24

So far, in the last 24 hours my friend Sharon has been suffering through numerous tests to find out why her extremities tingle and burn and her hands are icy cold. She hurts, has no energy and looks like she's in her 70's. Sharon is in her 70's but always has looked 60 something because she takes very good care of herself. Next, I fought off a nice migraine at about 3AM, no doubt caused by too many beers, cheese products and a few chocolate cookies in the ice cream for desert. So there i was, choking down Midrin caps, trying to remember what time it was, not wake up Margaret until I was dead sure it was a migraine... because BIG migraines lay me out on the floor, usually near the toilet so I can puke from time to time. Let's see, what next after the migraine? Oh yeah, because the meds make me very sleepy we woke up late and I had to drive Margaret to work in Albany, 50 miles south. Then I had to walk Wrigley because he was so good in the car for an hour long commute. That was fun except it was wet and cold. Then I slept, upon getting home, that is. I slept until 2PM, woke up, remembered Sharon, then thought about what I might do to help. Nothing, actually. I decided to see if I could bake a nice rhubarb pie for her. So the first thing is to clean up the counter of last nights dishes and dog/cat food cans. We save the pull top tabs for kidney patients. Somebody donates 57 cents per pound. Margaret like the idea but freaks out when I pull off the tabs because the metal is sharp and you have to wiggle it back and forth to snap it. "Nonsense, I say, I'm careful with sharp objects!" Unless I am drowsy from the meds and lack of sleep. Then I drag a sharp edge of tin over my thumb and slice deeply into the knuckle. Yeah. Okay, I did not bleed into the dough or the fruit and we have lots of bandaids because I'm always saying things like "I'm careful..." when the world, nay the universe, knows I am clumsy as hell, that's why I never play video games. Drip, drip, drip... leaving a trail of blood everywhere I go, trying to tear the damn bandaid open. Why should you need a combination of three hands to get to a bandaid for your dangling thumb? It's a good product, waterproof and seals the edges together nicely. I finished the pie crust in my usual incompetent manner. Grandma Shirley was great with pies, Dad was great with pies, I USED to be great with pies. Why can't I make a simple lattice top pie anymore? Dang. The good news is my back meds help with finger pain.

Let's see now, steel pin in my left index finger, slice across the right thumb knuckle, arthritis in my fingers and toes and neck and back... migraines... I think that's about it. Yeah, I'm doing great, one body part at a time. If I burn that pie I will begin to think that I'm really losing it, not just misplaced it. sigh.

I have no idea what to fix for dinner. Everything needs knives and other sharp things, as well as fire and hot metal. I wonder if I could boil whole potatoes? Sure, let's try boiling water! The really bad part about all this is yet to come, when Margaret notices the bandaid or the bloody kleenexes and unwashed dishes. Now she gets to say "I told you to be careful!" and it's not fair. She ALWAYS tells me to be careful and I always hurt myself. It's sort of the way I work. Oh yeah the cuts are getting deeper lately but that's just because I'm not careful. Dang, maybe she's right. But how the hell do you make a pie without cutting yourself? I bet Grandma's hands had lots of scars. I do know they were soft, unlike mine.

I think the bleeding has stopped. The timer's gone off. The pie is done. Looks good, except the lattice work is very chaotic, more like a black widow's web, still, it ain't store bought. I think I'll go sharpen my axe and take on that big tree out back.