There are different types of down days for us...for Roger.  The obvious type... physical "down" days where your whole system hurts.  Bones, stomach, chest, spine,everything.  Then there are the not-so-obvious mental "down" days which may include a physical element or may be purely mental.  Yesterday turned out to be a mental down day.  I think there may have been a physical element to it as well but never really had a chance to explore.

See, there is a fine balance which must be struck (and rarely is) between asking too much and not enough.  How are you feeling? How are you doing?  What hurts where?  Did you have a good day? What did you eat?  Did you go out?  Its all a balancing act.  There is a baseline of info that I always try to secretly maintain just related to health.  Then there is all the gotta-get-out-and-live questions to make sure Roger isn't holed up on the sofa sinking into a dark hole.  And, the other bit of balancing is trying not to insinuate with all these stupid questions that you  (the patient) should be out there "doing" something if you don't feel up to it.   The proverbial "did you have a good day" somehow just doesn't fit in our house anymore.

So, I came home last night around 5:30 to find Roger sprawled out on the sofa.  I had called 30 minutes earlier and he said he was napping.  I didn't have a chance to explore if he felt poorly or was just tired.  When I got home, I settled into my routine.  Changed out of work clothes, pour a drink, sift through the mail, feed the cats, and mentally start thinking about something that I think will sound remotely yummy for Roger for dinner.  Roger was initially a little chatty but then got quieter and more sullen and sank deeper into the sofa.  I tried to chat it up a little but after being barked at a couple times I decided to be patient.  So we ordered pizza, ate some, and watched stupid tv.  I pulled the puzzle board out and worked on the puzzle while patiently waiting to see if conversation would evolve.  As the evening wore on, emotions began to trickle out. So, I quietly pushed the puzzle board back under the sofa.  I got up, crawled behind Roger on the sofa, wrapped my legs around him from behind, wrapped my arms behind him from behind, and pulled him into me.  And quietly, so quietly let the emotions run their course.  I'm still not sure if it was a gray gloomy day, if it was physically feeling bad, if it was emotionally feeling bad or a combination of all three.  The only "fix" I could offer was human touch which doesn't fix anything but sure can help a pained heart.  A deep, soulful hug, or better yet sinking into the arms of someone you trust.  After a while, TV got more engaging or maybe the "emotional distractions" got less "distracting.   A little conversation returned.  I rubbed his back and legs and feet to help counter the tingling "icy" feeling he always has.  And then the evening returned to our version of normal.  Watching stupid TV until about midnight and then I surrendered and ushered us off to bed. 

Reboot.  Start all over.  Its a new day.  And hopefully off to a better start simply because of the fact the ever illusive sun has decided to make an appearance.  Roger is still in bed.  I just went up to check on him. I briefly crawled into bed behind him to squeeze his buns (nothing xrated on this end, don't worry!).  The sun was peaking into the bedroom and glowing across the pillows.  I told him he was missing a rare sighting and should at least crack his eyes open to appreciate what will most likely be a fleeting moment....I'm back downstairs and Roger is still in bed...

True confession:  (only because its on in the background) One of my all time, most favorite-make-me-laugh movies is the animated movie (yes, kids' movie), "Ice Age" .  Roger even laughs when he sees it.  I don't care how many times I watch it, I laugh and maybe even cry at the sad moments. 

Anyway, get out and enjoy your day.  Have some fun on our behalf.  We're gonna try to do the same ourselves but probably on a much reduced scale.  hugs, a