Funny, if I had cancer everyone would tell me how strong and brave I am. I would be told I was a fighter. The way the ringing and sound sensitivity has come at me, it makes me appear weak and and flaky. My brain was messed up for so long because of the Klonopin, which I know for sure only now, having regained thoughts that seem rather normal - for me - anyway. "you look healthy and muster good humor, so what's your silly problem, Mr. Cordel?" People try to tell me how I feel, guessing that they understand my situation - then it is time for me to shut up. I know they are trying to be kind but trying to explain my condition is a losing proposition.
I feel so alone. Carolyn is probably the only one with a sense of my problems, only because she asks. Here at the ranch, no one asks how I am. I am fatigued and plagued by a daily worsening, literally. I feel quite depressed today because I know that I have to hold out through January 4, when we get home from Malia's visit. It seems like such a long time. Judy will want me to accompany her everywhere, she being unable to do alone, usually.
My whole head is a mass of ringing, everywhere. It brings a veil of darkness, a cliche, over everything.
How about a cloud of alluvial dust as though in a thirties' dust storm, penetrating every crack and cranny in my uncaulked brain. It is quite overwhelming at times. It is so constant and worse than a month ago. I cannot imagine what another 3 weeks, with all the noise in the world, will do to me. I shall soon find out, eh.
I wanted to be alert and fun when with Malia. Perhaps I will once again numb up and be presentable, providing the two ladies with thoughts such as, "He must not be too bad if he can do all of this stuff."
And so it goes. I assume I will be a gigantic mess when January rolls around. That will be the way it is.
Love and kisses to Leonardo for his fine, very one-sided, painting.
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