Improvement almost immediately.

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Mostly.  Actually both hands are... giving me fits.  Things had to improve enough I could notice.  But the rest of the body just feels better.  No aspirin was taken.  But insulin was taken, both sorts.  I take slow acting this time of day, generally, and took fast acting with a fatted coffee.  As well, I took heart medicine.  And, yes, that... did something.  I think both did... something.  If, too, I think the body is just improving.

Narcissist?  If you lived alone for decades at a time, couldn't really get out, have limits this way and that, can barely stay awake, wake up, or go to bed, have few controls or outside inputs, and standing for an half hour has become a stretch due to health, you... will find that what little you can deal with has to do with self.  My body is such high maintenance that it is almost all I do.  I added cats, then ducks, and soon rabbits.  But...

And I don't dare discuss real people.  My mind flies.  I see, suspect, live in shadows.  So... it's... best I not discuss real people.  And, yet, blogging is one of the few hobbies I have that I seem able to do regularly.  There isn't much I can do, even house chores are often beyond me.  My conditions are what I have to offer.

Further?  I... doubt if anyone actually reads here.  I see visitors, counting to from 3,500 to 7,500 a month.  But that doesn't mean anyone reads anything.  I can't remember when someone wrote a comment?  Jean was the last, I think?  So, really, I am... or believe I am... alone in this little box, chirping at the wind.  There really isn't anyone there.  I... know that.  The one who is foolish enough to call me a narcissist is either a blind fool or a devil of some sort.  Not my problem, in either sense of the word.

I suppose Fable is a narcissist too?  When alone, and bound to be for the rest of ones days, one gets into peculiar habits.  If you don't like it, can't take it, walk.  I... won't notice.  I... don't believe you are here anyway.  Scoot.

Later.