When I was younger and kept a regular diary, I always made a big deal out of the end of the year. I'd reflect upon the events of the year and make resolutions for the coming New Year. Now that I'm older, wiser, at least cognizant of the man-made element of the calendar, I don't put much emphasis on New Year celebrations. We've never been ones to go out and do anything anyway, so it's just been a day to watch the Tournament of Roses Parade, eat, watch the hubbie watch football, and nap. This year, of course, my Mizzou Tigers are in one of the Bowl Games, so we'll watch that one together.
I'm still feeling despair over my Louisiana relatives. At least my niece Amber seems on the mend from the West Nile virus she suffered this past summer. She's gained weight, which is hard on my sister Sally, who has to lift and move Amber from her wheelchair into bed, onto the toilet, into the car, etc. My sister also has gained weight, but she still looks like she's nearly dead. Maybe it's her sallow skin, her missing teeth, the bags under her eyes, all of the above. She slurs when she speaks and seems to have forgotten much of the past, things I never expected her to forget, like what her daughter Amanda did. Amanda is the child who died in a car accident in 1993, when she was only 11 1/2 years old. Sally had forgotten about Amanda's "shoplifting" episode that occurred when she was in diapers and stuck a forbidden candy bar down into her diaper. How could Sally forget that? She used to tell that story often. I don't know what drugs Sally's doctors have her on (or what drugs she's taking that she should not take), but whoever my sister used to be, she is no longer. She's a zombie, sad and hopeless and damaged. I vacillate between feeling great love and pity for her and feeling intense anger with her. With all her problems, why in the world did she add smoking addiction to them?
Even if I won a gazillion dollars in the lottery and gave most of it to Sally, she would not improve her life substantially. That's the saddest fact of all. It is what it is. She is what she is. I've grown to realize that if a person is damaged too irreparably, nothing can "fix" that person. But I continue to hope. Each time we travel to her house, I feel hope that maybe the house will be clean, Sally will look healthy, and everyone will be happy. Instead, each time--each damned time we go there--the house is filthier, Sally is sicklier, and everyone is more miserable. She told us this past visit that she and her husband may have to get a divorce so that Amber can continue to receive disability medical care. How Arthur can make "too much money" on his LPN salary, I don't know. Just one more aggravation in this idiot-run world.
Beloved spouse is still fighting his cold. He had trouble breathing last night, so he was coughing and up for a while. Fingers crossed, wood knocked on, I haven't gotten the cold yet. It will hit me when I'm trying to get ready for next semester. I write my best syllabi under the influence of Nyquil. Not. It's hard to complain about a head cold when my cousin Mary's husband Johnny has cancer in his mouth. The doctors are talking about removing half his jaw. I can't imagine facing such horrendous surgery. Johnny is seeking a second opinion, and for his sake and his family's sake, I hope that all will go well. I don't always get along with him--he's so conservative and thinks Rush Limbaugh is some kind of wise guru--but Johnny has been very good to my dear cousin, and he can be funny and charming when he wants to be. Probably because of the stress, Mary was looking old, with wrinkles she'd not had when I saw her at her mother's funeral this past May. It's been a hard year--her brother's death, her mother's death, now Johnny's cancer--I don't blame her for looking tired and old. Still, she was as chipper and easy-going as she always is. It takes a lot to knock that woman off her stride. Like her mother was, she is a steel magnolia.
I guess I ought to make some resolutions, but really, all I have are hopes. I don't resolve to lose weight--either I will, or I won't. A change in the calendar won't affect that part of my life. I don't resolve to work harder. Maybe work smarter, as the saying goes. I don't resolve to be a better person. I hope I will be, but I try each and every day to be a good person. If my wishes and hopes came true, my family would be healthy and happy. Nothing else is important. Dr. S.
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