Wow, I am tired.

I feel too tired to sleep, but I really need to. I canceled plans with a friend tonight because I could barely drag myself through six hours of work. I was trying for eight, but six was pushing it, at least today. They have asked me to put in as many hours as I have energy for until the end of the month--which is great--but, of course, my body has other ideas. My first eight-hour shift since surgery was yesterday, and on the way home I spent about an hour at Wal-Mart because my grandma wants/needs new pajamas and I only had forty bucks to get them for her. Thankfully, I managed to get her two pairs for that amount. She is really picky, so it was a project contemplating what colors she might like or hate and what she would feel comfortable in; she likes things just so, preferably in sets. I also bought her a nice soft pair of Dearfoam slippers at Costco last week--in pink--so she can stop obsessing about the plain old beige ones she has now and how ugly she thinks they are. I only hope some of what I bought her fits and that she won't hate ALL of it. One pair of the pajamas has Betty Boop on them; she loves Betty Boop. I am going to go take them up to her tomorrow. Being in the facility she is, her laundry sometimes doesn't make it back to her immediately, even though I carefully printed her name in Sharpie in all of it myself. If/when she is going to be in there permanently, I am going to buy her some of those personalized clothing labels. I'll sit there and sew them in by hand if I have to. (The way I sew, my fingers will look like the craters of the moon from all the needle pricks.) The care center has a couple of private meeting rooms, and one includes a closet where clothes end up when the staff can't figure out which resident they belong to. The last time I visited, we located her favorite sweater in there; from our recent phone conversations, it sounds like we'll have to peruse that closet again tomorrow. She is so confused about everything; her short-term memory is only a few seconds long, and sometimes the mood swings cycle as fast as the memory goes in and out.

I think I am six weeks out from surgery now, just barely. My weight hasn't changed in a week now. I can tell by the way things fit that I am still losing body fat, but it's extremely discouraging to plateau this quickly. I'm struggling to focus on the positive. My body-fat scale hasn't arrived yet, and people tell me I shouldn't weigh myself every day, just once a week or every two weeks. One friend went so far as to suggest I should only let the doctor weigh me. On the other hand, people ask me constantly how much I have lost, and frankly, I really want to know myself. I don't know if it's a recovering-bulimic thing or just a human thing: I want to see some tangible results. I'm barely eating anything, I'm diligent about all the supplements, and I'm writing out checks for our portion of the medical bills, so that number on the scale continuing to creep down would be a bit of a soothing balm. I'm also frustrated because I can't work out--that would certainly help keep things moving. I hope I can make up for lost time after my ankle is healed.

Today was almost a migraine, but I think I headed it off with a Maxalt and an hour in the dark in front of the air conditioning.

Mr. Salted and I are going to try for a getaway next weekend. He has worked so hard and been so supportive through all of this, and we could both use a little break before the next surgery and recovery period. That's why grandma duty is this weekend--so that next weekend will be free. We talked about going up in a hot-air balloon, which we both have always wanted to do, but came to the conclusion that a short getaway would be preferable. If at all possible, a beach will be involved.