Mitochondria at Work

Spring and the 1% sliver of Seoah’s Citizenship Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Diane. Mary. Mark. Snow. Maybe 4 inches. Wet. Heavy. A bit colder. Good sleeping. Blood work. Kristen. Kep. The warmth in the night. Touch. Kate, always Kate. Shirley Waste. The mini-splits. Two more light fixtures in the house. Waiting on the chandelier then I’ll call Peter Praski. Energy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Blood work, the forensic diamond

 

Yeah. Gotta go get blood work done today. Was gonna go yesterday but I had a burrito. Uh, oh. Fasting. Sigh. So, today, after the Snow. Well, I chose this. May go to see Jon’s work at DAVA after the blood work. See what the roads are like.

Not anxious, at least not much. The blood work has become routine. Kind of. It’s no longer cured or not? No longer an issue. It’s now, do I need to change treatment protocols? Regular and lifelong. Every three months. Surveillance.

 

Kep’s namesake

Kep laid down on the bed, the doggy bed. I always feel a weird satisfaction when he chooses something I got for him. Often the lies on the floor or the carpet. The doggy bed though is close to the spot where I write. Which reminds me, I need to get him some new toys.

Gave him his cytopoint injection on Monday evening. He had started to scratch and bite a bit. I had it on my calendar for Tuesday, but I moved it up a day. Works fast. No hot spots after his grooming either. That’s a big yeah.

Trying to figure out how to increase activities for him. He needs a buddy. Kate and I knew that dogs, as pack animals, benefited from a companion. We took that to extremes at certain points with two whippets and five wolfhounds, but we never had fewer than four dogs until Vega died in 2016.

Kep’s dog on dog aggression kept us from replacing Vega and Gertie. After Rigel’s death, it’s preventing me from finding him a companion. Gotta figure this out. For him. An odd conundrum.

 

One line. I admire Will Smith for slapping Chris Rock.

 

Getting into the real. Energy now enough to matter. Driving doesn’t fatigue me. I took the trash out, through four inches of snow. No huffing and puffing. Both garbage and recycling. This is a different world than the one I’ve inhabited for I don’t know how long. Felt like I was getting old. Frail. What a difference a pill makes.

Looking back I think the radiation, then lupron, the Orgovyx (last September) and the Erleada, (early February), combined to suppress my energy. But. The hypothyroidism snuck up in there, too. Maybe caused by the Erleada, maybe not. The jump in my energy after starting the levothryoxine makes me think my thyroid’s been in decline over a longer period of time than either the Orgovyx or the Erleada alone can explain. May have been the Erleada that pushed it past the threshold.

Will ask Eigner on Monday what he thinks.

 

Made mustard and herb breaded chicken legs last night. Veggies. Potatoes. Solved the late afternoon ennui. Course I had no mustard and had to improvise. Not well in this instance. Not awful. Coulda been better. But. The act of cooking, even in a kitchen midway to its best iteration, absorbed me. Felt good.

Trying to move a little faster on reorganizing. Hard. Where I should put the cooking oils? How about the scale and the thermometers? Kate’s collection of very specific kitchen gadgets go to Ruth. This kind of work does not come easily to me. And, that wears me out. This time not physical fatigue, but mental. I’ll get there, but it’s slow. Never did this before with so much stuff.

 

Joe spent a week plus in the Philippines, came home, and has to return in a week and a half. Then, he and Seoah will come here, as will Diane. Lots of celebrating.

Reservations at the Sushi Den for Ruth’s sweet 16th. April 5th though. Closed on the 4th, her birthday. Supposed to be the best sushi place in the Denver metro. We’ll see. She might bring Cord, the boy she’s dating. A lacrosse player whom she says is sweet. I hope he comes along. I love family birthday dinners.

This entry was posted in Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain. Bookmark the permalink.

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