I told everyone I was going to stop naming my IV poles...the novelty had totally worn off, I claimed. This one, though, is special. It's so laden with crap that it's like pushing a 5-foot tall lawnmower around the room. Meanwhile, various loose lines must be held and tethered in order to move without creating a huge, knitted tangle that will render me unable to move at all. At best I have about 3.5 of slack on this thing, the batteries are weak, and there's only one place (near the bed) that will accommodate all the various plugs. Hopefully soon I will begin offloading medications and devices and that will give me a bit more mobility. Here's hoping.
Having a little quiet time this morning and am stricken with sadness about Neal.
Thanks for being there.
xxoo L
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Of course the Coney Island Cyclone is a lot prettier than cancer, but it still seems an apt metaphor.
5 comments:
Leah...I am sending Love, Sympathy, and all my best thoughts your way, as ever... - Joseph
Love your blog name, Leah. Welcome to it. Guess it's more Huxley than Shakespeare? Your sense of humor and appreciation for the absurd will see you through this. Hope you lose the pole soon.
Leah, it's great to see you writing again. I was Neal's fitness trainer. I know so many good things about you from him, and from Martha (who I workout as well). Arlene was sending me your blogs awhile ago. I love your chutzpah and wit.
I'm so sorry for you about Neal. I think of him everyday. I miss him a lot. What a kind sweet man.
I'm glad you're up and around and getting better.
Love, Robin
Leah, I'm so sorry to hear about Neal. I think about you a lot and send warm thoughts from the very chilly Midwest. Love, Kate
Fricken is our new favorite word here in Pburgh, where opportunities to swear openly are severely limited.
Leah, I so am sad about Neal -- I wish he had more chances to tell his own story, but heartened when people tell their stories about him.
Alice
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