Wednesday, October 31, 2007

In honor of a love affair


Most reasonably sane people can say they've fallen in love with a writers words and the images they paint. Fewer reasonably sane people can say they've fallen in love with a writer whose words and images evoke the less than pleasant. Fewer still have the near obessive love of Poe that some of us have.

The first place I wanted to see when I got to the East Coast was Poe's grave. The second place was Poe house.

While I loved the way the words by Dickens sounded it was the images of Poe that I've always loved best.

In honor of one of my best loves:

The Raven
--by Edgar Allan Poe - first published 1845


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

The photo above was taken across the street from The Wharf Rat last spring. In was in this area (Fells Point) that Poe (supposedly) spent his last few coherent hours.

The Maryland Renaissance Festival wrapup


Yes I know I should have done this two weeks ago but things happen dontcha know.

People ask why I go every weekend (that I'm able) every year. The simplest way to explain that is each year is different. My first year we only went twice and we were still almost touristas. The 2nd year and 3rd year was spent nearly exclusively with family. Year 4 brought time with new friends and year 5 brought the wenches guild and becoming aquainted with those lovely ladies. That opened up an entire arena of new friends - friends I leaned on this year who knew something was very very wrong but either wouldn't press or respected my privacy and didn't ask.

This year brought a renewal of friendships to the lovely lads of Cercamon (less Jean Simone Blanchet who opted out of the group to raise a family) and the forging of friendships with (and a greater appreciation of) other groups as well as the discovery of new friends; we saw new acts and old acts and mourned a favored vendor who had passed after season last year.

This year also brought a lot of personal and family issues so we missed many days. We not only missed many days we were missed on many days. That reminded me of the strength of the friendships that I'd maybe not taken for granted but I hadn't fully appreciated.

Each year I remain in awe of the magic of a place that is nothing more than dirt paths and buildings. Each year I am taken away by this lovely group fantasy we participate in.

May next year be equally beautiful.

For now - PICTURES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

My muse has good taste


Yes Harold, for as picky as he is, shares my love of music and often my taste in music.


I can always tell when Harold's listening because I seem to hear even the most familiar in a new way or an old, near forgotten memory is dredged up.


Currently I'm doing a 70's overload (no disco thankyouverymuch) and am taken back to the days of Friday night football games and Friday night dances and just for a moment I remember the feel and freedom again of just being 'in' the music ... it's intoxicating. Remembering how your body felt moving to Frankenstein or Feels Like The First Time or The Stroke or alternately swaying in someone's arms to Stairway to Heaven or Wonderful Tonite. You didn't need any outside substances because the music itself was so very intoxicating. Sometimes the adrenaline rush would near carry til the next day.


Isn't it sad as we're older and can appreciate it more, the opportunities are less?

The Daily Zen for October 30, 2007


Kuei-shan asked Yun-yen,

“What is the seat of enlightenment?”

Yun-yen said,

“Freedom from artificiality.”




Another one that I especially like - freedom from artificiality. It doesn't say to abandon the artificial but rather to 'free' yourself from it.


Lately I've found I'm surrounding myself more and more with the 'real life' community as opposed to the 'virtual community'. It's not that I don't love my online friends, but an online (((hug))) just can't compare to the real thing. We as human beings need the touch of others. I've also found I've quite narrowed my group of online friends to the ones I know very well - those I know (or hope I know) to be more real - less artificial.


I've abandoned the artificial IRL friends as well.

Monday, October 29, 2007

The Daily Zen for October 29, 2007


Recognize as the basis the mind

That does not pursue things.

In the midst of your daily activities,

As you attend to things and

Respond to things,

Always rely on this mind that

Does not pursue things.

As soon as your mind starts to pursueThings, i

mmediately gather it back in.

Stay with this for a long time, and you

Will gradually become ripe.



I like this one. I've always been the biggest opponent and naysayer against a utopian environment as sadly we are not a self-actualized species and, as such, identify with possessions - with THINGS. It's as much of who we are as homosapiens as our opposable thumbs. Even the smallest child or the most developmentally disabled person can and often does identify their surroundings and theirself with objects. Later, a personal style sometimes develops and yes that involves more objects - more things.


That is not to say we can't rein it in when we start focusing on things -- start 'pursuing' things if you will.


Remember you own things; do not let them own you !

A little murder, a little mayhem


...a little mystery?

Last night Jon and I went to Whispers for a dinner/murder mystery. It's not quite the 'last night I went to Manderly again' but then again I'm not a writer.


heh


I will admit it was wonderful to be out of the house and recapture some of the romance that has defined our relationship since its inception. We talked, we laughed, we discussed some subjects that were a bit overdue.


As for the dinner theatre: the food was ok, the plot was a bit strange, the characters were wonderful. Seriously it was like Old Home Week with "oh there's Tina, there's Brian ... is that Cybele?" Of course Jon recognized her first as I cue in on voices and that's makes recognizing your favorite mime - sans white makeup - more than a bit difficult.


The whodunit is something I will possibly forget in a few days. The warm feelings from seeing friends and spending time with Jon will be something I"ll remember for a long time.


Yes we'll definitely be back.


Sunday, October 28, 2007

On The Menu - Sunday Brunch


We're doing this as a test drive for Christmas Brunch this year.

Robert called last week to tell me that he really couldn't afford to come up for Christmas and hey if we were sending gifts $$$$ would be greatly appreciated.

Fortunately we have that type of relationship that we can say "hey if you're sending presents send money instead" and I understand the practicality of the request.

Meanwhile, since it's 'adults only' on Christmas I thought brunch - a high scale CHAMPAGNE brunch and who better to make it than I? This is a scaled down version (test drove today to a rousing sucess) of the menu:

Eggs Chesapeake (eggs benedict with crab cakes instead of canadian bacon)
Fresh Fruit
Cheese (in this case 12 month aged cheddar imported from Ireland - quite mellow)
Poinsettas (champagne and cranberry juice) or Mimosas (champagne and orange juice)
Fresh bacon (for Mom who won't eat crab cakes - yes Julie I can do this for you as well ;) )

Isn't it nice when you can celebrate absolutely nothing but the joy of celebration itself?

As Grandma used to say "Celebrate EVERYTHING !"

Pour you a mimosa?

The Revival of Art Sunday


A side note - I seem to have more the fondness for blogger so I believe this will probably become my primary blog.

The above landscape (painted in 1598) is by Flemish Baroque painter Paul Bril and it's titled Fantastic Landscape. It's currently on display at The National Galleries of Scotland (in I believe Edinburg). I enjoyed the pastoral scene coupled with the magickal colors and scene in the background. A transition between mystical and pastoral a good example of the bridge between Renaissance and Baroque.



I thought with the return of (at least my participation in) Art Sunday, I'd try to offer music of the era as well as a more detailed explanation of the work and the artist.

from www.nationalgalleries.org

This small painting on copper is a fine example of Bril’s imaginary landscapes. He used the established convention of dividing a distant vista into coloured bands to suggest the idea of receding space, from the warm brownish foreground, through to the lighter greenish middle ground and the cooler blue background. Bril also combined elements from his native Netherlandish landscape tradition, such as the twisted tree trunks, rocky outcrops and steep sided river valley, with his interest in classical fragments and architectural ruins. The lively figures provide colourful accents and some human interest.


This was a unique era in art and music as it's the bridge between late Renaissance and early Baroque. Bach had yet to be born in 1598. The music was still of the rebirth from the dark ages. The musical artist I chose to feature is Josquin des Prés (or Josquin Desprez). I searched for his more famous work and just could not find it in MP3 form which isn't surprising though I do find it sad. Regarded as one of the more influential composers of the late middle ages, his masterpiece is Missa Pange Lingua and is considered an important work of the era and a fine example of Flemish-French Polyphony.

So for today's Art Sunday I bring you the 1500s in a Flemish artist and composer. See if you can see the parallels in richness of tone and style.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

In search of Zen ....


...or at the very least some form of balance.

I said before that my anchor was gone. That's not entirely correct - I seem to always have an anchor. Maybe I'm self-anchoring? It's more like my 'balance' has been disturbed (for lack of a better term). In a strange way to visualize it, picture if someone reached into your aura and just gave it a quick stir. The colors aren't balanced; the energy is off.

Someone mentioned "I wonder which gods YOU pissed off". That led to a rather lively discussion with Jon about the fact that mine and his have both developed a sense of the macabe - perchance there's a 3rd? Harold was pleased at that thought.

Perhaps though ... just possibly ... this is a cue to re-embrace my (our?) spirituality. It gets interesting however since we're in a mixed marriage - Wiccan/Christian (I'll let you figure out which one is which) but we also support each others individual beliefs so it works.

To quote a rather more famous muse: "...it doesn't matter what you have faith in, just that you have faith." Serendipity//Dogma I like that.

----a quick note about this blog: this one is mostly for me. As such it won't make much sense ... anymore sense in fact than it's name which yes Harold chose.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Whine Whimper


bitch moan complain

I blame the cosmos

So I was doing a weekend roundup (yeeehawwww) of just what has gone on in the last 3 weeks and here it goes:

*Mom rushed to the hospital probable stroke
*Jon has Parkinsons
*Mom has emergency tooth extraction
*Jon discovers issues with his Mom's estate
*Mom emergency doctor's appointment (false alarm)
*My oral surgery (and the rather disgusting lisp I have obtained)
*Mom's insurance really screwwed up ('nuff said on that one)

This is just since the first week in October. Is there a wonder I'm not sleeping at night?

Yes I know it will get better...it HAS to.

I am finding a rather macabe sense of humour about the entire situation - I just tell people that clowns are the least of my concerns.

heh

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Apprehension - let me show you it


Sorry, that's a bit of a nod to my renfaire friends LOL

Today - this morning @ 9 a.m. in fact - I go in to finally get my teeth worked on.

Damage? nearly 10K No I didn't misplace a zero.

I will get bone grafts, a fixed bridge, rootplaning and gum debriedment (not the word THEY use but what it is), fillings, and possibly a cleaning.

It will be under sedation. You don't touch my touchy gums/teeth without some form of drugs.

To say I'm apprehensive would be an understatement.

To say I'm just a bit excited at my *new* smile would not be an overstatement.

I'm just so very fortunate that Jon is coming and holding my hand. I could face abdominal surgery with less trepadition.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

An unusual state of mind


Or should that be an unusual state of mine?

I all but closed my main blog on 360. I felt I needed to focus my attention and time on Jon. Also, I found it quite difficult to blog to readers about anything when the thing in the forefront of my mind still is his condition and how we're coping.

I still cry when I talk about it.

...but I digress.

Anyway, I got a few unhappy people after I removed all but 13 (including my alternate) from my friends list and locked my blog and quickies to friends only. I did that so that when Jon is comfortable talking about what is wrong (if ever) I will have that blog for moral support as it were.


I know there will be a parallel drawn for many but to me it's not the same. Either way that is the way it is pretty much. Mine is a choice for a different reason: currently that diagnosis affects literally everything I think about. I am a plan for the future kinda gal. I'm finding myself rethinking EVERYTHING.

I hope this too passes with time.

I hope the driving desire to go to ground like a small wounded animal also passes with time.

I hope one day the tears pass.

I hope one day the tears cease because I've come to grips with this - not because there are literally no more tears left to shed.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Later a full update



...but for now a blip from yesterday.

Call it a 'captured memory'.

On the latest Pyrates Royale CD is a song called "Our Boat". It's a take off of "Our House" by The Beatles. So during the bridge (where everyone sings la la lalalala la la) Skivvee sings something else.

What could this be?

I couldn't hear because although he has a wonderfully deep voice, the higher tones are drowning him out.

So - in my most alluring pose (and voice) I ask him what it would 'take' to get him to tell me what he sings at the bridge.

You would've thought I asked a 5 year old to show me his toy car collection. The seductive pose was blatantly ignored (I'll tease him about that later) and I heard more about the book Two Years Before The Mast (by William Henry Daley) than I'd EVER heard.

(funny side note - yes Jon has read it. I'm surrounded by geeks *snicker*)

Anyway ... he sings this part where the captain is dressing down a crew member who was asleep on the watch and denies it.

Yes he proudly sang it for me.

All I can say is - in all honesty - THAT'S SKIVEE .........

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Celebrating the day


Today is the last day of MDRF for the season. In a record breaking move, we've actually missed 4-6 days out of 19 this year. I vowed it would not happen again.

We missed Oktoberfest
We missed a very good friends proposal
We missed people down for only one weekend
We missed some of the best days of faire.

---basically for naught. Especially missing yesterday which was - according to her doctor describing the emergency office visit - "totally unnecessary".

We will be going today. I will celebrate this day with my husband knowing - as always - there's a risk this might be the last time he can enjoy faire.

I know the anger isn't healthy and doesn't do any good but dammit the escapades of a teenage (70 year old) drama queen is robbing me of precious time with my husband.

Today however I put the anger aside and celebrate an unusual 78 degree Autumn day.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Johnny Depp at 2:30 in the blessed a.m.?


ok anytime is a good time for Johnny Depp *weg*

So you might ask what I'm doing awake at 2:30 in the a.m. - drinking beer and eating pizza - watching Johnny Depp - the same 2:30 in the blessed a.m. that is the 2nd to the last day of faire - the same faire I look forward to each and every year.

You could ask.

It would appear that as soon as my husband left Mom alone for a moment yesterday, she ran and called her physician to schedule an emergency doctors appointment. Was it for yesterday? oh nay nay

For today. At 9 a.m.

Her prescriptions are scheduled to be picked up @ 5 p.m. Yesterday? nay nay

Today.

Saturday.

The 2nd to the last day of MDRF - the last WEEKEND of MDRF.

I set and look at my bodice knowing it won't be worn. I look at the DOW dress I borrowed knowing more than likely it will not be worn either.

I bemoan the fact that pictures weren't taken this year.

I know that each day, each month, each moment that passes, Jon's condition worsens. I wonder what will happen if this *was* his last year at faire?

I wonder how I will forgive the self-important drama queen if she's robbed me of a last season with my husband. She has currently kabashed any out of town trips and vacations. She has dictated - by her actions - where we dare to go and when we dare not. We have missed many days this season.

I only hope - for her sake - that there are many more seasons ahead.

Each day is a gift. Each day should be lived - not served.

I am currently serving - not living.

at least Johnny Depp is still cute

Friday, October 19, 2007

From the annals of Harold


I have to smile sometimes.

When I"m just bone weary tired - dragging to the point that going on seems rather pointless - music is my sole refuge.

Today Harold's rather eclectic mix included:

Love Grows (where my Rosemary goes)//Edison Lighthouse
Everytime I Think Of You //The Babys
Southern Cross//Crosby Stills & Nash
Please Go All The Way//The Raspberries
Frankenstein//Edgar Winter Group
Wishin You Were Here//Chicago
Layla//Eric Clapton
Thunder Island//Jay Ferguson
Baby I Love Your Way//Peter Frampton
Feels Like The First Time//Foreigner
The Stroke//Billy Squier
Don't Fear The Reaper//Blue Oyster Cult
Take Another Piece Of My Heart//Big Brother and The Holding Company

....yeah - Harold is nothing if he's not eclectic.

Oddly it helps. After the last month I need all the non alcoholic help I can get.

Can't sleep clowns will eat me


Ok so maybe not the clowns but sleep? Please.

This will sound judgemental, harsh, and unbelievably childish. All I can say to the critics is you've not lived my life with this person - I HAVE.

Mother.

One of my earliest memories is she teaching me to pull the stool up to the hanging wall phone (rotary back then) and telling me to dial 0 for the operator if I came home and found her asleep on the floor with a bottle of pills or if she was in bed and I could not wake her up.

Judging from the fact I couldn't read yet it's a safe guess I was around 3 give or take. This wasn't the first time. I was taught to drive for when she had a 'spell' and would pass out behind the wheel. I was 9.

My life has been to serve her needs when she needs and be absent (but available) when not. She currently lives with my husband and myself because she sold her house and had previously lived with HER parents but her mother died and her father in essence kicked her out in favor of an assisted care living situation.

So - she moves out with me. It wasn't going badly until this year. Ok we had the typical fussy high maintenance stuff that goes with life with Ma - the competition with the children - the drama over her long distance phone relationship with her first husband (a blog for another time) - the normal stuff with her.

This year, however, she upped the ante a bit. On Friday the 5th of October she came downstairs (quite agiley I might add - that comes into play later) and said "Steph (side note - the winds ne'er blow well when she calls me steph - it's either to insult or to dramatize) we have a problem. I had a stroke Wednesday night". OK I'm thinking "really?". Then she baldly states: "oh damn you're going to miss faire [MDRF]". I'm thinking ahhhhhh so THIS is where this is going. Anyway so I talk to her for a bit while I attempt to get ready for work and tell her to call her doctor. At 9 a.m. she calls me to tell me she called an ambulance. Seems as though when she called her doctor HE was under the impression she lived alone. Charming. OK so yes she had at some point had a light stroke (possibly) and was admitted for 5 days (until Tuesday the 9th) because she 'wobbled' for Physical Therapy (as she told me - "I wobbled for them just a bit") and insisted on self-medication (never a popular thing with hospitals.

--side note #2 - I had scheduled oral surgery for myself for the 24-26 of October. It had been scheduled since way back in September.

So she's now out of the hospital and charmingly has scheduled her tests and physicians appointments for - yep you guessed it - October 24, 25, and 26th. OK so I saw that coming and we've worked around it.

Monday October 15th. "Steph - we got another problem. My tooth is broke and hurts. Its EXCRUCIATING." OK so I schedule an emergency dental appointment for her for that Monday. She has such a fit in the office that they refuse to touch her (telling various people she'd just had a stroke and could barely walk, her blood pressure was 'high erratic' and her doctor knew another stroke was on the horizon yadda yadda yadda). So they schedule her for the oral surgeon the next day. At this point she has thrown herself from the chair, is on the floor on her knees, and screaming. I'm nonplussed what to do. I pick her up, pay the dental fees, and take her home fussing all the way. Anyway on Tuesday the tooth is extracted and she has pain meds etc sent home with her.

More nights no sleep.

Fast forward to today: "Steph we have a problem". *sigh* "My first BM since the surgery [she meant tooth extraction but ok] and it's black and sticky. Those antibiotics are making my stomach hemmorage I just know they are." *sigh* I read it in my book they would do that. *sigh* I give her the standard schpiel - call your doctor yadda yadda yadda. She tells me "Well now I know it's the last weekend so I WANT you to go to faire ... even if I am in the hospital ... even if they do SURGERY ... EVEN IF I'M IN ICU. Oh and you HAVE to have your dentist appointment on Wednesday. Well you just do that and don't worry about me."

Anyone else see where this is going?

So now it's 6:35 a.m. = I came in extra early because I know I will be going home to rush her to somewhere where she will laugh and entertain or possibly scream and cry and tell people 'Good Old Steph' without a thought of anything or anyone.

Sound childish? Sound like I"m mean? No it just sounds like Life With Ma.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Little did I realize


Yes ok I'm a bit oblivious at times. Everyone who knows me knows that. I can remember something so delightfully obscure that people questions its veriest existance and I can totally miss the most obvious of nuances.

Call it a gift.

Little did I realize when *something* - one of those somethings that I always listen to and invaribly regret when I do not - when that same something told me "keep blogger private" that it was speaking for a very important reason.

I'm now glad I listened. One day I might give this address out. I figure if people find me its for a reason. If not then maybe this will avoid some therapy bills eh?

*******

Yeah end of segue

*******

I will thenceforth (is that even a word? Please Stephanie) use this blog for the very things I need to get out but cannot due to privacy issues. Job. Family.

Jon.

Parkinsons.

It still gives me chills and brings tears to my eyes to write both of those words on the same page.

Jon. Parkinsons.

The symptoms were there but the very obliviousness that I think helped me survive my childhood sadly enabled me to ignore the most commonplace things: he had a tremor and stiffness both. Parkinsons. He got tired and shook more. Parkinsons. Difficulty swallowing. Parkinsons. Difficulty walking and balance.

Parkinsons.

The most obnoxious facet of this disease is you can't diagnose it. It's basically what's wrong when everything else has been ruled out. Well it's not a brain tumor, it's not a stroke, it's not Bells Palsy, it's not Dropsy or epilepsy or anything else so it's Parkinsons.

Part of me is so very angry because I actually *did* think this is what it was so many times. However we didn't plan quite right and got a diagnosis without getting life insurance first (can't now) or long term care insurance (nope to that one too) -- in essence it's like this disease has turned my life upside down without even asking me - and I'm not even the one afflicted.

OK yes that's childish and in truth I *am* going through the stages of grief (it appears I'm at anger at this point) even though he's still quite alive and will be (god willing) for a loooong time.

I am simply mourning my dreams.

Dreams of *us*

Dreams of old age and rocking chairs and peace instead of dreams as once again I will become a caregiver except it will be to one of the most important people in my life.

What if I don't have the patience?

What if I don't still have the skills?

What if I just can't?


The hardest part is I *need* to talk but he's not ready to. Not yet.

So I wait. And write. And watch.

A silent vigil begins, begging to rally against the fates when it's just one of those things that just happens.

One of those things that I just can't fix.