Did I say the fibro fog had lifted? I take it back. I thought it had until I got to work and tried to actually think and do things right. It was so frustrating I was nearly in tears. Kathy's so nice to me - she told me that even with fibro fog, I was better than everybody else she'd had in the last 10 years. True or not, it made me feel better.
This must be a little tiny taste of what early dementia feels like - when you can still realize that your brain can't do what it used to do. Like Flowers for Algernon. We talked about that book, and how horrible it would be. I felt that way today. The fog comes and goes, but fibromyalgia destroys the gray matter in your brain. The CT scans are scary.
Enough whining - sorry about that. I miss having you to encourage me, love me unconditionally, and let me lean on you occasionally. I'm seem to be feeling especially alone and vulnerable tonight. But I have the cat and the big brave protector dog to look after me. When they're not having fun tormenting each other, that is. Jethro kept taking Hunter's head in his mouth tonight. Then he stopped and started to walk away, and the cat took one paw and whacked the dog right on his rear. Play resumed, Jethro dragged Hunter around, and the cat just lay there and purred.
Aside from the animal acrobatics, it's a beautiful evening. It's in the 60s, low humidity, strong breeze out of the north. It would be a wonderful night to snuggle up in bed with you, pull up the summer blanket and feel the cool air blowing in the window, listen to the crickets, hear the horses going down Lake Street. It would be heavenly to put my head on your shoulder and feel your arms around me. I know we were meant for each other - my head and your shoulder were a perfect fit. And so were our souls.
And they still are. My head can't touch your shoulder now, I can't hold hands with you. But you still hold my heart, and our souls are each one-half of a whole. Love you forever and ever,