What you write here does more good than you perhaps know; that I can tell you for sure.
I've been stuck lately processing two linked griefs. Polly, of course, because it's May. But also the friend whose sudden loss came in the immediate wake of learning about Polly, and who I never got to properly or communally mourn for many reasons. "Friend" is a limp word in the village of I.F. patient-activists, or the subset of us who are artists: Lizzy was a comrade, a fellow correspondent reporting from nearer the front, and whenever I get into good trouble, a little slice of it is for her.
And I swear to you on my life this is true: interrupted writing the above, I went to the door to take delivery of the month's very condition-specific supplies, and the pharmacy driver said the strangest thing: my wife used to have those. Twenty years ago, he said. I mentioned a name he knew from back then, when the team was yet tiny and new. He sketched his family's story, then and now, answering to my relief the question I couldn't ask, with this other conversation uppermost in my mind. He rapped the door: touch wood. But the bad memories it brought back to see those!, he said, leaving.
What all this means or amounts to I don't know, besides that on some level we are all more connected to each other than we can rationally credit, through all these little time-machine coincidences that life strews around and which, as I often say, we wouldn't get away with in fiction. Perhaps it does it to made us feel the things and shed the tears we would otherwise suppress, so I did, once the door was between us. Because you're right about the shoe-pebbles: to trudge along without shaking them out is only to more painfully accumulate them....
I have great sympathy with what you describe since I went through a very similar thing when my second wife Paula died. Only difference was that it was a cat instead of a dog. When poor Bottom died, I was more upset than when my mom passed. Like Janice, Karen is great since I now need someone willing to take care of me. I confess that I would trade your scrotum issues with my copd any day. Or my not being able to freely walk, or heart, etc. But I too see a shrink and am drugged up, so I relate.
Are you diabetic? If so, get on the shot, I do monjarno once a week, after 5 weeks I've gone from 292 to 267 and still losing. I admit to being an old Head so I definitely believe in better living through chemistry.
I know you've surely already heard this, but get a puppy ASAP. It absolutely will help with your doggo blues.
Haven't started the painting yet but I gather that you're behind (I am too with my computer upgrade for the printer) but I'm laid back. I have no choice, LOL!
So I just wanted to drop a note of encouragement to you and you're right, Time will heal a lot.
Do they address why the Tracey Ullman Show shorts have never been released, other than one or two? Because damn, that's a travesty.
They talk a lot about the Ulman show and even show some unaired footage.
What you write here does more good than you perhaps know; that I can tell you for sure.
I've been stuck lately processing two linked griefs. Polly, of course, because it's May. But also the friend whose sudden loss came in the immediate wake of learning about Polly, and who I never got to properly or communally mourn for many reasons. "Friend" is a limp word in the village of I.F. patient-activists, or the subset of us who are artists: Lizzy was a comrade, a fellow correspondent reporting from nearer the front, and whenever I get into good trouble, a little slice of it is for her.
And I swear to you on my life this is true: interrupted writing the above, I went to the door to take delivery of the month's very condition-specific supplies, and the pharmacy driver said the strangest thing: my wife used to have those. Twenty years ago, he said. I mentioned a name he knew from back then, when the team was yet tiny and new. He sketched his family's story, then and now, answering to my relief the question I couldn't ask, with this other conversation uppermost in my mind. He rapped the door: touch wood. But the bad memories it brought back to see those!, he said, leaving.
What all this means or amounts to I don't know, besides that on some level we are all more connected to each other than we can rationally credit, through all these little time-machine coincidences that life strews around and which, as I often say, we wouldn't get away with in fiction. Perhaps it does it to made us feel the things and shed the tears we would otherwise suppress, so I did, once the door was between us. Because you're right about the shoe-pebbles: to trudge along without shaking them out is only to more painfully accumulate them....
Thank you for the thoughts. Maybe the simple solution is that we all need to keep talking about things.
I have great sympathy with what you describe since I went through a very similar thing when my second wife Paula died. Only difference was that it was a cat instead of a dog. When poor Bottom died, I was more upset than when my mom passed. Like Janice, Karen is great since I now need someone willing to take care of me. I confess that I would trade your scrotum issues with my copd any day. Or my not being able to freely walk, or heart, etc. But I too see a shrink and am drugged up, so I relate.
Are you diabetic? If so, get on the shot, I do monjarno once a week, after 5 weeks I've gone from 292 to 267 and still losing. I admit to being an old Head so I definitely believe in better living through chemistry.
I know you've surely already heard this, but get a puppy ASAP. It absolutely will help with your doggo blues.
Haven't started the painting yet but I gather that you're behind (I am too with my computer upgrade for the printer) but I'm laid back. I have no choice, LOL!
So I just wanted to drop a note of encouragement to you and you're right, Time will heal a lot.
Thank you for commiserating. I really think I want another dog but it’s just gonna have to wait a bit until I’m in a better head space.
I am not diabetic, thankfully, but I’m really glad your numbers are coming down. That’s great news!