Weary

My calendar is full. Acupuncture, neurologist, massage therapist, nutritionist, rheumatologist, and everyday life. 

A lunch, a training, a meeting, a haircut. 

What didn't get done yesterday, must get done today.

Or tomorrow.

My calendar is full.

My cabinet is packed. Prescriptions, supplements, herbals, and topicals. They overflow the shelf and the organizer. I play Tetris until they fit. My clumsy hands drop them. It used to just be two. Their numbers are many now.

So many tiny,

So many large.

Compressed pills, capsules that stick in my throat requiring a pint of water to wash down. 

Not a fix; not a cure. 

Reminders of what I've lost; what I am now. 

My cabinet is packed.

My list is long of what I need to do, when it needs doing, and where I need to go.

 An appointment, prescription, groceries. Maybe it's a gift for someone else.

Can I do this efficiently? What's the best path? Mapping it means doing it quickly.

Done with it. 

Oh fuck I am tired. 

Put it off to another day. Prioritize. Isolate the vital. Tick them off until I can rest.

My list is long.

My mind is forgetful. An accumulation of supposed to's.

Couldn't do it all yesterday. One got discarded. An important one. 

Write it down. Reminder notice in my phone.

What was I going to write down?  

It'll come back to me. If it's important enough. That's what they say. 

Why can't I remember?

My mind is forgetful.

My body needs food. What's in the fridge? Salsa, cheese, carrots. 

Man I just want a doughnut. Sugar and wheat and bad fats. 

Carbs. 

Nitrites.

FODMAPS.  

Grab something and go sit down. 

Something easy. 

Easy to prepare. Easy to clean up. 

But I feel nauseous. Ginger tea then. Let my stomach settle. 

My body needs food.

I schedule, organize, rank, evaluate, manage.

And I am so weary.

Weary of it all.