The new sofa arrived today. It is very nice looking, though the seat feels too hard for me. So will have to find jury rigged solutions to ease pressure pain. I have had many occasions where I’ve said I have never felt worse than I do now. Because this is progressive, it is true each time. And I have never felt this dreadful before. I didn’t even know it was possible to have so much wrong at one time and to be in permanent pain and decrepitude.
I am awaiting and unwanted call from cardiology to set up a procedure to drain the effusion around my heart. I am dreading this. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have so much more wrong with me at the same time. I don’t know how I will get through it.
I’m trying to think of something in the world to talk about. But my collapse has taken over and I am too sick to talk about anything else. Trying to find things to escape into on video. But the escapist films are all predicated on a previous reality — democracy, opportunity, kindness, fun, women having agency, life being beautiful. The interstices of these conditions where a problem can be mainly just personal (though not always) and solved in the end with the better future. Happy endings. Romantic comedies. Formulaic and easy to swallow. I look for these. But from this vantage point, they belong to a shattered world. And there is no escaping that.