I continue to be holed up at home dealing with a multitude of problems. The insomnia issue is getting the best of me; I sit up at 3 AM watching reruns of Anderson Cooper. Few know this, but my brother Thomas died at the age of 23 from a condition named Fatal Familial Insomnia. It was tragic to see him whither away and, I have never forgotten that it is an inherited syndrome. For years I battled it with a round-robin of pills, but stopped taking them six months ago at the request of Mr. Astor, who thought they were making me crazy. Better to keep the husband than sleep, I thought. But something has happened to my body since then; where we used to down twelve drinks and have a blast, I can't even have a couple of glasses of wine without having to be airlifted home. I have no appetite and eat only because I know I must force something down there. I obsess about everything and I worry that I have lost that old fun self that would lead a bunny hop at the drop of a hanky. I might know more after my doctor's visit on Thursday.
Still, life goes on and there is always something to amuse us out there. Most of us let Daddy go on for a while before we scream.