Death in the air, 2

I remarked yesterday that I've been reminded of death seemingly a lot in the last six weeks or so. So I put some of those thoughts in an email to Marie, who wrote me back today. Here are a few excerpts from what she said.

Hey, sweetness.

Some conversations work better when we can hold each other for comfort.

But I noticed in myself, last visit, a reluctance to "spoil" our short time together by having a depressing conversation.  

So I mentioned that you seemed to have developed sleep apnea since my last visit, but I didn't mention how it worried me.  Particularly in conjunction with other changes I noticed.  Did you talk to your doctor?  And is he knowledgeable about that condition?  Because sleep apnea can lead to metabolic syndrome and heart problems, and you're already at fairly high risk for that.  It worries me, how tired you've been.  Might be just depression, which would be bad enough; but it might be something worse.

I am frankly more frightened that you might suffer a heart attack, my beloved, than I am that you'll freeze to death next winter.  Or even fall again and injure yourself badly, though I was terrified for you when that happened.

Other changes--your tiredness, I've mentioned.  Your weight increase.  Your e.d.--you had no trouble satisfying me, God knows, so I had no complaints there, but knowing you're otherwise at risk makes it seem a sinister sign.

Even how we ate and drank, down there; we were sort of en fete every day, and I didn't know how much that represented a departure from how you have been feeding yourself.  I know that the loneliness and stress of the pandemic led me to comfort myself with food, as is my wont.  And so I have gained back 12 pounds of the 46 I had lost.  But even so, it was noticeable to me that we were eating more rich food, and fewer vegetables and fruits, than I do on my own.  I didn't know how much of that reflected the holidays, and wanting to treat me, and eating up the cheeses and wines you had been given for Christmas, and how much it reflected your normal diet.  The DASH heart-healthy diet recommended by the Mayo Clinic and Harvard Health, for example, recommends 4-5 servings daily of vegetables, and as many of fruit.  I usually easily make that for veggies, and barely make that for fruit.  Of course it's much harder to eat fresh if one only goes shopping every two weeks, so the pandemic has hurt that as well.

Back to your letter proper.

Regarding the other deaths you spoke of... yeah, it's weird to reflect that we're at an age where we have to start expecting people in our cohort to die.  Already it's an exception for my peers to have both parents; I think I have only one friend my age who does.  And those who do still have parents, those parents are fragile.  I guess I personally see that most with Schmidt's mom, since I have known her for forty years now, but seen her only sporadically in that time.  

And I've noticed for a while now the decreased resilience of my own body; so have you.... 

But yeah, it's sobering and frightening to reflect that people our age are starting to die of ordinary diseases, not just of extraordinary circumstances.  As well as saddening, when it's someone we like and value, like Fillette.  

I do love Son 1's comment; how nice he acknowledges that if you died right now, you'd leave an intellectual legacy to be managed, even if he firmly declines to be the one to manage it!  And yeah, I would, but I would much rather talk to you about your writing, than arrange to publish it as a posthumous tribute.

So take care of yourself, my dearest.  Eh?

Loving you always,

Marie

What have I learned?

Yesterday I was cleaning out papers from my office, preparatory to packing it up as I move to Sticksville, and I came across a copy of a paper I read by Peter Drucker back in 2006. The paper in which he says you have to understand how you learn. The paper in which he says that the only way to come to understand yourself is to write down what you think is going to happen when you make a decision, and then check back later to see if you were right. The paper which -- after considerable delay and foot-dragging -- triggered me to start writing this blog. ("I have … learned that I … understand things better if I explain them to others.")

It's been thirteen years since then. Have I learned anything?

Actually I think I have.

I learned that my troubles with Wife stemmed not directly from her infidelities, but from her lying and narcissism, and from the hostility and suspicion with which she treated every overture from me. These things were fueled in her own mind by the guilt she herself felt over her infidelities, but that's not the same thing as saying it was merely my own jealousy.

I learned that my marriage was "an abusive nightmare," although it took me a long time to see it. Quite late, I realized that I was always afraid of Wife. Before that, when I first started thinking about whether there was abuse in the marriage, I was afraid that she would accuse me of it. (I still think there is room for a post that breaks down how far each of us felt abused by the other.) But all of this perspective came only with distance. When I was in the middle of it all, I couldn't think of any pithy way to summarize what I was living with. (Actually, now that I look back through some earlier posts, I think I was starting to understand it even as early as here. But that was still after I had moved out of the house and was living in my own apartment.)

I learned that I'm not (or no longer) really attracted to "high-maintenance women."

I learned some things about my father: that his prurient intrusiveness came from a fear of abandonment and a clawing need to be close to people; that his constant performing and domination of any conversation came from a fear of others and a need to make himself safe. That he never felt free to be who he was, or that he never felt like Enough. 

Nowhere in this list are any insights that would make me more effective as a professional, or that would lead to greater professional success. And that, of course, was the whole point behind Drucker's article. But I did learn that I have tried to avoid great success, or to hide from it. 

I suppose those are good things to have learned. It might have been nice to learn something that was professionally helpful as well, but given the last point I list there it's possible that wasn't in the cards.

Oh well.

Death in the air

It seems like I'm being reminded of death a lot lately.

First there was Fillette.

Then I got the latest issue of my high school alumni magazine, and the In memoriam section listed six boys (well, men now) who had been there when I was: three I remembered well, and three were names that I felt I ought to remember but for whom I couldn't quite call up a face this many years later. But clearly they were all within a couple years of my age, one side or the other. And now they are all dead.

And then today was the funeral for the 20-year-old son of one of my coworkers. Yes, he was way too young. Apparently he died in an accident of some kind, though I never heard if it was, say, automotive or sporting. Either way, though, his parents buried him instead of the other way around. 

You can tell me that it's a First World Problem to assume that children will outlive their parents, that in places without peace and plenty, clean water and good health care, child mortality isn't all that uncommon. Sure. Fine. It was still sad.

The reassuring part, if you want to look at it this way, is that (unless you believe in a punitive afterlife) death shouldn't be a tragedy for the one who dies. His (or her) troubles are over. But of course it is a problem for those of us left behind. 

I really don't have anything intelligent to say about this, do I? It's just strange to be so reminded of it, so frequently, all within just a few weeks. Death is normally kept a lot less visible than that, even when the world is in a pandemic. 

Maybe it's just a reminder that the Real World is still out there, however much we pretend to have domesticated it. And the Real World is a lot stronger than we are.

Once I move to Sticksville, I had probably better make sure all my affairs are in order before the next winter rolls around (I mean the winter of 2021-2022), so that if the weather does kill me, it won't be a nuisance for the boys. A year or two ago, Son 1 explicitly told me "I'm not gonna Christopher-Tolkien your ass when you die," * but fortunately Marie has already volunteered to do that instead. If only I can get myself organized, huh?

* (Actually that's an interesting thing for him to say, because I honestly don't remember ever talking to the boys about having anything to write -- I'm thinking of the kind of thing I publish on the Patio, or even some of this maundering if only it were organized and tightened up. Of course, children often know their parents better than the parents know themselves.)

Maybe I should have dinner and go to bed.

Tired

My God, but I'm tired.

I've gone into the office every day this week. I'm nearly the only one there, except for the crew that are dismantling the place around me because we are shutting it down. But my desk there is set up more comfortably than my desk at home, and I'm not so near my refrigerator. I can still get distracted but it's a better place to work.

And by 3:30 this afternoon I was so dead tired that I had to pack up and go home. I can think of a couple of possible reasons.

• I've taken over responsibility for supporting a bunch of projects that are being worked-on by a team on the other side of the world — literally — and so once or twice a week I have to join a phone call at 4:30 in the morning, my time. So I've taken to getting up at 4:00, joining the call, then having breakfast or showering or whatever else I decide to do until I pull up my socks and get back to work. It's as if I just moved east by two time zones. So from that point of view, 3:30 is "really" 5:30, which is a fine time to knock off work and go home.
  
  
• I haven't exercised in a month.
  
  
• When COVID-19 broke out we shut off the coffee machine at work, fearing it could be a source of infection. Yes, if I get myself organized I can bring coffee from home, but that requires … you know … getting organized.
  
  
• I'm starting to realize that I really do have to move to Sticksville. It's supposed to be less than two months from now. I better get organized. Get rid of stuff I don't need. Pack. How much of this do I want to do? Bupkes.
  
  
• I have a new boss now. My former boss was here in this country on a four-year contract and visa. That expired at the end of 2020 and he went home. Yesterday I had a goal-setting phone call with my new boss. The week before I'd had another call with him. The takeaways seem to be:
• The stuff I'm particularly strong at is unimportant to him, and I should stop doing it. I should do more of the stuff that everyone else in the department does.
• I'm overpaid. (He didn't quite use those words, but it was clear.)
• He can't for the life of him figure out what my former boss saw in me, why he insisted that I be offered a transfer, or why he rated me so highly in his year-end review. This new guy admits he doesn't know me yet, but he also says he doesn't see it.
• He really hated it when I even hinted that I might have accepted the job in Sticksville because I couldn't find a job here at home. OK, dude, I get that you don't want me to say things like that. So I won't. Doesn't stop them from being true, but if you don't want to hear the truth I don't have to tell you. Suit yourself. 
• It feels like the list goes on and on. They were two very long phone calls.
  
  
• Or maybe it's just the sleep apnea. I'd forgotten all about that until I logged in to post this.

Of course now I've been home for a couple hours and browsed the Internet for a while and had a few drinks and I don't feel so tired. But wow, earlier this afternoon I really felt like death warmed over.

Maybe I'm just tired because of getting up so early. Maybe I just need more coffee. Maybe I am really bloody depressed. I'm not taking bets on which. 

Maybe I'll just get another drink and go to bed.     

Apnea?

One disturbing moment during Marie's visit was when she said that she heard me stop breathing during my sleep. When we first got together I had noticed this about her, and mentioned it. Since that time she has lost weight and I've gained it; and so on this visit I never noticed any apnea from her but she noticed it from me.

Wikipedia lists 11 basic risk factors for sleep apnea, including:

• being male
• obesity
• age over 40
• allergies

Yup — all those apply to me. Apparently having a large neck is also a risk factor, but I don't remember where I left my tape measure so I guess we'll skip that one for now.

And alcohol can "promote" sleep apnea as well.

So … now that I know this happens, how do I keep it from happening when there is nobody else sleeping here with me to wake me up? I can't do anything about being male or over 40. I do try to keep my allergies under control. Therefore if I want to reduce the likelihood of apnea, it looks like I have to lose weight and drink less.

There have been times in the past, when I have drunk too much before going to bed, that I have awoken in the middle of the night unable to breathe. I don't mean classic sleep apnea, where I come awake in order to breathe. I mean that I get up out of bed, start to walk around, and still can't breathe. 

It's bloody terrifying. 

When that happens I finally force myself to cough and then the breathing finally starts again. And after that I cut way down on my drinking for a long time, out of fear of it happening again. But a few years later, it happens again.

Maybe I need to cut it all the way out, or at least make sure there is no alcohol in my blood when I finally go to sleep. Also somehow it feels like it should help if I go to bed earlier, before I am really tired.

All of these measures would probably be good for me in other ways too. So why is it that I resist doing things that are good for me? Maybe the fear of not breathing will be enough of a motivation. Or so I hope.

  

Marie's end-of-year visit

Marie visited me for a week over the end of the year. She took a COVID-19 test (which came out negative) and then isolated for a week before leaving. Then she took the train to get here (with a private sleeping compartment) rather than flying, much as I took the train for my business travel last fall. For my part, the only times I left my apartment were to go grocery shopping, or when I visited with Mother, Brother, and SIL on Christmas. Marie and I talked on the phone at great length to analyze the comparative risks of her driving to the train station (thus leaving her car half a mile away, so that she would have to walk back to it alone late at night on her return) or taking a taxi (thus sharing a closed space with some unknown other person): in the end she decided on the taxi, but we talked through all the possibilities. So on the whole we think we covered the risks pretty well.

Once she was here, we really couldn't do a lot. We couldn't go much of anywhere because so many things were closed. The only restaurants that were open were for take-out only. One day we did make the trip to visit my mom, whom Marie really likes. But mostly we stayed indoors, cooked, watched movies, read to each other. And fucked. We did a lot of fucking.

My sexual response continues to deteriorate, and it didn't help things that both of us are overweight and no longer very flexible. I could still get hard, but mostly I lost it just as fast and much of the time it was awkward to get inside her. I think I actually came only two or three times all week. But then I have said before that, in sex, I always consider the woman to be the Main Event anyway; and it that sense it all went gloriously. Marie is joyfully, effortlessly multi-orgasmic, over and over again. When she seems exhausted I let her lie still for a few minutes to catch her breath; and then with the tiniest motions of my fingers I can get her started all over again. It's wonderful. Also she has learned to keep her vocalizations quieter, which is a big improvement from her last visit a year ago. So all in all it was a very pleasant trip.

Her trip home, however, was straight out of "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles."

I got her to the train station in plenty of time. She got on the train, which left on time. Then an hour later I got a call from her: another train had derailed halfway to her destination, so this train was going to go only partway and then turn around. Amtrak made no commitment to get her home, offering only to refund part of her ticket. So she got off at the next stop and took a bus back to my town. Also she asked me to buy her a plane ticket home for the next day.

Got her a last-minute plane ticket. Got her to the airport crushingly early the next morning. Drove home to log into work, because by now my vacation was over. Even though I'd be working from home, I had to be working. Then I heard from her that the plane had mechanical trouble. Later she corrected that to say that the onboard computer had burned out and they were going to replace it. Finally she texted me that everyone had to de-board the plane. She was rebooked onto a later flight going somewhere else, and then transferred to a third plane that would finally take her home. 

So it's a good thing she hadn't left her car downtown near the train station, isn't it?

She finally got home, after way too much activity. At that, she was earlier than if she had taken the train all the way, but still it was way too interesting a trip. Now I guess we wait two weeks to make sure neither of us comes down with COVID-19 after all. But it was a good visit.     

"Optimistic but challenging start"

Someone at work just screwed up something we thought we had fixed. Now we have to figure out how they were able to do it, how our fix went wrong, and where to start over.

After taking infinite precautions against COVID-19, Marie came to visit me around New Year's. The precautions and the visit deserve a post of their own. The visit was great. But her return trip was straight out of "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles."

And then of course there's all the craziness a couple days ago at the Capitol building, because where would we be without a crowd seizing the halls of Congress, looting documents, and planting IED's?

I wished Kathleen at work a Happy New Year, and she said she thought 2021 was off to an "optimistic but challenging start." We'll see.