An example...

A few weeks ago, I found a video on micro mesh travel nebulizer.  I wanted to know if nebulizing with sodium chloride was okay in it.  When I got it, the mesh nebulizers were new.  Now, there seems to be a lot on the market.

I was directed to look at my manual, which I cannot find.  Given how incredibly organized I am, I am surprised about that.  After all, I still have the manual for my first one that was nearing the size of a bread box and at least as heavy as a brick.  Maybe a bowling ball!  Traveling with it was ever so difficult.  The carrying case for my micro mess nebulizer is the size of a fancy hotdog bun!  It is so light that, if need be, I can hold it by gripping the breathing tube with my teeth.  For me, it is asthma BLISS.

I decided to look on YouTube to see what I can find and discovered a lovely introduction video to my unit.  In it, I learned that I was supposed to be regularly disinfecting and cleaning it.  Uhm ... I've never done that.  I vowed to do it post haste.

Yes, well, I just finished doing so.

Week after week I failed to get both the distilled water and distilled vinegar from the store.  After two weeks, I remembered the distilled water and it was, I think, two more weeks until I finally found where the distilled vinegar was and bought that.  Then, it was one final week ... or more ... of those two ugly, massive jugs sitting on the counter before I finally re-watched the video, mixed the two distilled products, and got the job done.

I forget.
I forget.
I forget.
I am exhausted.
I am exhausted.
I am exhausted.
I am exhausted.

Those two comprise the bulk of my life and, coupled with the cognitive dysfunction and issues with my frontal lobe functions, have been devastating to me.  I used to be ever so productive and the QUEEN of multi-tasking.

One thing.

I can only do one thing at a time.  I often rest during that one things.  And I might nap before and after.  That is, of course, if I haven't fainted or vomited or gotten dizzy or had low blood sugar or low blood pressure of coughing.

Coughing from an oft excruciatingly dry throat has taken over much of my days.  And nights.

During the day, when I am with others, I am shoving everything aside and trying to focus on that person and the conversation.  That is exhausting.  This is especially so because all I want to do is bewail whatever is my current misery and have the other person keep me company whist I sit in  sackcloth and ashes.

Only.

Only dragging myself to hospice has been the best thing that I have done since I moved here.  Probably since I returned home from serving as a missionary in Africa.  I spent my youth volunteering.  I do not know why I didn't pick it back up when I came home.  I mean, things were really difficult for me ... but why not a bit later?  Or any time in the past 30 years?

I am also working on starting a new in-reach program at church that I am hoping and dreaming and planing for it to be come even more than an outreach program.

Only, just like cleaning the nebulizer, though admittedly not quite as bad, I find myself plodding along in both building a solid foundation for my dream and getting it going at church.  Thus far, I have a simple website (though I'd like to add one more page), an instagram account, an email, a phone number, a draft of a business card, drafts of the bulletin insert, announcement blurb, and bookmarks to introduce it at church.  I also had a rather successful presentation to the board of elders, garnering my first volunteer.

I need to ...

AWK!

I was almost done ... FOUR HOURS AGO.  I got up for a drink to help with the coughing and forgot that I was writing a post.  SIGH.

It doesn't really matter what my outstanding tasks are for my new program.  What matters is what I started out saying.  The example I've given.  Gosh, it must have taken a month and a half to actually clean and disinfect my nebulizer!

Another example:  This week's laundry.  Day One first load washed.  Day Two, first load hung up and second load started.  Day Three, second load to the dryer.  Day Four, all the laundry in a basket, up the stairs, and onto the large sofa.  Day Five and Day Six, glancing at the laundry off and on.  Day Seven, hopefully, will be actually folding it.  Given how exhausted I am right now, Day Eight will be getting the laundry upstairs.  And, if all goes well, Day Nine will be putting the laundry away.  Since I usually, now, do a load every week, I am not sure when this week's laundry will be done.

Small steps.
Distractions.
Forgetting.
Exhaustion.
Frustration.

All blend together to make just about anything practically seem like a marathon.