Saturday, August 04, 2007

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I'm depressed, well, at one level. I'm happy about my children--my daughter just got home from a two-week retreat and I missed her badly. My son lives near here, but he's all grown up, almost married, with his own house and cat. That's all good. One of my two fur-babies is on a little window shelf in front of me taking her day-long nap so she can be ready to play tonight. (She cries at my door at night for me to be available. She likes to see me when she is awake.) I'm recovering from a heart catheterization and the terror that accompanied my getting ready for it. I thought I might die, and hoped that at least the cardiologist would fix whatever was causing me to be short of breath. It turned out the hole was the kind that studies say do not cause symptoms, except maybe migraines. When the doc asked me if I had any neurological symptoms, I said "No", because I figured that was his way of pigeon-holing me and then forgetting me. He was being honest though. He checked the numbers twice for the size of the hole, which I appreciate.

I think the exacerbation of my heavy breathing is really from the stress around my brother's dying. It started when he was in the hospital, or, it got much worse then.

I'm feeling now, like if I went to sleep for a couple of days, maybe a week, that would be fine. I don't feel like doing anything, maybe just buying jewelry and plants. Yeah, I still love my garden. I think I may be having a lupus flare, but who knows? Maybe I'm just depressed because my breathing can't be fixed and it scares me. Today, right now, I'm sad. I don't want to see anyone or do anything.




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