What a week!

It's been one of those weeks when I should better have stayed in bed on Monday morning. As I struggled down the driveway that morning, loaded down with a book bag, purse, gate opener, keys, etc., my cell phone rang. Frantic rush to put everything down and answer it. The doctor's office: the place on my arm they biopsied would have to come off. So I made an appointment for the next morning, but the disquiet of it stayed with me on Monday. Tuesday I was a tad apprehensive--I knew it was caught early, a slow-growing cancer, but still when someone's about to carve into your arm, you can't help but feel a bit of trepidation. All went well, and I had no pain even when the anaesthetic wore off. Today it's more tender, but I have been using my arm instead of guarding it as I did yesterday.
Then this morning I had to have my annual echocardiogram--not a big deal, certainly far from painful, but disquieting, especially when the tech turns the volume on and you hear your heart beating. You can't help but lie there and think, "Is that regular? What's that swoosh sound?" It's the same feeling those of us who are airplane-naive feel when a plane makes a strange noise. But I survived that, too, and go back Monday for the results. Once again disquieting. I hope all is well, but there's always a chance you'll get bad news.
Then this afternoon the retirement home where my cousin lives in Toronto called. Bottom line is that her dementia is getting much worse, and they can no longer safely handle her. A nursing home is the next step, but the process is long. Since I hold power of attorney over her affairs, they're faxing me a bunch of paper work to begin the process. It seems, among other things, she talks loudly--to herself a lot but sometimes abusively to other residents. And she flairs in temper. I have not seen Jenny since we were teenagers, but I am the only relative left, except for our aunt who is 96 and declares herself unable to think about Jenny's problems. So I am left with words my dad said to me probably almost 50 years ago: "If anything happens to us, you will take care of Jenny won't you?" All these years later, those words echo in my brain, and I do my best long-distance.
Tonight my friend Betty and I went to a tiny restaurant that it seems is more fashionable than we thought--clearly the place to be seen, and we almost didn't get in because we had no reservations. But we enjoyed a great meal of Caesar salad and rigatoni Bolognese, and I've decided this is an evening to pamper myself--no work. Surely the rest of the week will be better.