Friday, January 16, 2015

Well, this has been a weird week.

No new grandchild yet.  Due date was the 11th.  Am getting concerned, but am keeping meddling grandma mouth shut. I have confidence that there are enough worriers on the ground there to nag for me; they don't need me.

I can't help being fretful.  My son was two three weeks "post mature" way back in the dark age of 1980, when we pregnant chicks were mostly ignorant of what that can mean in birth complications.  (Edited to correct length of lateness. Due date was Aug 16th, he was dragged out under protest on Sept. 9.) He ended up entering the world via emergency c-section. Without the internet, I was blissfully ignorant of the very high risk of cerebral palsy/blindness/brain damage/all of the above from arriving that late. (As with my brain aneurysm, I went into the situation blissfully ignorant, and only later read the ways it turns out, and realized how lucky I'd been.)   My son had gone way over a week past the official due date and turned out just fine after a dramatic entrance to the world, so I'm not being dire and negative here, but I do hope this kid decides to arrive this weekend.  Actual fretting will commence on Monday.

Meanwhile, I'm watching a former co-worker/guy I really liked a lot die on Facebook. No, I'm not kidding.

He'd been sharing his experience with truly amazing courage, humor, cold honesty, lots of snark, and appropriate musical selections.  He's the one who reminded me of many of the brilliant songs from Warren Zevon's final album, recorded while he was terminally ill.

 All of his FB friends have been his cheerleaders, nags, joke sharers, prayer network, you name it.  It has been absolutely inspiring to be a mostly silent fly on the wall, watching him face death with dignity and humor and honesty.

He's gone mostly radio silent for the last 48 hours, and the tone of the comments on his feed has changed from offering prayers/jokes to basically a memorial - but he's occasionally liking the posts! Not the ones that presume he's already dead, or checking out any minute now, but the friends who wish him well and hope to meet again. The others...really now, people. Think before sharing.  I'm wondering what it's like to lie in a hospital bed and see eulogies about you on your Facebook feed - or feeling responsible to keep posting, to reassure the people who keep asking how you're doing.  He stopped doing that.  I'm guessing he's had enough of the preview of his funeral.

I haven't even seen him face to face in many years. We are very casual "Facebook friends," not face-to-face friends, but it says something that I came to look forward to his analysis of the ballot at election time, when he could distill those convoluted constitutional amendments into his Ruling - one I really respected, because damn, he's smart, funny as hell, a nerd, a geek, and a hillbilly mensch. We've swapped snarky humor on occasion.  I'm going to miss him like hell, even if I only kept in touch with him on Facebook.

This has been a weird week. I'm the long distance observer of a birth and a death, and living my normal stressful now-I-remember-why-I-hate-everything-on-my-resume working life.  I brought some work home, because I see what's needed and need to play around with organizing the information.

No, we don't get MLK Day off  Monday. It's the private sector in the South.






1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Apart from the possible problems, an over due bub is a pain in the proverbial. By the due date you are seriously over it ! Every day after that is like a year !
My firstborn, Erich, was 10 days overdue, natural delivery. Remember the Dr saying he thought it was going to be a biggish baby, and that he was right and estimated about 9 lbs. He was a tad out on that, Erich weighed in at 10 lb 2 oz, and looked about 3 months old.
I do hope all goes smoothly, safely and happily, and SOON

Gae, in Callala Bay