Copyright © 1999, Janet I. Egan
So, like, last week Lechmere calls and says "we'll call you on the 8th to arrange delivery". Yesterday passed without a call from them. I called this morning. They seemed puzzled. After being put on hold for a long time. They said, "the soonest we can deliver your refrigerator is next Wednesday through Saturday" . In response to my queries about getting it earlier, she claims Saturday thru Tuesday are already booked. These are the same people who told me the supervisor had a note to make sure I got my fridge by today. Time to shop for another fridge someplace else.
I have a doctor appointment this afternoon for a physical to clear me for the Earthwatch expedition. This was the soonest I could get an appointment when I went over there in June with the form. Since I am theoretically leaving a week from today, it's a little late to detect any gross medical reason not to go. Not that I should be worried. Or should I? I'm not in very good shape for hard physical work. I take meds for high blood pressure and depression. This shouldn't be an issue, but every time I go to the doctor I have this dread that he'll discover some hitherto unknown problem that will diminish my life in some way.
I was in great shape when I was first diagnosed with high blood pressure. The doctor told me to stop lifting weights, and switch to calisthenics. That began a downward spiral of discouragement with exercise, which fed into my increasing total immersion in work. Lo, and behold, years later, I wake up in far worse shape than ever before. I walk 3 times a week if the heat and humidity permit. But that is not nearly enough.
One of the things I had hoped to do on sabbatical was get back in shape. For some reason, I can't. I fritter away my time writing, working at the cat shelter, guarding the piping plovers at the beach, reading, taking care of my brother's kids, doing endless chores and errands. A solitary exercise program of the 4 or 5 hours a day I'd need to really get in shape just doesn't fit in. It isn't just the time, though. The tiredness that has dogged me since late 1993 just won't let up. Despite antidepressants, despite not working, I feel too tired to do much beyond what I am already doing. The dog days of August is not a great time to start a grueling exercise program. The humidity and the heat exhaust me in minutes.
Besides, I'm panicked about trying to get ready for the Russia trip, frantic about not having a fridge with company coming, and my car has developed this weird problem where I can't get the transmission out of park unless I use the emergency shift lock release - which is damned hard to do. I'm trying to get ahold of the rental car company so I can leave my car at the Honda Barn on Monday. She put me on hold, then took my name and number and said she'd call back in 5 minutes. That was 20 minutes ago.
Is it me? The rental car place hasn't called back. The travel agent hasn't called back. Lechmere has no intention of ever delivering my fridge. What am I doing wrong?
I survived the physical. The doctor claims I'm in excellent health. My blood pressure was 140/78. No problems. I worried needlessly. Is there a DSM category for fear of doctors?
Amazingly after food and coffee my mood and energy level were restored to something resembling normal. This having to eat out all the time is a bitch. I think I'll get a cooler and buy some ice at the convenience store so I can at least have milk for cereal in the morning. Maybe Taylor Rental has refrigerators. Anyway, I felt like a new woman after coffee with Tom and a cinnamon bun followed by the combo plate at the Earthfood store after the doctor visit.
And now back to the endless errands and chores.
Copyright © 1999, Janet I. Egan