Archives for category: health

It’s March in the Pacific Northwest. I’m sipping coffee at a trailhead, waiting for a break in the… rain? Rain. At least, it’s raining here; a sort of steady drizzle, barely enough to discourage me from walking.

No tears this morning, I’ve got the rain.

When I woke and dressed for my walk, I hadn’t checked the weather. I kissed my Traveling Partner, and went to the door. I was surprised to see everything dusted with snow when I opened it. I stood there rather stupidly for a moment, stalled by my astonishment. I turned back to my partner and commented that perhaps I could not go… I must have sounded disappointed (I was), because he reminded me I could just take the truck; this small amount of snow would be nothing for the truck, at all. Of course. Totally made sense and I grabbed my other keychain and left, stopping to grab my hiking boots and cane from my car.

For a short distance, I enjoyed a basically very ordinary drive, aside from the dusting of white everywhere. Within minutes the snow started falling heavily, filling the sky with fat snowflakes, dense and visibility-limiting, but that didn’t last, and I reached the trailhead safely just as the snowfall stopped altogether, becoming this drizzly rain. It’s a rather ordinary rainy March morning.

I think about the garden and the work I am hoping to do this weekend. There are seeds to plant, weeds to pull, and I’d like to get a fresh layer of compost down on the vegetable bed. Weather permitting. I’m thinking about adding a rose with my dear friend in mind… perhaps missing her will be just a little less painful if I honor her memory in my garden… some lovely spot, where I can “sit with her awhile”, now and then? I think about beautiful roses and which of the many I had grown or shared over the years she liked the most or commented on most often… Or perhaps entirely new-to-my-garden roses that somehow capture my dear friend’s sense of style and creative nature? A splash of contrasting colors… A relaxed informal habit… I think about her fondly with roses, flowers, and fragrant herbs in mind. No tears, just love and fond memories. Progress. Even grief is a journey.

… My dear friend loved my roses, and even more she loved that I love them, myself. We spoke many times about the risk of slowing down and doing less, and the unfortunate “use it or lose it” nature of physical ability as we age. I keep walking, in spite of pain, in spite of “laziness”, in spite of fatigue – and it’s because I am so painfully aware that if I stop, and my fitness falls behind, it will become progressively more difficult over time to get it back. The physical effort in the garden is very much the same sort of thing. I sigh quietly and consider the garden and what I would like to do there this year. It saddens me for a moment that my dear friend, this year, won’t be around to share it with…

The rain stops. It’s daylight. The trail awaits. It’s time to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about the 20 year conversation documented in my archived emails that is the friendship I shared with my recently departed dear friend. It’s finally over, and that feels… strange. Over that 20 years, (which wasn’t the entirety of our friendship, just the portion documented in email exchanges) I sent 982 emails, and she sent 712, and then there were all the replies, and many of these include additional bits of back-and-forth within their threads. We spoke of art, love, life, work, and we shared music videos, cat pictures, and snapshots from assorted vacations and trips here and there. As my dear friend aged, some technological advancements became more challenging to adopt, and sometimes her health, or mine, was an impediment to replying (or replying at length) – sometimes it was just too hard to be on the computer, or to type on our cell phone. We never failed to stay connected, to keep in touch, and to start the conversation anew in a few days, or weeks.

We often shared moments of humor, some of them quite poignant “fun/not funny” sorts of moments. Sometimes we shared our challenges, seeking each others comfort, wisdom, or perspective. Sometimes we vented, seeking nothing but understanding, a chance to be heard. Life wasn’t always easy for either one of us.

We first met back in 1995, briefly. I was introduced to her by her son, rather casually, shortly after I began hooking up with him, in the midst of my divorce from my violent first husband. I was 100% pure chaos and damage, trying to rebuild something of myself out of the emotional wreckage that remained after I left my ex-husband. I wasn’t actually in a good place for a relationship, and a 32-year-old woman dallying with a much younger man when she so obviously needed to work on her own shit wasn’t a good look – and my (not yet) dear friend called me out on it, with frankness and clarity, and without being hurtful. She wasn’t wrong. She set explicit boundaries that she wasn’t in a place to make room for me as “family” on the basis of a couple of fun weekends. My motives were not clear (not even to me, and that was part of the problem).

My relationship with her son lingered, deepened, and became something lasting. My friendship with my dear friend did, too. Life throws us some curve balls, though, and later on my romantic relationship with her first-born failed, rather abruptly and painfully. My friendship with my dear friend showed considerably more staying power (obviously, or I wouldn’t be writing these words, now). We grew to rely upon each other, to stay in touch through all our changes and ups and downs and challenges and triumphs. It’s been a blast – hilarious and joyful and fond and intellectual and fun and… g’damn it I miss her already. Shit. She was that friend who got the first look at any new art (after my Traveling Partner), the first to read my poetry manuscript (still unpublished), and often the only one to be my confidante when I struggled with my emotional wellness or mental health, or a romantic relationship, outside of therapy. Losing her feels… so lonely.

…This morning I sip my coffee and I miss my dear friend. I had sat down at my desk first thing with an amusing thought stuck in my head, after my commute to the office. I opened my email and started to share it with her… then remembered. A few stray tears spilled over, and I feel them wet on my cheeks, even now. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. Fucking hell. So human. Death leaves us behind, standing on the precipice of a new beginning…

I don’t know what comes next, or what may someday “fill this space” in my heart where my dear friend’s laughter lived. I just know I’ve got to begin again…

…Some moments later, I sit back astonished to realize my dear friend and I had known each other for 29 years. Wow. More than 48% of my entire life was experienced in the context of this long association and continued dialogue. It’s no wonder I’m missing her, eh? This bit of perspective provides me an unexpected measure of comfort; it only makes sense that this hurts so much – we shared so much. I finish my coffee, and look out into the gray morning sky, thinking my thoughts…

I’m sipping my iced coffee and thinking about mortality. Not really a surprise after visiting a dear friend who is facing hers. Thing is, there are options and “ways to go”, and I’m not surprised by my dear friend’s choices, and I’m so fucking grateful (and relieved) that she’s gotten to make those choices with her own voice and mind and will, and that her family loves her enough to respect those choices. It’s a difficult time. Saying goodbye was less trying than simply somewhat sorrowful (and also unexpectedly joyful and deeply connected), and in part that was because my dear friend is cared for by people who love her, who have also managed to keep their senses of humor intact, and are so skilled at balancing respect for this dear woman who has been so much to us all, while also fending off the medical bureaucracy and bullshit (yeah, there’s a surprising amount of that) to ensure she is cared for and comfortable while the clock ticks. I’m glad I went to visit.

The private anecdotes illuminate the loving good-nature of my dear friend, and her continued sense of humor and awareness of her circumstances. I won’t be sharing those, they feel too private – but g’damn do I love this woman, and admire her strength and practicality. I hope when it is my turn, I have some measure of her strength, wisdom, and will. She’s managed to make things so much easier on her family simply by having known – and communicated – what she wants for end-of-life care for a long time. Fuck it is going to be a lonelier world without her in it!

…What I’m saying is, think about what you will want when “that time” comes, and then actually say words about it to those that you love. Don’t run from it. We are mortal creatures, and at least as of 2023, there’s no dodging that.

I arrived home last night after as close to an effortless drive back as could have been achieved. Almost no traffic, things moving along smoothly at slow points through small towns, pretty good weather… even the rain that began to fall midway through the drive stayed quite well-behaved and wasn’t much of an impediment to safe driving. I got home more than an hour earlier than expected, but that was mostly due to taking shorter/fewer breaks. I took plenty of those, and more frequently, with the result that I didn’t need so many or such long ones. Funny how that worked out. There’s a self-care lesson there. My Traveling Partner was pleased to have me home. I am happy to be back. Feels good. Comfortable. Familiar.

…The comfort and familiarity of home reminds me of the disappointing blandness of the hospital my dear friend is currently in. How the hell is anyone supposed to heal in that unengaging, unappealing environment?? I sip my coffee and think about that for some minutes…

The pre-dawn darkness became daylight… I barely noticed. There’s quite a lot to catch up on with work… time to begin again.

I’m packed, except for the laptop. The car is loaded, except for the laptop, and my handbag. Phone is charged. Charging brick is charged (I find it better for “topping off” the phone than the car’s USB port, and I can slip it in a pocket). I feel ready to hit the road, ready to head home. I’ll have a bite of breakfast and a cup of coffee in the hotel breakfast bar, and getting going shortly after, which should put the entire drive in daylight. If all goes to plan (though it rarely does), I should be home before 16:00, and get to enjoy dinner with my Traveling Partner, without hurrying or creating unnecessary stress for myself. 😀

…Funny, the trip down was sunny and mild. The days here were mostly also sunny and mild, with some brief rain showers and coastal fog yesterday. Today? The air is damp, it rained during the night, and the car is icy. The morning air is quite cold. I’ve used up the in-room coffee, and forgotten to ask for more. Definitely time to go home. lol

What a pleasant visit, in spite of the trying circumstances. No one wants to say final goodbyes to cherished friends, but if I’d had to script it, it may very well have gone something like this, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have had the chance to enjoy my dear friend’s lucid companionship and humor once again. I got pretty lucky. My dear friend was often awake and aware, while I visited. We enjoyed lively conversation, some of it quite deep. I was thoroughly welcomed by her family, gathered to care for her, and make decisions. The only better outcome would likely involve modifications to how mortality works, and some kind of extension of our all too brief human lives, or perhaps some more robust mortal vessel than those we’ve got. Not this year, I guess.

So, I give the room a last look around to avoid forgetting anything. I’m definitely ready for coffee. I guess I’m also ready to begin again.

I’m sitting quietly in my hotel room. It’s well-past any sort of reasonable time (for me) to have a cup of coffee. So… I make a cup of tea. I sip it slowly, hoping it doesn’t cause a restless night, enjoying the warmth of it in my hands, anyway. I breathe, exhale, relax, and wonder how things are over at the hospital? It’s past visiting hours. I stayed with my dear friend for much of the day, after arriving shortly after visiting hours began. It was a good day for both of us, relative to where we each are in our life and circumstances. I took a break at one point to make room for the painful intimacy of important conversations about where and when and things of that sort. I’m not “decision-making family”, so excusing myself seemed the most appropriate way to proceed. Aside from that, we spent the day together, my dear friend and I, while family and her bestie came and went, and even as my dear friend napped, finally getting some restful sleep (she’d been complaining about the sleep deprivation practices that are not uncommon in hospitals and suffering from a lack of healthy deep sleep for some days). Eventually, family and my dear friend’s bestie returned from errands and things that could not be put off for later, and visiting hours began to wind down. I made my goodbye’s all around, and headed back to the hotel.

…I think about something my Traveling Partner said to me in a message earlier today, in response to my bitching about the bare bland beige hospital decor, “Hospitals treat diseases, not people.” I considered the small things I saw not being done (that surely could have created a more healing environment…) the lack of windows with views in patient rooms, the lack of art on the walls, the lack of anything at all to do while… waiting. People in hospitals do a lot of fucking waiting around. People – patients – in hospitals are often incredibly bored. That’s so unhealthy for human wellness, particularly when there is no way to alleviate it. Nothing to do. I remember it from being in the hospital, myself; the endless maddening boredom. Then there’s something hospitals could do without… the fucking endless beeping of various monitors and machinery. G’damn, it was bad. Ceaseless. Inescapable. Nerve-wracking. Through cat-nap after cat-nap, and wrecking every opportunity for deep sleep, I saw my dear friend’s brow furrow with irritation when yet another round of beeping commenced, often in some room several doors down the corridor. Oh sure, those alarms are intended to get attention, but the nurses are human, too, and eventually they tune out the beeping, especially the commonplace beeps that indicate something, but not something urgent. They can tune them out, over time, but how many patients can? The patients haven’t been forced to listen to it long enough to learn to ignore it. If it’s going to get ignored anyway, why the fuck is it being permitted to continue to destroy the rest that vulnerable ill or injured people need so very much?? I admit it – I just don’t get it. It’s fucking dumb, and it’s also rude. While I’m on about this shit, for fucks’ sake don’t let people’s minds just atrophy while they’re struggling with their health! Make a point to engage their minds, and give them a way to entertain themselves! Be patient enough to wait around for the answer to a question you’ve asked, yes even if that patient has trouble speaking or expressing themselves! Wouldn’t you want that? Oh, and also? Fucking let people sleep. I can’t stress enough how fucking annoying it is to finally fall asleep in spite of pain or discomfort to be wakened by a cheery loud voice seeking to take vital signs or worse – to ask if you’re sleeping. Hospitals are not helping with that shit. Good grief.

I’m cross on my dear friend’s behalf. I sip my tea, and think awhile. I breathe, exhale, relax, and then let that go. It’s evening now, and soon enough I’ll be getting packed to the trip home. My dear friend is in the care of family and friends who love her greatly. She is so very loved.

I sit quietly, listening to my tinnitus. My Traveling Partner and I exchange “stickers” back and forth in messages: kisses, hugs, hearts, fun little animated characters showing affection . It delights me, and I feel loved. I’m eager to be home, and back in his arms. Unexpectedly, I noticed how much pain I’m in. The weather turned rainy this morning, and my arthritis flared up. I’ve stay caught up on my Rx’s this entire detour from the routine, which is not always the case when my routine is broken. Health-wise, I’m feeling pretty good, generally, so the pain caught me a bit by surprise (though it isn’t truly surprising). I sit with that awareness for a moment thinking back over the day; did I take my pain meds? Those are not “on a schedule”, and keeping track is very important. I look in my pillbox. Huh. I find myself surprised to see that I hadn’t found it necessary to manage my pain earlier today, at all. I fix that, hoping I got to it early enough to avoid fucking with my sleep. It’s been a long day, filled with “emotional labor”. I’m tired, and it seems likely I’ll sleep just fine, particularly if I don’t let myself get spun up over “what if I don’t sleep?”. lol

I take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. Actually? I’m already tired, it’s just too early to go to bed. I send more kisses to my Traveling Partner and pick up the book I’m reading… seems like a pleasant evening to read awhile, before calling it night. Tomorrow will be soon enough to begin again. 😀