Tuesday night I was out for a walk, moving quickly through the neighborhoods to the south of my apartment, when my phone rang. Normally, I do not answer my phone when I am walking because it ruins the rhythm (LOL - though, for the record I can walk and talk at the same time). But, due to hot work related issue I thought it might be one of my analysts, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the caller ID. It was one of my sisters.
I answered. It seems that sometime Tuesday afternoon my mother fell and may or may not had hit her stomach on a coffee table. When my step father got home she was complaining of having fallen and rubbing her stomach, so my step-father took her down to the IHS (Indian Health Service) hospital in Rosebud. My sister, who lives about ten miles away, met them there.
After the usual several hour wait, they did a CT scan and came to the conclusion that she may have bruised her pancreas or had pancreatitus. They gave her four mg of morphine for the pain and considered flying her out to Sioux Falls, SD. After further discussion with her primary care physician she was transferred to the hospital in Winner, SD, where they put her on IV's to keep her hydrated and keep her overnight to run tests.
It is always tough to be half a continent away when things like that happen, so all I could do was send a few prayers up to the universe, finish my walk, and wait. I exchanged calls with my siblings into the night and then fell asleep. Today, my sister went up to Winner. My mother is still in the hospital, mostly sleeping, and eating clear foods. They have her on 2 mg of morphine and according to my sister "some drug that starts with an N, but its not naproxin". They attempted to give her an MRI at the Winner Hospital, but my mother apparently refused to cooperate. (This doesn't surprise anyone as one thing we can be certain of is my family is...stubborn.). So, they are waiting for IHS to send them the MRI, but they do not think it is pancreatitus.
They should have more results tomorrow. My sister has lately been concerned that my mother is sometimes disoriented - but at this point I have to rely on her observations. Since I do not see her frequently, I can only judge by the times when I talk to her, about once a week, and she seems fine when I am in discussions with her. My mother is 72 years old, so she has seen a lot of life.
At this point I am mainly in a wait and see mode, waiting for the results from her doctor, and then we will go from there. It has been keeping me half distracted.
Layer on top of that I had a good hot one at work, a high visibility, short turn around data analysis that turned out to be a pure slam dunk on our part. It rarely happens, but all the pieces fell together like a jigsaw puzzle, and I turned it over today, got patted on the head, and left it to other people to decide what to do with the data. That was also kind of chaotic. So, all in all it has been a fast set of days this week. I think I am going to bed early tonight because I did not sleep too well last night, tossed and turned with my brain running down various side roads.
So, I can say pretty conclusively, it has been an interesting week and October is going out with a flurry. On the plus side, I have been reading the latest trade graphic novel in Bill Willingham's "Fables" series, "The Good Prince", Excellent as usual and I have been forcing myself to go slow, because I can blaze through one of the Fables graphic novels in a single sitting pretty easily.
Showing posts with label Strange Currents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Strange Currents. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Strange Currents Of October
Fall is often an introspective time of year. I know I feel that way and I know that many of the people I talk with feel that way. There is something in the season - perhaps the eternal influence of the end of summer, perhaps some shift in body chemistry as we prepare for the coming winter, perhaps something cultural that is deeply ingrained.
Personally, on top of the introspection of fall, I layer a profound sense of loss on top of the month of October. October is a time frame in which I often find myself contemplating the loss and memory.
Principle among those losses was the death of my father and my grandfather separated by only a few short weeks in an October many years ago. My father died of cancer and my grandfather of a heart attack. My father was 54 and my grandfather was 84 (it was my mother's father, my father's father, my other grandfather, died when I was very young, at Christmas, also of a heart attack).
I could list other losses and incidents of loss that stacked up in the month of October, but I won't. Suffice it to say that it a time of contemplating life and death for me, both on the personal level and on the wider cultural level, with Halloween (All Souls Eve and All Saints Day).
That combination has some strange effects on me. First, it does make me emotionally sensitive to all kinds of loss. It means that sometimes, with little or no warning, with minimal triggers, I can easily spin into a deep and dark mood. At the same time a greater sensitivity to the fragility and eternity and beauty of life itself rises up in me.
It is a season of strange currents. It is a season of simplicity and beauty and grace and sadness and joy and memory. It is drawing to a close as we slip into the final week of October. I know from many years prior that I will rapidly slip out of October and slide into winter, which in California means rain and rain and a little more rain with some extra rain in case you weren't watching.
Winter is also a season of long slow rainy days spent curled up with a good book or watching a classic movie (or a new one). Winter is the season of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Winter is the season of driving to the Sierra Nevada's to see the snow. Winter is the season of going to the coast to watch the wild storms crashing into the shore. Winter is the season of a long mountain hike in rain drenched redwoods, where you reach the far point of the hike and realize you are soaking wet and have several miles to go to get back and wonder what the hell you were thinking? Winter is the season of a lazy weekend day spend sitting in a mirror staring at a painting for hours.
So, for all the strange currents of fall, for all the moods and memories of October, I love this time of year. It has a certain quiet hushed vibrancy, as if just under the currents it was thrumming with life. It seems at times I can hear the heartbeat of fall, soft, somber, and powerful. For all its moods, I love these strange currents.
Personally, on top of the introspection of fall, I layer a profound sense of loss on top of the month of October. October is a time frame in which I often find myself contemplating the loss and memory.
Principle among those losses was the death of my father and my grandfather separated by only a few short weeks in an October many years ago. My father died of cancer and my grandfather of a heart attack. My father was 54 and my grandfather was 84 (it was my mother's father, my father's father, my other grandfather, died when I was very young, at Christmas, also of a heart attack).
I could list other losses and incidents of loss that stacked up in the month of October, but I won't. Suffice it to say that it a time of contemplating life and death for me, both on the personal level and on the wider cultural level, with Halloween (All Souls Eve and All Saints Day).
That combination has some strange effects on me. First, it does make me emotionally sensitive to all kinds of loss. It means that sometimes, with little or no warning, with minimal triggers, I can easily spin into a deep and dark mood. At the same time a greater sensitivity to the fragility and eternity and beauty of life itself rises up in me.
It is a season of strange currents. It is a season of simplicity and beauty and grace and sadness and joy and memory. It is drawing to a close as we slip into the final week of October. I know from many years prior that I will rapidly slip out of October and slide into winter, which in California means rain and rain and a little more rain with some extra rain in case you weren't watching.
Winter is also a season of long slow rainy days spent curled up with a good book or watching a classic movie (or a new one). Winter is the season of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Winter is the season of driving to the Sierra Nevada's to see the snow. Winter is the season of going to the coast to watch the wild storms crashing into the shore. Winter is the season of a long mountain hike in rain drenched redwoods, where you reach the far point of the hike and realize you are soaking wet and have several miles to go to get back and wonder what the hell you were thinking? Winter is the season of a lazy weekend day spend sitting in a mirror staring at a painting for hours.
So, for all the strange currents of fall, for all the moods and memories of October, I love this time of year. It has a certain quiet hushed vibrancy, as if just under the currents it was thrumming with life. It seems at times I can hear the heartbeat of fall, soft, somber, and powerful. For all its moods, I love these strange currents.
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