What now?

I’ve been so busy, too many things to do, and now I’m finally catching up, clearing things off my plate, my friend is stablized and doing well.  So now what?  It’s not like there’s nothing to do.  I could wade through the stack of paperwork and bills that acumulated while I was away.  I could prepare my little bit I’m supposed to do for Hycroft.  I have two manuscripts waiting in my cupboard for me to take them out, dust them off and see if I can carve anything worth while out of them. 

I guess this feeling of “what now” is because first I was in that dizzying place of book readings, being public and away from home and-will-people-take-Porcupine-into-their-hearts-or-not place.  And then was in 4-5 hours of sleep, emergency mode, and-by-the-way-finish-the-script place.  And then a couple days of settling my friend and getting used to a care-giver. (who is quite decent, but never mind, it is still quite hard to live, include, have wandering around your house, 24/7 someone that you don’t know.  Have nothing in common with.) I know it’s supposed to help.  And it does.  Not to have to decipher the complex medicines, times and dosages, the blood pressure machine, the blood sugar testing.  These are wonderful things and a great help. 

But the thing is, it feels like company 24/7.  I worry about the caregiver missing his wife and children.  That he is from a different culture and no matter what I cook, or how tasty it is, he is used to a different diet.  That my husband and I feel shy to cuddle on the sofa with a stranger sitting there.  Polite stilted conversation.  It’s different is all and will take some getting adjusted to.  It’s different than family and friends.  It really is.

I guess what I have to do is remind myself of all the blessings.  Yes it’s hard to have a stranger living with you, but thank god you do!  Because if you didn’t, that would mean that the jaunt to LA, the ICU etc, had a very different outcome.  One that would have stolen away one of your oldest and dearest friends.  Loss of privacy, loss of that total unwind “ah” feeling is a small price to pay.  I have to tell myself that after a few months of this, it will be old hat, and I won’t even remember how it was before.  And how lucky that we are in a position that we could afford to have someone manage his health care at home.  Many families are not so fortuate.  I can take care of my friend and still have the freedom to dash to the store and not worry that he might slip, or need something, or a million other things. 

So, what now?  I think I’ll dust Big Muckle off.  Work on that a bit.  It’s very different from my other books.  Kind of light hearted.  Yeah...I think that’s what I’ll do.  Makes me smile just thinking about it. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, November 06, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

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