Dying people in fact and in fiction

Film critics often say that characters with fatal diseases don't look really sick--that real diseases are messy and ugly, so one way of looking at things is to be grateful that I don't have something that makes me throw up all the time, or be wracked with pain. Except for the chipmunk cheeks (from the steroids) and the shortness of breath, I just look like someone who moves very slow.

Today started out well--I was able to make myself some breakfast, feed the cats, and get dressed (all things that usually require major rests in between) to be ready to leave a little after nine when Marty and I drove to Sudbury to see Evelyn and Kyle in the Morris dance performance they do each year at the Unitarian Church winter solstice festival. Afterwards, we went out for lunch, and then Marty, Florence, and I drove back to the house (Julie, Jim, and the kids were running errands), and spent about twenty minutes with Jim on the phone talking Marty through the process of getting their TiVo running so we could watch the Giants game from the beginning. The Giants lost to Philadelphia, although they clinched the division when Dallas lost their game--they certainly look Super Bowl bound!

During the game, I was getting more and more short of breath and really struggling, so Marty went downstairs and got my bi-pap machine, which definitely makes it easier to breathe, and then I fell asleep for a few hours. Now I'm downstairs and heading to bed for real.