Uh-oh, a prayer

When a big life change is coming up for anyone in the family, Mom spends a good bit of time putting together these wonderful blessings for everyone else to take part in. The latest was for my niece/goddaughter who was going away to college.

My part is to giggle uncomfortably.

I find the words so comforting at the same time I find them so hollow. Hence my discomfort.

One example: Blessed are you who weep and mourn, for you day you shall laugh.

How comforting to know that my pain isn't for naught. But I don't care about laughing when I am dead, and I don't see God interceding on earth to cheer me up.

And I know I am lucky and have many blessings. What about people who really need God's help?

I was busy

Its not like I have just been sitting around watching The Defenders on Netflix instead of blogging. Well, not just that. it's not like nothing has been happening either. A modest sampling:

• I almost killed my nephew twice today. First, I was rushing in because I had to go to the bathroom. I was going a bit fast -- I didn't really how fast (I was in P4) -- and banged the door open accidentally. Right before he opened it for me. Then later, I kicked a box I use for exercising off my bed. We were there alone, and he takes his job to keep an eye on me seriously. He came tearing into my room on hearing the box fall, worried I was hurt.
• I kneed Mom in the chin while she was helping me.
• I spent an afternoon in the ER after banging my head and having dizzy flashes. A minor concussion?
• I bloodied up the work restroom after falling on a rather sensitive part of the male anatomy. Nothing like asking the building manager to clean up blood.
• I visited Fame's puppy raisers (just so wont think it was a all bad).

Fame's return

Today was Fame's first day back at work. She had been acting fine but had a stomach bug. Other than everyone asking where's your dog, these were the things I missed when she was away:

I showed up at my desk, and the wrist rest for my keyboard tray was on the floor. I can pick it up; it is much easier for her to pick it up and hand it to me.

She didn't pick up the other stuff I dropped either. I left it on the floor.

She wasn't there to push the button to open the bathroom door. She also wasn't around to raise my foot plate. I cannot emphasize enough how big deal that is.

She didn't get me outside at lunch. I just worked.

She didn't carry my lunchbag when I left work

Most important: She didn't keep me company.

But today, the two-year anniversary of Claren's death (and the day Fame left for college), she did all those things.

A bit of a letdown

I spent Thursday at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (or in the car more truthfully) for my annual neurology physical.  On Friday, I felt like crying.

It wasn't their fault. If anyone is at fault, it's me.

I didn't expect them to say: "Matt, we have this guaranteed cure we have just been waiting house. Are you ready to walk?"

That would have been awesome, for sure -- so would a pony.

It hit me when I was glancing at the followup instructions. They were mostly generic. Last year, I had these big plans to get a new chair, a lift, PT. The year before that was hearing aids, which I did last year, too.

The neurologist did tell me my heart isn't bad, so that was nice to hear. I'll survive, I imagine.

At least it wasn't the heart

I had an incident yesterday. I felt lightheaded and my fingertips were tingly. I didn't google those symptoms, so if they indicate imminent death, just don't tell me.

We called my cardiologist (the on-call one) who seemed unconcerned and was sure it wasn't heart-related. The latter might make him feel better, but I was imagining a conversation at my funeral: "He died of a totally treatable issue, but damned if the cardiologist wasn't right. The autopsy showed his heart was A-OK."

We decided I would have a cup of tea and see if it got better. (It did.) My sister also told me not to lie about my symptoms like I normally do because I don't want to be a bother.

I don't think I do that.

I do perhaps lie about how I feel, but it isn't because I don't want to be a bother. It is because I don't really believe they are legit. I think they are just in my mind, which they usually are.

The only real protein I had all day was from my PB&J at lunch, so I am attributing my incident to a protein deficiency, and I had a hard-boiled egg for breakfast.

I would have gotten away with it, too, is it weren't for those meddling kids

Funerals are always sad no matter who has died, but except for Gram's funeral 10-plus years ago, I don't cry at funerals ... until yesterday.

I blame my elder sister's kids. It was there grandfather who died, and seeing them wrecked me.

They are all old enough to know loss but young enough that they shouldn't have to deal with it.

I particularly blame my goddaughter who sang beautifully at the funeral. At Gram's funeral, she spent most of the Mass on the floor with Claren, my service dog at the time.

Fame spent this funeral alone, which is probably just as well. She doesn't handle sad people well. She hardly looked at me.

The afterparty was better. People laughing and hugging and talking, but the funeral was sad.