As I walked down the hall, past the lobby, I overheard two seniors talking about me. I think because I live here, they assume I'm as deaf as several seniors who really are who live here.
Hen #: Boy, she's sure different lately, isn't she?
Hen #2: Yes, she's sure lost alot of weight, wonder how she does it?
Hen #1: No, I meant she's much friendlier now. Was a time when she wouldn't say a word to anyone.
Hen #2: Oh yes, and did you get a taste of her bread pudding at the Memorial Day dinner? She never used to join us for our little holiday meals.
Hen #1: And her Pumpkin dish was to die for, did you get a taste of that?
Hen #2: I heard her laughing the other day too. Sure took her a long time to warm up to us old ladies, didn't it?
Yesterday, someone asked if they could borrow my garden tools. I said sure. She said that she'd been afraid to ask me cause everyone said I kept to myself, and it was best not to bother me.
And today at Curves, the co-owner, who's been gone since Christmas, was there. She said that the other co-owner called her every day and reported the happenings. She said she heard that I was "friendly" now.
Sheesh. I have a reputation.
Pain is an isidious monster, taking away one's basic goodness. Evidently.
"Neuropathic pain can be a distinctive agony. Patients often describe the pain that results from nerve damage as excruciating, burning, pins and needles, shooting and stabbing. The pain can intensify at night and prevent patients from doing things they enjoy during the day."
Lyrica = miracle drug.
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Jacob Poems
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