.  I know it was set rightly at bedtime, because I was cold.  Never did warm through the night.  Ghost?  Seriously, I... have visitors.  Not all are ghosts.  Not all are kind.  Though the dark ones... seem to fear me, much as how the cats carefully consider being willful in my presence.  Dunno.

Up at 5:00 to thirty after.  A lot of sleep.  Too much.  Perhaps because I never got warm?  The cold can take it out of me.  Did.

I did get most of the trash collected and out.  I had hoped to get more, but took what I could, when I could, how I could.  I think I got a friend in trouble, kin as I see it, with my predicament.  It wasn't his fault.  A man just has to tend his matters and I just wasn't as able to do so.  It... isn't even my fault.  It just happens.

I'll grab the barrel back, feed and water critters, sort cat litter, then plot.  Call for medicine, hopefully hit the dishes, then shower.  And maybe start in on the kitchen and boxes?  Oh, and start the grill for a pork roast.  I have steamed cabbage to go with it.  It's been so long since I've had a real meal.

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