To anyone who actually reads this (one being the operative word) I apologize for my lack of presence here. Living and working in New York can be draining. Especially at my job. Especially in the fall.
When school starts in NYC, all hell kind of breaks loose at my job, and sometimes when I get home, I feel like I can barely function. In addition, I just read that working in an unsafe work environment is tied to depression and stress disorders, which isn't very surprising, because feelings of powerlessness are also correlated with depression. This constant feeling of having to look over my shoulder both at work and coming and going to work makes me feel rather frustrated and vulnerable, not to mention, my job is hard enough with out that added pressure. You can find the article here.
Things are pretty much status quo otherwise: my father was taken off all cancer meds as of now because while the most recent trial didn't seem to help him much, the cancer does not seem to be advancing very quickly. He continues to go to dialysis three days a week. I went with him when I was home. While time consuming and likely boring, it doesn't seem so bad. The staff are all very nice and in a way, it seems kind of nice to have some place you go every few days where you get to sit, relax, read, watch, tv, write, etc, and where people pay attention to you and take care of you. Sometimes I wish I had times like that during my week.
I spoke to my father while there, and I took notes on his life. I had planned to while home but even before there, he asked me to. While nothing he told me was that earth-shattering, it did seem to make him feel cared about and listened to, which is the most important thing. The one answer that struck me, however, was when I asked him if there is anything he truly regrets either doing or not doing over the course of his life. He replied, "I've never ridden in a helicopter." This was both poignant and insightful.
The sad part is that this wish was not something so expensive or far-fetched that he should not have been able to do it at some point. I don't really know why he hasn't. Part of me wonders if it is because he feels like he has no one to go with (his relationship with my mom has been less than fun and frolicking for most of their years together) or perhaps because he was missing the motivation, energy, or entitlement he would have needed to obtain such an opportunity. I would like to give him this gift sometime soon before he gets sick.
Hearing this also helped me envision him as the little boy he must have been at some point, and reminded me of that bittersweet boyishness he's been drawn away from throughout his life. Even my father must have started out as innocent, idealistic kid who wanted nothing much more than to grow up to be a firefighter, a cop, a baseball player, or a pilot--when everything about the world was new and exciting and life was an adventure to be had. Seeing my father in that light helped me love him in ways I have been too angry and resentful all of these years to feel.
Ironically, I guess one of the most important aspects of truly becoming an adult is being able to see your parents as children themselves.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
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