The Lessons Never End
The hot sweat pouring down even in my close to negligible dress (long, yes, but light materials for wearing over swimwear) isn't the worrisome part. No, the dizziness and close to vomiting from just the little bit is the thing that makes me have to remember I need help for even the smallest of chores.
Laundry? Nope. Even hanging extra bits out to get sun dried? Nope. I can do maybe a section of it but that means I need an hour break before I even think of opening the boxes. What if I sit down? Nope. Still too much.
The lights for my aquarium arrived! Surely taking the dead bulbs out to put the brand new ones in? Nope. Need at least half an hour between each action. Take out old bulbs, put new ones in - but only after waiting half an hour after retrieving them, and so forth.
Laying on my back with my legs elevated on my imitation hospital bed styrofoam pad and my head raised a bit by the different shaped but similar styrofoam I'm still pouring sweat and fighting against the nausea. Zofran trying to intercede on my behalf against the tummy's attack.
Ein just climbed the pet stairs to either protect me, be protected by me, or get in between me and the large fan. Doesn't matter. There's enough fan for both of us and if there was truly anything worth hiding from Femme Pois would be barking her tiny little head off. Dog and cat food arrive from Amazon tomorrow. Flea spray that's not a bomb and has very good reviews arrived today. Another extensive wait in between opening and studying and using must take place.
Same with the light bulb and vent filter for the car. I checked and they both came up when I typed in my model and year. To get rid of that nasty mildew smell and see if the light going out isn't the dreadful electric issue as mentioned when searching lights and my model and year in google. Bad news that I'm unsure of how to handle and in my married days could have told my ex and he could have figured out the next step. Being this sick and on so many medications I don't know how to handle any of the next steps in my world.
After 15 minutes of dealing with my landlord's billing errors I managed to get through all the problems. On the plus side (?) it turns out that my ex is still in the lease. Why and how I don't know. But the woman helping me sort through the slight mess of their new billing system told me that he still is. I wonder if they mean to bill him for the amounts I can't afford. It would be easily justified. But who knows?
3:15pm and I'm uncertain as to my future, never mind my present and my past. The pain has me firmly in hand and I'm struggling to keep myself from drowning in it. Three pennies and three candies and my homemade red and black ring all combined with a chant to hopefully open paths closed or blocked. Odd for an avowed atheist, but the worse things get, the more helpless I feel, the more ill etc., the more things I feel it can't hurt to try.
My dreams and/or nightmares have anxiety bases - dreaming that I finally found the shoes promised to a male friend. It's amazing to me how many people I've met with my ex's shoe size, or with mine. As though each of us has the most common. Before my steroid ballooning (as Gilda Radner phrases it at one point in her autobiography written during her losing fight with cancer) my dress size was 8-10 directly off the rack. Even my wedding gown didn't need any tailoring. It fit perfectly right off the rack.
My largest fear is what will I do about my medications and such once October rolls around and I'll no longer have any insurance. It's just hovering over me. The lack of home help but the very basic and my inability to cope right now has me beyond afraid. And that gets me angry with myself.
Pointless, really. I need to rest more now as I've evidently gone past my capabilities. I'm still sweating while just laying here and that's a bad sign. Hot enough to needlessly struggle, resting and recuperating are my guide words. Okay. Up to get a fresh fruit and back to bed to eat it.