The Center Holds; the Edges are Tinged

(written Saturday; posted Sunday)
Michael and I are reveling in our visit with Shea. She seems so happy and fulfilled in her new place in life. We couldn’t be happier.

We’ve strolled around, visited the college, gotten to know the area a bit, found some wonderful places to visit and eat and then, as well, faced down some navigational challenges. Friday night was bizarre, as our MapQuest directions from Shea’s dorm to the hotel were confusing and led us to circle aimlessly. At least we were all together during that segment of the trip and we had hilarious conversation in the car trying to figure it all out. Our iPhones came to the rescue, as we eventually decided to follow them rather than the written directions and that got us to our hotel. By the time we settled on that approach, though, we’d spent more time between the airport and hotel than we had in getting to the city by car and air. Frustrating. All of that vexation was ephemeral seeing Shea in situ. She is in such a good place for her right now. It’s hard to describe how deeply satisfying that is, the more so given how unsettling it was for me not being able to participate in the visits or selection process due to my own preoccupations last year.

Those preoccupations continue, of course, though we all collude to minimize and overlook them. I noticed today that Shea automatically positions herself to stabilize me in motion. Once I noticed this, it dawned on me that Michael has adapted in the same ways. In familiar places, this is not usually much of an issue, but in new places, and ones with lots of visual stimulation, I become unsteady on my feet. There was enough going on today that most of the day was rocky, so the pas de deux they perform (as does Kearney, when she’s around) was particularly obvious. This adaptation doesn’t seem like something these wonderful human beings should have to know how to do, much less do so automatically and with such caring and grace: stabilizing me doesn’t seem like a skill that fits their respective stages in life. While I know I didn’t chose it, I still feel responsible for all I’ve inserted into their lives, and little of it good. While a sense of gratitude and good fortune (luck) are my primary emotion most of the time, today’s observations tinged its satisfactions with sadness. Also, of course, some crankiness, as I’d always rather be the helper than the helped, but that isn’t new, and that I just live with, since I don’t get to choose that, either.

On a lighter note, our visit reminded me of the commentary the girls exchange with each other when we’re all together. For some reason (maybe acute observation), they characterize the interchanges Michael and I have about everyday life as squabbling. He and I don’t think about it that way, and in fact consider our daily existences to be placid and even a little saccharine, since we spend so much time appreciating how wonderful our lives together are.

While we’ve spent considerably more than thirty years together, and while our values are and always have been in synch, our thinking processes couldn’t be at greater variance. We often get to the same answers by totally different routes: we’ve never had disagreements about money or childrearing or, really, any truly important matters. We do approach everything else, from loading the dishwasher to parking, from opposite directions. We notice different things around us, respond to them in divergent ways and have opposing instincts. While our routines are pretty set, it’s still a challenge at times to reach a common ground without either of us feeling criticized. Standing back, this seems especially strange when you think about it, since we’re each other’s biggest fans. Still, Michael mulls and I act, and those impulses clash much of the time. The working-out process often involves a good deal of verbal interchange, a process we both understand and accept as simply negotiating our way through things. Still, in fairness, it’s not that hard to see how it might look like squabbling to those outside our connection, even those who have lived with it for years. At one level, when I think about it, we’d have precious little to talk about without these little negotiations, since we’re in such deep accord on the bigger things. Of course, the reality is that we’re both sufficiently socialized in such old-school ways that exposing the gush that characterizes our private existence seems unseemly.

Odd that we’re happy to bicker but not rhapsodize. Our upbringings live on--except that we seem to have managed, at least so far, to give these two special ones a foundation that doesn’t require them to live with these particular demons. Years ago, I read something by one of the Ephrons (Nora?) in which she said that her goal in parenting was to give each of her children a curable neurosis. It seemed then, and now, to be a reasonable goal. We haven’t detected any full-blown neuroses in the girls yet, but whatever quirks they have, we know they’re not ours, which is a step forward.

Tomorrow, we brunch with Shea and then travel home to papers to grade and to see how our charming dogs did in the their new care arrangement. We enjoy what they contribute to our lives and hope we’ve found a good solution for the times we want to go out and about. Happy weekend to all.

People Are Nice

Yesterday had its ups and downs. The downs were literal and involved falling flat on my face after missing a curb while walking home from a meeting on campus. The spectacle I made of myself naturally had a ton of witnesses, including a person I like and respect. Her kindness in the situation cushioned it a great deal, though I could have lived without being observed conducting myself so ignominiously. A ton of other people also observed this klutziness, and all offered help. People are nice. Luckily, Michael was not far away and was able to come pick me up. My dignity was dented, my knees and shoulders got a pretty good knock, and the knees and palms lost some skin. There won’t be any lasting damage, except that, upon reflection, it evoked all the falling down I did in the years when the tumor was growing. It took several hours for me to realize that part of the jolt of the situation was the back-of-my-head worry that it’s starting all over again. Brought out into the light of day, it’s as silly as it sounds, but there it is. The demons lurk.

The ups were great: a meeting with a colleague I don’t see often enough was interesting, exciting, and just plain pleasant. There are so many wonderful people around. Ironically, one of the topics we’d discussed, interwoven with the work we’re trying to plan on a project we have underway, is the effect of major medical events and the alienation that people often feel after the fact. Chemo brain, cancer diagnoses (and treatment), etc. often leave people with a sense of alienation from their former selves, according to my colleague who works in those areas. It was an interesting perspective and helped me feel more “normal” in my continuing campaign to re-inhabit my former life.

Both before and after the pavement rendezvous, many of the to-do items got crossed off and progress generally achieved.

Sigmund’s observation yesterday about the slip/typo with deadlines/deadliness was apt and reminded me of this wonderful typo Andrew Sullivan posted the other day. Cheers.

Aliens In My Brain

The aliens inhabiting my brain are doing strange things at night. Last night, I had a series of recurring dreams with the same new sensory strength that’s been evident in recent weeks: bright colors, loud sounds, sharp odors. The dream played over and over, and then the substance would slip away. This morning, Moon River is playing in a constant loop inside my head. No recent events or interactions jump out as a possible stimulus for either experience, so a shrug and a “that’s odd” seem to be the best approach. We’re exploring how to get continued physical therapy by the simple expedient of paying for it ourselves (thanks, Doug). The importance of that is growing each day as my shoulder tightens up. We’re also lined up to talk with Dr. Thoughtful and the guy we connected with via my brother who is interested in and studying endocrine changes after brain surgery. We’re looking forward to that in the hopes that we might get a bit more guidance than our current trial-and-error experiments.

Today was originally set aside for writing, and I’ve got some pieces outlined that want writing, but my inbox is overflowing and a whole slew of student recommendations have pressing deadliness, so the writing must wait. Here’s hoping it fits in by afternoon. The economy is decimating employment for lawyers, for both law students and for alums who have gone into Big Law. Seeing what’s happening to truly talented people is painful. There’s a huge shift going on in legal circles and I fear we’re nowhere near the end of the process. My part is to try to write letters of recommendation that help people find either new ventures or land as softly as possible.

The in-box and the letters of recommendation are calling... More later.

Thirteen Month Cranioversary

My surprise craniotomy was a year and a month ago today. I have no special reflections or thoughts on that; our lives are once again filled primarily with the dailyness of existence, which is a fine thing indeed. At that level of granularity, life is good, and the pleasures outweigh the frustrations.

My scalp still has areas of strange sensations, balancing activities with available energy/coping with fatigue are still issues, and my right arm/shoulder are still not right. Some cognitive effects are still visible in terms of little gaps here and there, memory problems, and the strange sequencing of what I can do when: right now, sudoku is off and reading is on. I continue to feel lucky, and work to focus on the things that are most important: my children still have a mother, I can still work and maintain a broad range of projects, I have work that is flexible enough to accommodate my limitations and play to my strengths, there are pretty good ways to compensate for my shortcomings.

I saw a little girl on an airplane the other day who, while she didn’t resemble in the slightest either of our girls as a child, brought back memories of that lovely time of our lives as parents. She was interested in all around her, at that stage where she is sounding out letters and working to decode words, and had that air of wonder that happy children do... At the time, seeing her stimulated a train of thought and connections that, in my fatigue today, are lost. I hope the connections are lost only temporarily, as they were interesting and seemed at the time to hold the key to something I’ve been wondering about. Time will tell if the insight will return. It may take a while, as today has more obligations on campus and so the needed rest may not come for a while yet.

After I spent most of the week reading, we watched this week’s NCIS episode on line last night, as well as trying out NCIS LA (yuck). My dreams are completely different at night after reading (or working) in the evening than they are after watching video before we go to bed. It makes sense and I’m feeling a little slow only to be noticing that now. Later in the weekend, when there’s some time, I hope to chat with Dr. Google about this, to see what effects are known and understood. I wonder how much that explains some of the unusual character of the last few months’ dreams? It cannot be a full explanation, as I reconstruct our activities, but I’m now interested in exploring this topic a bit.

Need to run: ethics events all morning. The view out my window is the very best of autumn in Illinois. The leaves are changing and the colors are beautiful in the morning sunshine. Enjoy October, wherever you are.

Surgically Altered

In a wonderful development with many layers, Amazon delivered (as it were) in time for me to take the book along on my trip. West Coast (she of the tumors-on-toes observation) had told me the new Stieg Larsson book was out in Britain, I ordered it, it got here in time, I took it on my trip. Even more wonderfully, I could read and enjoy it. What a deep pleasure that was. Of course, balancing my energy both for the trip and upon return has been complicated, but that seems to be the price of doing business these days, and I’m taking my pleasures where I find them. Amazon brought me one more book I’m saving for the weekend. I’m hopeful that the ability and interest in reading will persist longer this time than the last time they visited me, at least long enough to enjoy the next book. I’ll keep you posted.

Feeling my way along, adapting, I’ve realized that I’m spending a lot of time trying to gain some perspective on the difference between how I feel internally and how I look when I’m out and about in the world, which is fine. Control freaks like me like to name things, understand them, label them and be able to discuss them as a way of, well, asserting some control over them. It would be hard to ignore that is and has been my approach to this whole adventure. My new label for this felt harsh at first but it’s been helping me: I’ve been surgically altered. The results of my alternation are that I’ve become a homebody, with less energy than before, but other than that, I’m still the essential me. However goofy this approach is, it’s helping me achieve a better equilibrium and advance with more daily cheer. That’s about all that I ask most days, so for now, it works for me.

What doesn’t work is that the insurance company has refused any more physical therapy. That means that we now must figure out some way to stay ahead of my shoulder issues. I have regained almost full control of the arm and shoulder, but the shoulder still takes odd detours in moving my arm from one place to an other, and both shoulder and neck sometimes lock up. The homework exercises help to keep it all loose, but are not enough in and of themselves. We’re trying to find some approach that will replace the missing PT. Massage, maybe? That’s next week’s task.

The week’s exertions have left me at a low ebb. Speaking of that, there’s a new advice column posted at insidehighered.com. Happily, it’s Friday and the weekend awaits. Cheers to all.

Weirdness

Yesterday, when reading the Sunday paper, my attention was riveted by the book review section in a way that it hasn’t been since surgery. I’m hopeful that’s a sign that maybe my ability to follow/read fiction is beginning to return. That’s the way Sudoku returned: in a fairly sudden change, the puzzles in the paper again caught my eye and interest. Before that, sporadic attempts to do the puzzles revealed it just wasn’t there, whatever “it” and “there” mean in that sentence.

Thinking about it, I am concluding that my recent video obsession is part of my brain rebuilding its ability to follow a narrative. I’m not sure why I think this and cannot really articulate a basis for the growing feeling of conviction. It just feels that way. As backstory to this, I have watched more video in this last year than in the entire rest of my life combined. Since Shea left for college, this trend has accelerated. At first, my thought was that my desire to watch something in the evenings was a a combination of low energy from the steroid tapering and our transitional response to reshaping our lives in the wake of Shea’s departure.

As usual, Michael has been a good sport about this, though it represents a fairly major shift in our time and activities. Never before have we watched anything other than on a weekend movie night, and then in a fairly restricted way. Since Shea left, I’ve watched all of NCIS, most of it on weekday evenings, though we’ve usually done three and sometimes four episodes on weekend nights. At first, with my energy down from the brain chemistry experiments, that was about all that I could manage after a day of work. Then, something about the storyline hooked me and I would cajole Michael every evening into watching a couple of episodes. Now that I’ve finished it, the drive to watch something is gone and my thinking and my brain feel different. It’s hard to describe. Something is different, though. I ordered two books from Amazon this weekend, and am anxious to see, when they arrive, if I can read again now. Of course, I have a bunch of books I’ve never started (and some I’ve never finished) on my Kindle and could experiment with them, but today is a teaching day so I’m holding off at least until this evening to play with this a bit. I travel tomorrow and Wednesday and I’m hoping that Amazon has its best game on, so I have something to take with me for this experiment.

I’m realistic enough to know that, even if the ability is returning, it might not stay. That’s happened before, two or three times. I’d be interested in reading, read a couple of books and then the capacity would vanish again. We’ll see. As I said, it feels different this time.

In another weirdness, with Shea gone, the dogs are changing all of their habits, too. For the first few weeks after she left, both dogs would pile into one crate together, which is a tight fit given their sizes. That phase passed, but since then, they seem to have switched which crate and pad is which, and their traditional sleeping places in our bedroom have changed. They still seem in a fluid state of redefining their respective spaces. It’s weird to watch. Maybe it's the universe that's weird and not just my brain? I suspect not.

Gotta go get ready for the week. We send greetings and good wishes.

Saddling Up

Throughout this adventure, it’s been clear that the only thing over which I have total control is how I greet the events as they unfold. I’ve thus worked hard to take things as they come and to appreciate the great and wonderful moments that came along. In looking for them, we’ve all found and enjoyed them. In the last few weeks, I lost the hang of pulling that off, as the pace of life accelerated and as we adapted to the changes of this year and our empty nest. In retrospect, it’s clear to me that the one year anniversary caught me off guard.

From the very first consultation with the neurosurgeon, we were warned that the recovery would take a year or more. There were even conversations that talked about eighteen to twenty-four months, though the year benchmark was the most frequently recurring one. Following the blogs of other meningioma-craniotomy patients who were somewhat ahead of me in their own adventures, it seemed like the year mark was a watershed. For me, though, it’s been a hard anniversary. While this recovery is very far along and there are many (many) blessings to count, it’s far from what it would be nice to hope will be the finish line. The mismatch between my expectations and reality caused a slump in my outlook and attitude. As you'll have noticed, I slowed down on my writing here. Coupled with a virus of some sort that put us both under the weather, I somehow lost hold of my will and ability to find the best in the situation. That wasn’t fun and reinforces its importance.

Poor Michael bore the brunt of this yesterday, when I was not only glum but grumpy all day. I didn’t like how it felt and neither did he, much. Today, then brings a new resolve to focus on the good parts and to appreciate the improvements as they come. Nothing is guaranteed so we might as well be happy about the positive parts--of which there have been and continue to be many. It helps that the sun is shining today after yesterday’s grey and rain. Plus, the university has a new interim president, announced yesterday, who can only improve what’s been a dreadful situation for too long now. There’s more to go there, too, and it feels like there are good reasons to hope that will happen.

Today, then, brings a renewed resolve to enjoy the sunshine, appreciate the wonderful people who inhabit my life, including this semester's great students, as well as to generally seek joy. Happy is better than grumpy. It’s a state of mind and a habit as much as anything else. Here’s to getting back into the groove.