In the Reception Room

I went to the doctor’s today, just to get a new prescription for orthopedic shoes. It was cold and rainy, and I was glad to find parking and get inside without falling down. I signed in and took a seat.

Across from me, a pleasant woman maybe a decade older than me spoke in soft Tejano accents with a man near my age. Their level of ease with each other indicated they were family. The man was called in for his visit and after he left, the woman looked at me and smiled like she had something she just had to say.

“Are you here to see the doctor?”

“Yes, just to get a prescription.”

“You are so lovely. You look very good.”

Well! Well! Now, that’s a good start to anyone’s day!

A bit embarrassed, I thanked her and asked how her Christmas had been. “Oh, very nice.” She was visiting her niece, she told me. I asked where she had come in from. Laredo. I said I hoped she’d flown, because it is too long a drive.

“And how was your Christmas?” she asked, turning the subject back to me.

“Good. I spent it with my daughter and son-in-law.”

A moment’s pause.

“Are you a widow?”

I suppose I looked confused, so she repeated herself, and I realized I just hadn’t accounted for her accent. A widow.

“No, just divorced for many years. Are you widowed, then?”

Yes, she told me, eight years now. Her eyes focused on an inner place of her heart.

“It was a freak accident, the day before Thanksgiving. My husband was diabetic.”

“A car accident?” I was thinking of the diabetics I have known who have misjudged their sugar level and had serious, though fortunately, not fatal, accidents.

“No. We were at home. I was busy in another part of the house. He was painting the bathroom. Somehow, he fell. He must have hit his head, and he cut himself badly. By the time I came to check on him, he had bled to death.”

She smiled. “I get through the days because I know he waits for me. I look forward to when we are together again.”

Her family member came out and sat down, apparently needing to wait for his shot to take effect and preferring the drafty reception room and the company of his aunt to the sterility of the examination room.

“Until then, I must live everyday.”

“Because that’s what he would want for you, to live fully?”

“Yes.” She looked at the man beside her, and smiled. I’d say she beamed with love, but that would give the impression that she wasn’t beaming with love before. You could tell, from her despairing heart, she pours her love into those around her.

You know what? She was so lovely.

Xmas: survived!

It isn’t that I hate Xmas. I don’t have any negative feelings about it. I just don’t love it, not the way that the incessant carols and advertising and build-up since before Halloween insist that I should. I enjoy New Year’s Day much more, with its simple meal and quiet contemplation. And the week preceding, when I put away all the claptrap of Xmas and try to get out of the way any business holding over from this current year so that I can start freshly on the 1st.

But I did have a lovely Xmas. I got an unanticipated phone call from my brother, who merely wanted to chat and ask when I would come to see him. And I spent the day with my daughter and son-in-law, in their underheated, drafty abode, warmed by the fire of my silly girl’s love for Xmas. As much as I am indifferent to the day, she is downright bouncing off the wall with excitement for. But, then, she’s like that with everything, and it is one of the many endearing traits she has. I came away with tons of gluten-free cookies, all home-baked, and what feels like a literal ton of Japanese language learning magazines. The cookies are becoming ever lighter, but the magazines are still in my car, awaiting the assistance of someone who can not only pick them up but do so without collapsing immediately. So, maybe tonight, then, if the son-in-law comes by.

To everyone, whether your Xmas was good, bad, or indifferent, may the last week of 2009 be the perfect preface for the new year to come.

Thankful

The past few weeks have been exhausting. Between a hellish pace at work and my joints, I have been beat. Too beat to even think about having something witty, useful, or at all worth reading to write. And not hardly the energy to read anyone else’s blogs or answer emails.

For Thanksgiving, hoping to contain the general family mayhem, I had everyone over, knowing that the lack of TV reception would have them all eating and leaving in short order. Yes, I am devious that way. It was tiring getting up early when I so needed to sleep in, but rewarding to see my vegetables being eaten, eat my mom’s turkey and ham, and celebrate a new step-nephew’s inclusion into the family. And then, today I slept. And slept. And slept. I think the muscle pain may finally be wearing down.

I saw the ortho Tuesday, told him I wasn’t going to do the PT or see the neurologist again because I think his diagnosis was wrong. And he agreed, encouraged me to essentially keep being bullheaded, and said we will just take things as they come. I’m thinking I may be past the defensive medicine stage with him, so that is good.

The wound on my back from the removal of the carcinoma seems to be healing OK. It has stopped oozing, and the skin around it, that had started to break out and blister from the bandages, has calmed down and is looking mostly normal. The scabs are sort of half on and half off, and still itchy, but at least I can lie down on my back now when I sleep. Another good thing.

Most importantly, I have the desire to research again. Finding the time to do it will be the trick, but my efforts at learning Japanese and my interests in pop-culture and disability issues are all sort of coming together at the moment. My money, time and employment issues are the same dragging forces as ever, but my interest is back. And maybe even some of you will want to know what I come up with, despite my lack of useful affiliation with any institution and absence of peer reviewed publication? Or maybe I’m just at a stage where I no longer care about those things, and will just do what I want.

Eventful events are eventful

As promised, a long-delayed blog post!

These past couple of weeks seem to have been conspiring against me getting online again. But I found a place that actually fixes power jacks for cheap and without a bunch of caveats, so here I am again! Yay! The little beast is working better than it has in years, so I am hopeful of maybe now having it for some years to come yet.

It’s been frustrating not having the laptop since work has been so busy I haven’t been able to do much more than sometimes clean out my in-box of emails that didn’t absolutely need to be answered and mark everything in my RSS feed as “read”. If you said something that you were really hoping I in particular would read, and I haven’t responded, give me a holler. Sorry for the inconvenience.

At least, the laptop woes coincided with the weekend Carapace and I had planned to go to TRF. I have some pictures, and I will post a few later if all goes as planned. We camped, as usual. As is not usual, the weather was as close to perfect as it can get for a Texas autumn and Carapace managed to have not one single significant seizure! I, sadly, had my usual allergies keeping the entire campground awake (ha! That’ll teach those guys who put their tent right up against ours!) and, despite my efforts to plan, perimenopause played the hormone roulette wheel and came up red. Still, that did not negate the very important experience I had using a pair of hiking sticks instead of just my cane, or even pair of canes. With the hiking sticks, I escaped having notable leg and hip pain for the first time in years–and that despite my period! It had gotten to be so bad previously that I wasn’t even looking forward to going. So, I highly recommend getting yourself some if you are a cane-user and have started to miss out on events that require a lot of walking.

My niece is out of the woods as far as the overdose is concerned. She’s facing a long stint in psyc rehab, though. She prefers that to going home, I know, since the home environment is currently unstable due primarily to financial strains. There are other issues, too, but I don’t like talking out of school about other people’s personal lives. The one thing I will say is that, my family is in denial about how pervasive mental illness is in our family. It isn’t just one individual with a problem. Most of us are untreated, uncounseled, and our coping skills are ad hoc, to put it nicely. I really admire Glenn Close and her sister, Jessie, for their decision to speak out about mental illness in their family. I hope that it will encourage other families, including my my own, to take positive action and be more supportive of each other emotionally. (And, in case my family stumbles onto this and puts two and two together, I love you all. Just, wouldn’t it be nice to stop pretending and start dealing with reality instead?)

In more horrifying news, a coworker of mine has an aunt who is likely to not emerge from the coma that her husband put her into. It is a classic case of an abuser first isolating his victim, and then escalating the abuse. I am astounded that the husband is out on bond. How can this be? Why isn’t domestic abuse taken more seriously?

Oh, and finally, much less universally depressing but potentially more annoying for me personally, it looks like I have a torn rotator cuff. And that I am actually going to have to do something about it, what with not being able to use my left arm being a real nuisance, what with me being left-handed and the driver’s side door being on the left in the US. I don’t know if it will mean surgery and then PT, or just PT, but, either way, I have a feeling I am facing a lot of PT. And I hate PT. So, expect a lot of griping.

a bad day

I feel miserable. I have cried from the pain.

And now I learn that my niece has overdosed. This has just happened. My heart breaks. I don’t know how she is yet.

Update: It looks like they got to my niece in time. She has a hospital stay in front of her, and we all have some drama to come, but I am grateful that she is still with us. She is a beautiful, sweet girl. I hope she can learn to be a strong woman.

Yo

Beth alerts me that I have been unusually quiet, even for me. So I reckon I best give a holler before people grow concerned. I’m OK, just feeling unsociable. Which probably means I need to work on that before it gets worse. So, Beth, thanks for prodding me.

Let’s see, what’s been going on….Saw my parents on Father’s Day. Got to meet my sister’s boyfriend at last. Nice guy, but can’t barbecue worth a damn. Not that I said that. Even I know better than to insult a man’s barbecuing skills.

Summer has been nice so far. I’ve been able to get wonderful local tomatoes and squash and yard eggs from the produce stand a few blocks away. The onions are about spent, but the melons are up, and so is the okra and soon will be the beans. Oh, and there are lots of cucumbers. I wish there were greens. Maybe if I get there earlier.

Summer is also kinder to my joints than the other seasons. And I at least have the chance to go to the river and fool around in the water. I’m trying to do it once a week, because water exercise is easier on my joints. Carapace and I went to the old mill dam this past week, and think we will go there the next time, since it is fairly close (only 15 miles away) and the water is warmish and not too fast.

Another thing that has been helpful is going off Red Yeast Rice. My doctor wanted me to take it because I wouldn’t take prescription statins after reading about side effects. You know, horrible muscle pain (especially in the legs) and even liver damage? Hey, turns out, Red Yeast Rice has the exact same side effects. I stopped taking it, and now I just have the usual joint pain from arthritis and instability instead of the really frightening pain I had in March and April.

All in all a nice day, with a gimp superpower

Sunday was Father’s Day here in the US. Though I wasn’t all excited about eating at Applebees, the prospect of hanging out with 2/3rds of my sisters and a niece as well as making my parents happy was irresistable.

Planning on hitting the river after eating, I put on my swim gear–long black workout leggings, long-sleeved high neck stretch shirt, and river shoes with old orthotics. Then I hit the road.

On the way, I realized I had forgotten Dad’s card. I stopped at the dollar store on the way to see if there was anything left worthwhile. Amazingly, there was my dad right there. Not in the store. On a card. It looked just like him, down to the mustache. Only, anyone would know it wasn’t him, because the guy in picture was jet-skiing. He had a look of terror on his face similar to what my dad would have if anyone could manage to get him in the water at all. It was, therefore, perfect. Dad thinks he may have to frame it. He spent the time before the meal came imitating the facial expression of the guy on the card and generally being silly. Dad may not always have been the steadiest provider, but he may well be the most unselfconsciously goofy.

Taking leave of the parents, we headed for the river, that bain of Dad’s existence. The parking lots were full, but I have a tiny car, so I was able to park fairly near the jump-in point. Yay, tiny car! We got to the river bank, tubes, towels and car keys in hand, and put the non-water stuff to the side. (You might think that’s just inviting theft, but no one takes anything there. All they’d ever find would be towels and random keys.) We forced ourselves into the frigid waters. And then made a serious mistake.

We started tubing downstream without having planned to.

About half a mile down, I pointed out our predicament. Three vehicles, and not one of them would be downstream. Baby Sister suggested we walk back. I said, if we were going to do that, I had to do it now, because I can’t walk far and we were already too far. I tried to get over to the bank, but my feet got stuck in the muck. With a great deal of effort, as my sisters and niece floated on ahead, I freed my feet at the cost of my shoes. Now there would definitely be no walking back. Good thing those were old orthotics. I wonder how far down those shoes were sucked?

Having learned from Dad that serious situations without any good solution require enjoying the moment, I paddled up to the sisters. Baby Sister again said we’d have to walk back to the starting point. I said that wasn’t happening since I no longer have shoes, and stuck out my bare feet. A good laugh was had by all and we floated the rest of the way down to the usual getting out point, observing various waterfowl and swimming snakes (yipe!) and splash fighting with gusto. The splashing resulted in me seeing, for the first time in years, Niece with no mascara. She got the worst of it, but she loved it.

At last, we were at the get-out spot. The river taxi was there, picking up people who had rented tubes from them. That was not us. I suggested we ask for a ride anyways and discovered at that point that my gimp experience made me the only one of us four who didn’t think anything of asking people to do things for me. The river taxi people didn’t care at all. I excitedly informed the siblings and child, telling them to see if they could go, too, since there was plenty of room. But they cowered in fear.

With great power comes great responsibility. Which meant, I was the one who had to go for the SUV to fetch the others and their tubes. At least I got to soak Baby Sister’s seat with my wet butt instead of my own car seat. And Sister J and her daughter got to go down the perilous rapids in my absence that I couldn’t have managed anymore, what with the whole needing fast reflexes to not crack your skull thing that goes on there.

I did have to end up walking, though. On the hot gravel parking lot. With no shoes. My feet, which would usually simply be in pain from the experience, are now shredded and toasted, too. And my hips hurt. But I look forward to doing it again, only with better planning. And new river shoes. I have many ancient pairs of shoes and orthotics waiting their turn to appease the river goddess.