Home alone

Dear friends and family,

Today was very quiet: I canceled the one appointment I had (with the PT) because, though my thumb hurts, I didn't feel up to going and being treated for about an hour. That feeling of lassitude left me eventually, so I was able to do some work on various projects. Laury came over to read aloud from the First Folio the remaining scenes of Measure for Measure while I checked her words with Kittredge's version on my screen. We decide whether to go with the folio or Kittredge, mostly the latter because this is, after all, the Focus Publications New Kittredge Edition we are editing. Still, Kittredge settled his text in the '30s, and much has happened in ideas about editing since then. Now that our text is settled, we can write the notes, secure that we are glossing a word actually in the version of the text as we edited it. Laury is so good: she will pop over for an hour or so, happy that we can accomplish anything in that short time.

I also took the time to write something light for my writing group meeting on Wednesday. I love looking forward to happy events like seeing my companions-in-writing. Kathryn has invited spouses for lunch, which will make things easy for Merwin and me, since he had decided he would drive me into Manhattan rather than let me go by train and subway and foot.

My weight continues to drop. I weigh over 10 lbs less than I did at age 13, a rather chunky age, I admit, but now I am at the lowest I have ever been. I am trying hard to eat as much as I can. My appetite is good. Every day I look at my "baby," my expansive spleen, wondering if the loss comes from its shrinkage, but, though I can pretend, it doesn't seem any smaller to Merwin. I know that weight loss is part of the "end game," but can that be when I feel so cheerful and well? Especially after the prednisone kicks in. "The readiness is all."

I am delighted that I can breathe all right. On Saturday son Harvey had Amazon.com send me oxygen meter, which arrived today. It's battery run and very small. I stick my finger in the clothes-pin-like opening, and it tells me the number. It was 96 today, which is very good. I don't intend to compulsively keep on checking my oxygen saturation, but if I am breathless, I will want to know if it's below 93.

No cooking or shopping today for food: we have plenty of leftovers from the last several days with company. The spinach pie is good reheated or not. There is still enough for one meal for me for tomorrow, but Merwin will want a change.

More tomorrow,
Love to all,
Bernice