It is time for me to go to the pharmacy and get my prescription filled. But first I must find the prescriptions. The organised person would have a place for everything, and everything in its place. But at this stage of my life, things are falling through the cracks, and the cracks sometimes seem to be widening into crevices. Today, and indeed yesterday, this seemed to be the case.
A month ago, the last time I got the prescriptions filled, I had to hunt for them and indeed went and asked the pharmacist whether I had left them there. I had not, and another hunt enabled me to find them.
Not so this weekend.
So I spent the day going through all the shelves in the eating area, and re-organising it totally, and chucking out some stuff while I was at it. But there were no prescriptions to be found. This means I have to go to the doctor for new prescriptions.
How can things just disappear? It must be wonderful to be a completely organised and tidy person.
Now I wonder whether, having re-organised and tidied it all, whether I will ever be able to find anything at all. Will it stay tidy?
I had intended to do some or all of the following things:
- Go to the crochet clinic and sew up my almost completed jumper. This would have been soothing and productive.
- Take myself to see a film. Escapism is good therapy.
- Go and buy a new printer, to replace the one that went bung in some sort of power failure, that, naturally enough, the power company has no record of, and without such a record the contents insurance probably will not cover the replacement. This would have given a sense of achievement.
Since my return from Melbourne, apart from the usual activities, I have been hard at work on my legal issues and the required documentation. After a session with the lawyer, it is as ready as it will ever be, and so will be at the court next week. It seems that this matter will continue well into next year, and although my resolve is fairly strong, the stress is difficult to cope with.
Dealing with such issues, and having had to go over every detail that I have recorded or can remember, has not been easy. Nor will it get less so. The combinations of bereavement, grief, aloneness, anger, resentment, and the constant summoning of resolve, wear me out, and cast me into profound sorrow and gloom. And, it must be admitted, self pity. That must be fought. Not all is dark and drear, and there are indeed many positives. Life may be re-made and re-fashioned according to our own choices. The past need not dictate the future.
It is six months since Dr P died, which feels like a landmark. While marking off the time in my head, I think constantly about our life together - the good parts, and the bad - so that I can accept the totality.
I feel relatively all right while I am out doing things and seeing people, and keeping busy, but not so good with the solitude, which only increases the feeling of needing to retreat from the world and hide myself away. I do what must and should be done, and am getting on with things.
All this is recharging of my batteries. How did we cope before the development of the concept of recharging?
On the positive side, I went to an excellent choral concert last night. Not all my time is spent maundering.