Archives for category: health

After a pretty poor night’s sleep, I got up early, my usual time. My Traveling Partner woke me, to ask if I would mind going ahead and getting up and starting my day, so he could sleep. I hadn’t slept well, but he hadn’t slept at all. I mumble “sure” and sit up.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I was dressed and gone in 15 minutes.

I was groggy and still a bit stupid as I left the house. I wasn’t sure what I’d do; not yet fit to resume my early morning walks, although mostly over being sick. I stop at the gas station and fill my tank, yawning. I drive to the local trail I favor, and park where the street lights won’t shine in my eyes and nap in the car awhile. I could have taken a seat indoors, at the Big Chain Coffee location nearest me, but I wasn’t up to dealing with people. Not yet. Too early.

My night was fragmented. My sleep was poor quality. The two hours I napped in the car were more restful than most of my sleep that preceded them in the past 24 hours. I wake to the first hints of daybreak. I’m feeling adequately rested, but still not fully recovered from being ill. I yawn and stretch, and give myself time to really wake up.

The food truck that shows up for the construction workers building the hotel on the other side of the parking lot is open for business. I stand in the queue, in the chill of the autumn darkness waiting my turn. A breakfast taco and a cup of coffee, $8.50. The coffee is not quite “bad”, but definitely also not good. It’s strong and it’s hot, though, and it warms my hands through the paper cup. I return to the warmth of the car.

… I’m betting I don’t have a full day of work in me, and mentally juggle the elements of my day with an eye for an early out.

I sigh to myself. Meditate. Write a bit. It’s not a fancy routine, but it works for me. I dislike being sick, it nearly always breaks my routines. Did I remember my computer? Yep, there it is. Computer glasses? Got ’em, no problem. Tissues? Power brick? Yep. I’m ready. I chuckle realizing I did forget to bring along a bite for lunch. I shrug to myself, thinking “it’s always something”.

A new day, a new beginning.

Daybreak comes, a hint of blue at the edge of the eastern horizon. The background noise fills with construction sounds. Machinery. Trucks. Shouted exchanges of information and instructions. I twist in my seat and stretch, as I yawn. The clock ticks on. I hope my beloved is getting the rest he needs.

I reflect for a few moments more, not on any one detail, more on the general ebb and flow of emotions, the changing season, the tick of the clock. I let my mind wander a bit.

I decide to head over to the library, to start catching up on what I missed yesterday. I can even get some work done, using the WiFi there, from their parking lot. And anyway, it’s time to begin again.

… For most values of “fine”. I’m also sick. Not so sick I’m shut down completely, but sick enough that I am exhausted by the smallest effort: getting dressed, walking across the house, filling a glass with water from the tap.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The fatigue I can manage. I could do without the headache, though.

… One brief, practical, errand has me up, then it’s probably back to bed, and definitely off my feet. So tired. At my Traveling Partner’s concerned urging, I took today off to rest properly. After this errand, I will. (Rest, I mean.) He’s right, I’ve been pushing myself too hard and justifying it by pointing out that I’m “not that sick”. Stupid. It’s been preventing me getting over it completely. So, I concede, having acknowledged that I am sick and do need to slow down and care for myself.  I’m grateful for the way he looks out for me.

… Keep your vaccinations up to date, People, lives are at stake, and one of them is yours.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ve just got to to this one thing, then home and back to bed. G’damn I’m a fucking idiot. 😆 I should have stayed home in bed.

… Move along, please, nothing to see here… 😆 I can begin again on Thursday.

Oof. I slept restlessly, and woke often. I wasn’t sure why until I finally got up from the bed, around my usual wake up time, shaking all over, and feeling… “off”. It was a familiar uncomfortable sensation that woke me; I made haste to the bathroom.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m still trembling, a little. My nausea has been (hopefully) handled – Pepto Bismol for the win on that one. After a dreadful experience at McCarran International Airport (now Harry Reid Int’l Airport), I always have some tucked in my bag where I can get at it. One more reminder of human frailty, and even of our mortality; being ill in a hotel first thing in the morning (or during the night, which I guess this is, as it is still quite dark outside). I fight the vertigo the way I fight the nausea and the diarrhea; I don’t “fight it”. There is literally no point in trying to “fight” such things. Recognize them, acknowledge them, and deal with them as they happen. What other way is there? Oh sure, OTC remedies, that just makes sense, but it’s not the sort of thing to wish away, argue with, or defy.

I sign to myself, resigned to the annoying limitations of this “meat suit”. In spite of the trembling and the cold sweat, which suggest I’m not yet done with this (where the hell did it come from??), I make coffee. It’s not great coffee, this morning I don’t even care at all. I’m just getting through this.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Coffee? Really? Maybe go back to bed…? It’s not yet even day break, and I don’t think I’ve even slept more than an hour at a time. Why? No idea, and I’m not going to get spun up over that. It is more likely than not that my restless night was due to precisely what woke me – feeling ill. It just took awhile. I sip my coffee, grateful for the cheap-ass little single serve drip coffee machine. This one is quite clean and works well. The coffee is as good as the quality of the original beans, and having been ground sometime in the 70s (maybe not, but they are stale). It’ll do. I may yet lay down again, and maybe sleep. I decide to try my luck a bit, and cross the room to take my morning medication. I daringly leave behind the small trash can I’ve been carrying “just in case” since I woke. The room feels much larger this morning than it did yesterday. lol

Another breath, another moment. So far so good. I mean, for most values of “good” and all values of “so far”. It could be a lot worse. I look out the patio door. How is it still so very dark? I look at the time on my phone more carefully. Oh. It’s two hours earlier than I thought it was, and definitely still “night”. I laugh quietly to myself, and just go with it.

It’s been a worthwhile bit of time away to reflect and to paint. I sit quietly for a few minutes, not doing much, mind mostly empty. I’m looking forward to being home. I’m looking forward to beginning again, only… not just yet. I decide to lay down awhile. Maybe I’ll sleep? I open the curtains and the patio door (enough to let some fresh air in). I’ll wake when I wake, and then I’ll begin again.

I woke with a certain feeling clinging to me as I pulled myself free of my dreams to face a new day.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I noticed the pain in my hands as I woke. Then the neuralgia in my face. I snarled silently at Thursday morning, thinking to myself “so it’s going to be like that, is it?”, as I dressed.

As I left the house, I stared at the starry sky with wonder. It still fills me with awe and delight. I recognize Orion overhead and smile; that was the first constellation I learned to recognize. The starry night sky inspires me.

I walk the familiar trail thinking about art, starry night skies, new moments, and inspiration. Nice morning for it. It’s dark but not cold. We haven’t yet had our first frost. That’s not strange here, only an observation. I pause on the trail at a spot with a particularly good view of the night sky, a little vexed by the pointlessly bright lights of the nearby construction site. I star gaze for a few minutes, rubbing my aching hands and enjoying the view before walking on.

I spent some time in the studio after work yesterday. I’m grateful that I could, and that I have dedicated space for creative work. That is an incredible luxury and I am fortunate.

“The Drain”, soft pastels, 2026

At my halfway point, I indulge myself with a long look at a picture of the piece I painted yesterday. It evokes something for me that I can’t quite name. I’m not entirely clear whether the art flows from the emotion…or creates it. At least, that is the case with this one. I felt pulled into the studio yesterday, as if drawn towards a painting not yet conceived, and walked out with a sense of something certain and final. Completed work, yes, and also as if I’d said something I didn’t have words for.

… What is that emotion called..?

I sigh and stuff my phone back into my pocket. I let my eyes readjust to the darkness. I rub my hands – more specifically my thumbs, where the newest arthritis has turned up. It seems likely that over time, perhaps quite slowly, it will become progressively more difficult to paint, as it becomes more difficult to hold pastels or brushes comfortably. I sit with the awareness awhile, not picking at it, not trying to wish it away or argue with it, simply aware, observing the sensation of pain and feeling the poignant hint of sorrow and maybe future disappointment.  No reason to drag all that into this moment from a future that hasn’t yet occurred. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let the moment pass.

I meditate under the stars. The morning here is peaceful. For the moment, that is enough.

I catch myself squirming and twisting slowly, trying to find physical comfort. Yes, the arthritis is sometimes an absolute motherfucker to deal with, but…it could be worse. So much worse. I stretch and adjust my seated position and my posture. I silently acknowledge to myself that it’s the best I can do for the moment, and take my morning medication. That will help, too.

I write a bit, and watch the sky slowly begin to lighten. I love seeing the various gradual changes as night becomes day. Another sigh. I get to my feet. May as well begin again.

Here it is Monday, again. I’ll admit, my enthusiasm is seriously limited by the pain I’m in. It is what it is, I guess.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I re-read the article my Traveling Partner shared with me, yesterday and think about it as I walk. It’s a cold morning, but not freezing. Today I remembered to dress warmly. I walk down the trail in the darkness, thinking my thoughts.

The article my beloved shared with me includes some excellent tips for clear communication, practices that (when practiced) really work:

    Active Listening: Practice active listening by putting your own opinions aside and genuinely trying to understand the other person’s perspective. Reflecting back on their thoughts and feelings can help establish a sense of empathy and build rapport.

    Empathy and Validation: Recognize and validate the emotions and concerns expressed by the other person. Acknowledging their experiences, even if you disagree with their viewpoints, can create a more receptive atmosphere for any discussion.

    Calm and Respectful Tone: Maintaining a calm and respectful tone and avoiding personal attacks or derogatory language can make a huge difference. By keeping emotions in check, you can foster a more constructive dialogue and prevent further escalation.

    Find Common Ground: Look for shared values, objectives, or aspirations that might serve as a foundation for getting to a common ground. Highlighting areas of agreement can help bridge the gap between differing perspectives.

    Ask Open-Ended Questions: Encourage deeper reflection and exploration by asking about things that invite the other person to speak out their thoughts. This approach can promote self-reflection and potentially lead to a more nuanced understanding.

Good tips. Profoundly good, and like chess,  the basics are so basic one might miss how difficult it might be to master. It is necessary to do the verbs. Worth the work that goes into it. Barring some clinical condition that might get in the way, this is a fantastic starting point for close connected communication and conflict resolution. I walk thinking about change.

This morning my head aches. My arthritis is giving me grief, too, in that very specific way that I associate with cold mornings. It seems worst in my thumbs, and my neck, places where it is a more recent development. I walk briskly this morning in spite of pain. It’s too chilly to stroll.

I get to my halfway point fairly quickly and stop, write a few words, reflect on the challenges of the weekend (and the moments of joy), and meditate under the stars. What peculiar mortal lives these are, and so brief…

Untitled pastel, 2026

I think I’d like to spend more time in my studio this week. I have a lot on my mind, and some of it I just don’t have words for. I sigh to myself, rubbing my hands together briskly in the cold. It’s time to begin again.