Yesterday, Dad and I spent about two and half hours going very carefully through my COBRA extended health care benefits in my post-employment environment, as well as Cover Oregon, my state's Affordable Care Act implementation. It was cognitively and emotionally exhausting to review that much detail. When we were done, I was wrung out and depressed and could barely track what was going on. That melancholy sense of vulnerability stayed with me all day, only to be reinforced by further events.

Over lunch, I was told that one of my family members had observed that in these complex insurance and financial discussions I could follow the topic for while, then I would lose the thread. While this is exactly my internal experience of the process, I was sad to learn how obvious my drop in capacity is to observers.

Then yesterday afternoon Mother of the Child told me I'd mailed out her new Netflix disc without opening it. No one got to watch it. Luckily the post office brought the disc right back to us. I'd seen the red envelope and misunderstood it.

Last night, I had to spend close to two hours coaching the_child on finishing a major homework assignment. I was desperately tired, and very hard of thinking, and she was not especially organized or focused. I feel like I did a terrible job.

So, yes. Molasses of the mind. I do okay some days, and some days I am just goofy. Even on my best days, I seem to have two hours or less of intellectual focus.

This is what years of chemotherapy and pharmaceuticals will do. This is why I no longer work or write fiction.

I hate this.