Friday, April 10, 2020

They come not single spies . . . . 2020



Prithvi Mruthyunjaya--next stop on the murky vision front. They are using very dirty names for possible identification of the lump in the good eye. Driver sat in car 4 hours yesterday, in rain, forbidden entrance to the eye place. Driver remained cheerful, saintly. Meanwhile, we are delaying the results of the inflammatory hips MRI (we can't Skype) and the weird, lengthy, but apparently successful urology front (though we may have telephone communication today), and who even remembers the neuropathy exam? Probably I have forgotten something? The Trump Virus did not last long, and Tylenol kept the fever down. Like in 1937 when I had measles and was ashamed of saying to mother that I could not eat the scrambled eggs she made. Again, eggs suddenly repulsive, and sense of smell gone. That's when the eye started hurting, not so much as to demand and get attention. You can't take care of everything at once. So far since January, no broken tooth. A broken tooth right now just might be the straw that . . . . Mush, grits, oatmeal, very soft rice? No, take chances. Aunt Louise's peanut brittle from Sheldon? Sure.
I wrote out a January-to-present summary but I don't believe what I wrote.
I left out the packing of several dozen boxes of books for shipping to Massachusetts and (together with saintly collaborator) the taping of most of them and the mailing of most of them. A dozen are in the garage, un-taped, not mailed
They come not single spies but in battalions.
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