Big Things vs. Little Things

Life is generally about the mundane. I think about what I'm planning to eat for lunch or for dinner. I get impatient when waiting for my dog to finish her morning (or evening, or afternoon) trip to the backyard. I get excited to spend an evening with my boyfriend, the Baker. I debate over whether or not I'd like to see a movie on Friday night or go out to dinner instead. I pay bills. I spend too much money on gas for my car. I get frustrated when waiting in traffic.

These kinds of things happen day in, day out, and they are very real to me. In fact, I would notice their absence if they stopped happening for more than a few days or weeks at a time, depending on the event.

It is life-altering events that feel unreal, I think, the kinds of things that only happen once or twice in a lifetime. When I got married, my wedding day flew by in a kind of happy cloud. There were moments of annoyance and nervousness, but at the end of it, it was hard to believe that I was finally married after two years of planning the event.

My divorce was similar. There is very little ceremony to the ending of a marriage. At the end of a small court discussion with the judge, that was it. I was no longer married.

My grandmother's death has felt unreal from the morning when its occurrence seemed a virtual certainty. After open heart surgery to repair her mitral valve, she took a long time to recover. She was not gaining in strength and health each day, much unlike the men and women around her. Her respirator stayed in for 8 days, when the original plan had been to have it out in 1. People with similar surgeries kept coming into intensive care and leaving as through a revolving door while she made minor gains each day.

We thought things were changing on that 8th day when the respirator came out. She started whispering at us again, and since she was on less pain medication because the respirator was out, she was tired, but much more awake than she had been. The next day she was making jokes to my uncle. Then overnight on Sunday, her blood pressure dropped. She stopped responding to the nurses. The respirator went back in.

We sat vigil all Memorial Day, the few people left in the cardiac waiting room. Every hour on the half hour we went in for our 15 minute visits, every time she was unresponsive, her eyes moving back and forth across the ceiling as if she was watching a tennis match unseen by anyone else but her. By the end of visiting hours that day the nurse seemed hopeful. She said that progress would be slow, but that Grandma was now more stable and things seemed to be getting better.

When I arrived the next morning, I was almost instantaneously greeted by one of my grandmother's doctors. He would not go as far as to say there was no hope, but he only granted her, rather arbitrarily it seemed, a one percent chance of survival.

We spent most of the rest of the day at my grandmother's bedside, holding her hands and stroking her forehead. After about an hour of silently watching the monitors as they slowly fell and the nurses took her off various machines and medications, we began telling her stories and recalling memories in which she figured prominently in the punchlines. It was almost as if we were having a party at which the guest of honor was not there, or at the very least, unconscious.

The very last thing to go was her pacemaker. It was a temporary pacemaker, meant to push her heart back into operating within parameters on its own after the surgery. Her heart did manage to pick up some rhythm, but not enough for the doctors' liking. She persisted for a while yet after the pacemaker was turned off, and the numbers representing her blood pressure and her heart beats per minute slowly fell as we watched, holding on to her and holding on to each other.

She was still hooked up to the respirator for her own comfort, so it would not be readily apparent when she was gone, unless one was watching the monitors, which I was doing, like a hawk. I saw when the blood pressure reading fell one last time, and the heart rate went from weak to nothing, and the woman who had taught me how to bake cinnamon rolls, and sew, a woman who ironed her jeans, who sat down last at family meals, and who always made sure that each one of us had something special to eat at barbecues, a woman who always brought me extra blankets when I spent the night in the guest room no matter if it was summer or winter, and was kind to every one she met, I saw her leave behind her tired body and depart this world for good.

I didn't see her every day. Despite the fact that we lived forty minutes from one another, we mostly saw one another at family gatherings for holidays and such. After making it through the first days, the gauntlet of the visitation and funeral, and the day after, my life has settled much as it was into the rhythms and routines of getting frustrated in traffic, trying to figure out what to cook for dinner, and trying to decide what to do with my Friday evenings. I think about her more than I had been on a daily basis, but only once or twice a day does it hit me that I can't call her on the phone, or that she won't be at my family's Father's Day barbecue.

This experience has probably been the most unreal experience of my life.

Status Report

Reading: New York Burning: Liberty, Slavery, and Conspiracy in Eighteenth-Century America by Jill Lepore

Listening: Wild Animals by the Pinker Tones

New Life, Check!

It's been a whirlwind year. A lot has happened, a lot is still happening. The crazy thing is that I'm happier than I've possibly ever been in my life.

First, though, I must get the bad news out of the way. I will possibly write a more contemplative post on the subject at a later date, since I'm spending my time in Denialland trying to ignore the pain, but my grandmother died this Tuesday. She was a wonderful, sweet woman and even though she lived a full and happy life, it was still far too soon.

Changing the subject, I'm living in my old hometown again. I didn't stay in Chicago for long. My brief dalliance with the boy in the coffee shop landed me with mono, and I spend the majority of the time I lived there sleeping and/or miserable and homesick. The icing on the cake was that I was offered spring classes at the universities I had taught at in back home again, and had not found a teaching or any other new job in Chicago by the fall. The sprinkles on the cake, of course, was that my roommate was a little bit mean. So I headed home within 2 months, tail between my legs and happy to live with the parents and save a little money.

I got used to closing at the Starbucks in Chicago where I worked, so I asked my old boss to grant me closing shift status so I could substitute more in the day and focus on making a good impression on the local school districts. This of course, led to me once again working more hours between the two jobs than I would have liked, but I was able to save a great deal of my money (it's amazing how that happens when no one else is able to spend your money) and limit the amount of time I spent at the parents' house.

Meanwhile, I got to different people at Starbucks better, both the coworkers who usually worked evenings, and the customers who usually come in during evenings. I discovered a new shampoo and conditioner that made me feel as if I had the best hair in the world, and I bought a few tops and pants/skirts to wear to work that were in uniform code, but that were cut nicely and made me feel more attractive than the baggy polos I'd been wearing.

During this time period, I got to know a customer, an old regular the night crew knew well already, who I would flirt with on a regular basis. The flirting was mutual, and after about 6 weeks of dancing around, he asked me out. We've now been dating for about 7 months, and I'm deliriously happy with him. He pays attention to the little things, he cares about my opinions, he likes to talk with me about the things I love. Heck, he even committed to watching Buffy with me once through because I am so passionate about the show. I am so grateful that I found him!

During this time period I also moved into a duplex with a bud from Starbux. It's a beautiful little place, which of course I would love even more if it were a little cheaper and I could live here alone--not because I don't like my roomate, just because of the little annoying things about having roomates in general--but the yard is fenced for Chloe, I'm living in the city and not the suburbs again, and independent.

Meanwhile, I sent a few emails out to local community colleges telling them I am experienced and qualified and still had a few spots open in my spring schedule. About a week before Christmas, I was inundated with offers and ended up not being able to take them all. Eventually I wound up teaching a total of 8 classes at 4 different local colleges. The planning was killer, since they were all classes I hadn't taught before, and the grading sometimes took up more time than it should have, but I do love teaching college kids. I left Starbucks once my schedule became untenable, and I miss my coworkers and the comraderie, but not working holidays or nights and weekends. I'm teaching 8 classes again this fall, but only one is a class I haven't taught before and it should be a lot less time consuming.

Okay, so I think everything is now pretty much up to date. Summer school starts Monday, but I'm only teaching one class, which should provide a nice break. I'm planning on devoting time to planning the new class and adjusting some things in my old classes over the summer, as well as doing some more reading on some history topics I don't know as much about to add spice to my lectures. I've read a lot of colonial history so far while at the hospital the last two weeks.

The only other thing is that I didn't have a lot of time to run this spring, and I put on some weight. This is also connected to having a boyfriend who bakes. I'm planning on using the blog to write a little on my progress with weight loss over the summer as well. I started at 144, and I am now at 140. I would ideally like to get to 125, but anything under 135 will get me back into my tight pants, which is the more practical part of this mission. I don't want to have to buy a new wardrobe.

Nice to talk to y'all again. See you soon.