My oxygen generator just died. It became obvious when water started pouring out of my cannula.

Every now and then I have an exceptionally wonderful week … and this is one of them! For your possible interest I’ll itemize the aforementioned exceptionally wonderful events. Thank you very much.

I STOOD UP ON MONDAY. Following some disappointing setbacks last week I honestly didn’t know whether or not I’d ever be able to stand again, so this was a complete and pleasant surprise. Therefore, after my hospice nurse finished her checkup on Monday afternoon I decided to spend some time using my computer workstation, which was accomplished by sitting on the side of my bed and Sam wheeling the computer desk over to me. Then I asked for some time on the commode, which (of course) involved standing up. And I’m delighted to report that I stood easily, used the commode to successful completion (draw your own conclusion), stood up a second time while Sam wheeled the hospital bed behind me again. The entire hoo-hah was easier, less painful and less stressful than either of us expected. Thank God. I’m feeling very encouraged and empowered now.

SAM AND I REPOSITIONED MY BED. As soon as I was seated again on the hospital bed, Sam and I used our feet to push the bed backwards about 18 inches. If you think this is a meaningless “wonderful event,” I feel very, very sorry for you. It was a wonderful wonderful event.

WE’RE EXPECTING VISITORS FROM CHICAGO. I found out Wednesday afternoon that my sister, Robin, and my cousin Bobby will be here on October 6 for a three-day visit. I had no idea they were considering another excursion to Texas, so Robin’s announcement was a total shock. As a matter of fact, I got so hysterical that I asked Sam for a couple of tropical Popsicles and then damn near bounced out of my hospital bed.

OTHER EVENTS THIS WEEK will include one more visit by a hospice C.N.A. on Friday for bathing and general hygiene and a prescription delivery by the hospice pharmacy … hopefully today because I’m running out of Lasix (my high-powered diuretic) and Amitriptyline (my “happy” pills). Holy shit.

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It’s Thursday midnight now, just about ready to trickle into Friday’s “wee hours.” Sam tells me that my missing prescriptons were delivered hours ago, while I was sleeping and moaning, and he just spent half an hour filling my two-week pill sorters. My sweetheart takes care of me!

I do, however, have a variety of kvetches to share with you tonight. Bear with me.

MY OXYGEN GENERATOR JUST DIED. It became obvious when water started pouring out of my cannula, into my nostrils and down my chin. Sam disconnected it and promised to call the hospice main office in the morning for a replacement. MY UPPER ARMS ARE KILLING ME. It’s the muscles, I think. They feel like they have to “pop.” But I’m lying here unable to move, unable to reach for my electric bed remote, unable to grab my perfume bottle … and it’s pretty horrible. I’m trying to do stretching exercises. MY KNEES ARE KILLING ME. I tried to sit up for a while this afternoon on the side of the bed, but I was uncomfortable and absolutely miserable. Unfortunately, when I laid down again and tried to adjust the bed — raising the knees and raising the head with my remote — I still couldn’t get comfortable. MY ENTIRE BODY IS KILLING ME. I’ve got a pulled muscle in my rib cage, a stiff neck, foot spasms, and the crusty skin on the back of my left thigh itches so bad I want to scream. EVEN MY HAIR HURTS. I’m not kidding, either.

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I want to finish watching Victor/Victoria (1982) starring Julie Andrews and Robert Preston — a hilarious movie, especially the scenes with Lesley Ann Warren — and then it’s time for bed, at last.

Robert Preston and Julie Andrews in “Victor/Victoria.”

Thank you for reading this. If you don’t want to remember the Alamo tonight, please try holding a good thought for my recently-deceased oxygen generator.