Time Out

With dialysis three times a week, I never have time to do all the things I need to do.  After Christmas I lost track of time.  First I made the sudden move from Garland to Dallas.  If you have moved, even from one zipcode to another, you know how complicated moving is – letting people know the new address, deciding what to discard (all those shoes I had not worn in ten years), ordering new furniture (finally gave away that Early American maple dresser with the broken drawer which we bought in l961), and finding new eye, chest, and foot doctors closer to the new place.

You probably had a similar experience, but this is what happened to me:.

My new apartment is in a really luxurious retirement home.  Part of the deal for coming to this luxurious retirement home was a promise to pay for movers who would do everything.  “All you have to do is watch them.”  Ashley, my “moving coordinator” and I drew up plans to indicate where all the furniture was to be placed.  The gal from the moving company made photos of my bookshelves, “so that we can place your books exactly as you have them here.”. 

David came to help me move.  Mostly he ran around looking for things I needed for the new apartment; i.e., a blue shower curtain for my guest bathroom.  He came back with an aqua shower curtain.  He failed to get the new box for my wireless internet and take the old one back to Time-Warner, so I guess I will continue to have that $5 “rental charge” on my bill forever and ever.  (My rich children do not understand that their Mom is Scotch and hates to spend a $1 unless it adds pleasure to my daily life.)

The movers came on a Tuesday and packed up everything.  They came back on Thursday.  I spent the day watching them load my stuff on the truck and carry it into the new apartment.  They did a good job putting the furniture exactly where I wanted it. As for unpacking the boxes, it was a disaster. 

By the end of the day I was exhausted.  I went to bed, only to wake up at 2 a.m. coughing and throwing up.  David, who had come to help me move, went into a panic.  But he had to leave on
Sunday. 

For the next two weeks I did not get out of my recliner, not even to sleep, except to go to dialysis.  My kidney doctor warned me that I missed dialysis for a week, “You will die.”  That is an incentive to continue.

After going to emergency rooms and doctors, I finally determined I was struck down by a wicked virus, which was making lots of other old people sick.  As I slowly recovered, I spent Tuesdays and Thursdays going for tests for the heart and esophagus for things doctors thought were wrong with me, which proved false. I have excellent cholesterol, am not diabetic.  Most people on dialysis are diabetic, have heart trouble, or have other health problems which is the cause of their kidney disease.  I am the healthiest 85-year-old in Dallas. 


As I felt better, I began to sort out all the things the movers messed up.  I rearranged my clothes in the closet. In the kitchen I climbed up on a stool to bring down from the upper shelves my juice glasses and soup bowls which I use every day.  The books were all on the right shelves – but all mixed up.  Two and a half months later, I still have not sorted them out.  I can’t find my big slotted spoon, a little dish of the B&O Railroad’s blue and white china, a plate (from a set of four), and one of my turquoise “bear claw” earrings.

Now I am fully recovered.  As I walked out the door to go to dialysis, Allen, my Friday driver, said, “Look at you!  You are walking out here like a teenager.”   (Two weeks ago, when Martha was here, she said I shuffled along like I was 90.)

So, now that I feel good, what am I doing this weekend?   Nothing!  I slept late this morning.  Finally climbed out of bed and discovered channel 5 was broadcasting the women’s final in the French Open tennis matches.  After that I went to lunch (delicious beef tostadas), went to a relaxing session of Thai Chi, came home and took a nap. 

Tomorrow?  The same thing.  The men’s final in Paris.  I hope the Spaniard wins.  Sixty-five years ago I took a couple of tennis lessons, tried hard but I could not hit the ball over the net.  Gave up for myself but admire the skill of the champions.

I hope you have a relaxing weekend, too.