I have awesome blog readers. (Well, no, I guess the word would be FRIENDS, since I haven't written anything lately, right?) In the past few weeks, I've gotten quite a few e-mails from people, asking me if I was all right. Some folks had been imagining some pretty dire stuff, so I guess I'll catch everyone up. WARNING: This is why I hadn't been blogging - because everything I wrote made me sound like Eeyore and it's been one stupid, annoying, or horrible thing after another around here. But here we go.
My brother died in October. I think I mentioned that. While I was in the middle of drug-resistant pneumonia.
Sekhmet passed away at the end of November. I think the suffering was minimal; cats usually hide when they're in pain and my evil fucker was plopped on my lap, purring, 'til the end. I'm reasonably sure she booby-trapped the house with cat toys as a reminder, because I'm still finding - and sniffling - over them. When we buried her in the back yard, the Goob waited about an hour and then asked when we dig her up again.
Yeah, it's still my house, after all.
We all had influenza for Christmas. I don't remember Christmas dinner - I made it - but I'm told it was good. I have a vague recollection of drinking too much wine, which, oh yeah, THAT was my best idea ever.
After the influenza, the Goober got pneumonia. Her turn? Anyway, that was mid-January and while the pneumonia's technically gone, she was just at the doctor again because she's still coughing up her toenails. Doc and I think it's inflamed lung tissue and cold, dry air.
I've been dealing with wicked nasty migraines since autumn, really, but the weather in January and February, with thirty degree temperature differences shifting around wildly, really laid me out.
But there's sort of good news. At the end of November, I saw the writing on the wall, the holiday looming, and went to the doctor. We doubled my anti-depressants. I was taking them for pain control. Now I'm also taking them for actual mood like they're meant to be. So that's helped keep me out of the Pit of Despair as I sarcastically call it in my head. (Because you gotta be rude to your brain when it's fucking up.) It's also increased my ability to concentrate, back to something sort of like normal. Which means I've put my head down and made stuff.
Pictures to come, but I've cranked out quite a lot, both knitting and spinning, in the past six months or so. Some of it got ripped right back out again because knitting and drugs and 103 degree fevers? Don't go so well together. And the other night I spun while on lots of migraine meds and it looked like one of those experiments where they feed spiders drugs and see what happens.
So that's about it. Four months in a couple hundred words. (Oh, I've slept a lot, too. Shocked?) But there have been no hospital stays, no ER visits, and nothing really too terribly serious in terms of health. We're muddling on through and even managing to be happy, most days (don't remind the Goober about the groundhog puppet and the doctor's visit, though).
Thanks, everyone, for being awesome.