About Harry

Very recently we lost a very dear friend to a sudden tragedy. Harry and half of his seven siblings were friends with my own siblings since grade school. Harry was godfather to my brother’s daughter. He was more than a friend. Harry was family. Harry travelled with us  on a big family trip to Ireland and Scotland.

Harry retired for the third time this past April. He was well-traveled and through much of this past summer he traveled almost non-stop and shared his possible plans for what would finally be his retired life. The next in his plans was maybe a move to Myrtle Beach, refining his golf game and enjoying the Carolina coastlands and as much golf as he could get in. 

After a visit with one of his sisters who also retired to Myrtle Beach, he could see this as his next step to a comfortable retirement. With a move to Myrtle Beach, after years in military service and a few career changes, it was a well-deserved plan for his retirement.

We came from a similar upbringing; city kids, big families, lots of interesting personalities and a daily dose of drama. We called it family dynamics. There always was and is somebody to talk about.

Harry was a single man and never married. Over the years he opened his home to one of his sisters and her son. The was a time when his mother needed end of life care and he brought her to his home. There was no way he was going to allow his Mom languish in a facility.

Harry’s sudden death left an emotional hole in many lives. For me, Harry was a regular for our weekly dinner at our local watering hole. He would sometimes razz my brother that I was his new bar buddy. We lived less than two miles from each other but my brother lives much further, like another state. 

Harry was my “plus one” for golf scrambles. He drove the ball, I putted. I don’t play much golf, but when with Harry there was no judgement, just good company and commiserating about our similar beliefs, mostly about political theater.

Harry was one of the most generous and caring people I have been blessed to know. I miss him. Harry was 66.

Black Holes and Role Reversals and a New Year

 

Black Hole image from EHT

I can’t say that 2021 was a year to forget because there are a lot of things I can’t remember. I don’t remember because I had a huge non-malignant brain tumor that was apparently affecting my personality, my walking gait, my short-term memory, instant recall and most notably I was forgetting my words while speaking. Friends and family are just recently telling me of how they felt I was “off”. Something wasn’t quite right, but they never relayed those feelings to me.

There were apparently several private conversations about me but nobody said anything to me, except my husband Mike who would repeatedly look for some material reason for this ‘slip’ in my usual daily spunky personality. His was the opinion that just one of my many pain medications was the primary cause, either that or early onset Alzheimer’s. I was and still am treating for Psoriatic Arthritis. I have come to realize and reluctantly accept that “Mister Arthur R Itis” and I have an arranged lifelong marriage. There’s nothing to do except to manage the marriage and try to find what works in finding some comfort and ease in daily tasks and mobility. I have resumed my yoga, some meditation and embraced alternative medicine and analgesics and with the start of Medicare pray that my current biologic treatment gets pre-authorized. 

Navigating Medicare is mess. I believe it’s by design to make it difficult.

The Pain management program I was prescribed is no longer the preferred supposed panacea for me.   I   must be able to function.

The Black Holes are just that, blank spots in my memory and recall, some huge, some brief snippets of time, but there is much I feel I’ve lost and have no hint at what it is that I’ve lost. Maybe that is best but it is no less disorienting and frustrating.

Role reversal was something that automatically happened. My husband took the reins I usually held. I often say, He makes things happen, but I make them better. This time he did both. I found after the surgery I was just fine with this. Recuperating from brain surgery was and is major thing, a BIG FFFing DEAL.

I was not prepared to be almost totally dependent on being taken care of by another. That was usually MY job.

Patients with brain tumors usually have to become reliant in a caregiver, because they’re not always able to do as much as they want to or were previously able to do, due to the side effects from the tumor location.

The incision was long around the top of my head, held together with staples. I am a relatively fast healer and was staple free in one short week. I had the mistaken assumption that this was going to be a recovery of a few weeks, not months if not the better part of a year.

It’s a disappointment I still struggle with, but I still move on.  

I welcomed 2022 at a New Year's eve party in the middle of the eastern Caribbean, on a cruise ship appropriately enough called the Reflection. It was a fun celebration, as I remember it. 

Here’s hoping that I have fewer black holes in 2022.

Happy 2022!