Phone calls

It's amazing to me that we only received one phone call while we were away. Of course, that was from some collection agency wanting their "fair share" of the over $1,000,000 in past and present bills we owe to various medicos. Actually, we don't owe that much, it only seems that way. But Alan's bills, if we had to pay them, and if we didn't have some insurance -- I have to say that our insurance is good, but still there is that gap that leaves us gasping for breath after each visit to either the doctor or the hospital -- would add up to more than that over the past almost 10 years. Cancer is an expensive disease, and if the Lord is gracious and you don't succumb to it, the after-care costs are enormous.

Anyway, I started out with phone calls. Well, today is Sunday, and as usual, Debbie called and we chatted for about a half hour about our after Christmas get togethers and New Year's events. I'm glad she sort of had a respite from work this past week. She certainly sounded more chipper than she has recently. I know how tired she gets. I remember how awfully tired I would be when I came home from work, only to have to be full-time wife, mother, housekeeper, nurse, maid, etc. after that. It seems I never got the rest I wanted unless we were on vacation, and even then, most vacations I had I worked.

Computers are wonderful, but when the laptop became something that was standard office equipment, and the Internet and e-mail was SOE as well, the true vacation went out the window. I remember even the few years before all the techo stuff was part of our everyday lives, when I worked as a paralegal, I would take a week off, leave home with a ton of books to research for upcoming briefs that needed to be prepared, always being no further from the office than a phone call. How stupid was that?

Oh, for the days (which I can NOW enjoy) when I could just rest and not do anything if I was of a mind to. Maybe that's why I had a stroke when I was 58 and that was the end of my full-time commitment to any company or firm. Oh, I worked off and on for a few years after that, but mostly, off.

My husband still thinks I do too much. I feel like I don't do enough. Who am I trying to kid? I don't do enough, no matter what Alan thinks. I do as much as I can with this frail/feeble/pain-wracked body, but the mind thinks I can do more, and I always plan on more things to do than I'm able to follow through with. That's frustrating.

Just today -- all I wanted to do was get some items from the van because the pantry was bare and I knew there were a few remnants left in the van from our trip. Not happening. I went down, painfully walked across the garage floor, opened the hatch on the van and the box I needed was backed against the rear seat, out of reach of my hands and the grabby thing we keep in the car wasn't moving that box for any love or money. And there was no way I was going to be able to crawl up into the back of the van to get that box. So what was I going to do for lunch and dinner? Well, lunch was for Alan only. I had three slices of american cheese left in the refrigerator and I made him TWO grilled cheese sandwiches. He knew not to complain!

I had a lemon, cut in 1/8s. That was enough. My daily dose of vitamin C. I got a couple of crab cakes out of the freezer, heated them in the oven, and they tasted awful. Figuring they might make me sick, I threw the remaining pieces away. So now, I'm waiting for my hasty spaghetti sauce to finish simmering and then I'll plate up some spaghetti for dinner.

Shopping day isn't until Tuesday. I'm going to have to feed Alan eggs until then.

mtf