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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Little sicky

You kids are all such smarty pantalones: of course the fish belonged to the German.

Like the lawyer manqué that I am, I drew a chart. It definitely helped.

Today the joints feel… not so good. By not so good, I mean not as good as they felt the day after I took my first dose of Methotrexate, but still better than they felt over a week ago when the only drug I was ingesting was Naprosyn. This is all going to take time, and I’m just going to have to do some mental yoga to cope with my impatience. Everything still hurts, and mornings are still tough, but I am moving with a little more fluidity.

Some people think I am meant to wake up in the morning and feel achy and old. People over 30 routinely rise and need aspirin before they can even think about coffee. This is normal? With all due respect to the brittle 30+ year people, and with proper credit due to Jean Hagen for her brilliant interpretation of Lina Lamont in Singin’ in the Rain, "People"? I ain't "people."

My father is still in the hospital, and it’s amazing to me that even though he is there for CANCER, he is worried about my ARTHRITIS. I told him that what I’ve got is not nearly as creepy as what he’s got, but he doesn’t care. He said, “I’m your father and I’m going to worry whether I’m healthy or in a hospital room.” He is awesome: making jokes, feeling good, totally calm about everything. My aunt thinks he’s doing well because she’s lit like a hundred novenas and has prayed to JPII (whom my Jesuit-educated father disliked)—whatever floats your boat, I guess. What’s really helping is his happy outlook and all of the visitors. He couldn’t stop talking about how my nephew came to visit from high school at lunchtime. Very sweet.

My hands are cramping up. Time to go.

5:04 p.m. - 2005-05-02



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