Part 89 A merrier Christmas


On Christmas eve I awaken with a new spirit of positivism and desire to be wholly present in the day. My “friend” Thich Nhat Nanh would be very pleased. I sip hot chocolate for breakfast. On cool mornings it satisfies me, and nowadays I find coffee to be too bitter. Christmas music fills the house, performed by people such as Jethro Tull, Sarah Brightman, the Eagles, Phil Spector, Tony Bennett, Brian Setzer, and whoever is singing on the children’s “123 Christmas Songs” CD. After a few quick weights, I color pictures and assemble puzzles with Brooke. Next I read books to her. Brooke has become my new best friend. Her older sister is sometimes my buddy, but she generally is too attached to mom to have much left for me. Brooke seems very concerned about my health and is always asking questions. I think this is all weighing quite heavily on her in her fourth year of this life.

We attend the five o’clock church service featuring the children. Rain starts falling while we are there. After it is over, we pick up the customary Christmas Eve Italian dinner (this time from Hasta la Pasta) and take it home to enjoy with CC and GG, who went to church with us and will be staying overnight. I attempt to eat some of my meal, but give up, realizing that at the worse possible time my esophagus has shrunk too much for any of this to pass. I do manage out of sheer defiance and desperation to eat a tiny serving of cherry pie topped with vanilla ice cream, which I have been craving to top off dinner.

It is Christmas day, a chilly morning, and it somehow is a happy day. I refuse to add “with reservations”, even though the thought hovers. We have all slept to an unheard of (for this holiday) eight o’clock. I am asked to follow a series of clues (through many blind alleys) to find my special present. It is, indeed: an original Dr. Ra- painting, which Becah had attempted to buy, only to have her check returned with the note, “Merry Christmas”, attached.

I also have some new clothes and CDs ordered from Amazon. I usually find that others don’t know what music I like, or that I possibly may already have, so I order some CDs prior to Christmas and keep them boxed, pulling them on the holiday morning. Sometimes I order them far enough in advance that I forget which ones they are, and I really am surprised! We have mimosas with breakfast, listen to some more music, and watch “Scrooge” at noon. We top off a leisurely day watching the wonderful “Horton Hears a Who” before bedtime.




Part 90 Goodbye December


December draws to a chilly close. Over the next few days we drive about town, taking in several activities. We listen to “Beatles For Sale” and “Yellow Submarine” on the way to visit Parkway Place, an assisted care community where my mother has very reluctantly decided to temporarily house my ailing father, who has been falling down, bruising himself, and generally deteriorating. She has some health concerns too, and is increasingly unable to bear the burden of caring for my dad at home. He will be here a few weeks. I hate that it has come to this. I am upset that my father’s dementia results in his frequent asking why he is here, but most of all I worry that he just wants to sleep. I have been so concerned with my own health problems that I have refused to accept my father’s decline. Now it stares me in the face.

We escape these and other realities by going to the movies. I take the Bree and a friend to see “Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader”. I anticipate that we will all enjoy it, and I’m not disappointed. Another day I take Brooke to watch “Tangled”, which I do only to please her, but I find it to be delightful.

I attempt to eat various foods, generally soups, chowders, and bisques, finding it increasingly more difficult to swallow as the days progress. Cokes are not even working well. My options are few and getting fewer.

At the end of the month we visit Dr. Ly-, who says (despite my poor luck with eating) that my physical status is good. He believes I could benefit from swallow therapy from a speech therapist (just what I need, more therapy from more therapists). He suggests a biopsy of the esophagus and to consider surgery for the stricture, which he feels that I could have at any time due to my “good health”. He reiterates that the stricture was not caused by radiation, but feels it could have exacerbated a pre-existing condition like asymptomatic acid reflux. Apparently he has concerns that the procedures I have been receiving may not be enough to resolve this problem (I am agreeing with him). But full blown surgery to correct this will involve a several hour session and dangers that could entail.

I am ending this year with more options and decisions to contemplate than I care for.