My dad still wants to drive

And that makes a lot of sense. It gives him independence, and makes him feel useful, and most importantly is a part of his identity. But the man cannot be trusted with 1.5+ tons of metal. His naturally aggressive style is now paired with impaired judgment. It's a no-brainer from a road safety standpoint.

I understand why my mom resists this. For one, it's practically challenging. For another, it's heartbreaking for her and her husband. But man, he almost killed my sister last week because he made some kind of mistake on a local road with a 50mph speed limit.

My other sister wants to involve him in the discussion about his driving. There are multiple reasons for that, including the feeling that she herself was left out of too many conversations and doesn't want that to befall baba as well. I would like to talk with him about it too, so that he's at least partially in the loop, but I don't want to let him decide his own fate. I'd like to put it in the hands of the state of Texas, but I haven't heard back on an inquiry I sent.

Danielle has tried to intercede to cut through the issue, which I appreciate. Hopefully it doesn't inflame things. And she told my sisters about Simon. Hopefully that buys a little grace.

This morning I don't feel that depressed so far, and I'd like to take it easy. Last night I was starting to cramp from exhaustion and electrolyte depletion despite force-feeding myself mac and cheese with a notable dose of sodium.

The air quality was supposed to be bad today because of wildfire smoke, but at the moment it's good. Maybe I'll go for a walk through the cemetery. I could bring my new friend "Ghost Cat" along (last night I pretended to talk to self-aware ghost Simon, voicing his responses in his usual pseudo-deep voice--it helped). We'll see.

Oh no, I'm depressed

God dammit. And here I thought I was going to have a day kinda like yesterday. Now things feel hollow. I hate this. Also I had to order a new phone case, which won't arrive til Monday. Tragedy of tragedies.

"Thank you for your existence, Simon"

After a lot of tears with Danielle, and two or three tears at the vet, I said goodbye to the world's best boy a couple hours ago.

The title is what I pre-planned as my last words for him--well, for me, since the procedure had finished several minutes prior. I don't remember what my last words to conscious Simon were... which just made me heave a bit. And I forgot to bring his rainbow blanket and stuffed log, which just made me sniffle.

Maybe I told him I loved him and that he's a good boy? Perhaps an admonishment/apology when I had to move him to ensure he was fully atop the pillow and pee pad. Whatever it was, I think I was silent once the doctor started. I just petted him with my right hand, knuckling near the entrance of his ear while scratching behind the base of that same ear, rubbing his closed eye with my thumb, the way he liked. I hope it helped. I hope he was merely uncomfortable and not scared.

I pushed for this. Ultimately, Danielle acceded because right after I made my case to her, the doctor called to tell me his condition was worsening and unlikely to improve. But before that I was tearfully arguing for this exact conclusion, because when all was said and done we had an outside chance of gaining 12 months, but more likely gaining a few sad days. In between those outcomes was a lot more bad than good.

That was really hard. We both spent a lot of tears there.

And she's not here. We wished so much she were. Part of why we wanted to treat him was to make that a possibility. But she's at least 24 hours away, with maximum effort. He had me, which was far better than nothing, but it was a cruelty for he and Danielle not to have had each other. I aver it was also the least-bad option. I hope future-me agrees.

Today I plan to be alone, but I have the good fortune of having friends to call upon if needed.

I loved him so fucking much. I'm glad I did. Thank you for your existence, Simon.

(Photo taken 9/15/2013, when he was roughly 4. This has been my desktop background for a long time, but finding the file made me suddenly sob. And laugh. Yay, grief.)

Feeling numb; too early?

Simon was admitted like 10 hours ago and it seems like I hardly feel it anymore. Pretty sure that's normal for grief, but it feels so wrong. Not morally wrong, but... man, I don't even know where I'm going with this.

Our dear friend Ammu brought me dinner tonight. I'm going out with Ally tomorrow for lunch. Both courtesy of Danielle.

I skipped rehearsal tonight (oh btw I'm in a production of The Tempest) and postponed the cleaners who were coming tomorrow morning. I'm skipping the Weird Al concert I bought a ticket for like a year ago. There are probably other things I need to do, but I don't remember.

I didn't actually eat much dinner even though I was hungry. I think that's the numbness. But it's weird--I feel most emotions normally and have desires. I don't feel depressed the way I can feel depressed. I'm sad, but it's kind of distant. I'm scared, but that's very distant. The worry about not wearing my retainers all day is further forward in my mind than the worry about my sweet boy. Some short hours ago Simon was everything. I guess my psyche is doing what it's supposed to do in extremely stressful moments like these?

I think maybe I won't regret this numbness. I hope not. Just before submitting, I added punctuation to the title of this post. Hopefully the equivocation is justified.

Grief

My dad was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and boy is that a barrel of monkeys. I just came back from seeing him and the rest of my family. I returned home to my dear Simon, who stopped eating hours before I arrived. I went to the emergency vet this morning, and it turns out he is probably dying, and will die within a year even if he survives the week.

It's weird, accelerating and decelerating grief. For Simon it started 3 years ago, and for my dad it's been maybe 1? Simon seemed to be okay when I left a week ago, but now he's full up on ketones. My dad seemed to be in terrible shape before I visited, but other than becoming a downright dangerous driver, he's better than I feared.

I've helped Simon and my dad, but I feel guilty for not having done more. And so, so sad. And it's worse because Danielle is not here for Simon, and is not due to return for three weeks--odds are she'll never see him again ("despite the expense," I say, repulsing myself).

I am grateful that the main thing I'm worrying about for Simon is his well-being. I wish I didn't worry about the cost, too. And it's not great that Danielle's absence plays into the equation. I want to minimize everyone's suffering, and I don't know the parameters of the utility function that will do that. For the moment, we're going to try to give him a chance with in-patient treatment, and re-assess once there's more data.

Most of the tears I'm shedding are for him, not me. But he's still alive, and all too soon my grief will probably be focused on my loss. All while my dear dad looms in the past, present, and future.

I have thought about breaking the seal so many times

And how it's tough. And it is. It feels bad to leave something and come back, even if it's just for me.

But I have to do it. Especially with my increasingly enfeebled memory, I have to make logs. Mundane ones. It'll be good for me.

*Breathe.*

We'll try this again. For now, a therapy session.

If there's one thing I remember from this trip

It's that I need to use the phrase "lubelessly fucked" from time to time.

Good day, everyone! =D

Dinnertime conversation

"But if you murdered Mayor <Redacted>..."

"Stop. That's what I was about to say. What if I murdered Jim <Redacted>."

<Squealing laughter>

(Regarding whether I'd go to the cops or her first if Ielly committed a murder.)

"You can't leave your dirty chocolate babka napkin on the counter after the poop scare!"

She is correct, of course.

Habits, damn habits

I have to get to bed, but just know that I've been thinking about you a lot. "You" being the blog, of course. I'm sorry there's so much to tell you, and of course I have to sleep now. But right now, here is a general status report:

1) Car is mostly fine but that damn clicking.

2) Travel (Ohio, Mexico, and Texas) is mostly booked.

3) Basket/sweater weaving has not really happened recently but I did just have a conversation with my buddies and will have an informal basketweaving practice session with a local basketweaver I've been meeting up with.

4) Dude, are we in civil unrest time?

5) Ielly does not like when I pronounce anointment as "an ointment". Only "a nointment" is acceptable.

6) I've been exorbitant amounts of money to my dentist and I'm not sure if it's all legit. I thought I paid $13.87 last time I was there, but actually it was $1,386.77. Joke's on me I guess.

7) Have done very little in the area of job seeking. Might be in blob mode.

8) My dear friend John sent me his extra PS5, which I've used to try to motivate me to do things around the house. After all, I can't lay about in the living room, in full view of Ielly, if I have urgent tasks left undone. It's mostly effective if I want to utilize it that way, but I haven't done that for the past few days.

9) I've been trying to move slightly more. And especially squatting. It's ludicrous how weak my quads are. I feel decrepit.

I was sick but that's not an excuse

The words shall continue. Just, I need to sleep first.

Sweaters are great, but finding yarn is hard

I drove 600 miles over three days to support my weaving colleagues while they searched for yarn. They found some, and we wove some sweaters, but they were hideous and misshapen and yarn was consistently difficult to come by. They have excellent patterns and methods, but sometimes the sweaters come out wrong and the yarn isn't available in sufficient quantities.

I didn't suffer any direct expenses except for gas, time, and emotional toil, but I didn't get any benefits except for experience, because the sweaters were so poor. It was even worse for my buddies.

This is an experience I will treasure, because it was my first time working with sweaters. But holy shit it suuuuuuuucked. They talk about how difficult weaving is, for myriad reasons. And lack of raw materials (and bad luck) really bit hard here. Hooray, experience.