It’s chilly. It got colder and windy and rained heavily last night. I’ve got on a pair of leggings, gym shoes, a stretchy black yoga top and a lightweight white Columbia shirt on top and I’m still chilly. I don’t have any school Zoom lessons until 2pm today. Mike is in the back office. He has a Zoom Tuesday morning group meeting in a few minutes. He just asked me to come in there so he could ask me a question about Zoom ( I only know the basics) but it was easy to answer. I miss my cozy little cluttered office. He’s already well rooted in there now with his work set up. My junk is in the spare bedroom. I have a little old table for my laptop, an extra chair and a music stand for my holding things station and the spare bed in there holding my assembled instruments as I switch off between different lessons. It’s a bit unhandy but it’s only for a few more weeks.
Mike is leaving around noon to drive to St. Charles ( from Huntley it’s about 32 miles) to pick up his mom and then take her to Central DuPage hospital in Winfield for her immune therapy infusion treatment, then get her some lunch somewhere, take her back home to St. Charles and then drive back home to Huntley and resume work and be working much later because he missed hours away. His mothers younger sister Dot just died of Covid-19 ( and complications from falls from Alzheimer’s). Last night my youngest daughter Sarah texted me her dad is very badly ill and most likely has lymphoma in his intestines but hasn’t yet had it confirmed. She said he’s lost a shocking amount of weight, is exhausted and can’t eat. He was attacked by a mad cow several months ago and almost died then. He has a cracked vetebra. I only actually started talking to him again last year after all those years. It’s weird how things go.
In November and December I kept having this uncomfortable feeling and awareness that some big looming tidal wave of shit was coming. That inner feeling kept surging up inside me. I didn’t know what it was just that it was monumental and now all these bad things are happening. I still feel it inside. It’s not done yet.
I just texted my ex and told him if he has any questions about doctors or treatment I’ll try to help. I’ve got this lymphoma shit down. He is, after all, the father and grandfather to our kids. It’s funny how things change.
I’ve been making a lot of homemade bread and other things. Yesterday I made bread, chocolate chip brownies, a bowl of turkey salad from leftover turkey breast and a healthy parfait for myself in a Mason jar made with chia seeds, flax seeds, frozen mixed berries and strawberry kefir. I think I’m going to make chicken enchiladas with verde sauce sometime this week whenever I go to the store and get the ingredients.
It’s quiet. Mike got home from taking his mom to the hospital and went right in to the office and went back to work. Now he’s in there talking to me from across the house about stupid stuff from the people he works with that I don’t know. I’m not really paying attention because it’s not important. I’ve kind had my fill of being cooped up. He’s reading someone’s column and readers’ responses to me. He HATES when I read things to him. I’m going to go take a nice hot bath and wash all my anxieties down the drain. It might help and it sure won’t hurt. I do wish I had something funny and or brilliant to say but I don’t.