Posted on December 13th, 2009 by Scraps.
Categories: Recovery, Stuff.

I have a sore left (good) leg. That's because I left the apartment alone yesterday good and mad -- both of us were mad -- and walked, walked, walked. Do you know the distance between lower Park Slope and the Verrazano Narrows bridge? I walked it there and back. There was fine; back was grim, and getting grimmer as I approached home. Velma met me about a quarter mile away, and I stumbled and staggered across the finish line. When I was healthy, I walked often, and far. So I took a grim satisfaction that I could do it, even though I took about six hours.

Today Velma and I are better. She's off to sing, wearing our derby hat. I'm preparing dinner. I'm making chicken hearts, slow cooked, with Indian jalfrezi sauce, red onions, green pea and lentil sprouts, and a mixture of wild and white rice. The only thing was hard was getting the jar of sauce open; that took five minutes.

My language is better: I mean it's better even in twenty-four hours. Maybe Dr Benjamin (my neurologist) is right about Keppra. Well, good. I still feel it, like a blanket around my head, numbing; but the words are forming, and the keyboard is not attacking me anymore.

Time composed: twenty-five minutes.



Comment on December 13th, 2009.

That is very good news, both the walking and the language.

Kip W

Comment on December 16th, 2009.

When I'm not sure of the weather, I make my walks less linear and more like a series of circuits around the same block, so I can head for home if it looks like it'll turn bad.

Obviously, if you're walking in order to be some particular place, this doesn't apply.

I'm damn glad to be reading your words again.

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