Lola needs her nails cut. Two weeks ago i could still do it. but now my hands can’t manage the crappy nail cutter i bought for her tiny nails. they are difficult even for good hands as they are tightly curved and black, so you can’t see the quick.  you just have to guess. Lola still trusts me. Even in this state. But I can’t do it. And G will have to take her to the vet to get it done. another thing i can’t do for her any  longer.

N and M are coming to visit tomorrow. And C and J are coming today after my my Skype supervision at 2 and our Skype date with A and ME at 4. it sounds like a lot. it is in a way. The visits and kind companions checking in. If I was active, like normal, I could fill in the missing spaces. The ones that assert into the world and constitute your livelihood, your side interests, your jobs at hand that you do on your own.

I wanted to consolidate my phd pro formas into a booklet. M asked me if I  would do this, as she seems to be curating my last presence in the world. I am bemused that she wants to do this. And grateful. Though I don’t know if she sees it this way. So i started it before term began. A task that once would have absorbed me into my strongest comfort zone. And one I would have finished in a timely manner. But I haven’t finished. My hands are so painful, I can’t manage it. I used to think through my hands.It made me happy. There is volume upon volume to attest to it.

i don’t understand what this is. this relentless undoing. its not even the cancer. something unimaginably worse. i never imagined it. I lived until March 2016 in a particular way. Then it started going wrong. Decrepitude, destruction, demise. Its worse than all of these.

This started as a post about companionship. But I am alone in this. Even though I’m not.

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