Today I felt almost as bad as I did the day before I went into the hospital last year. I slept late and was okay when I got up. I called and made an appointment for a bath for Honey tomorrow. After I got off the phone, I called back to confirm that her appointment was for tomorrow - Sunday. I made a batch of cheese biscuits for Chad. I bought a cookie press in town the other day, but it just didn't do, thus biscuits and not straws. I took a shower, and Kristy and I went off to find a pottery shop where we bought some nice things last year. When we got there and found the store closed, I had a meltdown, thinking I had missed Honey's appointment. I had JUST called the people twice to confirm, and within a matter of hours I was completely confused as to day and time. It made me afraid. Kristy assured me that it was Saturday, but all I could do was cry and beg her to not let anyone put me in the hospital. I felt as though I could not function. It's a hellish feeling to be unable to upright oneself, to feel as though you are dizzily falling apart. I didn't last long, and Kristy kept reassuring me, but for the rest of the day I had that sinking and shrinking feeling, like I'm trying to walk in hip deep water. We did shop, and I got some rusty old planters.
Right now, I feel afraid, of what I cannot say. I'm shaky and feel guilty that I am not helping with dinner preparations. It's hard being crazy. I have moments of genuine gratitude - of how proud Clint was that Chad and Gretchen had been able to buy this wonderful piece of property that carries with it so much history and human interest. I'm wearing Poppy's red sweater, and I can feel his arms around me, but I feel sick inside, poisoned by my inability to deal with this.
For 2 years I have been using Rogaine to keep from going bald, yet I left it at home, knowing I would be gone 2 weeks. I can't knit. I am afraid.