ER

I spent five hours yesterday in the ER waiting while my mother-in-law was checked over and given some kind of "rocket" enema that caused her to finally become unconstipated.  No shit!

Waiting around the ER is interesting.  I am glad that I haven't had to spend too much time in them.  The times that I have spent there have been difficult, some more than others. This was the ER that they brought my mother to after she collapsed.  She died on the way there.  The doctors and clergy took me back to the enclosed area where she was lying.  I stayed with her there for a while--those private moments of raw emotions.  My father-in-law arrived, and he cried when he saw my mother.

I have been to ER several times for both my father-in-law and my mother-in-law during their various health crises over the past year.  And my wife was brought here after being bitten by a copperhead and having a stingray spine go through her leg.  It's not a place that I want to hang out in for long though.

Yesterday things were pretty quiet until we were leaving the ER. One of the nurses said that there were multiple GSW's coming in.  There were over six ambulances coming in.  I later heard on the news that multiple people in a family were involved in a domestic situation with two people in critical condition.

It feels odd to be standing in the midst of all of this.  Surreal really.  It is like being in a movie.  I wanted to get out of there but had to wait until the ambulances were unloaded and the wounded taken inside.  This morning the paper had a small article about the shootings, noting that Christmas lights were still up at the house. A hand-painted sign at one home near the shooting scene read: "Jesus is the Reason ... Be thankful God is Good."

I'm glad to be back home.  I'm glad to be away from hospitals.  It feels far removed to be here, sitting on the couch at home, with a couple of cats curled up next to me and sleeping dogs nearby.  This hospital visit had a good outcome. I hope that the shooting victims have a good outcome.  We are a violent society, becoming more so all the time.

Today, I'm loading up a few things for the drive to Florida.  It will take about 10 hours to get to the destination.  I hope to be heading back home on Wednesday. It's a quick trip to help out a friend.  Happy New Year to you. Ya'll be safe, okay?

Vegetative state

I have been amazingly worthless this week.  I am wondering about my lack of energy.  I'm not depressed but wanting to cocoon, stay home, read and take naps.  So I have done just that.  I have not been to the boat, have not done much of anything outside, and have only driven off the property a couple of times.

I think that all is a bit "off" because my wife is spending the nights with her parents. When she gets home in the morning, we have coffee, read the paper,  and catch up on how things were the night before.  I really don't want to go anywhere once she is home, and that feels okay.

I have a tendency to be solitary so cocooning at home isn't that unusual.  When I was working, the days between Christmas and New Year's Day were when I rested and did as little as possible.  I knew that once the Christmas holiday was over, there would be few long stretches of time when I would be able to vegetate.  In the last few years, my cocooning has been on the boat.  I much prefer being out on the water and away from the marina, and right now that isn't possible.

In a few days, I will be taking a road trip to Florida.  The thought of the long drive isn't appealing.  Maybe I am preparing subconsciously for the drive and being away by resting and staying at home.  I will be there for a few days and then head back home.  I'm trying to psych myself up for the trip.  I'm not being very successful at that for the moment.

I did manage to go see the movie "War Horse".  It was a throwback to the type of feel good movies that Hollywood used to make.  I like a good horse or dog story.  And somehow I think that this was as much about how terrible war is as it was about fate and how it may work in our favor.

Today, I am going to debone the turkey and help C. make a turkey pot pie.  She scoffs at turkey leftovers, but I think that this might actually be a good tasty dish.  Okay, this paragon of domesticity is going to get to work.  And then it will be time for a nap.....

Rainy day thoughts on adapting

I awoke to rain this morning.  It was nice to have warm temperatures and rain pouring down.  The dogs went for a good run but came into their dog room muddy and shaking the water off their coats.  No worries on that as the room is dog proof, having had many foot prints on the tile floor and much wet shaking over the years.  Their thick double coats are made to shed water which is an amazing adaptation for the work that a retriever does.

I stayed up way too late last night reading.  When my wife is not home, I tend to be the consummate night owl.  I can read as late as I want.  Even though she doesn't complain, I have a feeling that I need to shut the book, turn off the light and hug her.  Since I retired, I have allowed myself to succumb to my natural photoperiod of staying up late and sleeping in until around 7:30 in the morning.  So last night, I read until 2 AM.  When she got home at 7 AM, I got up, had coffee, and we talked.  But we both got a nap later! I am adapting to the natural rhythm of my body after so many years of altering it to suit a schedule.

We talked about how focused old people are on bowel movements.  I remember that my mother became obsessed with it.  Now,  C's mother has become obsessed with it.  I hope that my final years aren't spent worrying about crap like that.  In fact, it is one of the least important things on my mind.  The body does what it will do.  If enough goes in, then something will eventually come out.  I may have to adapt to eating different foods as I get older, but I hope to not obsess about health issues.

Looks like the BBQ was worth the drive!

My home group meeting was cancelled last night due to lack of attendance. A fellow blogger's husband was going to come to the meeting and made the drive up from Hilton Head.  Fortunately, he found a good BBQ place and enjoyed seeing the old church where the meeting is held and the little town.  Hopefully, we will get to catch up at a meeting when he comes back in a few months.  He sent me photos of the "cue", and it looked great.  An adaptation to a change in plans resulted in something good.

I have caught up on quite a few blog posts.  Some people had a good holiday with family, while others were struggling with the drama of alcohol and drug addiction and making the most of Christmas without their loved ones.  All the expectations of Christmas seem to come pouring out no matter how hard I try. This year I managed to hold those expectations in check.  And it turned out to be okay.  I am adapting to the idea that aspects of what used to be are no longer.  But I like to think that every day makes a new start to something that might be better than what was.

A sanctuary

Christmas day has come and gone.  My father used to say that "it's as far away now as it will ever be." He was full of those kinds of sayings that would make the child Syd sad.  Now I realize that he was just being real.  And I remember a lot of those sayings now and smile.

It was a quiet Christmas day.  My wife went to her parents' house on Christmas Eve night and just got home this morning.  I went over there yesterday to have Christmas Day dinner with the parents.  We ate leftovers and watched them open Christmas cards.  It's interesting how they get a hundred cards every year.  Sending cards has become somewhat of a lost art.  I remember how carefully my mother would choose the cards and address them.  We haven't sent cards in years. Somehow, e-cards just don't quite have the same effect as getting a handwritten note from someone in a card.

I went over to visit some friends early last evening.  They had their family for Christmas dinner.  It was nice to enjoy their company and the lively conversation about politics, books, and movies.  My old girl, Stella, who died on November 27 was in a short movie that they filmed.  I'm going to be getting a copy of the movie and the raw footage of her.  I could feel the tears in my eyes when I saw her in the movie.  It was her first and last time on a couch.  Her part was to be on the couch and be called into the kitchen by one of the characters.  She had never been on a couch before so I had to coax her up on the couch.  She must have thought that I'd lost my mind--"A couch, really?? What is he doing??" She was such a trooper.

Later, I came home, turned on the Christmas lights, took the dogs for a walk in the rain, and read some more from Hemingway's Boat by Paul Hendrickson.  It's about his sport fishing boat "Pilar" that he had custom built, fished on through three wives, the Nobel Prize, and his ultimate ruin.  "Pilar" was his sanctuary which I can identify with in so many ways.  In Hendrickson's words, "Pilar" was:

"A place to weather the storms of professional criticism and escape the anxieties of broken marriages and ruined friendships. On her deck, he entertained celebrities, propositioned women, wielded his firearms, saved swimmers from sharks and relaxed with his children.  Pilar represented this little encapsulated existence where for a long weekend, or just an afternoon, he could get away from the pressures of the writing desk."

I think we all need something like "Pilar", whether it is a boat, the woods, exercise, meetings, rooms filled with people or just sitting in meditation.  A sanctuary.  Yes, we all need that.

It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.  ~Ernest Hemingway

Christmas Eve

I wanted to share some happy moments from this Christmas Eve.  Wishing you much love and joy with your family.  No matter what the expectations are, the day is about love and caring, just as I would like every day to be.  Let's make it so.

Waiting for the parents to arrive. 

The tree and a few presents for each of us. 

C.'s mom looking cheerful.  She seemed to enjoy it all! 

Pop opening his gifts. 

The dining room ready for lunch.  

Brad and Jessica sharing a kiss under the mistletoe.  They are such a great couple! They have a wonderful sense of humor and take such good care of C.'s parents. 

Brad modeling a nightshirt that Mom got as a gift.  

Jessica modeling some new workout clothes that we gave Pop.  

We were so glad that the parents and Brad and Jess made it over.  It was the only present that we wanted.

From us to you--wishing you peace and love this Christmas and may every day be filled with those most important of gifts.

Magical Thinking

We are at the boat until tomorrow. The weather is warm so everyone is out and about in tee shirts.  It feels great to be back on board after a couple of months of sanding and painting.  I have missed spending time on her just relaxing instead of working.  I know that being totally land based is not what I want to do. I am drawn to the water and feel most content here.

Tomorrow we are having the parents and caregivers over for lunch. They seemed happy to be coming over. We will have the Christmas dinner early and have another one on Christmas day. I feel much better knowing that they will be coming over. Somehow it is comforting us to have them be present. This is all the family there is.  But it is okay.

I have been reading a couple of books that by many standards would be sad--The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights by Joan Didion. Neither has been gut wrenching for me because somehow her narrative feels so distant and her writing so emotionless.  Perhaps I could identify most with her desire for seclusion when the apartment was filled with people after the death of her husband. Just knowing someone was there would be enough but having to interact would be difficult.  She writes something here that seemed so true: 

"The worst days will be the earliest days. We imagine that the moment to most severely test us will be the funeral, after which this hypothetical healing will take place. When we anticipate the funeral we wonder about failing to "get through it," rise to the occasion, exhibit the "strength" that invariably gets mentioned as the correct response to death. We anticipate needing to steel ourselves then for the moment: will I be able to greet people, will I be able to leave the scene, will I be able even to get dressed that day? We have no way of knowing that this will not be the issue. We have no way of knowing that the funeral itself will be anodyne, a kind of narcotic regression in which we are wrapped in the care of others and the gravity and meaning of the occasion. Nor can we know ahead of the fact (and here lies the heart of the difference between grief was we imagine it and grief as it is) the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself.” --Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

The void is something that I have feared as long as I can remember. But I see that the fear of loss is not something so huge to me at the moment. I lived through my parents deaths. I have gotten through the deaths of friends and beloved animals. There are days when we each are brought to our knees. Yet, something within still seeks the positive, the light, if you will. I feel hopeful that all will be basically okay as long as I am willing to seek that light.