Normally I don’t hate ShoutyFace. It can be tremendously annoying BUT, on the main, it helps me stay connected. I’m much less social now – this being due to an amalgam of shit:
- Living in the ‘burbs versus Cambridge – getting together with friends who live in other, far-flung ‘burbs (OR the city) means arranging transport (rides or trains) OR convincing folks to visit me here in Valhalla.
- Losing my hearing so I don’t go to clubs to hear live music anymore. I could try – see if the beat translates into anything interesting BUT, did ya know, first band in the lineup usually doesn’t hit the stage before 10:30PM. For me to stay up and out that late, I’d need to KNOW, in advance(!), that I’m gonna love them. Morning person here, ‘member?
- Losing my hearing so big groups/parties are supremely frustrating and even depressing. I can’t keep up. Feature this – you're deaf and surrounded by 10 happy hearing friends, all burbling along, spewing witticisms and shedding bon mots at speed. You can lipread a stray word or phrase but the rest zooms by like Indy 500 pace cars. Inevitably you feel disengaged, isolated. Yup, welcome to my world.
- Age (I’m not a kid anymore. Yur stunned, right?)
- The Amazing Bob being ill so I needed and very much wanted to stay home with him.
- The Amazing Bob being all dead-ish. I’m way, mega sad so I’ve a difficult time being around folks for more than brief visits. Being social requires a giant hod of energy.
I can and will be more real-world social. It’ll def happen. For now though, especially as we’re in the frozen season, online works goodly for me.
So then, back to why I hate Facebook today – it’s those bloody Memories posts. These two, at left, popped up over the last week, reminding me of TAB’s 2010 New Year’s Day heart attack-ack-ack. We ambulanced into MGH where we stayed for most of the month of January. He had a catheterization and, eventually, quadruple bypass surgery.
Interestingly, afterwards he remembered very little of that month. This is normal – confusion/delirium happens. He’d often ask where we were, why and when could we go home. We played a LOT of Scrabble that month and had a mess ‘o’ visitors helping to buoy our spirits.
When we turned the corner, when my beautiful man was in such brill shape, less than 24 hours post-op, I was blindingly relieved. Ecstatic! My man was gonna LIVE!
Being reminded of that deeply difficult time, WHICH WE SURVIVED, while I’m trying to endure this first January with, what would have been, his 75th birthday and our 31st anniversary is BIG TIME no fairsies.
And today is the 28th Monday since the center of my universe took his last breath. This, THIS RIGHT HERE, is some seriously fucked up shit.
The Waterboys – This is the Sea