I'm sorry, Jack London

When I was in grade school, I did "Great Books." One of the stories we read was "To Build a Fire" by Jack London. Everyone made fun of it because of the repetition in it. London's narrator says "It was cold" or "it was very cold" or "it certainly waas cold." I was not very original in grade school, so I made fun of poor Jack, too.

But I have repeated his words to myself almost every cold day and night for the last three years. I got my service dog three years ago, so I can no longer just pull up my afghan when it gets cold. I have to go out.

I doubt London's narrator had FA, which makes the cold almost unbearable. My circulation is poor in my hands and feet. My hands get numb but warm up fast compared with my feet. Sometimes, I feel as though I have been given cement shoes but instead of cement they fill the shoes with ice water. This chill goes up to mid-calf.

I wear long johns, wool socks, several shirts, a ski mask, big gloves, a wool scarf and a hat. I also put a fleece blanket over my legs, and lately I have been wearing a big rain poncho, not to keep out the rain but to block some wind.

None of this works. I still am frozen, maybe because it was cold. In fact, it was very cold.