Monday, December 20, 2004

Over the Altamont and down the 5

To the Comfort Inn we go.

We were supposed to be staying with my father--an arrangement J. and I were uncomfortable with on many levels but had accepted as we want to help him out for the holidays--but have been spared it by the O.W. He has decided that he doesn't have the energy for company, even though he knows we wouldn't be any trouble; his antidepressants aren't doing anything for him, and he has a hard time even getting out of bed, and he just doesn't want to feel bad about having us seeing him feeling bad.

I just wish I could join him for his next appointment with the neurologist and persuade him to start taking the Parkinson's meds, instead of just the standard-issue antidepressants that are so clearly useless to him. Damn the possible insomnia; who knows, the right Parkinson's drugs might even alleviate it. But he's so down that he doesn't even have the energy to imagine taking something else, and dismissed it on the grounds that anything new might make him feel even worse. How do you help someone who's feeling so low that he doesn't even want to make an effort to get better?

The holidays are always a little bit rough, what with the nieces and nephew and sibling in-fighting and buying too many presents and...and...I still love Christmas. The tree, the mechanical carnival scene and little train that run underneath, the cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and my sister's gingerbread tart tatin. The glasses of cheap champagne--Trader Joe's, $4.99 a bottle!--that my father magically manages to refill when we're not looking, and after we've already had enough. My grandmother's delicate thanks for each present and obvious pleasure in seeing her entire brood all busily running around. And watching J. with my family, the way he loves and is loved by this odd little group of people, the way he makes them his own, and vice-versa.

Though I don't celebrate Christmas in any religious sense, I do look at it as a time for reflection, forgiveness and strengthening bonds of friendship and love. It's also, for me, a time to give thanks for the spirit of community--for appreciating the great good I receive from being part of something so much bigger than me. This year, I have discovered and gained so much from your community, your stories, your support, and I want you to know that it has meant the world to me. You have broadened my understanding in so many areas, made me laugh, hard and deep, at times when I felt hopeless, and taught me a lot about both compassion and strength.

Thank you. For everything. It means even more on days like today, when yet another fruitless cycle is confirmed by a negative HPT, a sea of white.


Blogger Soper said...

there are always popsicle sticks....


11:59 AM  
Blogger E. said...

I'm so sorry about that damn negative. I hope you make it through the holidays okay -- onward to 2005!

8:55 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

We are all here for you. And I am so glad I found your day is not complete without checking in with you and your witty ways!

Wishing you and your family all of the best during the season and the new year.


5:15 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You are hilarious! I just found your blog and read the entire thing! The "return from whence you came" and "instead cup" entries had me convulsing in my chair, trying not to laugh out loud in my office. I am adding you to my favorites list so I can compulsively check your blog for new entries.

I am 35 also. Have also been trying since age 33. Ours seems to be female factor. A little bit of an odd shape to the ute and clotting issues. Just had a remodel of the ute in November and will start lovenox injections after ovulation starting next month. So heres to (re)productive 2005 for us both! So glad I found your blog.


11:44 AM  
Blogger DeadBug said...

Tricia, welcome! Thanks for the sweet comment; I am blushing a little bit.

10:43 AM  

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