A few crossed words.

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She called me at ten.  Took a bit, but I got up for coffee and some talk.  A few tasks.  Not light, but not too heavy, complicated, or otherwise taxing.  So I did them without a word.  Then back to bed.  A half hour down, as I was getting back to sleep, she woke me for a few putz items.

Then we had words.  As I said, do not bother me for the next week, or two.  Longer if as medicine is increased it cripples me.  Don't call me for food or work.  I may be down, through the day.  That doesn't mean I am there to do her work.  If I am, can, I will work for an hour with her.  Plus, she can make lists of projects I might solo.  Working when, as, I can.

Either that or I get a room somewhere, check on her by phone daily, visit every other or third day, until I am rested.  Choices, simple clear concise ones.  One of the things I am known for.  She heard, chose.  But did she agree or just say yes, for a moment?

If I have to work for her to work, at this point, her work isn't a benefit.  It also means she is out of her league and needs to back down.  I have been as patient as possible.  Will see.

My torso is becoming concrete.  Not in the good way.  My muscles burn, and my body overheats, from the least of efforts.  I have two types of headaches constantly.  The bones in my hands, sholders, and legs, plus connective tissues in various places have been used beyond the ability to resolve their issues... for a while.  And my body is screaming for sleep like a man in the desert dying for water... right on the edge.

Even so, I can't just sleep as the man dying of thirst can't just drink.  Coming off that edge is a process.  Don't keep waking me.  I won't end up in a hospital.  They'll end up burying me.  Hoping I can find my way back from that edge.

A talk to be sure.  Later, or good night.