Happy New Year?
Thu., January 3, 03:25 PM
As you may remember, I do not make New Year's resolutions, nor do I generally do a year-end roundup. I used to do such things, not once a year but twice — the other time being my birthday. But there are seldom many earth-shaking events in my life now, so roundups seem silly.
What good thing happened in 2007? I had cataract surgery on both eyes, and I can see again. What bad things happened in 2007? I could mention that my vision got bad enough to require surgery, but that's already fixed.
The worst things last year all concerned Husband's health, not the least of which was yet another pulmonary emergency. That was not only scary, it was inconvenient. When they called me to take him home, I couldn't go; you don't walk into a “dirty” hospital environment the day before you're scheduled to have surgery yourself. Son checked him out and brought him home. The support of my daughters, my son and my daughter-in-law — these were the best part of 2007.
Back to the resolutions: I feel that New Year's resolutions add constraints to existing problems. If I have thought a problem through and think I have a solution, I would just as soon start right away, as opposed to waiting for a special date. And if I slip and have to start over, well, the date is not a factor. On the other hand, if I have a conversation with someone — for the purpose of my own mental health — well, maybe it sounds like a resolution.
Consider the following conversation with Husband, who continues to cause a lot of trouble (but I have decided not to buy into it).
Me: “Are you listening to me?” You always have to establish that first. He says he's listening. I talk to him about cause and effect, about babies that cry and objects that fall down when you throw them in the air.
I continue: “If you don't wear your oxygen, you will collapse. That's not my fault. If you don't take your medicine, you will get sick, and that's not my fault either. But if you keep waking us up in the middle of the night because you want to drill something, you can't stay here any more.”
I think he got that. He sputtered a little, said he would got “to a convalescent home, but not a nursing home.” Whatever that means. Point is, he can't take care of himself when it comes to managing his meds and his oxygen, but he's not bedridden. He could (and should) participate in some kind of activity, as he does at day care. But I'm not getting involved.
That, perhaps, is a resolution after all.
