Less sad, as promised.
I hope those of you who celebrate had a lovely, tryptophan-filled Thanksgiving-- and that those who don't had a lovely Thursday.
Time has marched on a-pace since my last entry, as it is wont to do, and while not everything worked out the way I would like, I'm doing all right.
My sister, Em, has settled in to her life in the Peace Corp, and I get a chance to chat with her online every week or so. (If we're lucky, we can manage to get a stable enough connection to Skype, but that's only happened three or four times.) She's living in Nueva Italia, Paraguay right now, but she's just received her permanent posting and will be living in Oriental in the department of San Estanislao for the next two years. (I've been trying to discover precisely where this is via Google Earth, but while I can find San Estanislao, I'm still searching for Oriental.) She spent Thanksgiving at the American ambassador's house in Asunción with the rest of her training group, and he was kind enough to let them all call home to the States-- so we were able to talk to her on Thanksgiving, which was excellent.1 I'm tentatively planning on visiting her over the summer (if money allows), so I've started looking into travel plans and flights and such, and I'm well into the process of putting together her Christmas package. Hopefully, I'll have it ready to go by the end of the week, so that it will definitely be there in time for the holidays.
As for the other reasons I was a bit down in my last post-- well. My friends' baby is doing well, and is almost ready to come home from the hospital. He's tiny-- four pounds, ten ounces at the last weigh-in, which is still a vast improvement over his birth weight. (Two pounds something. It was terrifying-- he was this tiny jaundiced frog-creature, all tubes and tape and monitors.) A, his mother, has lupus, and we always knew that it was a high-risk pregnancy, but none of us expected the baby to come as early as he did. Thankfully, A and D have understanding employers, and will be able to take all the necessary time when the baby comes home. We just had a shower for them last weekend, actually-- a little late, given the baby's birthday, but right on time, given his gestational age. I know it's been incredibly difficult for A and D to have him at the hospital all this time, but he's breathing on his own and eating well, and once he gains a little more weight he'll be home to stay, so that's excellent.
Also excellent is the fact that my hand is all better. It still aches when I make a tight fist, and I've lost some strength in my left hand that I'm still trying to regain, but I have my full range of movement back. (At my last meeting with surgeon, he asked me to make a fist, and I did, wincing a bit. "No way!" he said, looking taken aback. "Do it again." So I did it again. "That's fantastic," he said. "Usually, with that sort of break, the finger always sticks up a bit when making a fist. That's about the best I've ever seen it heal." So evidently I am Magic.) My typing is about up to speed again, and I've fooled around on piano to see how it holds up, and while I wouldn't want to tackle any Rachmaninoff, I can manage Bach pretty well. I have not, however, attempted my viola yet. I'm rather afraid that I won't be able to manage vibrato with my middle finger anymore-- it's very stiff, and the side-to-side movement makes my finger ache.
As for the other bit from my last post.
My dog, Nelson. It was lymphoma, as the vet suspected. The options were chemo-- about two thousand dollars for a course-- which might stave off the effects for eight to nine months, or palliative care. But the specialist was very clear that the chemo wouldn't cure him-- the cancer was systemic, and the chemo would only delay the inevitable. So. We started him on a course of steroids, which would likely accelerate the cancer, but would shrink the tumors in his throat, making it easier for him to breath and swallow. I was lucky enough to have him for another good three and a half weeks, and he was very much himself for all but the last few days. When it got bad, it happened very quickly, and after a particularly bad night-- I decided it was time. The vet was terribly sweet (I've known him since I was a kid), and Nelson was gone very quickly.2
That was in mid-October, and I'm mostly okay now. I still look for him when I get home from work every afternoon, and it sucked beyond the telling to have to put away his leash and collar and bowls and toys. But. It's the price one pays for having a dog, I suppose. And it's worth it, although it's difficult to remember that sometimes. I went over to a friend's house last week, and her dog-- a beagle mix, similar in some ways to Nelson-- jumped up on the couch next to me and tried to crawl into my lap.
"I'm sorry, let me get him--" she started to say, eyes wide and a little nervous. (She had been the recipient of a sobbing phone call the day I had Nelson put to sleep.) She made to reach out and pick him up.
"No," I told her, and scratched Banjo's ears. "It's okay. It's nice to have a dog around."
"Should I get you a puppy for Christmas, then?" she asked, joking a little, and I shook my head.
"Can't do it yet," I told her. "Dogs take time."
And they do. Dogs take time. Loss takes time. Broken bones and babies and changes take time. And the marvelous thing is that time passes, even when it seems like it never will.
--
1. What was even better was that Mom didn't cry at the end of the call. She's been pretty down since Em left-- tears up all the time. I understand, of course, but I'll admit that I occasionally feel like I'm a bit invisible. It's very selfish, but there it is.
2. Dr. A said he went so quickly that he suspected the cancer had spread much farther than we had initially thought, and that it was probably in his bones by the end.
Time has marched on a-pace since my last entry, as it is wont to do, and while not everything worked out the way I would like, I'm doing all right.
My sister, Em, has settled in to her life in the Peace Corp, and I get a chance to chat with her online every week or so. (If we're lucky, we can manage to get a stable enough connection to Skype, but that's only happened three or four times.) She's living in Nueva Italia, Paraguay right now, but she's just received her permanent posting and will be living in Oriental in the department of San Estanislao for the next two years. (I've been trying to discover precisely where this is via Google Earth, but while I can find San Estanislao, I'm still searching for Oriental.) She spent Thanksgiving at the American ambassador's house in Asunción with the rest of her training group, and he was kind enough to let them all call home to the States-- so we were able to talk to her on Thanksgiving, which was excellent.1 I'm tentatively planning on visiting her over the summer (if money allows), so I've started looking into travel plans and flights and such, and I'm well into the process of putting together her Christmas package. Hopefully, I'll have it ready to go by the end of the week, so that it will definitely be there in time for the holidays.
As for the other reasons I was a bit down in my last post-- well. My friends' baby is doing well, and is almost ready to come home from the hospital. He's tiny-- four pounds, ten ounces at the last weigh-in, which is still a vast improvement over his birth weight. (Two pounds something. It was terrifying-- he was this tiny jaundiced frog-creature, all tubes and tape and monitors.) A, his mother, has lupus, and we always knew that it was a high-risk pregnancy, but none of us expected the baby to come as early as he did. Thankfully, A and D have understanding employers, and will be able to take all the necessary time when the baby comes home. We just had a shower for them last weekend, actually-- a little late, given the baby's birthday, but right on time, given his gestational age. I know it's been incredibly difficult for A and D to have him at the hospital all this time, but he's breathing on his own and eating well, and once he gains a little more weight he'll be home to stay, so that's excellent.
Also excellent is the fact that my hand is all better. It still aches when I make a tight fist, and I've lost some strength in my left hand that I'm still trying to regain, but I have my full range of movement back. (At my last meeting with surgeon, he asked me to make a fist, and I did, wincing a bit. "No way!" he said, looking taken aback. "Do it again." So I did it again. "That's fantastic," he said. "Usually, with that sort of break, the finger always sticks up a bit when making a fist. That's about the best I've ever seen it heal." So evidently I am Magic.) My typing is about up to speed again, and I've fooled around on piano to see how it holds up, and while I wouldn't want to tackle any Rachmaninoff, I can manage Bach pretty well. I have not, however, attempted my viola yet. I'm rather afraid that I won't be able to manage vibrato with my middle finger anymore-- it's very stiff, and the side-to-side movement makes my finger ache.
As for the other bit from my last post.
My dog, Nelson. It was lymphoma, as the vet suspected. The options were chemo-- about two thousand dollars for a course-- which might stave off the effects for eight to nine months, or palliative care. But the specialist was very clear that the chemo wouldn't cure him-- the cancer was systemic, and the chemo would only delay the inevitable. So. We started him on a course of steroids, which would likely accelerate the cancer, but would shrink the tumors in his throat, making it easier for him to breath and swallow. I was lucky enough to have him for another good three and a half weeks, and he was very much himself for all but the last few days. When it got bad, it happened very quickly, and after a particularly bad night-- I decided it was time. The vet was terribly sweet (I've known him since I was a kid), and Nelson was gone very quickly.2
That was in mid-October, and I'm mostly okay now. I still look for him when I get home from work every afternoon, and it sucked beyond the telling to have to put away his leash and collar and bowls and toys. But. It's the price one pays for having a dog, I suppose. And it's worth it, although it's difficult to remember that sometimes. I went over to a friend's house last week, and her dog-- a beagle mix, similar in some ways to Nelson-- jumped up on the couch next to me and tried to crawl into my lap.
"I'm sorry, let me get him--" she started to say, eyes wide and a little nervous. (She had been the recipient of a sobbing phone call the day I had Nelson put to sleep.) She made to reach out and pick him up.
"No," I told her, and scratched Banjo's ears. "It's okay. It's nice to have a dog around."
"Should I get you a puppy for Christmas, then?" she asked, joking a little, and I shook my head.
"Can't do it yet," I told her. "Dogs take time."
And they do. Dogs take time. Loss takes time. Broken bones and babies and changes take time. And the marvelous thing is that time passes, even when it seems like it never will.
--
1. What was even better was that Mom didn't cry at the end of the call. She's been pretty down since Em left-- tears up all the time. I understand, of course, but I'll admit that I occasionally feel like I'm a bit invisible. It's very selfish, but there it is.
2. Dr. A said he went so quickly that he suspected the cancer had spread much farther than we had initially thought, and that it was probably in his bones by the end.