I'm having another lousy day, feeling very short of breath and weak. Thursday is massage day--Lisa arrived at eleven and spent a long time massaging my feet and head, which was extremely relaxing. When she arrived I had a headache, and when she was finished it was pretty much gone. Also, when I woke up this morning I had a toothache--it hurt in my lower jaw when I bit down, getting me worried about whether, with all this other stuff going on, I was going to need to go to a dentist. That's something I don't need right now.
It has now been three months since I've been in hospice, and I'm not sure just how much sicker or weaker I am now than I was then. On the one hand, I keep saying I want to live to see spring; on the other, I feel all this is taking just too damn long. I'm tired of this. There's less and less that I can do, and less that I care about doing. I've pretty much lost interest in reading, except for the newspapers and the New Yorker. I'm watching too much TV. At least I can sleep; after a lifetime of being a troubled sleeper, I get a sound eight hours or more almost every night, and usually get in a nap or two during the day.
I'm still able to do some things, like make simple meals for myself (I've been eating the potato casserole for a couple of days now), make jello, even clean the cat box, which I did yesterday. The cats stare at me in the morning until I feed them, but they're pretty patient (I'm lucky they're such mellow cats, who love to cuddle). I can give Oliver his medicine (again, I'm lucky that he doesn't resist much). Once in awhile I can even take a shower and get dressed. I'm going to try to keep going out for acupuncture as long as I can, but I've given up on trying to get a pedicure, at least for now. Getting dressed is such an effort.
I suppose if I really was much sicker and unable to get out of bed, I wouldn't like that, either, and the way things are now would seem good. But right now I just feel frustrated. I don't know what I want, but I don't like things the way they are.