More ups and Dows

Sat. evening in Glen Head:

Everything went as planned on Thurs: we had a lovely dinner at Curry Dream on 39th between 5th and 6th: I chose a sweet (not too sweet) 9-vegetable curry, shared an order of nan with Merwin, and skipped dessert but had a mango drink instead. Then we went around another corner to the theater at 38th between 5th and 6th, which did indeed accept our TDF vouchers, giving us admission for $9 each, which we had paid in advance. We marveled at the proximity of everything. We keep finding more and more right around this neighborhood of ours.

The play itself, Holy Days, by Sally Nemeth, was beautifully staged and acted by four superb players in a minuscule theater that reminded me of the Shakespeare work of Janet Farrow and Doug Overtoom, whose casts sometimes exceeded the size of the audience. This theater space is used by many companies. We shall certainly try to follow the work of this particular company, Retro Productions, led by Heather E. Cunningham, who also played the older wife in this 1930's dust bowl drama. A little after 9 p.m. we arrived back at our apartment.

The next day, my plans went awry a bit. I could not get myself out of bed to go to the library. I had to conserve energy for a lunch date with a friend, which turned out to be painful because of her difficult situation, and then in the evening, I had the pleasure of introducing the speaker, a good friend, and the respondant at our Columbia Shakespeare Seminar. Our dear Dawn also came to the seminar that evening. I am energized by being with friends, but it was sometimes difficult to keep up the "show." And in the car going back to Glen Head (taken by Laury, dear friend), I simply collapsed.

This morning was no better. Fatigue, fatigue.

Some signs. though, are good. No fevers for many days; no sweats for a few nights. So two of the symptoms of the "end game" as I call it have gone away for the time being. The spleen may or may not be smaller. If it's smaller, it is not by much, because I can't see any difference.

I had a hard time doing what I do best to comfort myself: get to work. I have done a very little so far. Poking at the projects rather than getting down into them.

I did invent another pancake for lunch, a combination of salmon and spinach, which came out very well. It seems that I am always making pancakes. But they are easy and delicious.

Merwin goes to his book group tonight, and I will probably go to bed with The New Yorker, or a movie on TV, if I can find one. I look forward to more energy tomorrow morning. Mornings have almost always been a good time for me. It's disappointing to start the day like these last two days, but I will hope for better.

I go back to the doctor on Friday, and perhaps the blood tests will give us some information about how the T&P are working.

Thinking of all of you who are following my blog—and all who cannot stand reading such things, too—with gratitude and affection,

Love,
Bernice