I had planned to tell long blurry stories of my medicated Christmas, fog lights, highlights, favorite occurrences like seeing my long lost uncle (also with Hep C), my youngest cousin (all grown up), and my grandpa, the most wonderful, gentle, safest man I've ever known, who says this may be his last Christmas (but he didn't say it to me). I soaked him in as best I could. We held hands, touched arms, smiled. He looked through me, past my words of doing ok, held my gaze, and told me to go home, that I was tired and needed to rest. It's his Cajun talent he says.
But long stories will just have to wait, my heavy head still throbs. Woke at 3:33 thinking someone had hit me solid with a baseball bat (how rude). Had to watch the numbers for a moment, play them around, 3 threes, nine... before I could stubble for the vicodine. Took forever to help. May be The side-effect-hormonal-headache, but it's passing already, so maybe not. yada yada blah blah waa.
Overall the holiday was good, even on meds. We made it through, daughter had fun and I didn't cry in front of the family. So there. Total success. I'll never forget it though, will compare every future one to this.
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2 comments:
Just 10 more weeks for you, 12 more for me: we can do this, see you at the finish line!
Think of Christmas and the New Year as the last hurdle. It is only a matter of weeks now until your virus free feet (and the rest of you of course;) set down on the beautiful warm and welcoming tarmac of your brand new highway:)
Take care Ample:)
Jae
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