Brave talk

My last entry was about embarrassment. I bravely insinuated that I would go to the grocery, etc., and charge on, so to speak.

I didn't.

I tried.

I didn't.

Yesterday evening I desperately wanted something sweet to eat. I intended to go to the grocery as I needed other things as well. I intended to do a regular shopping, portable oxygen tank and all. I couldn't do it. I went to the drive-thru donut store, then to a drug store where I bought some "staples," - paper towels, soap, more snack food. About $35 worth of stuff.

Today I am out of dog food and my dog is hungry. There was enough for a morning meal, but there is none for her dinner. I have to go out. I have to go to the great big gigantic grocery store. And I have to go with my oxygen bag.

It's heavy.

I have to go.

The cannula and long extended double hose-pipe-like tubing showing on my face, down my chest, to the bag, slung over my shoulder, pulling down the top of my shirt because....

it's heavy.

I have to go and now it is storming. It's 4:45 p.m. I had set a goal to leave at 5:00 p.m. I put on makeup this morning. The oxygen seemed like too much ugly. If I go, it will be because I am indeed very brave or because I really love my dog or both.

It's getting closer to 5:00 p.m. Maybe I will go at 6:00 p.m. Who goes to the grocery at 6:00 p.m. on a Sunday night? Who will there be to see me? Why do I care? I don't know anyone who shops there. Strangers staring. Pity? Judgement? I feel shamed. I smoked cigarettes and look at me now. Parents whispering to their children, "Don't smoke. Do you want to wind up like her?" My heart is pounding.

It's 4:50 p.m. Now my hands are shaking.

Brave talk. All talk. Where is the action?