More updates over here, if you care to see them.
The surgery is in four days, and although I don't seem like it, I think I am getting rather anxious about it. It's going to be a bad time, and it will be long. I will find out more about this tomorrow when I finally get the details from the nurses and doctors.
I stopped working on August 8. I felt like a lot of crap that day and the next day. It was as though if I wanted to do anything, anything at all, it required that I move a 500-pound block out of the way before I could do anything. But when I woke up the next morning, I felt like a million bucks. However, something else happened to me. In my renewed independence, I could no longer tolerate anything that bothered me. I couldn't deal with it in any sensible way. I can count the number of times that I yelled or screamed at Rose on one hand, and two of them occurred that weekend. I would represent it mathematically as:
limx->x0d(x) = ε
For those that remember their first year calculus, this might make sense. For the rest of you, skip this section. x is the number of times that I have to deal with something that someone does really irritates me. x0 is the number of x's where I start to crack. It may have been 1, or 2. d(x) is the "ability to deal" function, that is, my capacity to deal with the x's. ε is an arbitrarily small positive number that is close to zero. In English it reads:
As the number of irritating incidents approaches some arbitrary but particular number that I didn't choose, my ability to cope in an appropriate manner approaches zero.
That's life calculus.
