Shivani said this was the first time he had behaved this way and started problem-solving. We talked about using distractions and what kind of distractions. She is a wonderful mom. Kind, considerate, and structured, prepared to problem solve for a less confrontational approach — a delight to watch with him. I wish I had had a mom like her.
Shivani and I were going to walk Hana on a beach after we dropped off Sidney, but her belly started hurting her. She was groaning in pain. She said she had to go home. I encouraged her to stop off and find a bathroom immediately to see if she could get some relief. She did; she didn't get any relief. She drove home, groaning the whole way. She took some anti-nausea medication and applied a heating pad. Then she jumped in the hot tub where heat would be applied more liberally to her whole body.
I drove her to the doctor, her first appointment with a GI doctor. She had been waiting for two months to see this specialist. There are problems with doctors in SF; apparently, many have retired without selling their practices to younger practitioners. The doctor told her that her MRI indicated that she didn't have diverticulitis, which was an earlier diagnosis. He thought she might have a spastic colon. He recommended some over the counter roughage solution. This was a disappointing result. She, we all, was hoping for something more definitive.
We were going to go home, but she had another appointment in SF to see an acupuncturist. She also had to stop off at a friend's house to check if a package arrived. She realized there was no point to heading home only to turn around in half an hour. We took care of the friend and then went to a Korean restaurant in the acupuncturist's neighborhood. I don't think I have ever had Korean food before. There was a lot of food. I ate some of it and enjoyed it.
Then we drove to the acupuncturist's. The main drag there is comparable to 5th avenue in NYC as it runs along Central Park. Gorgeous homes facing the park. Her friend lives on a side street halfway down the block from the park. Yes, this woman was a friend as well as her acupuncturist; they had known each other since high school and remained in touch.
While Shivani was at her appointment, I walked around the block. I gave no thought to my back; it didn't bother me at all. As I walked, I experienced a small twinge. It reminded me that I was still vulnerable. I decided not to walk too far to be on the safe side. I walked around and up and down the block several times. I didn't make my 6,000 steps for the day, but it was better than yesterday when I didn't even make 3,000.
I was tired from all the excitement and the meal and went to sit in the car and nap. I leaned the seat back and opened the window. I had been watching too many homicide shows. I imagined someone coming up and shooting me in the head. I wasn't scared; it was just an image that came to mind. I was reasonably sure it wouldn't happen. These are only the images that are floating around in my head and come to the surface easily. I need to watch something else.
When we got home, I went to sit out on the deck and work on either the blog or the book. I notice that the sun sails which hung over the deck seemed low. There was a strong wind; I thought the material had gotten stretched out a bit. Then I saw that one of the steel poles had been bent. While some of the attachments are to steel poles, others are to her house. I was concerned that there would be damage. Shivani came out. She was able to detach two of them with ease; we folded them up. The third sun sail was too taut, and it was difficult to open the clip and disconnect it. She let it go and went inside. She had a business call to make at 3.
While I was sitting outside, the wind picked up more. I told Shivani we had to get the third one down. I had tried to do it myself but didn't have the strength. She got off the phone and helped me take down the third one.
At 5 pm, two friends came over; each brought their two kids with them. Shivani served everyone dinner. These are all young women with young children. Their talk was about daycare, school, children's yoga, etc. There wasn't any way I could participate, but I could listen. I don't know if I would find it all interesting daily, but for now, it was a way to learn about a world I don't participate in, and it was fun.
After dinner, I did the dishes. For those of you who don't know, I LOVE doing dishes. Mike loved to cook; I loved to do dishes. It was a marriage made in heaven.
After the two ladies and their respective broods left, Shivani bathed Sidney, dressed him in his jammies, and settled into the sofa to read him three books. As was the case last night, I held the phone, so his dad could see him, and he could see his dad. Shivani asked me if I wanted to help put him to bed. I went in, but it was clear that my presence, a break in the routine, was agitating him. I back off quickly before his agitation grew.
I went to the living room, ran several blog entries through Grammarly, and posted them through email. My eyes were closing.
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Musings:
I have frequently said the thing I miss most about Mike is loving him and being loved by him, someone who smiled whenever he saw me, made it clear he was happy I was in his life.
Shivani is a young woman who already has had another serious relationship since her husband, Dave, died. (Yes, two widows no waiting.) She pointed out that loving and being loved was possible with another person, but that never replaced the one lost.
I came up with the analogy; all the Bach in the world will not replace the total absence of Beethoven's music in the life of someone who loves Beethoven. We love each person differently; we experience each person individually.
While Mike might be replaceable in the sense that there might be someone I can love and be loved by, how do I replace 45 years of refining a good relationship and making it better. I don't completely dismiss the idea that there might be someone I can spend my last years with, but I'm sure not looking at this point. I had the role model of my mother, who lost her husband, my father, at the age of 52 and spent the next 46 years living quite happily alone. One of my problems, aside from not feeling a need for a Mike replacement, is that I am terrified of dating; I always found it scary.
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