What a week, and what a month. This is one of those periods that test us, and it has certainly tested me.
First the physical and emotional challenge of watching Dad get sicker, then his ending up in the ER again for what would be his last set of care facility transitions. Then facilitating those transitions with negotiations, funds, physical moves of Dad’s belongings multiple times. Then the logistics of his death, and dealing with all that while not in a great emotional state. I was and am grateful that my brothers and other family members were there through it all to carry their part of the load.
Then a weirdly unsatisfying Alaska cruise, which wasn’t much more than a period to read and walk around the ship a lot. Seemed like a good idea at the time. During that week I learned that Dad’s widow, our stepmom, was distraught enough that she decided she didn’t want to live any longer and entered the hospital refusing meds and food. Not much has changed about that as of this date.
Then getting home and immediately getting sick, real sick, which turned out to be Covid. For a day or two I was worried (and miserable), but after that the illness settled down to the “bad cold” status. Another lost week, but as of now I feel about 80-85% and am confident that 100% is not far away.
All this time spent with death and illness has certainly caused some introspection. I hate that over this period I’ve not seen the grandkids much, not done any writing, not done any for-pay project work, not made any real progress toward a healthier lifestyle. Not played any golf with friends. So I’m anxious to get on with those things.
Previous to all this I was quite aware that the runway is short, and every day is precious. After this, just double my belief in that. After a few more days in isolation, I plan to get out and start knocking off some of those deferred goals and desires. We still have to wait for our stepmom’s situation to resolve one way or the other, and I hope she chooses life. But either way we’ll be there for her.
I will say that I think fate owes my family a little break at this point. It’s been a lot. Though at least no one forcibly relocated any of us to Martha’s Vineyard under false pretenses. And none of our family lives in Puerto Rico. So yeah, it could be worse.