Needy for Needles, and Other Stories

No Symlin for me for the past couple of days because I keep forgetting to go down to Walgreens and get my syringe prescription refilled. Thankfully, the pharmacy I used in Delaware, Happy Harry's, is now owned by Walgreens, so I visited the pharmacy counter at the Walgreens down the street, they pushed some buttons on the computer, and now getting my prescriptions is really really easy.

As I type this, I yell to Matt that we should stop at Walgreens before heading into Philadelphia tonight...

I have more moving stories, but for now, life goes on. Tomorrow we're driving to Williamsport. Anybody know if you can transport a gas grill in a car? My mom has one to give us. The real reason we're driving north is because it's my uncle's birthday.

You may recall my uncle was diagnosed with AIDS, and my mom put him in a home in Williamsport, so he could be closer to family. Well, the good news is that his dementia is much better. He generally is completely aware of where he is, and he can now walk without a cane. He's back to being stubborn and sarcastic, but that's not saying he's completely normal.

They moved him to an assisted living/group home sort of place for AIDS patients, so I hope that he will be able to cook there and maybe socialize with some folks his own age. I sincerely hope he can find someone who knows what he's going through.

Mom also tells me my Nana, her mom, isn't doing very well. She's having more and more difficulty getting around, and apparently her short term memory is getting worse.

I just worry about the overall sadness that will inevitably hang over us all at the dinner table. When my mom talks about the problems at home, she makes it sound like she is asking me to help somehow, but I don't know how to help. I feel too far away, too powerless. My heart breaks, but my feet carry me. I worry too much as it is, and I feel that if I stop to worry about things too much, I will surround myself with darkness and won't be able to break free.

So I unpack boxes, I write blog entries. I hope for the best. I find a nice card for my uncle for his birthday, but do you know how awkward it is trying to find a birthday card for someone who may not see his next birthday? Suddenly every card that talks about "cherishing every moment of you life" sounds like a lecture instead of a happy greeting, every card that wishes you "many more happy birthdays" could just be construed as an insult, a pipe dream.

I'm excited to see everyone at home, but I'm also apprehensive about what I might find there. I've been making sure I haven't missed any doses of my anti-depressants this week, or I might not make it through at all.

I am looking forward to the good times, and hoping that I can steel myself against the bad.

I hope your weekend is sunnier than mine, readers. Take care of yourselves.