Some days are easier than others.  I’m not feeling much better today than I have all week, and I don’t know whether it’s just my gut trying to set itself straight (and whether that’s even possible) or whether it’s more serious than that.  I’m glad that I’ll have an exam and an infusion tomorrow, but I’m nervous about it.

I was nervous last week, too, and everything looked good to the medical staff, but when I went to see my family doctor in September, things looked good to him, too, so I find that less reassuring than I might.

I still accomplished a fair amount today.  I worked this morning, and I went through some old files, discovering treasure as well as trash.  I found an essay I wrote about twenty years ago, a memorial tribute to an aunt of whom I was very fond.  I found a family picture taken in the mid-1950s.  I found my ticket stub from the Broadway production of The Producers, which I promptly turned into a bookmark by laminating it.  I might have baked cookies, but I realized I hadn’t taken the butter out, so I didn’t have time.

I did go into the office, where I put the sensitive files into a drawer that locks and looks unlikely to fall apart.  I did a couple of other chores, but didn’t stay too long.  I came back, answered a phone message from our next-door neighbor, checking to see if I was okay, had a look around online, and took a nap.  That felt a little better.

My sweetie had been at the beach.  When he came in he asked how I was, and I told him, which led to a fairly emotional exchange.  Each of us is generally pretty careful not to inflict too much on the other, but every now and then we just need to let it out, and that’s hard and painful.

Anyhow, let’s see what happens tomorrow.  I don’t feel really bad, just not as terrific as I was feeling a couple of weeks ago.  I could go on like this for a long time, and I hope I do– like this or better.

Happy Thanksgiving.