A Marriage of Land and Sea is four plus chapters away from being finished. You’d think that this [and the deadline I’ve given myself] would give me the ooomph to push on through and finish, but I’m finding that the opposite is true. The deadline I’m a bit ambivalent about, for reasons, and my 1k words a day goal has fallen to “well, at least write something.” Chapter 9 is nearly done, and I’ve already jumped ahead to chapter 10, but my writing pace has slowed down because I’ve taken to writing by hand in my story journal, because I want to be in the bedroom with the boyos when they’re in there, and writing by hand allows for more flexibility as far as how I get to position my body. Will I finish the book by May 31st? Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll be done, and it’ll be done before the end of June, and I find that I don’t care so much to push on through at the cost of everything else. Meh. Whatever.
For those who do not know yet, our cat Grim is dying. He hails from an ill-fated line that should not have been bred: his elder sister was dead at 6 with respiratory issues; one of his two littermate siblings died months ago from cancer; his da only keeps food down and fur on his body thanks to medication; his mum has digestive and breathing problems, and half the kitten they had were stillborn or dead shortly there after. That four survived kitten hood at all was amazing. He’ll be ten in June, if he sees June. His cancer is inoperable and chemotherapy is not an option. He’s on prednisolone (and has already adapted to taking the pill like a champ. Not as good about it as his da is, but no cat is like Zerk when it comes to taking his meds; that’s an impossible standard that I won’t hold Grim to) which has made his appetite come back. We’re counting weeks on one hand with him. Today is a good day. That is enough for us, because it’s all we’ve got. I’m pleased that I’m still writing — once upon a time this would have me shutting down completely — but I’m not interested in pushing myself to the point of being blind to the needs of those around me. Neech has already become super-clingy and we spend time snuggling. It’ll only get worse.
Also, pain sucks. On the one hand, I feel like this has become my whole life lately, but on the other hand I don’t think I’ve talked about it a lot. Nerves are stupid, and nerve pain takes over lives, I swear. Two weeks ago I started doing some pretty mild core exercises to see if that might help, and it seems to have done so. The week before this past week I had actual moments of pain relief while walking without being on heavy pain medication. Brief, brief moments, but they were there and they were awesome. The pain has improved, in that most of the time what I’m experiencing is burning, tingling, throbbing pain and less of the ‘something is gnawing through my leg’ pain. More than that, I know it’s improving because the quality of un-medicated sleep is improving. I am able to return to sleep after waking up after only a few hours, and that had not been true since November. I suspect that the six mile walk last weekend was too much, and while it never made things obviously worse, my pain has been worse this week, and that’s one thing I did differently. I hobbled a quarter of a mile this morning, trying out a theory that if I got up and walked right away (after the initial stretching) that maybe it would loosen up, since the least amount of pain I am on any given day is when I get home from work. I’m not sure if the theory was wrong, or if it’s one of those the more I do it the better it’ll get sort of things. I do know that it took me fifteen minutes to walk that quarter of a mile, and I cried for ten of those minutes. (There was the reward of getting to see and belly-rub Leo, so it’s still a win, far as I’m concerned).
Physical therapist might maybe still need to be seen, even if I don’t want to. Feh.