This will probably be my last post until June. I’ve been planning one more big meaty post, but the pieces aren’t coming together. It’ll give me something to think about on planes, trains, and occasionally in automobiles.
Jakob continues to drift from ok to very bad and back again. We had a good conversation on Thursday, a lighter version of the intense talks we used to have, covering topics from immigration and refugees to train engineer strikes and the labor movement in 20th century America. But it was just an hour of having him back: he had trouble forming sentences yesterday morning and has missed two scheduled chats with me since. His phone is still home but he could be in the hospital again. All I can do is wait for news. (Update: as of Saturday afternoon, he is definitely in the hospital.)
In his case, language ability is the canary in the coal mine: when something is out of balance, he loses vocabulary and responds to everything with only a few words and phrases, like a poorly programmed bot. I’m guessing this is because of the tumor he had removed from the language area of his brain. It’s hard to gauge how impaired his comprehension is at those times.Trying to coax some thought and words out of him yesterday, I asked about the weather. “It is nice,” he responded, but then he followed that with, “fire is grey.” “Fire?” (no coherent response) “Auf Deutsch is ok, dear. ‘Fire is grey’ macht kein Sinn.” “:))))” … sigh….
After an argument earlier in the week, he sent me links to a doctor in the town where we’ll be staying and the closest hospital. He’ll be able to have chemo there instead of making the long trip back home. He also assured me that his sister knows about the trip. I don’t know her well, but if she felt strongly that he shouldn’t go, I think she’d tell me. I’m stressed with a lot of what-ifs, especially since I’ll have less contact with Jakob during the first half of my trip. I’ll be thousands of miles closer, but since he doesn’t like to use email or other chat programs and I won’t have a device for running SL, we won’t communicate much and I won’t have any sense of how he’s doing.
My husband says that our pit bull and I share a tendency toward obsession and I’ll concur. Neither of us is the most committed of obsessives — we’re both too lazy for that — but “Let It Go” is not our theme song. In this time of stress, I’ll try to take comfort from another group of philosophers: