Stormy Seas
03/03/19 07:45
I'm not sure that I'm up to writing in this here journal today but it feels right so I'll get started. My cold morphed into a bloody bronchial nightmare over the course of the last few days and it still rattles around in my chest even now despite my best efforts to rid myself of this noxious beast. I finally dragged myself into a local urgent care facility and they sent me packing with a narcotic to muffle the spasms in my diaphragm and a potent antibiotic to fight off any remaining infections running through my blood stream.
Now, my darling is not feeling well and I have no one to blame but myself for not doing a better job of cordoning off my sickness. I certainly did leave the bedroom at least one evening after several hours of fitful coughing and not wanting to further expose her to my germs and deprive her of a good night's sleep. It felt good to cough with abandon while lying on the couch and out of earshot of my wife. That was before my constant coughing wreaked havoc with the muscles in my abdomen making every cough more painful than the last.
That is probably just how it goes when things go awry with your health. You're just fine one day and the next day you're fighting for your life in the local emergency room. We'll have to see how Nancy's sickness develops but if it seems to track what I've been battling for the last week then we'll both be happy that I walked away from the urgent care center with the medicines that I did. Knowing what I now know about this killer, suppressing the cough is the key to keeping everything in check. Never mind that the narcotic can be habit forming and insidious in it's own way.
I'm happy to report that we received an e-mail this past Friday with the subject line "approved." That's right, folks. Evan will be getting his own apartment soon thanks to everyone involved in what has certainly been a herculean effort. From the neighbors who offered their support by providing invaluable references to the builders who make it all possible, not to mention the efforts of his mom who never took no for an answer while wading through a bureaucratic gauntlet of paperwork, the finish line is finally in sight and it is a welcome sight indeed.
Truth be told, I think it is now starting to scare him a little bit. It seems that he has fallen into a somewhat comfortable routine here at home despite his intermittent caterwauling about moving out into his own place. When I think of all the things we never got around to expect from him as a responsible member of the household it leaves me coming up short. These are skills he will clearly need for his own survival longer term. He will be part of a larger community as well and that has its own set of requirements which are as yet undefined.
Fast forward a week and a half. The hacks are fewer and far between but the congestion is still a bitch. It makes everything more difficult, less enjoyable, and all you can do is wait. Evan's move-in date has moved to 4/1 so we'll all hopefully be feeling better by the time he needs us to assist with the move. It's just all the little stuff that we're not thinking about at the moment that worries me. "Worries" might be too strong a word. He'll probably be happy to be moving in with nothing more than a toothbrush and a towel after hankering as he has for so long to get his own place.
Betsi brought over some homemade baked beans and freshly made bread late yesterday afternoon. The beans were piping hot and the bread was still throwing off steam when she handed it to me while standing on our doorstep. I told her earlier in the day that I'd be happy to show up with my face mask and nitrile gloves if necessary and, if not, she could leave the stuff on her stoop. Nancy and I had been watching the disturbing documentary about Michael Jackson so told Evan to help himself and we would have some after he was done. I think that boy was hungry.
I don't have much of a recollection of Michael Jackson aside from his obvious musical hits but this documentary laid it all bare. The guy was a freak in more ways than one. I guess I had seen the supermarket tabloid headlines over time about his predilection for young boys but thought that they were just that. It was pretty sick stuff. He used his rock star status to attract and groom not only the children involved but their families who were unintentionally complicit in the many arrangements that gave the superstar access to their children.
But the freshly baked bread and beans were exquisite and we were happy to have them. It was the first real meal any of us had had for the day. I called Betsi and lavished her with praise for bringing them by. She knew we had been struggling with these damn colds and probably gathered that we weren't getting out much so took the bull by the horns. It was a well intentioned dish and they are by far the best. When you know people want the best for you and they are willing to make a statement to that effect by cooking a dish, sending prayers, or doing the things that neighbors do for their neighbors in a time of need then that is a good thing.
Maybe it's best that this sickness comes along toward the end of Winter as it has when staying indoors is more the norm than not. How infectious are we still exactly, I asked my wife last night as we drove to the local Starbucks for something, anything, that would put a little spring in our step. We were well on our way to a nearby town to pick up Mexican take out which has always been reliably good and reliably tasty. It didn't matter that driving the distance might result in our arriving back home with tepid to cold dishes.
It just felt good to be out of doors and on the proverbial treadmill of life like the rest of the world. A shroud of darkness descended on the City of Portsmouth and surrounding waterways in the early evening hours and was merrily punctuated as far as the eye could see with a galaxy of brilliant lights. I was willing to be swallowed whole by looking out over the expanse which was Portsmouth as we crossed the bridge over the Piscataqua River and into Kittery, Maine but thought better of it and gripped the wheel even tighter knowing what I knew of my flimsy grip on reality after having spent the better part of two weeks in or close to bed.
Now, my darling is not feeling well and I have no one to blame but myself for not doing a better job of cordoning off my sickness. I certainly did leave the bedroom at least one evening after several hours of fitful coughing and not wanting to further expose her to my germs and deprive her of a good night's sleep. It felt good to cough with abandon while lying on the couch and out of earshot of my wife. That was before my constant coughing wreaked havoc with the muscles in my abdomen making every cough more painful than the last.
That is probably just how it goes when things go awry with your health. You're just fine one day and the next day you're fighting for your life in the local emergency room. We'll have to see how Nancy's sickness develops but if it seems to track what I've been battling for the last week then we'll both be happy that I walked away from the urgent care center with the medicines that I did. Knowing what I now know about this killer, suppressing the cough is the key to keeping everything in check. Never mind that the narcotic can be habit forming and insidious in it's own way.
I'm happy to report that we received an e-mail this past Friday with the subject line "approved." That's right, folks. Evan will be getting his own apartment soon thanks to everyone involved in what has certainly been a herculean effort. From the neighbors who offered their support by providing invaluable references to the builders who make it all possible, not to mention the efforts of his mom who never took no for an answer while wading through a bureaucratic gauntlet of paperwork, the finish line is finally in sight and it is a welcome sight indeed.
Truth be told, I think it is now starting to scare him a little bit. It seems that he has fallen into a somewhat comfortable routine here at home despite his intermittent caterwauling about moving out into his own place. When I think of all the things we never got around to expect from him as a responsible member of the household it leaves me coming up short. These are skills he will clearly need for his own survival longer term. He will be part of a larger community as well and that has its own set of requirements which are as yet undefined.
Fast forward a week and a half. The hacks are fewer and far between but the congestion is still a bitch. It makes everything more difficult, less enjoyable, and all you can do is wait. Evan's move-in date has moved to 4/1 so we'll all hopefully be feeling better by the time he needs us to assist with the move. It's just all the little stuff that we're not thinking about at the moment that worries me. "Worries" might be too strong a word. He'll probably be happy to be moving in with nothing more than a toothbrush and a towel after hankering as he has for so long to get his own place.
Betsi brought over some homemade baked beans and freshly made bread late yesterday afternoon. The beans were piping hot and the bread was still throwing off steam when she handed it to me while standing on our doorstep. I told her earlier in the day that I'd be happy to show up with my face mask and nitrile gloves if necessary and, if not, she could leave the stuff on her stoop. Nancy and I had been watching the disturbing documentary about Michael Jackson so told Evan to help himself and we would have some after he was done. I think that boy was hungry.
I don't have much of a recollection of Michael Jackson aside from his obvious musical hits but this documentary laid it all bare. The guy was a freak in more ways than one. I guess I had seen the supermarket tabloid headlines over time about his predilection for young boys but thought that they were just that. It was pretty sick stuff. He used his rock star status to attract and groom not only the children involved but their families who were unintentionally complicit in the many arrangements that gave the superstar access to their children.
But the freshly baked bread and beans were exquisite and we were happy to have them. It was the first real meal any of us had had for the day. I called Betsi and lavished her with praise for bringing them by. She knew we had been struggling with these damn colds and probably gathered that we weren't getting out much so took the bull by the horns. It was a well intentioned dish and they are by far the best. When you know people want the best for you and they are willing to make a statement to that effect by cooking a dish, sending prayers, or doing the things that neighbors do for their neighbors in a time of need then that is a good thing.
Maybe it's best that this sickness comes along toward the end of Winter as it has when staying indoors is more the norm than not. How infectious are we still exactly, I asked my wife last night as we drove to the local Starbucks for something, anything, that would put a little spring in our step. We were well on our way to a nearby town to pick up Mexican take out which has always been reliably good and reliably tasty. It didn't matter that driving the distance might result in our arriving back home with tepid to cold dishes.
It just felt good to be out of doors and on the proverbial treadmill of life like the rest of the world. A shroud of darkness descended on the City of Portsmouth and surrounding waterways in the early evening hours and was merrily punctuated as far as the eye could see with a galaxy of brilliant lights. I was willing to be swallowed whole by looking out over the expanse which was Portsmouth as we crossed the bridge over the Piscataqua River and into Kittery, Maine but thought better of it and gripped the wheel even tighter knowing what I knew of my flimsy grip on reality after having spent the better part of two weeks in or close to bed.