I'm using my microphone to write this, so hopefully it'll make sense. 

Two weeks ago today I broke my wrist. I had surgery on Thursday and I'm hopeful that it will correct what happened and that eventually I'll have my wrist back to the way it was

The first week and a half I went to work, but then I had my surgery and the doctor says I need to stay home for two weeks. 

I have my follow up appointment on February 16 and maybe I won't have to wear the splint too much longer after that, but I'm not sure.

My cat has been of great comfort to me Past two weeks. He seems to understand that I can't play with him like I used to and I hope he also understands that it's going to be temporary.

At night I usually hug him like a teddy bear, but I can't right now, so I put my right arm out straight, and he sleeps in the crook of my elbow

Friday and Saturday I was in great pain from the surgery and I took one oxycontin each day. I don't want to get addicted so I'm not using it very much.

The hardest things are getting dressed and trying to tie my trash bags which is almost impossible. Everything else I seem to manage pretty OK, including cooking.

Maybe I can learn something from this: that my health needs to be improved greatly. The doctor suspects I have osteoporosis, and when I got the physical for my pre op, I found out that I have pre-hypertension. 

Until four years ago I was about 120 pounds and 5'3. Ten years before that I was 110...both times I had very low blood pressure

Now I'm 140+ and it scares me beyond words.

I don't want to be like this anymore

One good thing I discovered is that I can give up alcohol...I haven't missed it at all the past two weeks and I don't plan on ever going back to it. 

My friend gave me these recently and I find they really do help with anxiety.

More info here:

https://www.amazon.com/Against-Anxiety-Cards-Catchyourdreams-Affirmations/dp/B09XTNKRFF

In Small Circles

(An imagining)

In a small town where time seemed to move at its own pace, Lily and Emily unknowingly wove their lives together through the delicate threads of fate.

After high school, their paths diverged, yet the universe conspired to keep them in proximity, never allowing their orbits to intersect.

Through the years, Lily and Emily crisscrossed each other's existence like ghostly echoes. In bustling cafés, they sipped coffee at neighboring tables, blissfully unaware of the other's presence. The same park bench witnessed their solitary musings, separated by mere moments in time.

As decades unfolded, they shared the same neighborhood, passed each other in crowded markets, and attended events where their gazes grazed but never connected. Destiny's whims kept their lives parallel, but never overlapping.

In their twilight years, Lily and Emily found themselves in the embrace of a retirement home, their shared history unbeknownst to both. 

Fragments of memories lingered, hinting at missed encounters and silent regrets.

One day, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, they sat together in the quiet courtyard. 

Lily, with a fragile smile, turned to Emily. "I've carried a weight from high school, an unspoken sorrow. I'm sorry for what happened back then."

Emily's eyes softened with understanding, realizing the puzzle pieces falling into place. 

With a bittersweet acknowledgment, she replied, "Lily, I forgave you long ago. Life led us on separate paths, but now we've found our way back."

In that poignant moment, the weight of the past lifted. 

Though Lily's feelings remained unrequited, there was a profound sense of closure. As the sun set on their intertwined lives, they found peace, forgiving the echoes of their shared past.

 

An absolutely lovely short story in this issue hit my heart hard...you can find it here:

https://archive.org/details/Fantasy_Science_Fiction_v003n03_1952-06/page/n3/mode/2up

The Internet Archive is a treasure trove for anyone who loves vintage science fiction. You can find more Fantasy and Science Fiction issues here:

https://archive.org/details/fantasyandsciencefiction

I cannot begin to describe how Sloane Britain's books have affected me, especially _These Curious Pleasures_ and _1st Person 3rd Sex_. I wish she had lived longer. I wish I could actually talk to her. 

Not that she'd need to hear praise from me, but it's just her books speak to me in a way no other books ever have.

There are so many lines in 1st Person that make me either cry or feel less lonely. I don't have many people to talk about "my issues" with...so books are what I rely on.

I wish there were a way to find out more about Sloane Britain, an amazingly talented pulp fiction writer who died way too young and under way too sad circumstances (she killed herself when her family could not deal with her being gay, according to one source, though another states she died in a car accident.) 

While some of what she wrote ended in unhappiness typical of lesbian fiction at the time, books like _These Curious Pleasures_ and _First Person 3rd Sex_ had something more upbeat to offer, either with actual happily ever afters or at least hints of something better to come.

There is so much to like about this book except maybe the title which doesn't exactly roll of the mouth easily. I found myself enjoying several of the passages...ones such as this:

"I felt like laughing because, well, let's admit it, if you're not feeling anything there is something absurd about normally self-controlled dignified human beings grunting and panting with that expression of complete absorption on their faces." Paula (our main character whose heart is bigger than her head and far less practical when it comes to her roommate Janet) contemplates how silly physical love can be without emotional ties.

There's another great line about the main character's history with crushes and, later, she wrestles with how hard it is to meet someone she could actually share a life with forever (something a lot of people search for whether they are gay or straight).

"All I was sure of," Paula thinks to herself, "was that someday, somewhere, I would find that woman who would love me as I loved her. I don't know her name or what she looks like or anything about her, only that as I write this she, too, is waiting."

(I wonder if this is how Sloane Brittain herself felt…)

To contemplate that this was written six decades ago, when most pulp fiction featuring gay women had them "changing their minds," killing themselves, or being committed to institutions...well, that just makes this impressionable book even more overwhelming.

Katherine V. Forrest, a somewhat more modern pioneer in lesbian fiction, once wrote about women like Sloane Britain: "The courage of the authors of these books also cannot be overstated, pseudonyms be damned. The writers of these books laid bare an intimate, hidden part of themselves and they did it under siege, in the dark depths of a more than metaphorical wartime, because there was desperate urgency inside them to reach out, to put words on the page for women like themselves to read. Their words reached us, they touched us in different and deeply personal ways, and they helped us all....In my case, they saved my life."

These words strike hard with the truth, especially for anyone who has ever suffered in silence for fear speaking out would cost them their family or worse.