Monday, January 14, 2002

toes in the leaves

"Most people live, whether physically, intellectually or morally, in a very restricted circle of their potential being. They make use of a very small portion of their possible consciousness, and of their soul's resources in general, much like a man who, out of his whole bodily organism, should get into a habit of using and moving only his little finger. Great emergencies and crises show us how much greater our vital resources are than we had supposed."

William James, Letter to W. Lutoslawski

I don't want to get out of bed today, but I feel fine. Really.

At work, I try to put together the presentation that I need to finish by the end of the month. It's hard to say anything fresh about the topic. I sit through a meeting on one of my least favorite topics as well.

Then I take an afternoon off. I'm determined to get more in control and informed about my mom's healthcare. Even if it means giving up free time.

First I eat a bite with them. Some spinach casserole and some oven-fried chicken thighs. Very tasty. I still don't have a huge appetite. But food tastes lots better. So I do enjoy it. It's tasty.

Then I review my mom's drugs and some of the info about them on the WEB and quiz her about them. One really puzzles me. I find the bottle. It's in a baggie and, when quizzed, she says she isn't taking it. Which is good. Because I don't think she should be taking it. And yet, we've been listing it.

I drive the both of them to the pulmonary guy. They've reveiwed all the xrays, CAT scans and PET scans and whatever. There is a spot in the upper part of her left lung. But it hasn't grown and the PET scan doesn't seem to indicate that it's cancer (fast-growing). The doctor wants to simply track it for a couple of years. And, if it doesn't grow, do nothing. Procedures are risky when you are eighty. I like this course. Mom is less sure. The gal at the next desk manages to confuse and obfuscate about labs, scans and appointments but we finally get it straight. Now I just have to convince my mother that she feels better and can put up with her aches and pains.

Mom seems a little down about it all. Plus she thinks she's getting a little bladder infection and wants Dad to go get some Cranberry juice. She starts working on her jigsaw puzzle again. It's down to pieces all roughly the same color. I help her a little while assessing her mood and seeing where we are and promise to send Dad to the store. He's rewarded himself with a beer. But he easily agrees to go to the store for her and fires up his Buick as I leave.

I've taken paid time off so I go home. Earlier when I traversed the same route to take my parents to the doctor's office, there was a huge traffic jam. Now, traffic moves smoothly at a little after four.

And suddenly I remember that it is my mother-in-law's birthday. Yep. Oops.

FFP isn't home. I'm listening to his messages, listening to a diatribe from someone about his business when he calls. He is at Randall's, trying to hear his messages. He has had to make a trip in the traffic all the way to 620 to get printing delivered to a client's stoop when the client is away for several days. In the process, he's waited in the chicken lane to turn left and had someone come at him head-on at a high rate of speed. He said the car swerved across two lanes of traffic, miraculously hitting no one and landed in the ditch. So when he's home I have to say, "It's your Mom's birthday."

He goes to the Austin Flower Company and gets a beautiful bromelaid and I go get a card. I look around Eckerd's for something else she might like. I don't find anything for her but I pick up a couple of things for myself.

We take the gift and card over and sit a while with them. FFP's Dad points out the lamps they got at a garage sale for $3. She shows us the pictures they've framed in the frames FFP gave her for Christmas. We look at the weather on TV. FFP's Dad tries a little secret spy hearing booster to hear us. They ordered it out of the Sunday supplement. I suggest a real hearing aid.

"Things just don't seem to work for him. His false teeth don't fit right."

FFP's Dad suggests that he's going to stop paying his income taxes. He says he thinks his oldest brother did this after he retired. They say that his other recently-deceased brother's widow came by. That he died of diverticulitis and heart failure. FFP's dad says he probably has diverticulitis because he 'has everything else.' They think they may look up what it actually is.

We start watching Boston Public and FFP wants to go home at the commercial. He's stewing about his bad day and he's fasting for lab work for his annual physical. Proving that I can't even heat leftovers if he isn't eating, I eat a bit of cheese and some corn chips and drink a Dr. Pepper. I had a little candy when I got home. I'm still easily satisfied and not feeling like drinking alcohol. I should take advantage of the small weight drop and start watching my diet and exercising. Yeah, right.

We orgy on network TV. We watch Ally and Crossing Jordan and then a tape we just made of Third Watch. I read some of the newspaper. I ponder whether Al Queda fighters took a shower every day in the field as they are allowed to at Guantanamo Bay. At least three of them are British nationals. It's a crazy, mixed up world. How surprised these people, studying terror and fighting 'rebels' in a faraway land must have felt when this plot in the U.S. worked so well that it brought the U.S. to them and them to this most strange piece of ground in Cuba. The New York Times puzzle is most amusing with repetitive letters as in 'GRRRR...' and 'BZZZZZ....' and 'SHHHH.' I can't finish it. It's Monday. I'm feeling lots better but I'm not very energetic and FFP looks put upon, going out to drip the faucets and putting on the dishwasher. Yes, I've been useless. Must correct that.

JUST TYPING
Health.
Is somewhat subjective.
Conscious?
Alive?
Upright?
Only the patient can detect the more subtle changes.