The Slant of the Light

It's a gorgeous Alaskan fall day, one of the few we're likely to have, and yet I'm sitting inside, blogging. Which isn't a bad thing, just a waste of nice weather.
I've got a bit of a case of the fall dreads, which I think are made exponentially worse by the prospect of an Alaskan winter. Thinking about things like splitting wood, winterizing the truck, and how much plowing will cost aren't particularly fun and leave me with a chill in the pit of my stomach. Dealing with real-life issues isn't my forte, and they all cost money. Last winter was pretty mild, too much to hope that this winter will be the same.
NSA is in Colorado, and I could go down there too, and stay the winter. But the idea of living around his family is daunting, to put it mildly, and horrifying, to put it realistically.
The sun is never really high over head in Alaska, not like it is in say, Nevada, or New York, or even Wisconsin. But this time of year, the angle of the light becomes even steeper, the slant sharper, the sunshine is pale and washed out, and the threat of cold and dark and death is heavy around you.

Here and There

I don't know what's going on with me lately. NSA is in Colorado with his family, who he really doesn't like very much, but his mom and dad are old, and his dad is undergoing radiation treatments for prostate cancer, so best to visit while he can and before things get veryvery bad. I miss him and I'm glad he's gone at the same time.
I have nine, NINE!, blog postings in draft, but I can't seem to finish any of them. I'm having a hard time focusing and seeing anything through to completion.
I want to redesign my blog, there are some cool new templates out there, but (see above.)
September and October are bad months for me, and as as result, I think I'm especially edgy and fretful. Maybe medication is a good idea. But then there's that stupid Newsweek article about the inefficacy of antidepressants, and so I think, why bother?
Sometimes I stumble across music that I really like, but isn't very helpful, mood-wise. Blue October's "Into the Ocean" is just such a song.
I feel like I've been walking in a fog bank for the past couple of years. Sometimes it's very slow going and I have to feel my way along, and sometimes the sun shines through and I think everything will be okay, but what I really need is for the fog to lift.

Having A Bawl

I miss good Chinese food. I miss warm nights. I miss Fatburger. I miss reallyreally good thrift store shopping. I miss long drives with my husband. And I MISS my fucking mom, who got me into this mess in the first place.

A Timeline of the Events of the Beginning of May, 2009

• April 29th- A last-minute dash to the airport with three cats and waaay too much luggage, but all of us made it to Alaska okay, if uncomfortably. (sidenote- Yin Yin reacted to the Xanax preflight test like a belligerent little drunk, staggering around and hissing at the other cats, it did NOT calm her down at all. And, not that I recommend drugging your animals for amusement purposes, but it was VERY funny to watch.)
• April 30th-May 3rd- Unseasonably gorgeous weather in Anchorage at a pet-friendly hotel, we celebrate a friend's birthday at a questionable club, shop for camping supplies and other summer essentials, and hang out with NSA's son. Hectic and more expensive than I would have wished, but a reasonably good time.
• May 4th- A friend drives us down to Homer in a mini-van packed to the roof, we find a hotel room, smuggle the cats in. NSA's asthma is bothering him, probably due to the very fine ash from Mt. Redoubt and the very dry spring that hasn't kept it down. And the stress of moving, travel, etc.
• May 5th- Friend and I pick up a few missed items while NSA relaxes at the hotel room. After a couple of frantic texts, we return to the room to find NSA drenched in sweat, his breathing intensely labored, and having already called 911, who take an excruciatingly long time to arrive. Ride in the ambulance, which pulls over on the way to the hospital to let the paramedics work on NSA, who is semi-lucid but completely frantic.
• May 6th- A horrible, horrible night during which NSA has to be put into an induced coma and intubated because he's combative and not responding well to the drugs. I have the unenviable experience of seeing my forty-five year old husband on a ventilator in the ICU.
• May 7th- It rains, washing away some of the volcanic ash.
• May 8th- I learn a new word, "extubated," the opposite of having a tube stuck down your throat. NSA is loopy and out of it from all of the drugs he's on, but in a relatively good mood since he has a constant supply of IV painkillers. We watch Casanova and I can't help but think of Heath Ledger, while NSA finds it particularly enjoyable in his altered state because of the bright colors and broad humor. He alternately calls me by his ex-wife's or sister's names. He's smiley and fun, and charms the nurses.
• May 9th- 13th- We get an inexpensive hotel room in town that doesn't care that we have cats to give NSA time to build up his strength.
• May 14th- After chinese food and making love, NSA has an evil, evil pain in his groin. When he wakes me up writhing around, I insist we call the paramedics. He's resistant, but eventually gives in. And so back to the hospital we go. In the ER, they're surprised to see him again, but won't give him anything for the pain until he starts vomiting blood.
• May 15th- After determining that the stone in his right kidney moved, NSA is released from the hospital again, worried about the expense of everything and how much insurance will cover. I'm understandably upset and feeling overwhelmed.
• May 16th- NSA passes an 8mm kidney stone, the size of a small pea. It's strangely impressive. We move the three cats and the little bit of stuff we brought with us into the cabin, which is dusty, and either cozy or cramped depending on our moods. The cats adapt remarkably quickly to their new environment, mostly due to the windows and abundant wildilfe to watch.

5 Months and a Dream

I woke up early this morning with tears in my eyes, dripping on my pillow, not sobbing. I dreamt that I was sitting by Mom's hospital bed, talking with her, and she looked really good, like she did when she vacationed down here. She was smiling and animated, telling me very important things, things I needed to know, and I was paying close attention because I wanted, needed, to remember. I thought, I should be writing this down. And then I woke up.

It was still dark outside, weird for me to be up this early, but clearly my subconscious was at work. NSA was in a bad place of his own, so I sat on the couch with a blanket, waiting for my coffee to brew, watching the minutes tick by, reliving this morning five months ago moment by moment. I didn't remind NSA of what day it is, I don't know if he thought about it, nor did I tell him about my dream. Maybe I'm being selfish, or maybe I'm trying to spare him. It's hard to say.

I know that I'm moving forward, I mean, things progess, time marches on, it can't be stopped just because you need a breather or eight hundred, but I have very little faith in the future. Some days, I feel like I've had the shit kicked out of me, and just as I start to recover from one blow, another lands.

I can't remember what Mom was telling me in the dream, and that's why I was crying. It was important, and I woke up to the real world not remembering.