Personal
Personal reflections, comments about things I've been doing, etc.
Time Passes
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sat, 06/26/2010 - 20:35It’s been thirty or forty years since I headed out to Evelyn’s house with my mother and my siblings. Today, I went to Evelyn’s son house to remember her. My memories were those of a kid visiting my mother’s friends. I want to write about this, the childhood memories, mixed with reflections about my mother’s social circle. Yet between the week of limited sleep during Barley’s final days, the last minutes of Barley, the memorial for Evelyn, and the upcoming funeral on Tuesday for my cousin Doug, I don’t have much energy to write.
As I stared at the blank page on the computer, I struggled. Should I skip writing tonight? I try to write at least one piece every day as part of my discipline of writing. I didn’t want to write a throwaway, “I’m too tired to write, more tomorrow”. Nor did I want to write the larger piece that is taking shape in my thoughts.
So, as I sat, the words “Time Passes” came to mind. In Virginia Woolf’s novel “To The Lighthouse”, the second section is “Time Passes”, where Woolf tries to quickly take the reader over several years between the early scenes of planning to go to the lighthouse and not making it, and the final section where they successfully make the voyage.
Perhaps there is something appropriate about this. Perhaps there are parallels between Mrs. Ramsey and Evelyn Lull. Perhaps I will finish my portrait of her tomorrow.
Differentiating between Zoonotic Empathetic Hypochondria, Fatigue, and Anticipatory Grief
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Fri, 06/25/2010 - 21:16
One of my great psychological defenses is the ability to intellectualize difficult emotional states, and perhaps that is a good way of understanding the title of this blog post.
For the past few days, I have been woken many times at night by the yelps of Barley, our aging chocolate Labrador. She had gotten to the point where she needed help standing up or walking and I would help her go outside or find a different place in the house to rest at all hours of the day and night. I’m pretty tired.
It has been even more difficult for my wife, Kim. Barley was her first baby and Barley was beside her as she went through some of the most difficult times of her life. Barley was also there at some of the most special moments, like when Kim and I first met or when Kim discovered that she was expecting.
Zoonotic refers to a disease that can be transmitted from other vertebrate animals to humans, and zoonotic empathetic hypochondria is a fancy way to describe being worried sick about an animal. Kim was worried sick about Barley. We tried some new medications to see if there were things that would help her feel better and get back on her feet. We had been through this several weeks ago, and Barley made a surprising recovery. Like the previous time, my wife feared that we would be saying farewell to Barley soon.
So, was it zoonotic empathetic hypochondria or was it anticipatory grief? How much longer could we help Barley live a quality life? We found the answer this evening.
The vet checked out Barley. Barley clearly was in pain and the vet suggested we could try some different pain killers. However, she also suggested we might want to Xray Barley to get a better sense of the source of her pain. It could be some sort of soft tissue strain that with some other pain killers and careful attention to her physical needs, we could help her through this time and give her some more quality time. On the other hand, it could be a bone tumor, which would mean there would be little chance for alleviating Barley’s pain.
Despite being old, arthritic and recovering from Lyme disease, Barley was still in fairly good shape, which meant she was also fairly heavy. I carried her to the Xray room. Kim and I walked back to the examination room and waited. Soon the vet walked in with the Xray. Yes, besides some significant arthritis, Barley had a bone tumor. We talked about what this meant and agreed that we needed to end her pain. We signed appropriate forms and the vet gave her a pain killer, and then a strong sedative. Unfortunately, there were no strong sedatives for Kim or I.
Barley no longer feels pain. My wife, my daughter, and various friends and family feel a different pain, the pain of knowing it will be a long time before we are reunited with a well loved dog.
Lady Chocolate Barley Malt, commonly called Barley lived a great life. At dinner, where Kim and I took a more conventional sedative in the form of a stiff drink, we recounted stories of when Barley stole a lobster from a caterer’s truck at a wedding, of how she would bark at horseshoe crabs, of how she was always there to comfort Kim during the most difficult times, similar to how Kim had sat on the floor at the vet’s office and comforted Barley during her last moments on earth.
Yeah, I can use big words and a little humor to help me get through times of grief, but now the anticipatory grief has turned to mourning. Rest In Peace, Barley.
Happy Failed Father’s Day
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sun, 06/20/2010 - 08:30It is eight in the morning, and I am awake for Failed Father’s day. A little before seven, our aging chocolate lab Barley started barking. She does this just about every morning. It could be that she needs to go outside, that the cat is outside asking to come inside, that she is hungry, that she needs attention, or simply that she always barks a little before seven. Fiona gets up and tells me to go back to bed. It’s father’s day and she will take care of Barley. Of course, Barley doesn’t stop barking. A little later, my wife gets up to check on Barley, telling me to try and rest, but still Barley barks. My wife comes back to bed and we rest a little more, but I am awake now, so I come downstairs and start writing.
Even the simplest things, I fail at. I can’t sleep, even though my family wants me to. The past few years have been pretty tough. I haven’t been able to earn the sort of money necessary to get my family everything they want. At times it wears on me, and I even have difficulties being as emotionally available as I should be. Of course, being able to only meet familial needs instead of familial wants, may be better for the family. Part of growing up includes learning that you can’t always get what you want.
Yet all in all, we’re doing okay. I think of a friend, thousands of miles away, who lost his son five years ago. Even over the great distance, made a little shorter over the Internet, and over the years, the sharp pain is still palpable. It reminds me of a story I heard online a while ago.
A father is at the playground watching his daughter ride her bicycle. He looks at his watch and sees that it is time to go. His daughter begs to stay, “Please, just five more minutes.” He smiles, and says, “okay, just five more minutes.” A mother nearby, watching the interchange compliments him on being a very tolerant father.
He responds that things are not what they seem. He explains that a year ago, the little girl’s big brother was killed when his bicycle got hit by a car not far from the playground. He is glad that his daughter has managed to learn to enjoy riding a bicycle safely at the playground. More importantly, he explains that his daughter may think he has given her a gift by allowing her five more minutes to ride her bike, but the real gift is that he is receiving five more minutes to watch her daughter enjoy her childhood.
So this father’s day, I am pretty sure I know what my family will give me. Fiona will give me an opportunity to help her with something on the computer and a chance to do another radio show with her. Miranda will probably give me the chance to sit in the passenger seat as she drives around a parking lot learning how to drive. My eldest will probably give me the opportunity to be concerned for her, even though she is mad at me for telling her no to something she really wanted. My wife will probably give me an opportunity to help her with some simple task that she used to be able to do before her horrible bout with Lyme disease.
Yes, there will be times throughout the year that I will receive these gifts less thankfully. After all, like all fathers, I am a failed father. Some fathers might have problems recognizing or accepting their own failures and believe that by yelling at the umpire they are being a good role model. Others might have problems accepting their own fatherhood leaving their children to be raised by others. Some may carry pains of great loss. Others may be losing much through their inability to connect with their emotions.
Whatever the failures, I want to wish everyone a Happy Failed Father’s Day. I’m Aldon, and I’m a failed father.
Confronting the Blank Page
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sun, 06/06/2010 - 21:24Sunday evening, and another blank page to confront. I spent a bit of the time today at the pool reading Hunter S. Thompson, but Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas as well as a biography about him by some journalism professor. We came home as the weather turned nasty and I took a long nap. My stomach is really bothering me. I got up in time to do Fiona’s Radio Show where she had a great interview with Jill Cagney.
I spent a little more time preparing for Internet Week NY. I’m still not as prepared as I would like to be, but I’m just too tapped out for time. Knowing that tomorrow is likely to be a long hard day, without as much time for writing as I would like, I’ve drafted my Music Monday post today and I’ll post it in the morning.
Now, I’m checking #blogchat briefly before getting to bed so I can catch an early train into the city.
