There’s an old Mennonite saying:
The hurrier I go, the behinder I get. How in the world did I ever let a week elapse without making an entry?
Granted, this diary was never intended to be a daily menu of menus, weather and bowel movements. What I wanted was a way to chronicle my activities so I’d have a record of when, where and who. I wanted a place to set down problems, because problems often don’t seem as bad when you’ve organized your thoughts about them well enough to set them into words, and solutions often present themselves once you’ve identified the problem well enough to articulate it.
I’m not really upset, therefore, that I’m not making daily entries. It’s an ironic twist though that the more I have to write about, the less I time I have to write about it. And of course, the longer it’s put off, the larger the job becomes.
The Socialist and I are slowly working our way through Babylon 5’s second season. We’re trying to take it more slowly than we did the first season, so it lasts until August 12th, when the third season is released and my advanced order copy is shipped. I missed a fair part of second season because of my sophomore externship while in vet school, so many of these episodes are new to me. There are quite a few things in B-5 that owe hommage to Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, and The Socialist and I have been trying to be alert for those and point them out to each other. There are other references in there to other science fiction shows and people as well; I know I catch some of them, but I also know that some are going right over my head.
The Socialist has also reintroduced me to Cribbage. Over a decade ago, I used to play Cribbage fairly often with two friends of mine that I’ve since lost touch with. They played cut-throat, but I managed to hold my own against them. I haven’t played in so long that I’d forgotten the rules. I’m starting to remember, though I still frequently miss points in my hand, and I constantly forget how to score jacks when they come up (who made that stupid, arbitrary rule anyhow?) I’ve become quite addicted to playing again in spite of my inability to count my scores correctly.
I’ve been moved from having to see the doctor every other week to every three weeks. Big City Hospital seems pleased with my progress, though there’s been no reduction in my medications again this week. They said I could set up a dentist visit (I’m overdue for a check-up) and most importantly …
I’m allowed to go on a trip! I need to make arrangements beforehand for bloodwork and such, but I can go to California with The Socialist at the end of August! I’ll get to visit the desert and play in tide pools and eat at the Mongolian barbecue and get away! I am so psyched I can’t stand it. We’ve decided that we’re driving out. I’ve never driven nearly so far before, so this will be a big adventure for me. We sat down and figured out the expenses for flying out and renting a car versus driving out in the Prius, and driving turned out to be much more affordable, even with wear and tear on the car factored in. Driving will also be healthier for me, since I won’t have to deal with crowds (which would probably having to wear a mask in the airport and on the plane). I am totally psyched.
I’m also psyched about this past weekend’s big purchase: a new computer desk. I’ve needed a new one for a long time, because my current one isn’t big enough to give me more workspace than is needed to hold my monitor. Working on some of my on-line projects has gotten aggravating, and I’ve had to set up a folding TV table next to my desk for additional workspace. Of course, the fun part lies ahead. I’ve emptied out my desk, but I have to dismantle it and get it downstairs so that we can build my new one. Since I remain forbidden to lift anything more weighty than 15 pounds, this means that The Socialist is going to be stuck with much of the work. I’m going to have to figure out a way to repay him.
I’ve started composing a letter to the family of the child whose liver I got. This is easily the most difficult piece of writing I’ve ever had to do. I can’t just do the best I can and then hand it in like some book report in junior high. I won’t be able to give this to the Gift of Life Foundation for forwarding until I know the letter is absolutely right. This could take a while. What do you say to the parents of the thirteen year old child whose liver currently resides where your own used to be? I’ve been shoving this to the back of my head for a while, but I can’t put this off any more, or I’ll chicken out completely.
How about "I wanted to take the opportunity to thank you for making the decision that restored my life. I will do my best to be worthy of it."
It’s what I’d probably want to say. Here’s a page with tips, by the way, in case they help:
http://www.lifelineofohio.org/donor/writing.cfm
I’m glad to hear from you. If it weren’t for your comments, I’d have been worried. 🙂
Driving through the desert in August should be a hoot :p
I hope you don’t chicken out in writing that letter. Any little acknowledgement of thanks I’m sure will bring some measure of comfort.
The pool critters await.
Oooh yay – a road trip! You must really be recovering well if your doctors will allow that. 🙂
I would agonize over writing a letter like that too, go with your heart and be honest/sincere (and I can tell from the couple entries I’ve read that it shouldn’t be a problem) and I’m sure that it will come through when they read it and that the family will appreciate, and perhaps take some comfort from, what you have written.
I know what you mean about playing catch-up on a diary. I’d go for months or a year sometimes and not write in my written journal and then would try to do an update, but you can only write so much and then you get writer’s cramp, or you end up talking about just the most recent thing and all the intervening stuff gets left out.
Peace, bythesea
Will you be driving through the SW deserts, or going to Oregon and turning left? I wish you a trip with a good air conditioner in the car, and your car not overheating!
Should be a blast though, enjoy!
I can imagine how difficult writing this letter will be. I know you will find something to write which will give the parents peace in knowing that the gift of life they gave is enabling part of their child to live on through you.
Alli
The gift of life. If I were the parent(s) I would be very pleased that my child was able to help you and possibly others.
I have a 12 & 14 year old. I cannot imagine the heartache and grief that these parents went through, yet they were able to make an important decision that not only potentially saved your life, but several others.
They made a very selfless, heartwrenching decision at one of the worst times in their lives. They should be commended.
My children and I have talked about organ donation. I am for it and as their parent I would sign the necessary paperwork in a heartbeat. Both my kids understand that is my wish as well. They have said, it is kind of a morbid dicussion, but they both understand the importance. My husband, on the other hand, wants to take everything with him. He’ll probably haunt me if we are still together because I would sign the paperwork for him.
California. You will certainly enjoy it, but you might want to talk to your doctor about all the smog. Not sure what you would really be able to do about it, but during the summer it is pretty bad. Do you know which beach you will be going to? There are several with great tidepools to explore… Wear your tennis shoes… the rocks are very slippery.
~J
Roadtrip! Moon the school buses.
Do you plan to post the letter here?
California eh? Maybe we’ll have some normal weather for you. I seriously drove home in the rain yesterday, windshield wipers and everything. Very strange… so…what part of CA??
Hubby and I have both vowed to be organ doners… but it suddenly struck me as I read your entry that if something happened to my son (who’s 13 by the way) I would be honored to have him help someone like you. Perhaps you might give some thought to scrolling through some of your past entries and sharing them with the donor’s family. You spent months dealing with your illness, agonizing over the decisions that had to be made and preparing yourself; and you documented it beautifully. I have no doubt the words will come to you and you will find a way to share your joy and your appreciation for what they did.
~QE
Who’s glad you’re back…and has the same problem updating her diary!
Good reasons for not updating the diary.
I heard a lady on the radio recently talking about the seven people whose lives were either saved or had their quality restored thanks to the gift of her husband’s organs (he’d told her before he died that he wanted this to happen). I could just hear the light in her voice that he’d been able to give such a gift. There was a similar interview last year with parents who’d done this when their son was killed in a car crash. It really can be as blessed to give as to receive.
If you’re your own sincere self, I’m sure you’ll write something perfect. And of course you want it to be perfect – what an incredible gift.
California here you come! Great news! Wave to me across the Pacific.
Just write from your heart, that always works.
I psyched at your road trip too. Sounds awesome, how about a road trip back thru Oregon? I owe you a horseback ride on the beach.
I’m glad to hear you are progressing well.
🙂
road trip! road trip! road trip! and to california, too. you go, girl!!!!
so many wonderful words of support on writing your letter. i hope that it flows from your heart graciously, as we have all felt when we learned the news!