Yes, I am in the middle of a tragedy right now. My partner is in subacute rehab. Discharge planning is not on the immediate horizon, but in my heart of hearts I don't want her to go home. On Medicaid (which she will have to get on) she can have a home attendant every day, but that will then be a full time job for me. I will have to supervise and manage them, some will do a good job, some won't, sometimes the aide will call in sick, and sometimes she won't show up. This is territory I know about. It is less of a problem if the elderly person can supervise the aides herself (for example if her problems are exclusively physical). But I know my partner can't, so this will be my job. It will mean I will never know, from day to day, if I will be in the middle of a crisis. I don't want that. Most of our mutual friends agree, but the social worker at the nursing home where she is getting rehab has (I feel) tried to guilt trip me into wanting her to come home. The place looks like a war zone. Yes, I can use my partner's money to pay people to clean it up (this will need to be done regardless) but how will it stay clean? If an aide is there during the day seeing that my partner eats, changing the bed (and other things), and washing some dishes and some laundry, she will not have time to keep that monstrosity of an apartment clean and organized. And there will still be the mail!!! All those catalogs, and bills and bank statements that my partner can't keep track of or understand.
She is getting good care where she is. True, in the beginning, if she stays there, she will have to share a room, toe to toe, with someone else, but she can be waitlisted for a semi-private, and then a private room. She scarcely knows where she is. She loves to be waited on. She can watch tv, and watch the endless stream of people coming in and out. I can visit her every day. The facility is close by. And then I can leave. And until she physically comes to the end of life (definitely not there yet) I am unlikely to get a frantic call necessitating that I drop everything. I can make plans.
I am not making any now, not until she is settled and I have completed all the paperwork to help her get Medicaid (which she will need regardless). The facility has Saturday concerts at 2:30, so maybe I can do something. And I am planning a solo for Advent/Christmas/Epiphany.
I picked up the Mascagni "Ave Maria" which I had heard and really liked. It's one of those pieces with choices for higher notes and lower notes. So I will sing the lower notes. At the end there's a pianissimo note, usually an A, although you can sing an F. At my lesson my teacher made me sing the A and I actually did it! But I don't seem to be able to replicate it at home. I have tried this, and tried that, and nothing really works. Everything just seems to produce tension. Tomorrow I will try again. It's something to focus on. I won't know if that is something I will sing until we get the Advent/Christmas choir schedule. Ave Marias are usually best for Magnificat Sunday and that is pretty much always a choir Sunday. In fact I am not really sure when I will sing, because the two Sundays are Christmas Day and New Year's Day. New Year's might be a possibility. If my partner is still in the rehab/nursing home I won't be staying up with her at night New Year's Eve and anyhow that has not been our thing for a long time.
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Monday, October 17, 2016
Great Joy and Great Sadness
Trovatore went well. I was happy with how I sang, and my teacher was happy. And he sounded great despite having been battling a cold. The audience loved it although there were only half as many people as had come to Carmen. The only SNAFU was that the event planner was on vacation, and the person she had turned this over to left early and turned it over to someone else, so no one could find the programs. So there weren't any. But that was a minor matter.
The great sadness is that when the nurse came to see my partner on Wednesday she called 911 (I'm so grateful she was there - my partner never would have allowed me to do that) to take her to the ER if for no other reason than that she had a sprained ankle and could not even walk to the refrigerator. She was in the ER for over 24 hours before she got a bed. She had a UTI and pneumonia (a mild case) but I see a lot of other issues as well. She sleeps way too much and is confused some of the time. Legally, she is definitely compos mentis, and she did well on several parts of a memory test (the part she did not do well with involved sequences with numbers which is something she has never been able to understand), but she is too confused, in my opinion, to go back home and deal with trying to feed herself, understand materials that come in the mail, etc. At some point she will be transferred from the hospital to a subacute rehab, and from there maybe she will go into long-term care. She can't afford to have a home attendant every day and is not currently eligible for Medicaid. I think once she is in a facility, though, they have staff that could work on that.
Well, even after over 40 years sober in AA, I think it's only now that I understand the idea of "one day at a time".
But I have to go on with my own life. Fortunately Social Security covers half my expenses and I can always squeeze in 20 hours a week of copyediting to cover the other half.
And I am going to continue to sing although I am not going to plan anything big until I know what's going on with my partner. My next project can be finding a solo to sing during the period between Christmas and Epiphany, when the choir is off.
And I have her cat, Darby. So with him and my little Cash-Kiss (my new nickname for him) it's endless Tuxedo shenanigans.
Although tomorrow I have to arrange for Cash to have his nasal poly removed (the rescue people will pay for it).
The great sadness is that when the nurse came to see my partner on Wednesday she called 911 (I'm so grateful she was there - my partner never would have allowed me to do that) to take her to the ER if for no other reason than that she had a sprained ankle and could not even walk to the refrigerator. She was in the ER for over 24 hours before she got a bed. She had a UTI and pneumonia (a mild case) but I see a lot of other issues as well. She sleeps way too much and is confused some of the time. Legally, she is definitely compos mentis, and she did well on several parts of a memory test (the part she did not do well with involved sequences with numbers which is something she has never been able to understand), but she is too confused, in my opinion, to go back home and deal with trying to feed herself, understand materials that come in the mail, etc. At some point she will be transferred from the hospital to a subacute rehab, and from there maybe she will go into long-term care. She can't afford to have a home attendant every day and is not currently eligible for Medicaid. I think once she is in a facility, though, they have staff that could work on that.
Well, even after over 40 years sober in AA, I think it's only now that I understand the idea of "one day at a time".
But I have to go on with my own life. Fortunately Social Security covers half my expenses and I can always squeeze in 20 hours a week of copyediting to cover the other half.
And I am going to continue to sing although I am not going to plan anything big until I know what's going on with my partner. My next project can be finding a solo to sing during the period between Christmas and Epiphany, when the choir is off.
And I have her cat, Darby. So with him and my little Cash-Kiss (my new nickname for him) it's endless Tuxedo shenanigans.
Although tomorrow I have to arrange for Cash to have his nasal poly removed (the rescue people will pay for it).
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
Trovatore Take 2, and Other Things
Today was the second (and final) Trovatore rehearsal. We started from the top and included the narration. I didn't feel that I sang as well as last time (although I was much more secure with rhythms, tempi, etc.) but that may have been because I was being more self critical. Mostly I wasn't happy with the last B flat at the end - it went straight - although my teacher said it was good, just not as good as I can sing at my best.
I will do a small amount of practicing tomorrow, then have a lesson Thursday (I am not going to choir practice) and then mostly rest.
My partner is not well. Whatever she has is nonspecific, which is the problem. It is not a worsening of her core illnesses, COPD and a-fib. It is an overwhelming fatigue combined with her existence in a state that is always sort of halfway between being asleep and being awake.
A nurse is coming tomorrow to evaluate her. I will do what I can but I really need Sunday and Monday to be blackout dates with no stress. Whatever she has is not life threatening. The best thing in the world would be if she could be in a rehab for several weeks where she was fed and exercised. She does not do these things on her own. She is also now constantly guilt tripping me about not being there. Yes, if I seriously think about it the most important thing in my life is to cherish her for as long as possible, but if I don't throw my all into singing now, the window of opportunity will be past.
After the Trovatore performance I suppose I should have a moratorium on planning anything big (other than looking for an Advent/Christmas/Epiphany choir solo) until whatever is going on with her is sorted.
And on top of all this, I got a letter from LC. Several months ago, I deleted a post in which I said I hated her because hate was too strong a word. No, I do hate her. I rarely hate people. There were periods when I hated my mother, but really that has been it, certainly as an adult. She wrote to thank me for a page I had made for a memory book for her 80th birthday before she slammed the door on me (and no, she does not have dementia, that is not what is driving any of this) saying in a very high-handed way that as most of our 66 years of interaction have been good, she was going to keep it. After hand writing (with my hands shaking) three really cruel letters to her and then tearing them up, I sat down and typed something measured and reasonable, but still filled with rage. And I asked her not to write to me again. Her initial smarmy "last note" email said she would "appreciate it if I did not respond in any way", but apparently she thinks that it's OK for her to write when she feels like it, which is just not on and needs to be stopped. I had even given her an out several months ago by thanking her for the birthday flowers and offering to apologize if I had said anything offensive but she just repeated her statement that the correspondence "was not working for her" and wanted to leave it at that so that she didn't say something hurtful. But then she thought it was OK to write again. My therapist said that the two emails she wrote sounded like childish passive aggressive breakup texts of the kind that millennials send.
I really can't think of anything I could have said that would have been so offensive for her to enjoin me not to communicate with her. One thing I said in my letter was that she does not have the moral high ground, that dumping a friendship in the trash is much more morally reprehensible than talking about your personal problems when there's been a mass shooting somewhere.
Was I also responsible for the hideous end of this friendship? I suppose in a way. I thought she was the kind of friend (do these exist?) whom I could speak to (or write to) about anything I was thinking or feeling unless it was personally offensive. It was her idea to have this type of correspondence - where we delved deeply into things. I suppose that's always a minefield. Next time if someone wants that kind of interaction I will be wary. Or I just won't share things. I will save those for a therapist or for these pages. I suppose I hate her because I feel betrayed. She got me to open up and then hung me out to dry. I hope she sits with that letter I wrote and has a serious think about who was the really selfish one in this interaction. And (LOL!) a masterful touch - I had bought a book of stamps called "pets". I was quite startled to see that one of them was a snake. So I used that stamp on the letter to LC. Perfect! Her behavior to me was just like a rattlesnake attacking me by surprise from under a rock.
Oh, and one last thing about Trovatore. I realized that October is the perfect month for it, because with all the witches and curses and ghosts, it's a great Hallowe'en piece.
I will do a small amount of practicing tomorrow, then have a lesson Thursday (I am not going to choir practice) and then mostly rest.
My partner is not well. Whatever she has is nonspecific, which is the problem. It is not a worsening of her core illnesses, COPD and a-fib. It is an overwhelming fatigue combined with her existence in a state that is always sort of halfway between being asleep and being awake.
A nurse is coming tomorrow to evaluate her. I will do what I can but I really need Sunday and Monday to be blackout dates with no stress. Whatever she has is not life threatening. The best thing in the world would be if she could be in a rehab for several weeks where she was fed and exercised. She does not do these things on her own. She is also now constantly guilt tripping me about not being there. Yes, if I seriously think about it the most important thing in my life is to cherish her for as long as possible, but if I don't throw my all into singing now, the window of opportunity will be past.
After the Trovatore performance I suppose I should have a moratorium on planning anything big (other than looking for an Advent/Christmas/Epiphany choir solo) until whatever is going on with her is sorted.
And on top of all this, I got a letter from LC. Several months ago, I deleted a post in which I said I hated her because hate was too strong a word. No, I do hate her. I rarely hate people. There were periods when I hated my mother, but really that has been it, certainly as an adult. She wrote to thank me for a page I had made for a memory book for her 80th birthday before she slammed the door on me (and no, she does not have dementia, that is not what is driving any of this) saying in a very high-handed way that as most of our 66 years of interaction have been good, she was going to keep it. After hand writing (with my hands shaking) three really cruel letters to her and then tearing them up, I sat down and typed something measured and reasonable, but still filled with rage. And I asked her not to write to me again. Her initial smarmy "last note" email said she would "appreciate it if I did not respond in any way", but apparently she thinks that it's OK for her to write when she feels like it, which is just not on and needs to be stopped. I had even given her an out several months ago by thanking her for the birthday flowers and offering to apologize if I had said anything offensive but she just repeated her statement that the correspondence "was not working for her" and wanted to leave it at that so that she didn't say something hurtful. But then she thought it was OK to write again. My therapist said that the two emails she wrote sounded like childish passive aggressive breakup texts of the kind that millennials send.
I really can't think of anything I could have said that would have been so offensive for her to enjoin me not to communicate with her. One thing I said in my letter was that she does not have the moral high ground, that dumping a friendship in the trash is much more morally reprehensible than talking about your personal problems when there's been a mass shooting somewhere.
Was I also responsible for the hideous end of this friendship? I suppose in a way. I thought she was the kind of friend (do these exist?) whom I could speak to (or write to) about anything I was thinking or feeling unless it was personally offensive. It was her idea to have this type of correspondence - where we delved deeply into things. I suppose that's always a minefield. Next time if someone wants that kind of interaction I will be wary. Or I just won't share things. I will save those for a therapist or for these pages. I suppose I hate her because I feel betrayed. She got me to open up and then hung me out to dry. I hope she sits with that letter I wrote and has a serious think about who was the really selfish one in this interaction. And (LOL!) a masterful touch - I had bought a book of stamps called "pets". I was quite startled to see that one of them was a snake. So I used that stamp on the letter to LC. Perfect! Her behavior to me was just like a rattlesnake attacking me by surprise from under a rock.
Oh, and one last thing about Trovatore. I realized that October is the perfect month for it, because with all the witches and curses and ghosts, it's a great Hallowe'en piece.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
Trovatore Take 1
Yesterday was the first of two rehearsals for Il Trovatore. Because of everything that had been going on this past month - the loss of my Siamese, the introduction into my life and heart of my new kitty, my partner's continuing decline, computer problems - I had not had time ever to run through the entire program to see if I could pace myself, so I was worried.
Actually, my teacher had told me not to be, but I was still worried.
Well, my fears were groundless. I sang a personal best, and if I can sing that well in the performance I will be happy.
This doesn't mean that I can "rust" on my laurels, however. My teacher gave me a practice template, which I will stick to, and I will need to eat healthily (not too many sweets), rest, not get into screaming matches with people, and try, as much as possible, to avoid stress.
That latter is easier said than done, because my partner has sunk again into a scary nonspecific malaise (she nodded off during the ballet last week), and is less and less able to cope with daily living. Some things may need to change, but she is not at death's door, and can survive certainly until my performance is over. And someone is bringing her.
So wish me luck; that I can keep up this level of singing.
The accompanist told me how much more "bloom" my voice had on top, and he last heard me in May.
Actually, my teacher had told me not to be, but I was still worried.
Well, my fears were groundless. I sang a personal best, and if I can sing that well in the performance I will be happy.
This doesn't mean that I can "rust" on my laurels, however. My teacher gave me a practice template, which I will stick to, and I will need to eat healthily (not too many sweets), rest, not get into screaming matches with people, and try, as much as possible, to avoid stress.
That latter is easier said than done, because my partner has sunk again into a scary nonspecific malaise (she nodded off during the ballet last week), and is less and less able to cope with daily living. Some things may need to change, but she is not at death's door, and can survive certainly until my performance is over. And someone is bringing her.
So wish me luck; that I can keep up this level of singing.
The accompanist told me how much more "bloom" my voice had on top, and he last heard me in May.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Now I Will Always Have Cash on Hand
Well, right now it almost seems that this is becoming a cat blog instead of a singing blog!
Maybe these pastiches of opera and narrative are a new "niche" that I have found?
As of Monday, I have a new member of the family.
If you read my previous post, there was a black and white cat (sort of an imperfect tuxedo) named "Cashew" whom I met at the Koneko Cat Cafe.
Well, now he's mine and I've renamed him "Cash". He's sweet and loving and low key and likes to snuggle.
The only worry I have is that he has a nasal polyp that needs to be removed. The rescue people will pay to have it done, in fact they offered to have that taken care of before they brought him to me, but I didn't want that, I wanted him here to cherish for a while. I said I would contact them about the surgery after my concert. It is not an emergency, but my primary care vet said that I need to get it done because the polyp could get bigger and cause problems. Right now it just causes him to sound like he's snoring when he's sleeping, and his purr is a bit gutteral sounding.
Here are some photos.
His favorite places are the pillow that Charlotte used to sleep on, and this kitty condo. It hasn't had a cat in it for at least five years.
In other news, Trovatore is going really really well, and I have had fun working on the script.
Maybe these pastiches of opera and narrative are a new "niche" that I have found?
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Wednesday at the Cat Cafe
Not wanting to be in a petless house, I have now started looking for another cat.I went to the web site Anjellicle Cats and found this little love.
He's a tuxedo, like my partner's Darby, but smaller. I was told that he was at a place called Koneko Cat Cafe .
I went there to see him and maybe he's the one. He seemed a little lethargic and did not respond to his name ("Cashew", which I will change to "Cash"), but the woman in charge said that a lot of the cats were tired (it was 2:00) because some children had been there earlier. She said I should come back on another day at 11. I will do that after the rescue organization has approved my application. I submitted it Monday and am of course on pins and needles. They have to call references that I provided but have not done that yet.
I saw two other cats at the Cafe that I liked, both a little bigger than Cash and a little older. The yellow one is Paris and the tabby is Sammy (Sammy nipped me when I tried to pet him, which was not a good sign.)
One thing that I was disappointed by is that I wasn't allowed to pick the cats up. I want to see how they respond to being picked up because for me that's big thing. Cash did lick my hand finally when I petted him, so I am pretty sure he is the one but not 100%.
I haven't done much singing the past few days, but I did run through "Condotta" on Monday and had a lesson yesterday. Tomorrow is choir practice, which is fun, but I have to be careful not to lose this big Verdian sound that I have worked so hard for and finally really found, I think. This coming Monday I have made a date with myself to run through the entire program, timing it for breaks. I hope I can have a cat here if not this coming Monday (what I had hoped) then the following. It's lonely.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
R.I.P. Charlotte Bronte 1996-2016
On Friday morning (September 2) I had to have my 20-year-old Siamese cat, Charlotte Bronte (named because at 5 weeks of age she looked like Charlotte Bronte's little kid gloves on display that week at the New York Public Library) put to sleep. She had fought the good fight and stayed with me on a lot of expensive medicine, but Wednesday she hadn't eaten and Thursday morning I woke up to find her lying in the litter box.
This is the first time I have had to be in a petless house in over 40 years. Tomorrow will be my 41st anniversary of sobriety in AA. It was my beagle Paulie, who got me sober. I stopped drinking because I could see that I was not taking care of him; he had epilepsy and I would forget to give him his medicine because I had passed out. Since then I have had two more dogs and four cats.
My house will not be petless for long. I filled out an application with an organization that has pets for adoption and if I don't hear from them by the weekend I am going to go to Petco and see who is there. And my partner has her enormous tuxedo. (I will only be adopting one cat because I have promised her that if anything happened to her I would take him.)
Here are some photos.
She saw me through two jobs, a complete life transformation when I began singing, two dogs, and two cats. She sat on my lap when I was working. It's lonely enough being isolated working here alone.
I feel that her spirit is still in the house.
This is the first time I have had to be in a petless house in over 40 years. Tomorrow will be my 41st anniversary of sobriety in AA. It was my beagle Paulie, who got me sober. I stopped drinking because I could see that I was not taking care of him; he had epilepsy and I would forget to give him his medicine because I had passed out. Since then I have had two more dogs and four cats.
My house will not be petless for long. I filled out an application with an organization that has pets for adoption and if I don't hear from them by the weekend I am going to go to Petco and see who is there. And my partner has her enormous tuxedo. (I will only be adopting one cat because I have promised her that if anything happened to her I would take him.)
Here are some photos.
She saw me through two jobs, a complete life transformation when I began singing, two dogs, and two cats. She sat on my lap when I was working. It's lonely enough being isolated working here alone.
I feel that her spirit is still in the house.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)