kvetching up

Entry 1 If you are a friend or family member, you likely know I have dug in. Deep. This sun is helping, as will daylight savings time, I expect. Seasonal Affective Disorder is real. I also think living in this house, with all the painful memories, and sleeping inches from where Jenny died, both make depression more likely. Not that there aren't a lot of wonderful memories here. Okay, not so many. Leiney essentially moved out three weeks after Jenny died, for the most part, and completely a few months later. Abby was here longer, but spent much of her time teenagering and then went off to college. We had nice times here, when she was present.  Which brings me to thinking of moving . Today, I met with a recruiter from PGE-Portland General Electric, they are looking for someone with extensive experience, to take the deputy role, and then to likely transition into the Director role. A ratepayer funded entity--the pay is fabulous and the work sounds interesting. The recruiter and I clic...

  Entry 1 Driving home from spending time with Jenny's family, we repeatedly had a conversation about how devalued Jenny felt when no one asked her about her work that she wasn't important and that her worth was devalued. In their eyes, she would say, I am just a teacher. I would reassure her that her work was the most important work any of us did, and that teachers have historically been paid less because the workplace is so gendered. She looked for insult at each successive visit at any family event, and took greater umbrage.  It is absolutely true that other people's work would be discussed, and that it was rare that we would discuss Jenny's work. I don't know why that is, but it was a thing. I can say that when she was a new teacher she would regale all of us with stories, like when one of her students in her special ed class, would routinely pull his pants down and eat his flaking penis skin and how she dealt with it. As time went on, and maybe because she beca...

Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, 1628. Entry 1 I felt better with the sun out. It leavens my depression, not lifting it completely, but enough to relieve what is otherwise unrelenting. While the sun was rea balm, I crave the darkness when I am blue. I wrap it around me like a blanket each night, and curse the longer days. While i hate the gray and darkness of winter in general, being swallowed by darkness is nature's metaphor for what I crave.   William  styron, in Darkness visible, a memoir about his depression written well before anybody was listening to Prozac, describes the "gray drizzle of horror induced by depression takes on the quality of physical pain." For me it's an ache, a nagging beast reminding me I am still here. I think my flavor of depression is less acute and yet longer lasting than Stryon's, but that is only speculation. If his was a failed transmission, stopping him dead in his tracks, mine is more like haivng the low air light for the tires...

Entry 1 In 2015, when Leiney first showed signs of depression, our world was rocked. The suffering she was going through was painful to watch and experience. I was just about that age when I went through my first bout of clinical depression, so I could feel her pain. At the time our kid fell ill, I was struck by how many tools Jenny had in her toolbox to help Leiney. She knew who to call to do intervention. We pulled together as a team to help Leiney, but Jenny, because of her profession and job, knew what to do, and who to call and got Leiney the professional services she needed. I remember spending days with Leiney, taking time off work and caring for her, snuggling with her on the couch, and watching television. We watched Deadpool on our big leather couch together--her first R-rated movie.  What strikes me about these memories is how hard Jenny and I worked as a team. I always was the one who stayed home with Leiney those many days she was too sick to go to school. There was a ...

Entry 1 Yesterday, I finally started cardiac rehab. I have to drive all the way to NW Hospital, where the UW has centered It's cardiac rehab program in Seattle to attend. Believe it or not, I actually tried to sign up at Valley Medical for rehab. If you call there yourself, you will be sent straight to voicemail. They promise to call you back. Despite calling several times, I never did get a call back. NW is materially different--and much farther away. I called last week--and they found a cancelation and got me in yesterday morning.  My nurse, whose name escapes me, is amazing. Yesterday was really mostly a two hour interview, where I talked about my diet and exercise regimen, the former not much to talk about, the latter a discussion about how I don't exercise at all anymore. I had to disclose my depression level through the standard survey. I am never very aware of where I land on the scale, meaning I am simply not in touch with my feelings, but yesterday's  outcome was d...

Entry 1    8:58 a.m  I am deeply depressed. I am not returning calls, not doing the greatest. My kids don't know, I don't think. My therapist has no idea. I don't think grief adequately describes the place where I am. I have lost interest in absolutely everything. I only move when forced. Yesterday was Abby's family birthday celebration, so I got my shit together and made sure it was everything she would hope it would be. I hung streamers, prepared lunch, had family around. It was fine. As soon as everyone left, I shut back down, too tired to even think right, so tired I went to sleep at a decent hour. Oh, yeah, I haven't been sleeping. I am not doing well.  Please know, if you are calling or texting and I haven't responded, I have seen them, I am just curled up inside myself right now, and am trying hard to climb back out.  By the way, I am not anywhere close to a place where I may be contemplating suicide. I have kids, I would NEVER leave them willingly. ...

 Entry 1     10:49 a.m. “When a man, however passively, becomes an obstacle to the fulfillment of a woman's desires, he becomes an odious thing in her eyes, - or will, given time enough.”  ― Theodore Dreiser, Sister Carrie Jenny's friend with PDAC is contemplating a second opinion, and sent Jenny her latest CT scan. Stephen King would quit writing novels after reviewing it.  That said, as Jenny and I walked through it, it allowed for a very explicit conversation about the limited nature of options that will follow, should the disease stay its course.  Jenny said to me that if she ever goes on hospice, she would volunteer for any experimental surgery that is out there.  While there isn't any such thing for a person with metastatic PDAC, which I pointed out, I also said that should something arise, the last person who would be considered is someone on hospice. You are so sick by then, you would not meet the rather important consideration of post-sur...

I became a sucker for Robert Smith when Kiss Me! Kiss Me! Kiss Me! was released in 1987. I was 20, and 6 albums behind. I got the deep catalog around 1999, when Napster, coincidentally, was in existence.  I'm sitting alone in this big house listening to angsty 80s English pop. Leiney has headed back to Bellingham, or is after she finishes work. Abby is at a concert at The Vera Project.  Jenny is heading home from dinner at Ivars with her NY friends. Last night I learned the woman married to the hedge fund guy just bought Don Imus' apartment on 67th for 10 million bucks and an apartment on the main floor for their kids to hang out. 10 million apparently is a steal, and they have to do massive remodeling. Money 💰 🤑.  Must be nice. I spent the afternoon hacking at blackberry bushes.  I hired a guy who finally came last week, but he did a shit job.  So, I am continuing the work.  The bushes I hacked at today are about 12 feet tall.  I want a buffer from...

  Entry 1.  7:22 a.m. The New Yorker has an article about my professor, my mentor,  my former boss (I was his TA for two years and then his teaching fellow in constitutional law at NYU), and friend, the late Prof. Derrick Bell Jr. A leading anti-racist, scholar, author and activist of civil rights for people of color, women, the LGBTQ community and more, he taught constitutional law through the lens of critical race theory, and in fact founded the discipline back in the 1970s.  A brilliant mind and a compassionate soul, his work is, and will remain, a seminal analysis of race, racism and American law.  You can read the story without going through the paywall here: http://hnn.us/article/181240.

Entry 1      9:30 a.m. I just read the now posted doctor's note from June 3, and reviewed the radiologist's report from the day before (also just posted).  The doctor's note offers different analysis from when we met.  He allows for "slight progression" in his note, different than the claim of stable he made to us just three days ago.  It also ignores the growth from the week before.  In other words, the radiology report notes that there has been slight progression from the prior scan, not slight progression generally.  So, I don't know what to think about his honesty, it seems tenuous. He doesn't have a monopoly on that trait.

Every Sunday Afternoon We Forget About Our Cares I awoke this morning in a good mood.  A strange night of sleep.  I had dreams about my family and the affair, which hasn't really happened before.  But the dream was vivid.  I had to remind myself it was a dream, so as not to carry that around all day. I checked on Jenny frequently through the morning. She slept until around 10.  I came in and, per usual, she immediately hid her telephone. You can't hide your phone in an unobtrusive or secretive manner when the person you are hiding it from is facing you, three feet away. I didn't say anything.  I made peace, not with the affair, but with the pointlessness of forcing her to lie to me when I ask her what's going on, or to lie to me and tell me there isn't an affair happening any more.  Again, hiding the phone is a regular occurrence, if not daily, almost daily.  I do find it tedious.   Jenny is depressed, which isn't new. Two days ago the p...

If You Didn't Care What Happened To Me Jenny was too tired, too weak and in too much pain to accompany Abby and me on the hunt.  The best laid plans.  .  .and all of that.  So, Abby and I went and did recon all over South Seattle.  From Thornton Creek/Northgate to Judkins Park to South Beacon, we met our realtor and explored. We found no gold, lots of dross, and a bit of something in-between.  I called Jenny from each place, giving her my impression of each. After we finished, Abby and I went and dropped a lot of money on gear for the dog, and grabbed lunch at Sprouts, a chain grocery store I used to frequent in my California days and which has established a beachhead at 130th and Aurora. Jenny managed to get up around 1145 and go to lunch with friends.  She was weak and tired the whole time, I could tell, hearing it in her voice every time I called.  She came home and was feeling low.  Sad and angry her eyes were, her mien sad and quiet....

Work was busy today. It will continue to ramp up as the year progresses.  Even so, Jenny and I managed to have several interesting interactions today.  I got up around 7, made my coffee and sat down on the sectional/bed 🛌 in my living room/bedroom.  The dog climbed on my lap, and I began to read the news on my phone.  For the first time I can remember since Jenny fell ill, she came out to the living room and laid down on the opposite end of the couch, with her feet closest to me, and her head on a far cushion. We offered good mornings to one another and then she closed her eyes and I went back to reading.  Jenny hadn't moved or even opened her eyes, although she was awake.  After a bit, i picked up a game controller, intending  to play a video game.  The tv lit up, and as it did, Jenny got up and stormed off, upset that I hadn't been cuddling her.   I started work shortly after this.  And worked all morning.  Jenny and Leiney ...