Family Christmas

There’s not much to blog about on this holiday so far.  The weather has been grey, wet and cool.  Mom and dad are having a difficult time, as I had suspected.  Mom is such a determined Pollyanna that she keeps forcing the fun to the point of exhaustion and frustrated anger.  She is so afraid of the fact that they are very close to having to make a change in their lives, which probably means moving from the apartment they have lived in for so long and losing the independence they have always enjoyed, that she is refusing to face it.  She mentioned once on the phone when I first got back from Mexico that the nurse had suggested that they consider moving to a care home but now she won’t talk of it.  When we approached the subject a couple of days ago, she digressed into stories of other people and situations, anything to avoid a serious discussion of their situation.  Dad seems to want to talk about it and do something now, but he’s afraid to bring the subject up again because it makes her so upset that she gets angry and breathless.   Since he can’t use his legs, she’s the one who always did the running, and I mean that literally, around.  Now that she has lymphoma, she gets exhausted easily and because she’s tired and often in pain, she’s quick to anger and dwell on old grievances; this aggravates her nerves and causes her more pain. Dad wants to get them into a situation where they are more cared for, but when mom feels fine she’s sure that they can carry on and she wants one more party.  Dad fell again today.  We were going to drive to Tim Horton’s to get their traditional Sunday breakfast, which we would then take to Willows Beach to eat in the car with the windows open, looking out over the ocean and at the people and dogs playing on the sand.  I left the apartment before they did so that I could drive my car around to the underground parking and wait for them to come down in the elevator. When they still weren’t down after I had listened to a fairly long section of ‘The Messiah’ (Jay, Brian and Cathy and the boys have a fairly good idea of how long that is), I decided I had better go up to see what was happening.  As I was unlocking the door to the garage, mom appeared, wide-eyed, around the corner, scurrying toward me and almost too breathless to gasp that dad was on the floor near the door of the apartment.  Mom and I got him up easily.  He wasn’t hurt, but they were both exhausted, so I got them water and we sat in the front hall until they felt better.  Then we carried on and all went as planned.  The rest of the day was fine, but mom and I ended what had been a delicious dinner on a sour note, an old topic that has not mellowed with age, neither its, nor ours.  What do people mean when they say, “blood is thicker than water”, with the implication that that’s a good thing?  I’ve never understood that expression, but if it has anything to do with clogging the arteries and veins and giving you a crashing headache, perhaps I have a sense of it now.  I think I’d like a big glass of clear, cool water.  If it weren’t for my mornings of hazelnut coffee and blowing off steam with Barbara and Terry, I’d have popped a gasket by now.  Mom and dad have each other, and I’m happy for them that they do; they’re a formidable duo, but it’s going to take both engines pulling together as never before to get them through this. 

Our 'Big Box' Christmas.  Jay, Bill and Linda all sent our gifts in big boxes that dwarf the poinsettia tree.

Crows in the mist at Willow's Beach.  There were so many crows on the beach, in the trees, in the air, on the power lines, in the road and everywhere that it was more than a 'murder'; it was deafening hoard of crows.

More crows

One last crow