Freepik
As “lovable as I am,” I have to admit that I am a trial to my son.
We are in Thailand now, as happy as possible with Harvey having had a stroke and being almost totally uncommunicative now in the nursing home.
I am happy living in the first place I have ever lived by myself, arranging it to my tastes, delighting in having the shades up when my husband would have insisted they always stay closed – with blackout curtains, as well. My puzzle table is out in the middle of the living room, my art alcove is ready to use, my computer is ready to me to use, my sofa and blanket are ready to me to snuggle down and doze awhile.
The latest problem Brian had to deal with is when he texted me from work, yesterday, asking if I wanted him to order a coffee for me. When I said, “That would be wonderful,” he soon texted me again that it was downstairs on the community delivery table with the order number. I went down and got it, brought it back up and pronounced it delicious, and tried to text him so. I couldn’t get my message to send! I looked at it, didn’t see anything wrong, but I got an error message when I tried to send it. He sent another message asking if everything was okay. I tried to answer, but no dice. I then tried to send him an email, but I couldn’t get THAT to work, either. I finally used another chat program, so he knew not to leave work, but he couldn’t figure out why I was getting an error message. Finally, he suggested I delete the message and try again. It worked. I had inadvertently typed a character at the beginning of the message that meant something to the chat program that made it not work. UGH.
I prove to him so many days that I am technically challenged. And, added to that, is the fact that my muscles mysteriously started cramping and spasming for no reason we can discern. I am now taking a pain pill morning and afternoon, drinking a glass of electrolytes and taking 3 magnesium pills daily, and this morning, he spent a lot of time finding a source of hospital grade distilled water to mix with a potassium concentrate he got for me. He gave me that in the states when I had restless leg, and it worked, so he read a deficiency of potassium could cause muscle problems and finally found a source and had it delivered. He just left from bringing it to me, mixing up the concentrate, mixing me a dose of the supplement, and watching me drink it. Now he wants me to text him at work that I’m all right in another 10 minutes or so.
I am definitely a trial to this sweet young man. I’m so lucky he puts up with me.
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