A Day in the Life. . .

Jen keeps saying "Write a blog entry . . . people want to hear from you . . ." I know she's right—she usually is—but I always have a hard time starting to write, as I really have so much to say, I don't know where to begin. So, how about 'A Day in the Life of Bob'??? Good times up here on Walton's Mountain . . .

I try to go to 'bed' at 10 p.m. every night, at least that's my target. By 'bed' I mean it may be our bed or the futon; however, lately I have started on our bed. (Jen slept with me a night or two, but I feel so bad that I'm up every hour or two, that I'd rather she sleep away from me, so she can get an uninterrupted night of sleep. She's got to go to work; I've got all day to sleep.) My alarm on my Blackberry is set to go off every two hours, day and night. This is a reminder to take my pain meds. The pain has never totally subsided, but I try to keep it at a manageable level. I've found that one pill every two hours keeps me mostly pain free, so I want to stay on top of it, thus, the alarm (it is a nice little Zen-like chime that gently reminds me to take my pills).

My night is spent sleeping in one hour blocks. I rarely get more than one hour at a time, but I think it's a deeper sleep than what I had been getting . . . especially when I wake up disoriented but deeply rested, with a big puddle of drool on my pillow. Jen tells me that I'm even snoring again, too, but I know that's not true. I think she wakes herself up with her own snoring. Anyhow, this is my evening routine, until I'm ready to shift to the basement futon around 4 a.m. I kind of hang out downstairs, watch the news, doze on and off a little more, and prepare for the 'candy buffet' (6 a.m. pill fest) that will occur soon enough. Rocco is usually the first to visit me in the basement, waking me with a nudge from his cold nose on my cheek. I may get a surprise appearance from Gaia, too. She's getting old and her legs don't work quite as well as they used to. She has a hard time using the stairs, so I feel honored when she makes the effort to come down and nap with me. When 6 a.m. arrives, I usually feel pretty calm and rested. Around this time I grab a new daily pill sheet and head upstairs to take my next round of meds. Call me "anal retentive" (go ahead, Jen does), but I track every pill that goes into my body and the time it went into my body. The morning batch is my biggest of the day: I take seven different pills. Most are prescription, a few are not. I usually return to the futon and relax a bit until Jen joins us with her cup of coffee.

These early morning hours are my favorite time. Me, Jen and the dogs. Sometimes when Jen joins me, she brings chocolate or some other treat that she acquired from a client, neighbor, family, friend. Sometimes I can eat what she brings me, sometimes it just doesn't sound appealing at all, other times I want to eat it, but when I try, whatever it is may hurt my mouth or just not have any taste at all to me. We talk, share our days (I'm usually more alert and talkative at this time than at night, when she gets home from work), watching the news . . . she might write, I'll sleep a bit, or we are entertained by watching the dogs as they try to take each other's bone away or terrorize each other in some other way. I will normally doze of a bit at some point, and when I wake up, often, find that Jen has quietly left to go walk the dogs.

We may eat breakfast together, or may not. I've found breakfast to be the easiest meal; I can eat eggs, cheese, yogurt, many fruits (berries, grapes, clementines), oatmeal. Good stuff that fills me up. The rest of the morning for me means lounging, answering e-mails, maybe do some dishes or laundry; basic, normal house chores, as I can. I try to stay out of Jen's way because she's often getting ready for work at this time, feeding the dogs, trying to get out the door to work in her not-so-timely fashion. . .

Once Jen leaves, the dogs begin their afternoon of mayhem—growling at each other (well, Gaia does the growling, "Get out of my face, li'l mutt!" while Rocco does the high-pitched whining, "C'mon! Please play with me! I love you, Gaia!"), stealing each other's bones, wanting to go out every fifteen minutes and then coming back in right away, barking at the turkeys and anything else that moves outside (Rocco), and begging for treats for the whole time (Gaia). They're not used to having someone home all day, and I think they too have lost a lot of sleep over the past few weeks.

When Jen leaves, the house seems so un-alive, despite the dogs' antics. She brings so much energy to me and the dogs. I miss her before she even gets out of our driveway, as I know I won't see her until 8:30 pm. or so . . . As I've been feeling better each day, I try to do something new—yesterday, I got outside for a few minutes. Felt so good to feel the fresh air in my lungs, the cold on my skin. Got to see neighbors down the street who were out walking their dog, and chatted with them for a few minutes. Eventually, I'll have a snack, then maybe lunch. Lunch and dinner are always a challenge. The food thing can be really frustrating, and often makes no rhyme or reason. Jen bought a couple avocados the other day, and I thought for sure I'd be able to eat those, as they're mild, cool, soft, should be easy on the mouth. Sounded so good! But, no such luck. For some reason, my mouth really hurt when I tried to eat a few slices. Same with good ol' fashioned creamy mild cheddar mac 'n' cheese. Ouch. BUT a stinky (as in ripe, underarm odor), acidic cheese from Spain (can't remember the name—Ugeli, something like that)? YUM! Go figure . . . So I often go with the ol' standby of cheese, crackers, grapes. . . maybe some deli chicken or meat, if I'm up for it.

Since Sunday, I have been feeling good, bordering on great; every day seems to be better than the previous. Because the pain meds seem to be doing their job, I'm up on my feet more, stretching my right ankle and calf muscles so that (maybe) I will be able to walk 'normal' very soon. I've been doing the exercises that were given to me in the hospital last week; I have lost much strength and flexibility recently, so hopefully these 'work-outs' do the trick. They seem kind of wimpy but then, again, I haven't been able to to do much of anything for about three months, so gotta start somewhere . . . Jen took me to get my driver's license renewed the other day and commented that my gait seemed almost "normal," that to the untrained eye, no one would think twice that I had a limp. Pretty amazing progress, seeing that she was calling me Quasimodo for a while. She told me that at night, when she's lying in bed, nearly sleeping, sometimes I'd come up from the basement, and the the muffled "thump-drag . . . thump-drag . . . thump-drag . . . " of me walking through the darkened house is almost horror-movie material . . .

I seem to stay busy all afternoon lately, although I don't know what I've really accomplished . . .

making phone calls to various entities—CitiMortgage, Preferred One, government offices, etc. I've even had to call a few places about missing due dates on payments (something I've never done) as I had mis-placed the invoices in all the excitement that's surrounded us recently.

I have tried answering all the e-mails I get everyday in a timely fashion. It's nice to stay connected with everyone via the "Interweb," so thank you for taking a few minutes to drop me a line. My mouth still has some nasty sores which makes it difficult to talk after a few minutes, so e-mail and text messages have been great.

I've been keeping up on my laundry and some of the other household duties; I do what I can, as Jen has been pulled in many different directions as of late, and anything I can do is one less thing for her.

In between doing the above items, I try to keep food rolling in on a regular schedule, grab some sleep time when I can, and keep the house orderly. Time moves quickly, as before I know it, Jen is on her way home. It sounds rather boring after I re-read it, but that's my day. All day long, my job is to keep the pain level down, keep eating and gaining strength, and to try to get some sleep. That's my job right now. I'd rather be at a "real" job—you know, one that actually brought money in—but right now I have no other choice.

Since I'm feeling better now, check back for more frequent updates to The Blog. I have some fun ideas for some future posts. It's been great hearing from everyone—old classmates, friends of friends, relatives near and far . . . It does help me get through the day.

As a reminder, my e-mail is rjandrzejek@comcast.net My phone # is 651.336.6625, however due to Ick Mouth, I probably won't answer for the next few days, at least. (I kind of wanted to post a picture—a close-up!—of the sores on my inner lip: give me your feedback on this. Do you wanna see?!? Check the box: ❏"Yes! I LOVE gore!" or ❏"GOOD LORD, NO! I'm eating")

Talk at you soon! My love to all!
Bob