Journal Entry for March 7, 2022

March 7, 2022

Here I am again, sitting and writing whatever comes into my mind.  If this turns out to be a decent piece of literature, I will be happy, but that is not necessary.  It is essential that I am writing again.

My blood sugar level continues to give me enough concern that I monitor it closely.  I should also be concerned about my weight, but I haven’t hit bottom on that yet.  If the pictures taken at the restaurant where we celebrated my late birthday last week don’t cause me to stop and go back on Weight Watchers, I don’t know what will.  I was the biggest thing in the room, especially compared to my friend Joan, who had been sick and looked thin in the pictures, and I looked like an elephant next to a meerkat.

My hair is another thing.  I have the I-haven’t-been-to-a-hairdresser-in-two-years COVID-19 look, with hair hanging halfway down my back.  I look like a late 1960s hippie.  I am nervous about going to a hairdresser for two reasons:  (1) I’m still afraid of COVID germs; and (2) I don’t know what kind of haircut I want.  Number 2 is quickly settled.  Number 1 will take some doing.  If I trust myself in someone else’s hands, I want those hands to be COVID-free.  Since I cannot guarantee that, I might have to table any plans to cut my hair soon and look up some long-hair styles.

The hippie look is complete when I decide to wear a tie-dyed blouse like in those pictures in the restaurant.

This reminds me.  I am now seventy-six years old.  If sixty is the new middle-age, I am getting well enough past it to be entering into old lady territory.  I am not ready to be an old lady yet.  If I live to be ninety or one-hundred, I’ll be an old lady, and even then, I’ll think about it.  I hope the march of middle-age will keep up with my aging so that I will always be a younger woman, even when I am white-haired and in a wheelchair.  I know, this doesn’t make sense.  Neither do half the things I say.  I’m like that.

In the meantime, here I am, sitting and writing journal entries and editing a building newsletter every month.  At least that’s something.

Journal Entry for March 5, 2022

March 5, 2022

Well, here I am again.  I have a feeling this is going to be short, although I could have a lot to say if I wanted to say it.

This has been a tough week, starting with Monday, when my blood glucose levels were higher than usual, and I couldn’t get them down.  I did the logical thing.  I called my endocrinologist’s office.  Talk about frustrating and weird.  The secretary kept telling me she was busy.  I kept telling her my blood sugar level was up, and I needed to talk to someone.  I finally got to speak to a nurse(?), who told me the doctor would call me “within three business days.”  WHAT?!  I argued with her, of course, and she finally told me the doctor would call me back the same day.

Of course, the doctor didn’t call me back.  I was only experiencing a crisis, after all.  Phooey!

I called my primary care doctor’s office and spoke to a medical assistant, who calmed me down and gave me advice.  The doctor was not in the office that day, but I was able to get ahold of her on the phone, in person, the next day.  Again, she gave me decent advice and reassured me I wasn’t dying.

My blood sugar level went down, praise God, although it is still not going down as far as it was.  At least it’s on a decent level now, and I know that I can adjust the level of my insulin injections if I have to do that.

The endocrinologist finally called me, but it wasn’t because of my glucose problem.  She wanted to tell me that she would be leaving the office soon and setting up private practice in an office too far away from me to be convenient.  I say good riddance.  I was going to fire her, anyway.  Now it will happen naturally.

I sang the Ash Wednesday Mass at my church and got the ashes on my forehead like a good Catholic.

I also sang two back-to-back funerals this morning at 9:00 and 10:00 AM.  I was in reasonably good voice and sang well, praise God.  I got a $6 tip for the first funeral.  The lady gave me and the organist $12, which we split evenly.

Later, when I tried to call my friend Joan, I couldn’t get through to her.  I ended up helping her out by getting in touch with Optimum on her behalf and getting them to fix her problem from their office.  Of course, trying to get a live person to speak to was a Herculean task, but I did it, and it worked.  They restored her phone connection.

This is turning out to be longer than I thought it would be.  That’s fine.