death on the brain / lucky find
Back in 1996, The Cranberries released their third and, in my opinion, all-time best album—the album that truly cemented my permanence as a fan—called To the Faithful Departed. 1996 was also the year I came out, and began wearing black nail polish and eyeliner and Mom overhearing, for instance, a song called "I Just Shot John Lennon," had her irrationally worried that I had become a Satanist, but that's a different story. I had to explain to her that the album was just a collection of songs honoring, in myriad ways, loved ones who had passed, or at least the respected of those who have gone before us. This has become very relevant all of a sudden, and it rather came to me pointedly this morning on my way to work.
I am finally nearing the end of the book I am ready, after over two months and after once having to return it to the library and then check it out again: Carrie Fisher: A Life on the Edge by Sheila Weller. Oddly, I have found the second half of the book far more compelling than the first, and it therefore has me getting through it more quickly. And I have reached the part about her death, only roughly 10 pages from the very end.
Anyway. I had read a couple pages on the #11 bus from home to downtown, and when I got off the bus I realized: I was also listening to the Cranberries album In the End, which I did not know about or buy until this year but was released last year, after Dolores O'Riordan's death in January 2018.
And then, suddenly, I was thinking about someone else. I haven't mentioned this yet here: Auntie Rose. I got an email from Valerie, clearly sent to many people (I was BCCed), that began with, Mom is rapidly declining. She went on to say, We have no idea why, except for the possibility that it is related to steroids she was given at the ER. She is confused, agitated and hallucinating. 3 weeks ago she was still telling me long stories about her day's events. Right now, I am happy when she says Valerie and knows it is me. I am arranging 7x24 care for her in the hopes that this will get better as she weans off the steroids. (Side note: be wary of steroids and the older population - they have nasty side effects.)
This made me think of my practically projectile-diarrhea reaction to medication after getting labyrinthitis in 2012. I went back to find my LiveJournal entries about it, though, and although I had been prescribed a steroid medication to prevent permanent hearing loss, it was actually the motion sickness medication they put me on that had given me the reaction.
Valerie's email continued: We are so grateful for the visiting nurses, aides and the PT/OT that will come to her house. My brother is coming to help out too. We have no idea what is ahead for us. But keep up those thoughts, prayers and positive energy. We will take them all.
That had come on February 6. I wrote her back the next day, starting with, My heart sank when I read this. I can't imagine what it's like for you. I have not heard since, and although of course my hope against hope is that Auntie Rose improves and pulls through. But, she is 82 years old, and has been steadily declining for a couple of years now. She last emailed me just last month, after I emailed her on January 10 to thank her for the large Washington State Parks brochure she had mailed me and I had received the day before. She and I have reconfirmed several times that our plan is to visit Fort Worden State Park for my Birth Week, on Friday, May 1.
And what if she is totally incapacitated, or, worst-case scenario, actually passed away by then? God, I hope not. I have still made a decision about it, though: I will go to Port Townsend and Fort Worden in her honor even if she is unable to join me, for the first time since my Birth Week tradition with her began in 2001 (predating when I officially started doing a "Birth Week" by three years). I may see if Valerie will join me; I have a feeling she might, and that she would appreciate my approach.
I've had morbid thoughts about how long it would take for me to find out if Auntie Rose did pass away. Presumably Valerie would tell me, but this is her mother we're talking about and she would need some time of her own to grieve first, I'm sure. I was just so hoping that I would get at least one more Birth Week with Auntie Rose. I'm still holding out hope for that, but it's seeming not very likely. I already knew the Birth Week years with Auntie Rose were numbered when, last year, she told me I had to come see her in Port Townsend from now on, as she had been coming to see me in Seattle every year prior. And I said then, that was fair.
Auntie Rose is the last remnant of her generation, out of those who were truly important to me. Grandma (Auntie Rose's older sister, by eight years) died in 2011; Grandpa McQuilkin in 2016. Only two of Grandpa's five siblings are still alive now, and I was never close to them. In fact, of everyone two generations ahead of me, it's probably safe to say only Grandma McQuilkin was ever a more important figure in my life than Auntie Rose. And for now, I just wait to be updated.
Shobhit had a Braeburn Condos board meeting last night, which ran longer than usual, he said, because a bunch of residents showed up—including one woman who complains about everything and is a huge thorn in their side. (I've been around this woman at certain social events too, and she's annoying as fuck.) Outside of that, though, Shobhit made a huge batch of sambar, for which I did some of the last vegetable chopping once I got home. I then did the frying up of the last of the dosa batter samples from work that we've had at home for some time, this one beet flavored, of all things. Fried up like a thin pancake, though, it was still pretty tasty. I ate mine while Shobhit was at his meeting.
Oh! But before that, I walked from work first to the Capitol Hill library, to pick up a book and a DVD, and then I walked home from there, cutting through Cal Anderson Park as usual. And guess what I found on the ground next to the fountain, as I was walking along reading the book I've nearly finished (about Carrie Fisher)? A fat wad of cash!
I said out loud, "Holy shit!" and immediately bent down to pick it up. I had no idea how much it was, as I immediately put it into my coat pocket. I did not think it smart to count a wad of cash while walking through the neighborhood. And let's be clear: had I seen who dropped it, I absolutely would have run it to them. But, I did not; I only saw it there on the ground. There was one guy sitting down at a bench on the other side of the fountain, but I didn't see the sense in running over to him and asking if the money was his. What reason would anyone have not to just lie and say yes? I'd then just be handing over the cash to someone else who didn't deserve it. And if anyone who didn't deserve it was to get it, it might as well be me!
I only counted it once I got to the Bank of America ATM on Pike & Madison. It was one $20 bill, a $10, a $5, and $12 in ones. $47! This struck me as perfect: way more than I have ever found just lying on the ground before, but not so much that it's suspicious and should be taken to the cops. It's mine now! Also, I just spent $33 on a program that converted my Entourage email archives into a file capable of being imported as email into Outlook for Office 365, which I came to find out was my only option after updating my macOS to Catalina a few days ago. And I did exhaust all other options, chatting online with support for both Apple and then for Microsoft. In the end no one could help me, they said I needed to find a third party software that would do the conversion for me, and this was the link they sent me. So at least I felt I could trust that I wasn't getting swindled. It took like two days for it all to finish, too. The archives and folders are all wonky because they are separated by when different backups had been done every few years, so I have a lot of re-organizing to do, but all the emails are back so I feel better. And in the end, between that unexpected $33 expense and then the unexpected $47 in cash, I'm still up $14 from where I was last week.
So, I took a bit longer than usual to get home, because I had two detours: the library and then the bank. I figured the cash was better in my bank account than in my wallet. I then helped with dinner, and after Shobhit got back from the meeting we watched the latest two episodes of The New Pope on Netflix, which is really starting to lose me and test my patience. That's kind of Paolo Sorrentino's M.O., though.
[posted 12:31 pm]