It was lovely to see Tammy, however briefly. I met up with her in the appointed place and time. The shifter in the Echo seemed to be acting up, so no surprise when the check engine light came on and stayed on the instant I started to drive home. My response was to drive home along Kingsway and never exceed 45 kph (ducked out around Metrotown on the way back, twas a monkey howl of a nightmare around there) which angered the never ending supply of black Mercedes SUVs that seemed bent on sliding up my tailpipe the entire way. Sorry fellas, lassies.
Tammy asked me are you sure you’re not depressed? and I …. of course I’m depressed, I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is being so physically weak that I can’t walk a kilometre, being winded after climbing stairs, and experiencing crushing fatigue from standing for five minutes. That’s not depression. That sounds like long COVID to me. How I would get a diagnosis I have no idea. I’ll talk to Katie, she had a friend diagnosed, and of course make an appointment with my doc.
Today I’m thinking about moral hazard. There was a post on reddit about someone who works with the homeless in a large Canadian city, and they’re so burned out, underpaid, and subjected to having clients die, over and over again, that the person reports severe mental health issues and nothing available from work to assist.
I cried into Buster’s fur this morning. He knows I sometimes give fairly tight hugs just to feel something alive, and he tucks his claws away so he doesn’t hurt my lap. I miss Jim and can’t think of Jan and Nita and Carly (and Glenn, hi Glenn) without being hurt again by their loss, ever so much more than mine. I was standing in the kitchen and I thought “Captain Blackberry is gone” and waaaah I’m missing Tom. I think of John every time I walk through what used to be his bedroom (It’s the pinball room and Jeff’s workbench now). I should call Peggy. I don’t have the strength. These days I have to marshal myself just to do the absolute bare minimum of anything, and the slightest setback turns me into a wreck. I’m managing, but I want to skip this part. Jeff of course has been the soul of kindness.
Music and writing are impossible. I think about them, but can’t settle to work. I’m scared to call people in case I start making my mood – frangible, changeable, subject to betterment, but not necessarily – a friend’s problem.
I was supposed to go with Paul for a walk today. I may take a cab over there so we can do that… now that his car’s not supposed to be driven. Jeff and I are going to have to figure out what to do if someone didn’t show up in the middle of the night to tow it, as Paul mentioned might happen. I told Katie about it.