The Shape of Today

Rough Seas

There are all kinds of metaphors out there for when life gets difficult. Though I've never been at sea during storms, I've read enough accounts of them to apply the metaphor to my own life at present. It's rough, and scary.

I don't mean things out there in the wider world that the news is so taken with. That storm will pass. What it takes with it is to be determined, but I certainly am not a part of it and have no intention of becoming part. I have my own storm.

After a rather large bill and a couple of days of gritty water, we now have a new pump, new pressure tank, and new hardware for all of this. Dad also has a new stationary recliner which apparently is very comfortable...he sleeps in it easily. It finally dawned on my yesterday that sprinkling cornstarch over the surfaces he needs to scoot over might help, and it appears it does. This is helpful, because his weakness has become so problematic that I've taken a leave from work so I can be here with him all the time. He has a lot of trouble with transferring...the trip down to Gainesville Thursday for the labs was a nightmare. I had to get strangers in the parking lot helping me get him and out of the car. I'm still considering whether I should engage a private ambulance service for his first infusion Wednesday.

Although, for the last couple of days, he's seemed better. A friend recommended B-12 supplements which are supposed to be beneficial for people with his condition. Maybe it's just hopeful imagination, but he does appear to have recovered at least a little vigor. His appetite is as strong as ever, so I'm going to keep feeding him the best things for him. We have just a few days more to get through, just gotta hang on.

It's hard, though. It's not the first time I've watched a loved one cope with the ravages of age, but struggling to do the most basic everyday things takes a lot out of him and it's heart-rending to see. Anxiety springs up like a grass fire every time he gets in or out of his recliner, or goes to bed. And naturally this spills over into my writing life, such as it is. I can't focus on anything, even my library books. The holidays were too dismal and chaotic to seem normal, but I did make a sort of unofficial resolution to "read to write" more closely; seeing what authors do that make their works so compelling. It's tough to do that when you're constantly listening for your aging parent to call out, or try to get up unsupervised.

I have to try, though. If for no other reason than applying what I've learned from this storm to my writing, and adding depth to a character's situation. That was discussed in a "Writing Excuses" podcast I listened to yesterday.

That makes sense, and of course I know that what I am facing is peanuts compared to what some are facing. I need to kick anxiety and self-pity to the curb and use what I do have to steer us through this storm. And I will...I just had to vent.