2009 was supposed to be different.
2008 was supposed to be different.
2007 was supposed to be different.
You get the drift.
Mr. LC came with me to be with my Dad because he is, hands down, the best mate I could want right now. On the drive over, on New Year's Eve, naturally there was some reflection.
We remember thinking 2005 and 2006 sucked as we watched everyone we know conceive effortlessly, as I hosted shower after shower and all that jazz. We didn't even know--a couple of surgeries, some IUIs--child's play.
2007 sucked hard core...three failed IVFs. Shattered hopes and pain we didn't know existed.
2008--I was so ready to kick that year to the curb. My Dad nearly died in a horrific auto accident that left him with a broken neck. We failed at CC.R.M. for the first time. We sat at the end of 2008 mouths agape going "Huh? What the heck just happened here?"
We embarked on 2009 without any major plans. The idea for IVF #5 came around somewhere in the spring...and then...June 10th. My Dad's massive, massive stroke. Being told he would not survive. Struggling through IVF #5 on the 'down low', getting our hopes up...blah blah blah you know the rest.
Every year we hope that the next cannot be anything but better. And yet every year it has gotten worse.
Are we there yet? Have we hit rock bottom?
Last night when we got here I was sure we had. My Dad was suffering from massive tardive dyskinesia--a rare side effect of a drug they put him on two weeks ago. He was having massive involuntary muscle spasms, twitches, contractions, and movement in his arms, neck, legs, and face. He could not rest. Medication could not relieve it. He was miserable. Imagine Tourette's continually, or Parkinsonian movements that never abate.
I shook my fist at the universe and wailed "How could he be asked to suffer any more?" The doctor said it could be permanent.
Today there was some improvement. We are all holding our breath.
I spent the first day of 2010 with a twelve hour vigil by my Dad's bedside. There was no black eyed peas and greens for good luck, no brunch with friends...nothing. Nothing but the dankness of a nursing home with its eternal sadness.
You do not have to say anything. If I were reading this blog I'd have given up by now, it's too damn depressing.
Driving home in the dark, my back aching from moving and lifting and holding my Dad, I turned up Bob Marley to full volume.
Don't worry. About a thing. 'Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright.
I'm counting on it Bob.
3 years ago