Good morning. Celia (@celia16)

A brisk two-mile treadmill walk is an accomplishment, an accomplishment I’d be darn proud of! I’m still struggling to walk safely between my recliner and my Mr. Coffee.

Three cheers for trying not to talk all medical around the clock! It can be a real challenge. I know that not talking all-medical––or, in other words, not being preoccupied with either my PN or my sepsis makes me feel better all-around. I’m a bit of a kook when it comes to such stuff, like putting my medicine bottles out of sight until I need them. That’s maybe just me, but I feel better when I’m not surrounded by the trappings of illness. Crazy, I know.

I try to take extra special care of my friends. I’m lucky in that they’re a pretty understanding bunch. They’ve known for years that I’m basically a loner and don’t seem surprised or puzzled to find I’m not hot to trot for drop-in visits, at least not while I’m still rehabbing (from sepsis) and being seen almost daily by nurses and physical therapists. My friends––who are much the same themselves––seem to understand my need for as much quiet time (non-medical, basically: reading, writing, resting) as I can possibly squeeze out of any busy (one medical activity after another). For now, we try to compensate by having good, long phone conversations, a half hour or more. A

And these days, using the phone spares my friends from going out in this relentless heat.

I wish you the best in clinging to a multi-faceted identity. I’ve noticed too often how aging alone causes people to shed identities; illness and disease only accelerate the shedding.

Cheers!
Ray (@ray666)