What is a month? A blip of time that passes all too quickly. And what do I have to show for any given blip? So this month, I share random moments and thoughts, transcribed as they happened.

My body collapses into itself. Fatigue overwhelms me. I climb into the 130-degree infrared sauna blanket for relief. I feel older than my nearly 65 years. This is fibromyalgia. My pain is relentless. A traumatic neck injury plus arthritis have left my spine and nerve endings raw. My lumbar spine is attacking now. Aging is not for the weak. I’m not good at talking about it, sharing my reality. Fortunately, most days are not this bad. I don’t want pity, so I smile and move on.

I just paid my first Medicare premium, with coverage to begin in May. We updated our wills and Health Directives. It forces me to look realistically at the future. My work with hospice has given me peace with the act of dying but not with leaving my life, my children and their lives. I most fear the dementia that robbed my mom of her final 10 years, living but not knowing. Plus, what if I am the one left alone?

My hospice philanthropy group’s big annual event happened. My body felt good, energized, able to keep going. The program was good, the audience seemed happy, and I enjoyed it all. Even the clean up afterwards. I believe so strongly in this mission and this group of incredible women. I can’t wait to learn how many new members we gained, and how much we earned in donations. By the time I got home, I was happily exhausted.

I lunch with my friends, who are in their 70’s and 80’s, some of whom have been widowed. Health issues threaten all of us. I steep myself in their wisdom; I am not prepared to lose them. Oh, I’ve lost other friends: Lee, Mary, Steve, Stephanie, Ann. I guess it’s just harder when I think about what will come, even knowing that we don’t know who or when, self-included.

My country has become a place of hate. It makes me sick, and it hits home. My beloved friend is of Mexican descent but came here in her teens. She is well-educated, accomplished, probably the smartest person I know. She has elderly relatives in Mexico, who need help with their final plans. She needs to go to them, but does she dare? Will she be allowed back? Why is this something she should even have to be concerned about?

I was on a Zoom call, when my stepmom called. I sent it to voicemail, with a quick text to let her know I’d call back. Her message said there was a mass shooting at FSU. My son’s Tallahassee office is not far from the Capitol and university campus. Mom-brain kicked in, and I texted him. I told my friends on the Zoom, and one signed off to check on her daughters. Too much, too often. A couple days later, I asked my son if the city had calmed down. He said the strangest thing was how normal everything seemed the next day. How can that be? Nothing about this is normal or should be. Not for students. Not for parents. Not for anyone.

Earth Day. In a county that no longer recycles. SMH.

Today, my computer seemingly died. Flooded with excruciating thoughts of transitioning to a new device, even with good back-up programs, I went to a repair shop. Jerry is a magician. A couple of questions, and he diagnosed a simple problem, showed me how to fix it if it happens again, and explained how to avoid it. What a nice man and pleasant interaction, when I expected so much worse. Little things.

Why do I feel melancholy today? Left behind in some way. A little bit lost. The writer Susan Cain calls it “bittersweet,” and I embrace the term. I even have a bittersweet playlist for days like this.

An energizing experience, tinged with both sadness and anger. It may just warrant a blog of its own.