This is often the question. In typical ADHD style, my difficulty getting started on something is only surpassed by my difficulty stopping something once it’s started. So, 9pm on Sunday night, tired tired tired, can I grab my keyboard and give you some news without still being up at midnight?

I challenge myself.

Mid-October, I went back to work part-time. Three half-days a week. It went OK but I was way more tired than I expected. Tired in general. Overwhelmed by trying to manage my weeks, that these three little half-days seemed to fill to the brim. It’s much better now and I feel ready for more. I haven’t had cognitive overload headaches for a while now, or at least, so few that I don’t remember them.

Months ago, I started using the Apple Journal app, because I was having such a hard time recalling what I had done in previous days, recent or less recent. Writing a few quick notes down at the end of the day has helped me keep some sort of grasp on all those days that have disappeared into the weird months of 2025. Recently, I’ve switched to Day One, trying it out as an alternative to Apple Journal. My Facebook suspension has made me cautious about locking data or content into hard-to-export-from apps or services.

I’ve also started learning Bridge. Maths and statistics, strategy and communication, fun! It’s an investment for my old days, but already enjoyable. I’ll write more about it in time. If you want to get started, Funbridge actually has tutorials that can take you by the hand for the first steps. Start with MiniBridge.

My very old cat Oscar is having a series of health issues. I treasure each good day I have with him, because I don’t know how many are left. The first part of the year saw a complete deregulation of his diabetes, which had been a smooth ride to manage until then. He was getting dehydrated, blood glucose going up and down like a yoyo, and slow but steady weight loss. We went through a long period of subcutaneous fluids, which helped a lot.

In September he came down with a really bad pancreatitis flare-up. I nearly lost him. An oesophageal feeding tube saved him. It sounds like a dramatic intervention, but it’s actually quite minor surgery, well-tolerated, and a life-saver. The main issue with pancreatitis is that the cat stops eating. Being able to feed by tube solves that problem, removes stress for everybody, allows proper administration of medication, fluids and calories. I had a short trip planned during that period, and thankfully a friend came over to cat-sit and take over nursing duties. I can’t thank her enough.

Since the pancreatitis he had been doing really good. He didn’t put all the weight he lost back on, but enough that it’s not a disaster. And his three old arthritic legs are happy for any 100g they don’t have to carry. I have been letting him out in the garden, closely supervised, of course, and he really enjoys it. It makes me happy too, to be able to give him access to enrichment and stimulation that an exclusively indoor life didn’t provide. It always made me a bit sad, especially as I knew he had lived most of his life outdoors. But he was too old and handicapped to risk it, and until recently, too mobile for me to supervise him in the garden here (he did get to go out at the chalet – different environment with less risks). The photo is of him on one of our recent outings.

Two weeks ago, though, he had an epileptic seizure. Out of nowhere. I moved my surveillance cameras around and kept an eye on him. He had a second one ten days later, just this Wednesday night. We put him on anticonvulsants Thursday evening, but it’s tricky dealing with the sedation side-effects, particularly on an elderly cat who is already mobility-challenged and wobbly at the best of times.

He still wants a lot of things (like me, hehe). He wants to go downstairs, he wants to climb in my lap, he wants to go outside, he wants to go on the sofa, he wants to teach Juju a lesson (Juju, by the way, is doing fine, but definitely overweight – I’m hoping his new diet will work out, because I’m not enthusiastic about preparing myself another diabetic cat).

So we’re still figuring things out, and crossing fingers that Oscar will be able to tolerate the medication and that he won’t have another seizure too soon. But it’s not good news, in any case. I’m sad and worried, which is normal, but that doesn’t make it comfortable. And also, apprehensive, because 2025 has come with more than its fair share of trials, and I’m aware that there is a high risk of Oscar dying in the coming months. And honestly, I don’t need that, just as I’m getting back on my feet. There’s never a good time for dead cats, but some are shittier than others. He might hang in there, of course, but he’s old enough and his health is such a fragile equilibrium that I would not bet on him being still around this time next year. He could still be here for months or more, of course, but he could also go downhill fast pretty much anytime. Loving and caring for an old animal is living with the certainty of grief to come, but the uncertainty of timing. I am very much reminded of Quintus’s last years.

I’ve never liked October-November. It’s dark, and damp, and not winter yet. It’s the in-between season. And this year, I had neither hiking, nor skiing, nor really sailing season. I did go out on the lake a handful of times, thanks to my dad who took me along. But it’s very frustrating and weird for me to have “lost” this year like that. It feels a bit like the first Covid year, you know, where we all felt there was a year missing in our lives. Only here, it’s just for me.

I’m way better but not “back to normal” yet. I have to put more effort into just “managing life”. And compared to before my accident, I’m much more careful about pushing myself. I used to push myself all the time. Now, when I feel tired, I go “oh, wait, I’m tired, how can I adjust my expectations for what I was hoping to do during the coming hours”.

A few weeks back I teamed up with a friend who also felt the need to get on top of her weekly planning, and we touch base once a week to go through our schedules. It’s been extremely helpful and is in no small part responsible for my not feeling overwhelmed by my life anymore. I’ve been knocking down admin tasks lately, blogging more, and even making some headway in much-needed tidying up and deep cleaning.

On the online side of things, I am sitting on my hands, because there are a few topics I really really want to dive into, but I know I cannot afford the time and bandwidth right now. It’s extremely frustrating. One of these topics is how to collate the things I share on the socials into daily blogs posts (I think I wrote about it in part 3 of Rebooting The Blogosphere). I think about it pretty much every day, because I share stuff on the socials and regret that I don’t have a simple way to round up the day’s shares here in WordPress to whip up a quick post with links and comments and some passing thoughts. There is a bunch of things I want to fix on the blog, too, but that will also have to wait. At least I’m writing.

I now finally have a Discourse instance up and running on a server (thanks Oliver!) and I am impatient to start configuring it and playing with it to start preparing for the migration of the “Diabète Félin” community I manage. It’s not for tomorrow, but I’d love to at least get something moving before the end of the year. I’m super enthusiastic about Discourse, maybe I should write a post about it.

But not tonight.

I’ve been writing my “quick blog post” for nearly an hour, my eyes are still tired and my brain is still foggy, so I’ll wrap things up here, go and pick up my old drugged up cat, play a deal or two on Funbridge, jot a few notes down in Day One, and read my book a bit before I collapse.

Sleep is what transports you to the next day. And the next day here is Monday.