Life flows on within and without you

Sunday night after finishing my journal entry, I tried to go to sleep to no avail. So I came back to the living room and cuddled with my largest kittie. I noticed he had a gash near his neck that looked serious. But he's not exhibited any signs of distress, so I'll keep an eye on it and him.

My little cat family means a great deal to me. There have been times when I was convinced they were the only thing that mattered. Especially when I've been sick.

So for a few minutes I sat and held this wonderful creature and thought of his physical absence. And tears I gently shed across his upturned face.

Last night I again found myself on my decrepit sofa. And again I was overcome with a sense of grief.

Today at lunch, I sat at the sushi bar in the Japanese restaurant and listened to the clatter and chatter of the room. There were several minutes in which I felt totally disconnected. As though my body was there, but all the sensations were coming from elsewhere. And during that period, nothing meant anything.

This feeling of loss has been with me the last few days, and I'm not sure why. On a rationale level, I know that chemicals in my brain are in some state of flux that I don't understand.

As I've sat here pecking away, it struck me that at the beginning of the month, the doctor switched me to an anti-hypertension drug with a diuretic additive. My guess is that the diuretic is robbing my system of potassum. So I most definitely need to explore that possibility.

PAX!