Meeting Polly

Today we met my aunt Polly at the Ikea. It's a ways from my house, so we knew we'd have a long ride. In fact, we rode an hour to get there. Ron brought his MP3 player, and we got permission to plug it into the Metrolift cab's speakers. We listened to loud classic rock, the driver singing along, as we went down the road. I sure have some interesting memories!

We pulled up about the same time she did. We went in, I got Ron a wheelchair, and we had breakfast. Then we went shopping. I got a lovely new bathrobe, a twin sized bedspead ($7) I plan to use as a slipcover for my loveseat (Bubba can be pukey, and loves to sleep there, so I want a "catcher" that isn't too precious), and a nifty egg slicer. I have been telling myself for a while, the next time I found a good egg slicer at a decent price, I was buying it. This one even minces the egg, even better. I attempted to buy a flat sheet but ended up with a fitted. Feeling kind of dumb on that, we'll need to go back.

My aunt had a good time looking around, picked up some dishtowels, and a few brochures on storage systems. That was it. She loves blue, and spent time looking at all the pretty blue things.

Like a small toddler, I am irresistably drawn to bright colors. My new bathrobe is a WAKE UP HEATHER shade of yellow that rivals a Yellow Cab.

I could tell Ron was having a bad nerve day. He was in pain, and trying not to show it. He had cut back on his Neurontin doses, a bad idea apparently. It's odd for me to realize my new reality involves asking Ron if it's OK to touch him, before doing so. If I don't ask, I have elicted sharp gasps of pain. I don't want to hurt him, ever. I was pretty angry about that for a while but eventually it becomes part of normal. Of course I always ask Ron before touching him. No, I never slide my arm around his waist or back. No, I never touch him on the back. Ron would rather be flogged than get a massage; it's about the same sensation.

I am glad, and have absolutely no regrets, over the INSANE amount of foot massages I gave Ron in the hospital all those years ago. His feet are extremely sensitive to touch now. I have many happy memories of holding one of his flat feet in my hand and listening to happy sounds of joy as I massaged away. I doubt I will ever be able to do that again.

As my Dad says, "You never know when the window will close on certain activities. You had better do it now while you can." Sadly, this comes from a nearly 70 year old man, in far better shape than my husband!

I was pretty miserably queasy all day, did my best not to show it. At the worst, I ate some peanuts. What is it with peanuts? The immediately quash the nausea.

I'm sure glad I figured that out, I forgot my ginger root today. That would have been a very harsh ride home!