A day in limbo

 

Sophie waiting for company on the patio.
We had our first patio gathering tonight.

This morning before I was even out of bed, the vet called with not-so-good news. Sophie’s kidneys were failing. He didn’t sound hopeful, but he said we would give her the morning and see how she did. He’d call back mid-day. So I piddled—read emails, read Facebook, answered a bit of correspondence, but all thoughts of creative work fled. I was watching the clock and wondering what his idea of mid-day was. I think I was a case study in suspended animation.

My kids rallied around, as they always do when I need them. Colin, skiing with his family in Wolf Creek, Colorado, has called three times and been very supportive. I guess the best thing he said to me was, “You’re always tough about the big things.” And this, I agreed, was a big thing. Megan, packing up her family in Tahoe to head home, called, and Jamie called from Denver and tried to cheer me with made-up Biblical quotes. I love them for trying, but talking to them made me teary. I was better off when I didn’t talk about Sophie.

Dr. Burney called around two o’clock. No change. She was still lethargic, not interested in food, not interested in peeing, kind of mentally sluggish as well as physically. But he didn’t sound ready to give up. When I said, “She was my miracle baby,” he said, “Oh, I know. Mine two.” So we decided to give her the afternoon. He called about five-thirty, and we agreed to give her until morning. Are we postponing the inevitable? Maybe. One thought I had was that whether or not Soph took advantage of the day, it had been a help to me, allowed me a chance to collect myself and face what lies ahead. I sent her a telepathic message this morning, told her it was up to her—she either had to turn it around or shut it down, but she had to save me from making the decision. Dr. Burney said he was sure she got the message, but he would repeat it to her. I love that man.

So we are still in limbo. I think tomorrow morning, no matter which way it goes, Jordan and I will go to the veterinary clinic and see her. When she was so sick a year ago, Dr. Burney warned me that she would be mad at me, because she thought whatever happened to her was my doing. And boy, was he right. She wouldn’t come near me. So that worries me a bit about going to see her. Jordan thinks seeing us will give her a boost. I am not sure.

And to pile complication on complication: Jacob has tested positive for Covid. He’s just home from a three-day fishing/swimming/hanging out trip to Oklahoma with three buddies. Called his mom at lunch and said he couldn’t taste his Chick Filet. (In my opinion that’s a good thing—I boycott Chick Filet, but he loves it and I can’t appeal to his teenage hunger on moral grounds). So when he got home, he tested positive. So now he’s bummed, because he can’t hang out with his buddies during his senior year spring break, and he can’t work to earn money.

But there is family good news. My brother, who is pretty much bedridden, has been in the hospital for two or three weeks, but it looks like he can go home tomorrow. I’m so grateful for small slivers of hope.

Tonight Subie and Phil came for a drink. She said she watched all day for a message telling them not to come, but I would have wanted them here no matter which way things went with Sophie. They are longtime friends, the kind who are a comfort, and they were tonight. It was the first time Subie drove over our new, nicely flat driveway, and she was full of raves about it.

I am deeply grateful to all of you who have sent hugs and prayers and good wishes. You help me as I wait in limbo, and I’m sure. If she knew, Sophie would be grateful too. She always did love to be the center of attention.

Halloween, family, and all good things

Alter family witches
Jamie, Judy, Christian, Jordan

Years ago, a man I was dating said to me, “Once a mother, always a mother.” It’s a sentiment I embrace, and this mother’s heart was gladdened yesterday when third child, second son Jamie came for the day. Jame lives in Frisco—not that far—but he works (safely from home these days) probably at least twelve hours a day. A lot of his business is done by internet and phone to people in countries in far different time zones, so his hours are irregular.

He came yesterday to bring me a camera for my computer. It sits on top of my remote monitor, so now I don’t have to pull out the laptop, juggle things on my desk, and struggle to go to a Zoom meeting. When he first set it up, I took one look and protested, “But I look so old!” Jamie knew a magic adjustment, something in settings that essentially says, “Make me look better.” It sort of worked. When Jamie repeated this story to others later in the evening, Jordan said, “But, Mom, you’re only fifty-five.” In my dreams.

Jamie could have come, installed the camera, and made it a short visit, but he came to spend the day, bringing his computer and his own remote monitor. We talked and we laughed and I caught up on his family—one of my granddaughters is a senior in college and the other a senior in high school—and we both worked. We ordered sub sandwiches for lunch, which was great even if they did put olives on mine! And just about the time I wanted to nap, Jame announced he and Jacob were going to hit some golf balls. Perfect timing!

Last night, our neighborhood had a pre-Halloween celebration for neighborhood kids, in an effort to avoid spreading contagion. Jordan went to a lot of trouble to provide sealed bags of treats, tables out by the sidewalk, etc. We were all prepared—but as she said, it was like giving a party and no one came. We had very few trick or treaters. We live on the edge of the neighborhood and later heard that streets in the interior had lots of visitors. Meanwhile we sat on the porch with a few friends, enjoying a smoky pinion fire.

Halloween is Christian's holiday
He puts up the tombstones--and you should see inside the house
The trick-or-treat delivery method is Jordan's

Jamie put his work aside to join us on the porch—the almost Hunter’s Moon was smashing! But when I got too chilly, he and I came back to the cottage—more talk for a couple of hours. We talked about family and holidays—we are sad we won’t all seventeen be together for Thanksgiving—and his work, in international sales for a huge toy company, the pros and cons of working from home, and so on. When a child will spend that kind of time talking to you, a mother’s heart can't help but be gladdened.

Tonight of course is the real Halloween. Traditionally neighbors give out well over a thousand treats, our streets are crowded with neighborhood kids and many from other areas. Traffic comes to a standstill, with cars stopped in the middle of the street. The local ambulance company brings two severely handicapped children, with proper medical attendants, to have a taste of Halloween. Houses are lavishly decorated. This year, several households have elected to stay dark, and the handicapped kids are not coming—no one wants to expose them.

We have no idea if anyone will come. Avoiding those crowded sidewalks was part of the impetus for last night’s pre- celebration. But will they come tonight? Will pandemic keep families home? If they come, will they wear protective masks?

Jordan is prepared with plenty of snacks and a plan to serve us hot dogs for dinner. As I write, it’s six o’clock and barely dusk, so it will be another hour before we know how many trick or treaters we’ll have. The whole thing has somewhat split the neighborhood—some families insisting on the traditional date, others willingly embracing the alternative, many saying they would give out candy both nights. Jordan and Christian have elected to celebrate both nights. Having gotten thoroughly chilled last night, I will stay in the cottage tonight, although the temperature is more moderate tonight.

But I plan to stick my nose out to admire that moon. You should too.

And a bonus from my good day—Jamie left his remote monitor here, hidden behind my couch, for the next time he comes. So that means he’ll be back sooner or later.

Cottage full of kids

I have been in languor all day. The dictionary says that’s a state of tiredness or inertia. I say it’s exhaustion from worrying about my eye surgery, enduring it, and taking one pain pill. The surgery was not the walk in the park that I anticipated, but at least it’s over. Tomorrow I get the patch off, and all should be well.

Both my daughters and my younger son are here, which brightens the day immensely. We have just ordered food, and the girls have gone to get it. They will no doubt linger for a glass of wine while it’s bring prepared.

I have not done a lick of work again today. Yesterday, I was too worried; today I was too sleep. Tomorrow, most of the day, both girls will be around, I have the doctor’s appointment, and we sort of want to do a grocery run. No work again.

But then I’ll get back to my regular life. Gladly. This languor business is no fun.

A Joy-full Day

Morgan and me, ready for the afternoon's outing

Do you have days that replenish your cup of joy? I had one today. I’ve been grateful for many things this past week—successful surgery, the support of family and friends, the dedicated care from Jordan who ran herself ragged trying to see that I was all right in the hospital while looking for a suitable rehab facility. But I haven’t been filled with joy and laughter.

Colin and granddaughter Morgan arrived a little after eleven this morning. It was after noon before we got away but we went to Jason’s Deli for lunch, and I wondered why we don’t go there more often. I ate like I hadn’t eaten in a week—Caesar salad, half a California club sandwich, an oatmeal cookie, a scoop of soft-serv. So good. Colin went back this evening and brought a baked potato (huge) for my supper and a kids’ pizza for Morgan—and another oatmeal cookie. We laughed, we talked seriously, and we had fun. They had driven up in my VW convertible and, it being a gorgeous day, we drove top down much of the time—until both  Morgan and I complained of the chill in the late afternoon air.

Went to get a new phone—trading my i5 for an i7-but they needed picture i.d. and Jordan, who was at Jacob’s basketball game at the downtown YMCA, had my driver’s license. Of course we had to get it—Colin was determined I have that phone today. With the Chisholm Trail Parkway we were downtown in minutes. Took longer to find Jordan but finally Christian came to the parking lot where we were circling. Back to ATT, where Morgan and I waited in the car (I didn’t want to get in and out too much). And we waited. And waited. I practiced patience but was about to lose the battle when Colin emerged with phone and a mini iPad—special deal when you buy a phone. Back to Garden Terrace where we settled some business issues and had a good talk.

It wasn’t all fun and games. Colin, always a diplomat, made me see that I have been both self-absorbed and selfish, not the model patient that I thought I was. I guess I thought I should be granted a little leeway because of pain, rehab, not being home in my own bed. I truly appreciated his candor and honesty—his words were delivered without emotional tangles. This road to recovery business tests not only your physical strength but your character.

Not just a diplomat, Colin is ever the good Samaritan, reaching out to help people. A woman was parked in front of the building, unable to start her car. Colin called Chevrolet and waited with her. It turned out that her alternator had died. He must have been in touch with her by phone because he called from Jason’s to ask Morgan to go out and tell the woman a tow truck was on the way. Colin knows what many people never learn—it’s all about what you can do for others in this life.

Have you tried an oatmeal/spice/cranberry cookie from Jason’s? Try it. You’ll like it.

Stuff but no nonsense

I honestly don't know where to begin tonight. I've spent a lazy day at home--catching up on housekeeping matters like laundry, writing, napping. This evening friends came by for happy hour, and I was glad for company. I'm still basking in the glow of having spent about thirty-six hours with my four kids. There's a bond between them that is so wonderful--without spouses and children (all of whom I love dearly) it was like they were in college again--they laughed and giggled, they played pranks, they drank too much (but remained well behaved). I raised them as a single parent from the time the oldest, Colin, was twelve, and once again it was the five of us together--only better, because they have the maturity of middle age and family responsibilities. I too wish all sixteen members of my immediate family could have been in Lubbock with me, but I am grateful for this time with my four. I am always grateful for time alone with any one of them--and this was even better.
But while I was all wrapped up in my world, it's been a momentous and happy week in our country. So much has been written about the SCOTUS decision on marriage equality that anything I can add would seem superfluous, except I'm overjoyed for the LGBT community and for our country. A good friend named Winston helped me raise my children--taught them to drive, to ride horseback, and to misbehave. They adored him and called him Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was gay as a goose and had a string of lovers, one of whom gave him AIDS. He died in 1994. When Jamie heard the news of the decision, he said, "I wonder how Uncle Bob would have felt." I wondered if it would have led Uncle Bob to lead a more monogamous life...or if he'd just have made a string of bad marriages. I did read where someone predicted that in a year all the hullaballoo will have died down and gays will begin divorcing just like the rest of us.
In the wake of the momentous marriage equality decision, it seems that the affirmation of ACA got overshadowed, and yet it's so important for millions of Americans. I saw a lengthy post on Facebook today of pictures with people standing in line to sign up. The poster claimed these were images the mainstream media didn't want the public to see--I'm not sure about that, but I do think the announcement may have spurred more people to sign up. I used to carefully avoid saying Obamacare and use the correct Affordable Care Act, but you know what? I think Obamacare is a fitting name--it may become our tribute to his presidency. Maybe now after who-knows-how-many failed attempts to dismantle the law and two SCOTUS decisions, John Boehner and his cronies will move on.
It's truly been a great week for America--and for me personally.