Gut reaction

Between my back and my digestive tract (you don't want to know), I've been a tad miserable, but Tylenol 3s have helped my mood, and, unlike a couple of weeks ago, seem to have the effect of allowing me to at least sit up if not stand up. Yesterday I got pretty desperate staring at the ceiling -- not being able to use my computer, watch TV or even see the faces of people talking to me is disheartening -- but a jolt of codeine seems to be enough to allow me to prop myself on a pillow without too much discomfort. Makes a huge difference.

Big step yesterday: bought a wheelchair and a shower chair. I haven't tried either yet. My other move toward the differently abled world was to acquire an "accessible parking permit." My mother had shown me where to find an application online (she just got one because of my dad's dementia), and I was surprised, for some reason, to learn that the pass doesn't have to belong to a car; it can be allotted to a person. With this, my friends can transport me and park for nothing on the street, or use disabled spots. I felt a little guilty and silly bringing in the form for the doctor's signature on the day I had chemo, and I held back, thinking I really didn't deserve it. And then my favourite chemo nurse walked in with blank forms and offered me one. I was a little shocked that the Driver's Licence office didn't even ask me for ID, or offer me a list of the parking rules (the nurse gave me that, too). So now I can be one of those people who pisses off drivers in other cars.

Pollyanna moments:

• My longtime plumber (a retired guy of 69 who never hesitates to help out whenever I call) came over yesterday and fixed three leaks, and then, because he's a devout Christian, anointed my head with oil, prayed for me and commanded the cancer to leave my body. All of that for 145 bucks! I haven't the faintest religious faith, but I'm drawn to church and to ceremony, perhaps because I was brought up in the church, as they say. And he was so sweet and cheery about it that I did feel a wee bit uplifted afterward.
• A friend and neighbour presented me with the fourth lot of pink tulips I've received in two weeks, each batch arriving just as the last one was biting the dust. Accompanying her were her two gorgeous Husky dogs to give me hugs and lick my face. We sat in the strong afternoon sunshine beating down on my front step and watched the dogs make their sunshine faces. It still throws me off balance when I look out my front door and don't see eight feet of snow in the front garden.
• I played around with my blog and figured out how to add some photos (in anticipation of posting a photo revealing my incipient bald head, just a few to remind people of what I used to look like) and other gadgets, including a link in the title bar to Bob Dylan and the Band's song The Clothesline Saga, after which I named the blog. Not sure why I picked the name, but the song never fails to crack me up with its deadpan quotidian-ness (is that a word?), in its lyrics, its melody and its delivery. When I was a teenager, my pals and I used to get high and listen to The Basement Tapes just to laugh our idiotic teenage heads off at The Clothesline Saga, Apple Suckling Tree, Please Mrs. Henry, etc. I don't think you have to be high (or a teenager) to find them funny. Anyway, if you click on the link in the title bar, you can hear the song on YouTube.