EMOTIONS RUNNING HIGH

WENDY has arrived from Vermont with her labradoodle named Solo, pronounced SooLoo, which connoisseurs of Norwegian soft drinks will recognize as a famous brand orange soda. I have put her (Wendy, not Solo) to work immediately on The Blue Books, trimming captions and passing them to me like a trained surgical nurse when I command, with outstretched hand, "A Young Kate Smith Does the Charleston" or "Grandson Alex plays the drums at the Albert Hall 1998" and so on. We were both excited to discover that one of the recipient's of a Blue Book is none other than a relative named Ruth Fisher--enabling us to get rid of at least one of Peg's photocopies of "A Fisher" (the mink-like critter), legitimately. 
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HOSPITAL NEWS:

Mama is being released from the hospital tomorrow at 1 PM to go by ambulance to Laurel Lake "Kindred" Nursing Home in Lee. The idea is she's there for 1- 3 weeks getting rehab. She is weak and needs to be able to walk as well as she did before the heart attack and bleeding business. I have arranged for Bonnie to go into the hospital tomorrow at noon to pack up Peg's room and all the so-far-thirteen floral tributes and make sure all her things travel with her and don't get pitched, like a lot of stuff did just coming down the hall twenty yards from the ICU. (Whose lipstick did they think it was? Whose eyedrops, that said Margaret Lynch on them? Whose chapstick, mentholatum, and basket of chocolates?? Gone.) I am feeling even so slightly guilty sending Bonnie to do this instead of going myself but will try and talk myself out of it. There's so much I need to do here. However. This morning I got the neat idea of putting surgical gloves on the bottoms of all the loose flowers Peg received in vases, dropping in some crushed ice from the machine, tying a thumb to a pinky, and transporting them that way over to Lee. I'd love to try it. It appeals to the old prop girl in me. I'd also love to think I drove all the way in there in order to provide reassurance and daughterly comfort. Anyway am sending Bonnie--with strict instructions on how to deal with the flowers. Will wait by the phone anxiously.
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STAFF ON CALL:

OUTSIDE BOB, who scanned scripts, inside.
DOMINICK, who helped me get Odd into his, Dominick's, Subaru Forester and take Odd in to visit Peg. I have to pack a bag now for when Odd goes anywhere, with clean clothes, Depends, Atavan (like Xanax) and Pro-Air inhaler (and surgical gloves).
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A feeling of doom has come over me today that I can't shake. One of those days where if anyone said oh by the way, in exactly seven point thirty seven minutes could you please cry copiously for me--you'd say sure thing! I got a good unbroken night's sleep thanks to Zopiclone and am not unduly worried about my possible brain tumour any longer and things seem more than stable with Peg indeed on the up and up, am progressing on Blue Books, website, eBay--oh! the woman who wanted to send the brooch back because I'd weighed it on a normal scale and not a jeweler's one? Changed her mind. Keeping it after all. So good news there too, in fact pretty decent news all round including the fact that the needlenose-peabrain collie has so far not chosen to pee on the laundry room floor today. But if Wendy hadn't been here I wouldn't have made it through the cod and new potatoes dinner. Actually I wouldn't have even made the cod and new potatoes dinner, I would have had popcorn.

Odd appeared in the kitchen mid dinner prep, in tears, and without his walker. Sobbing, unable to control himself. "Where is Peggy?" he asked. And we went through the whole story for about the fifth time today. THAT'S WHAT'S SO EXHAUSTING.
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11:30 PM. Meltdown. I can't get a grip.