Things That Happen

Man, I really am a grinch.

I usually find that December starts out with the best of intentions: Tree, gifts, the glow of luminaria, falala.

By mid-December, T and I are a bundle of exhausted tension. He works 85 hour weeks instead of his usual 60, and I miss him and immaturely act out. This December is no exception, but we have the added bonus of a sick sister-in-law and a sick grandfather.

Cortney has a blood clot in her leg and several small PE's right now. She feels lousy, and I feel lousy for her. How does an EXTREMELY fit, positive person who regularly chooses to run 26.2 miles in a row for fun deserve this? She doesn't, it sucks. Her doctors think she is going to be okay, and I'm glad. It still sucks.

My gramp had a melanoma removed on Wednesday of last week, and the surgery site became infected by Friday. Well, it's a MRSA infection. SUUUUUUCK. He told my mom today that he thinks this is "the end of him." Never in a long succession of bum-heart incidents has he said anything like that. We're sad. Sad that he's scared, sad that life is finite and so freaking uncertain. We'll be pissed later, especially if Medicare won't let him go home for his 4-week antibiotic therapy. Right now, we're just sad.

Today T and I had a long strategy session. We're going to make it through this stupid fucking month, and we're going to have fun as often as we can. In February, we are going to sit in the desert with our family, play cards, and be glad that my gramp is there with us. He loves the desert. I insist that he'll be there. Never once during that much anticipated vacation are we going to think about how much December fools us into being merry and then pulls the rug RIGHT OUT from under us.

Never even once.