Morning Sun and Shadows

It's the light that I see, rather than the shadows, today. The glass can be half full, there can be a silver lining, and good can come from bad. It's all a matter of perspective. But oh how waking up to sun streaming in through the window can change one's perspective.

I've taken quite a few pictures since my last blip but oh my, how it seems time is not available to download, review/edit, and post. Especially when I click, click, click, too many in one day. Then the task becomes impossible. We've had Owen's birthday, Easter, and brought Dad home from the hospital, since I posted last. I may eventually back-blip, we'll see.

We've had ups and downs since Dad has been home. He is a walking miracle because his cancer has not spread. But the cancer is not in a good place, and is interfering with a major bodily function. No treatment is, of course, an option. I had to be reminded of this by one lovely nurse at the hospital. It is up to him. Completely. And to be honest, the treatment may kill him. I know this. He may not have a lot of other health problems, but he is not very strong--in fact, is weak to start out with. The treatment they are recommending will beat his body up and this, this will offer a pretty horrible quality of life for the next several months, with no guarantee of anything. He told a social worker this week, "I don't want that [treatment]. I've lived a long life--longer than any of my relatives, and something's gonna kill me eventually." He seems pretty certain. He also told her that if Debbie wants me to, I will. He is trying to protect me from hurt. That's the kind of man he is.

We have an appointment for a consultation at the cancer center on Monday--it was supposed to be last Monday but was postponed due to insurance snafus. That's all been straightend out, according to Margi, financial counselor and Tammi, insurance wiz at the cancer center. I'm still not convinced.

Interesting thing happened while Dad was in hospital. It was 11:58 p.m. and my Taxman and I were sound asleep--first night I'd slept in four days. It was a night nurse calling to tell me my dad was dying. Only problem was she had picked up the wrong chart. No kidding. I realized she had the wrong chart midway through the call. I asked her if she had the right chart and she apologized...poor thing; she was completely mortified. And then she had to call the right family. I stepped away backwards from hanging up the phone and said to myself out loud: "Forgiveness Debbie. Forgiveness." I didn't sleep the rest of that night because my stomach was churning and my thoughts were spinning out of control, "Did this really happen?" The hospital catered to my every whim the following day. I never mentioned it to my dad.

Perspective. It's been the rainiest April on record in Chicagoland and the cloudiest in 118 years. Perspective can easily change with one good sunny day at the end of the month, thankfully.

Note: This is my Taxman, still in bed this morning. I've never--not once--seen this particular sun/shadow play in my bedroom, in four and a half years of living here. It's also pretty rare that I'm up before my Taxman. Just thought you should know.