Memorial
Day 2013
Time
accelerates as you grow older. The years
whiz by. Just yesterday, Elizabeth was
standing first in line outside her new fifth grade classroom, excited to meet
her new teacher, wearing an outfit Leslie picked out for her. That’s changed
because fashion, as she states adamantly, is an important part of who she
is. She takes up to 45 minutes at night
figuring out what to wear the next day. Now, Elizabeth has completed her sophomore
year of high school. Sophomore year! And
today was the very first day we didn’t have to be anywhere, go anywhere, or do
anything. We all slept in and it was heavenly. In fact, just having Elizabeth
home with no plans and no stress felt really, really good. It’s as though time slowed down just for this
weekend.
The
last few months have been hard. Elizabeth’s schedule was off the charts with
rehearsals, the high school musical “Grease”, a dance recital, homework,
finals, and the pressure and angst that go with it. She found her niche with the Drama
Department, and even after the show, the kids are making a strong effort to
stay together. A few weeks ago, they went to House of Air in San Francisco,
which was a hoot (see video), then spent time at the new Round Table Pizza in
town, which is clean and delicious. Saturday night, they were at Mary’s until
midnight swimming, re-viewing their performance of “Grease”, and then
descending on Ross in onesies. At sixteen, Elizabeth is reluctantly caught
between being a child and being a young adult.
She expresses her independence in different ways, and now her hair, all
of her hair, is a bright, Manic Panic blue.
We can easily pick her out of a crowd of 50,000. Still, she and her friends seek out
opportunities to be silly. Soon enough,
she’ll grow more serious as she paves a path to adulthood.
Leslie’s
health is finally improving. What
started out as a singular case of cellulitis in her right foot in mid-March,
turned into nine weeks of hell made tolerable only by the uncanny way our
Boston Bull, Daizy, NEVER left Leslie’s side, and ministered to her literally
whenever she got upset. It was really something to see. Leslie spent four days in the hospital, but
after the oral antibiotics left her system, the cellulitis rebounded with a vengeance.
Elizabeth’s show “Grease”, and her dance recital, for that matter, occurred in
the middle of all this. Sitting through a performance was painful as Leslie’s
foot swelled like a blowfish. And she had to reschedule the trip she planned to see her sister in Iowa, which was very disappointing.
Two
trips to the emergency room and plenty of IV antibiotics later, the cellulitis
cleared up in time for the left foot to start in. No lie. At this point, Leslie
was extremely frustrated with her lack of mobility, tired of taking so much
medication, and getting worried it would never end. Even a trip to the bathroom was difficult.
The
left foot turned out to be the gout. It
wasn’t a stress fracture from hopping around with cellulitis, and it wasn’t a
blood clot. We checked. No, her uric acid levels were super high. It was no doubt the gout. The gout. How
horrible does that sound? When I was a
kid, the gout was discussed in tones of disgust. Connie talked about it like it
was leprosy. “It hurt so bad,” she
barked, “I told them to take my leg off!”
Leslie’s pain was an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10 even though we caught it
early. The first round of medication was prednisone (steroids), and it did
nothing but hide the symptoms for a short time and make her feel terrible. A week later, two more medications, and daily
doses of concentrated cherry juice, and the gout began to recede. The pain, however, seemed to go on forever. The
osteoarthritis was extremely irritated by all this, too. What's more, she had to cancel her rescheduled trip to Iowa once again, as if the universe just didn't want her to go there!
Today
was the first day Leslie got out her walking sticks and walked tentatively down
the street. It was a brief walk, although more than I expected, and it was an
effort toward regaining her strength, which she feels intensely motivated to do.
Adjunct
to this, and I’m climbing on my soapbox here, all of Leslie’s health issues
were either caused by or exacerbated by her weight, which, for the record, isn’t
that horrible. She was much, much
heavier ten years ago before her total knee replacement in 2002 and has been conscientious
ever since. When you’re at a point where
moving or exercising is painful, and you’re plagued with muscles that tweak and
joints that scream at the end of the day, it’s time to take the situation in
hand. Bones aren’t made to carry extra weight, and aging bones will object
vehemently. That’s what I had to do, and why I sound like I’m preaching (there’s
nothing more annoying than a reformed fat person). Despite still having issues I must work on, at
the very least I’m not lugging an extra 120 pounds when I climb the
stairs. My thoughts are this: If you’re
a large woman, a thick madam, of 50 or thereabouts, and frightened of
disability or immobility, don’t be afraid to do something about it. The
glitches have been worked out of weight loss surgery, and we’re lucky enough to
have a pioneer in the field right here at Mills Peninsula. There’s no reason to
remain caged by your body. End of
soapbox.
Next
week, Leslie goes to see Dr. Wetter, the surgeon who did my weight loss
surgery. The appointment can’t come soon
enough as far as she’s concerned.
The
summer will be a chance to be together as a family and strengthen the bonds
stressed by illness and crazy schedules.
I knew May was going to be a financial challenge, so we spent a lot of
time doing yard sales and chasing bills.
It was the month stuck between transitions around income. I’m glad to see May come to a close. Leslie will teach Elizabeth how to drive
(another rite of passage that blows my mind).
Elizabeth will undoubtedly spend a lot of time with her brand new
acoustic guitar which she taught herself how to play. And she’ll do a month
long musical theater summer camp in July at Spindrift right here in town. Rehearsals are Monday through Friday from noon
to 7 pm. Awesome! Leslie’s focus will be on nailing down the
various mandatory tests and appointments prior to her weight loss surgery.
I
want to spend the summer transitioning into my new responsibilities at Sanchez
Art Center, which I’m excited about, working with Tracey on an art commission
(which I’m exceedingly grateful for), and doing lots of art and writing (the
inspiration for which is banging in my head).
I’ve got an art exhibition happening at Pacifica’s Community Center in
July, and there are a few pieces I’d like to complete for that. My fiction manuscript, which I’m more than
halfway through, is pulling at me again.
If I get into the 50/50 at Sanchez, that means 50 pieces of small art
(6x6) over 50 days which will be a challenge and an opportunity to complete my
pop-culture tarot deck.
My
spiritual mother, Sri Karunamayi or Amma, was in town just as Leslie’s
cellulitis was at its worst, so I missed the Bay Area programs. Then, in an unusual scheduling move, she came
back a month later, just as Leslie’s gout was at its peak. I was very
disappointed even as I knew for certain that my family comes before everything,
even my spirituality.
If
I’ve learned anything from the last several months, it’s this: There are some things we can change and many
things we cannot, but time marches on regardless and whether or not we change what
we dislike about ourselves. Change is
self-motivated. It can also be
frightening. But it beats sitting on the couch because you’re too fatigued to
do anything else, waiting for the next time your back goes out.
Having
the time to be with my family and to do my art and writing is a blessing. But,
of course, it’s balanced by a need for greater financial security. Someday soon, this time will come to an
end. I plan to enjoy it while it lasts. I also know without a doubt, that my greatest wish
is for Leslie and I to be present and healthy if and when Elizabeth has
children. We're taking steps to make that happen.
Soon
enough, Elizabeth will be off to college, Leslie will be 150 pounds lighter, and I
really will be 50 years old!
Time really does fly.
