Last year at this time of year, I was resident in a "rehab center," and completely and entirely miserable. Not to mention extremely sick (remember C. diff.?) and weak.
The place was deep in the south end of Seattle, far from friends, and the roads were icy. It had been snowing.
Very few friends/family members made the journey to see me, although one who did--Norie--came all the way from Japan. And she brought gifts! (She also had another friend in Seattle to see, to be fair, but I have never forgotten that she was there when I was at my worst.)
Note to self: E-mail Norie and let her know that I did NOT die that time, and in fact am doing quite well, despite disease progression in lungs and liver.
Younger Son, with my blessing, flew to San Fran to spend several days or a week with his father, Roger, and Roger's family. Why should YS risk life and limb on icy roads to get to the rehab place to watch me play with my food(?)--mushy peas, mostly.
Older Son was out of contact, and he presumably spent his holiday with his large circle of friends. I hope to see him this year, but no word as yet. There will be gifts for him under my tree, regardless, although no actual tree--a metaphorical one.
Cancer and Christmas
The holidays tend to be a tough time for me. My father's pancreatic cancer was diagnosed at around the holidays, all those years ago, and my own cancer metastasized to my bones at this time of year. I got the news on New Year's Eve, in fact.
Holiday Meltdowns (I'm seeing a bit of this around the Harborview psych ward, where I'm writing this. Hope to go home tomorrow, or Monday--X-mas Eve--at the latest.)
@ jeanne marie sather 2012. All rights reserved.