The Next Day

Well, it's still raining -- Il pleut, encore! -- but other than that, things have improved.

I spent an hour with the dentist yesterday, as he poked and patched. At the end, he said, cheerily, well, that'll probably hold, but if not, you may want to think about having a crown put on it; it's pretty big! Which I knew; probing the newly rounded out space with my tongue, it felt as if I could stash a couple of chairs and a barcalounger in there. Still, it got done, and it's okay for the moment, so I'm happy.

And I didn't have weird dreams last night. Unusual ones, yes -- I woke thinking about my mother, and how she dressed to go to a cardiologist's office one day and spent the next two weeks in a hospital before dying there. I do think that she was in a fragile state, and their attempts to improve her failing functions made the overall balance worse, tossing her into a seesaw of this is better, but now that's worse. I admit that the phrase they killed her did come to mind, at the time, but now I think probably not. She might have lived another couple of years, but who knows? Overall, it went well but ended badly. My wife tells me that roughly one out of three people going into a hospital die.

I didn't do the bike yesterday -- I did an amazing amount of sleeping, though; probably twelve hours, overall -- and yet my weight dropped another half pound, and my blood sugar was startlingly low. I told my wife that perhaps I shouldn't do the bike today, either, but she seems to feel that yesterday was just a freebie dropped off by Zeus, and I ought not to count on it again today. Probably right.

Got to make a grocery run today, and got to got to got to study French.