Yesterday I went on my first post-surgical expedition, my psychiatrist in Harrison. Instead of the mile walk to the Metro North station I went via subway and bus. That’s actually faster but the timing doesn’t work out so I have to leave earlier. So I left earlier. The subway went without a hitch, the bus double-crossed me. First it was late and then thanks to construction the two-minute trip to the next stop took twelve, slower than walking would have. When I got to the station people were coming up the stairs; my train had just pulled out. So I waited a half an hour for the next train. That gets me to Harrison 10 minutes before my appointment. If I take a cab that’s more than enough time but there was but one cab available and I was the second person dropped off. I was late. I called to let them know.
My psychiatrist gave me bad news, she’s leaving. I hardly ever saw her; something came up with one of our schedules or the other that most of my appointments had been canceled. I’m seeing her one more time before she leaves. The session was odd as my physical health has been taking all my attention distracting me from my mental health. I haven’t had time to be anxious or depressed, or at least to observe myself being anxious or depressed. I have therapy today. We have a better relationship and can talk about that all session if need be.
The timing of my session was terrible. I had a 45 minute-wait for the next bus. Then that bus just misses a train so I have to wait half an hour for that. I decided to walk the 1.6 miles. It was a beautiful day, if I took it at a slow steady pace I felt I could do it. I’m a good judge of my own capabilities. I was right, it was the perfect exercise at the edge of my ability, I could do it but with effort. That’s when you gain the most.
When I got back to Fordham I decided to skip the bus and walk to the subway. I didn’t want to walk another mile. I rewarded myself with a milkshake from Checkers on the way. I wish there was a real ice cream place I could have stopped at.
I got to the subway and had to wait 25 minutes for the train. Once again walking would have been faster. There was some sort of signal problem. The ride is only two stops and there was still trouble. At Kingsbridge Road the conductor couldn’t close the door. He kept closing and opening them while pleading with people to not block the doors. That killed another five minutes. When he managed to finally get them closed he did it with anger. I never heard subway doors close as hard.
When I got off at my stop I decided to walk up the platform to see if I could find the troublemakers. There weren’t any. He was going through the same routine of closing the doors as last station but I didn’t see anyone blocking the door. He said, “at the front of the train” so I should have seen them. It must be a mechanical problem that made it look like someone was holding the door.
When I got home I watched TV and in a little while crashed. I’m not sure how long I slept but it was a deep sleep. I had gone my exact limit. The toughest part is that I have not slept through the night since I went into the hospital. My sleep rhythm has been shot to hell. I’m not sure if the problem is that I have to keep running to the bathroom or I wake up because one of my incisions bothers me and once I’m up I have to go to the bathroom. Then instead of immediately falling asleep I lay in bed trying to get comfortable. I know it will straighten itself out but it’s frustrating.
Today I’m back to Harrison for therapy. My original plan was then to take two buses across Westchester to see Joe Crookston in Hastings. Based on today I’m pretty sure I’d just want to sleep by the time I got there so I’m forgoing it. I love Joe as much as anyone but I’ve seen him at least twice this year. I think three times.
I did make real dinner last night, a grilled chicken sandwich. I made it perfectly, spiced just right and timed right. That and a baked potato kept me happy. Now to stay happy and make breakfast.
Wise Madness 