This is a couple days late but...here.
It’s the night before the surgery. Monday night. Or technically, as I’m typing, it’s Tuesday January 3, 2006. I don’t want that date to mean anything. I don’t want to have to remember it.
New Year’s went fine. I don’t really give a shit about it this year. Think it has to do with another break-up happening this year. Another year. Whoop-di-fuckin’-do. The Juniper Inn is continuing to suck and I’ve been brushing off housekeeping since LAST Tuesday. I’ve been losing myself in The Sims 2 University for the past few days when my computer has decided to cooperate. Currently, I’ve decided to push that aside and do some impromptu writing. Also catching up on some podcasts. Listening to Mark Riley’s show from this morning. Air America needs to come up with some catchier names for their new morning shows. Morning Sedition just rolled off the tongue and latched onto some people’s knowledge of NPR’s Morning Edition. I’m still hoping that this Mark Riley and Rachel Maddow morning situation works but I can’t see it being anything like it was. Perhaps Air America is going for the NPR crowd instead of the younger generations and that would be truly tragic since the Howard Stern crowd that doesn’t have the cash to get satellite radio is going to be looking for a new home.
Anyways. I’ve asked my Dad a few more questions regarding this situation. A few talks, I guess. He’s gotten all of the research material for this Picasso drawing that’s in the family and has presented it to me, so to speak. Discussing the surgery and his health in general, we talked about the question my Dad wanted to ask the surgeon today: Is this worth it? Or can I go home and buy a bottle of scotch? This has been a situation that’s been discussed off and on since his health began acting up in 1992 or 93. A deal made with his main doctors that if the odds turn against him, that he’s told and let off the hook to go and enjoy life including the items excluded from his diet since all this began. I’ve thought since the first mention of this plan that IF it ever happens that I’m dropping whatever I’m doing and enjoying that time with him. However, when that question confronts me directly… it’s just not something I want to think about. Most of this are issues I don’t want to think about.
He talked about the probably need for optimism in these situations when it comes to recovery: How prayer and optimism affect the rates of recovery for patients. (Listening note: Sorry Mark Riley but I’ve switched over to Ricky Gervais’s podcast. Lighter tone.) I’m not sure about my father’s relationship with God or any God-like deity, he IS an Old Testament scholar, and so optimism is the fallback position. Optimism isn’t what I would consider a big asset of my family so the phrase “cultivating optimism” has been on my lips many times tonight.
This situation is so trying though. It truly is a trial of us as a family. What happens when one of us goes into the hospital for major surgery? How do my Mom and Dad treat each other? That’s pretty much my major question. Their relationship has always been of concern for me since I was in grade school. I tried to set them up on dates when I was little. It never worked. But more than how my brother and I react in this situation, how my Mom and Dad respond to each other is truly what’s on trial. In my mind of course. Do they really love each other? Do they connect on any level still? Why is my Dad so temperamental and why does my Mom stand it?
And in my mind, all of that is evidence that I can or cannot love or be loved. HENCE! Therapy. Speaking of therapy, I got a hold of my therapist, which reminds me I need to get a hold of my psychiatrist to cancel my appointment that I won’t be in the same time zone for. But yeah, therapist. Talked to her a bit and left a message on one of her phones today. There are familiar themes popping up here mainly the deal that in these situations where I don’t know what to do, I need to know what to do. (Listening note: OOO!!! Home Movies! Squigglevision Home Movies but still. It’s been nice to see on television the shows I own on DVD at home in Chicago.) So yes. Fall-back positions. My own regarding when I’m not feeling completely in control which is…..most times. Waking up and going to sleep at regular times. Exercising. Eating at regular intervals. All things that I DON’T do in Montana. Don’t do at home. It’s a settling back into a life-long routine, if life-long is from high school onwards, where I can only be free to do what I wish after my Dad has gone to sleep. Also a pattern of hiding in my room and staying there, leaving only to get Mountain Dew from upstairs or go the bathroom. I have a number of those behaviours in Chicago but I’m trying to break those, gradually realizing that I feel better waking up early in the morning and going to sleep at a decent hour.
So far it hasn’t been working out very well here in Montana, but honestly I don’t even know when I’m leaving to go back to school. I don’t know when school starts. All I know is that my Dad checks into the hospital at 9:30 am, Tuesday January 3rd and my motel room is paid up until this Friday. That’s all I got. That and I need to buy some more tea.
Okay. Going to sleep. God please have everything go fine with my Dad’s surgery and recovery. Please. Please. Please.
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