And the beat goes on ...

Yes, I turned 56 at some point yesterday. As an adoptee of the mid-50's we don't get to know too much about ourselves, including exactly WHEN we were born. It's an odd feeling as even 21-30 years later after the birth of my own children I can tell you the SECOND they were actually outside in this part of the Universe we call Earth.

The day started with a phone call from My Mother ... who despite oh, 55 rocky years of knowing each other, I love very much. Ironically she at 83 and beginning dementia, and me at 56 with ME/CFS don't lead drastically different lives. Except for the income thing. She wakes up, contemplates GETTING up, showers, dresses, fixes herself breakfast, does what she NEEDS to do, and heads for the oh-so-crucial BLUE CHAIR. Except there are days I can't get up, shower, fix myself breakfast, do what I need to do or anything of the sort. Because ... ME/CFS ain't aging, nor is it dementia where one doesn't realize one is slipping away. I'm well aware of it. I remember that there are things I wanted to do today, or yesterday, or tomorrow ... even well into the summer, yet I know I won't be able to do much of it, or any of it. But I can't remember what I was going to say next. And that's not aging because 56 isn't really THAT old. In fact, according to magazines it might be the new 36 (when I was still changing multiple people's diapers.)

My dear friend called and offered to take me out to lunch to which I replied, "I'm so tired." She offered to bring in a couple of salads, but no ... I rallied. I went out to lunch, pretended I didn't have Type 2 diabetes which I control by my diet and had Basil Bousin Tomato Soup, a grilled cheese sandwich with three kinds of cheese (including Havarti) and a Mocha Torte as my birthday cake. It was lovely. Until I had to get up. It was probably 5 feet from the table to the car (handicapped parking place) but it seems like the 5k I used to run. Marathon Woman no more. Not even 5k Woman.

I rested all afternoon and in the evening talked to one of my favorite four sons for a rather lengthy time. Then, exhausted, I attempted to go to bed. But first? I called Vito ... a calming nighttime ritual (actually I returned his call as the phone call w/the son was of primo importance to me.) And then, I snuggled down into my bed ... talked to God for awhile and promptly did not fall asleep. Some two hours later after I had pondered the future of the Universe (literally,) made a mental list of things I want to sell on e-bay ('Can you say "medical bills?" I knew you could,') and wondered HOW LONG I was going to stay awake I drifted off to sleep for two blissful hours before I was awakened, oh ... just because.

So for a few hours more I tended my imaginary herb garden at my still imaginary barn on some very real lovely property where I hope to GOD I get to actually live. I quasi slept until about 11 AM and then got up. It's a "no shower day" (we folk with ME/CFS guard our strength like a watch dog) and I spent the afternoon photographing clothing I no longer wear because I no longer have a place to wear them on e-bay. I love taking photographs ... and used to be pretty good at it.

Vito took me to a LOVELY butterfly exhibit at a local arboretum of sorts on Saturday ... and I wished I could remember how to work my camera (which is an automatic.) I longed for the days of film where I knew if my light was right for my subject. The Musician has that camera now and I'm thankful to pass on little pieces of me to those I love best. The Sons.

This afternoon another ME/CFS friend called to recount her drive (ride) home from Florida and the subsequent unpacking that needs to be done. A long ride (even when not driving) is enough to drive a PWC to his/her knees let alone contemplating the unpacking.

I did eat half a salad. I did list some items on e-bay. I did put the bills in their appropriate pile and added more to the "call the insurance company about this" pile.

And now I sit. Too tired to pick up. Disgusted not to.