I�ve got a song in my head and I can�t discern any noticeable or recognizable notes or lyrics. I simply know that somewhere inside my head, a song is playing. Nothing more specific then that.
So Richard, my most dear friend, is gone away for almost a month to Europe, staying with the family over the holidays. A hand full of my friends have subsequently ran off due to the problematic circumstances I�m currently enduring. Good for them, I say. Good for them. We all know everybody has their own problems without needed to endure the problems of others.
So what have I been doing with myself, you ask? Well.. I split my time fairly evenly between three distinctly different activities. The hospital, Work, and of course, yard work.
I normally loath yard work. It�s manual labor, simple manual labor at that. Raking leaves is probably the most asinine of the various chores that fall under the �yard work� label as all the leaves aren�t off the trees yet so after a few hours of furious raking, I�m greeted with a fresh blanket in the morning. But for some reason, this pleases me now.
In fact, I�ve a trip planned to a hardware store later this evening to purchase nifty tools to help perform this yard work. I�m even going to buy a saw. Isn�t that neat? A saw. I�ll probably buy some pesticides in case the horde comes back to visit in the spring. The cold temperatures have kept all but the most stout creepy crawly things away. Which basically means, I�m the only thing crawling around at night. Yay wine.
Work� A minor distraction. I consider it my penance for being human, for aspiring for something� more.
The Hospital� How I have always hated that place. Things are touch and go at the moment. She had a minor heart attack Wednesday night and her vitals aren�t consistent so she hasn�t been moved to the rehab center yet. They are concerned that if she doesn�t stabilize soon so she can begin rehabilitation, she may have significant impairment in walking.
Plus she�s been hallucinating badly. This is, perhaps, one of the most difficult things to endure, besides her constant pain that is. At times it�s akin to Requiem for a Dream. I�m actually tempted to take my camera in there to record this moment, painful as it is. I can�t decide if that is morbid or incredibly insensitive or not. I think it�s something that should be remembered, however.
All in all, I�m coping so far. Nothing suggests that she won�t get better at some point or that, even given the alternative, it would be better, wouldn�t it? I�m only accosted by moments of sadness and depression, usually when I�m feeding grandma�s pets. They are all so mopey and sad. Gizmo, her dog, will just stand at the front door and whine when I give him his food. How do I explain to an aging dog that she�s not coming home? That makes me sad. Plus he�s been sick since she left. I had to carry him in from his outside bathroom break. The poor dog just couldn�t seem to get up. 16 years is quite old for a Pekinese. And at least one of her cats isn�t eating. She just sits in grandma�s chair. When faced with that sort of longing by these animals, it�s hard not to feel the strain.
I admit, late at night when I can�t sleep is the worst though. That�s when the doubt and fear comes out to play. That�s when I�m truly alone. What little support structure I do have is all comfortably in bed, most with their loved ones. That�s when the existential pain is most acute. We keep fighting with the only reason to fight is.. well, the fight its self.
What can ya do.
-G