Jackie (my 72 year old neighbor) lies on my elegant oriental rug on the ninth floor of my towering apartment building (hanging over the west side highway) and helps me tear up ancient tax returns.
Still, I tuck (some things) away in notebooks and boxes, as if (in the future) by studying these yellowed pay stubs, I'll have incite to who I am, and what has happened to me.
Earlier, I biked to a park near Charles Street.
I read spiritual books and a book about my NIKON camera (the menu display is so frustrating, I'd return it if I could).
I started the book on Medicare! Jackie lent me her's. I said to Jackie, "Look! There are only old people on the cover, I'm skipping decades of my life!" Jackie pointed out an attractive hispanic girl surrounded by all the senior citizens (her grandparents?) and said, "Charlie, look! She's young and attractive! Look how pretty she is!"
I'm pretty. (A shout out to Norman).
I also read "Eric is Winning" which offers a dicey plan for ending your ALS. I find the book so overstimulating, it induces such anxiety, I can only read a chapter a day and I have to read it outside of the apartment.
Sitting in that park, I think about plans of action.
Christian Science (of course) has major success with illness.
Maybe I need to follow the protocol, Eric suggests.
(I may need to combine the two, although Mary Baker Eddy advises against this).
This daily haul of eating plain, un-toxic food, (the preparing and cleaning!) the endless vitamins and added protein and fats. The mindful exercise where you never feel a sweat or your heart race. This is all becoming tiresome.
I thought about what that nutritionalist in Connecticut told me. He said, (when asked), these extreme measures are to thwart the illness, or slow it down. Once this has happened, you can relax.
(But what does this nutritionalist know?)
Tonight, I do laundry, scrub the bathroom and kitchen floors.
Jackie, lies on my rug and after tearing up my tax receipts, she helps me organize my possessions.
She puts things back where they belong. She pulls my laundry out of the dryer.
To repay her kindness, I write emails for her. She dictates and I tap, tap, tap away.
Most of her emails are to the library and her daughter.
Later we play "name that tune" using the Pandora website on my laptop.
We both enjoy this.
Here are some of Jackie's favorite singers. (I can't remember the ones I didn't recognize).
Joe Williams
Dinah Washington
Nancy Wilson
Betty Hutton
Tony Bennett
and
Barry Manilow.
Going to bed in clean sheets is a relief.
I've finished Christopher Isherwood's "A Single Man" - (the previews for Tom Ford's film version barely resemble what I imagined for the novel).