Torvald, dear Torvald, with his wonderful old man charm is feeling the effects of his age, or rather, we became increasingly more aware of it. Leathers held in place by beeswax are no longer being held in place. Some of the buttons might stick. Other buttons work when Andy pushes but not when he pulls. And there is a small bit of rust. Still, for the price we paid for it, Torvald was a great investment--Andy is literally playing him to pieces.
Through some serendipitous scheduling and putting the question to the right people, turned out Andy was on-site for work near someone who just happened to be selling an accordion. What's more, it was the kind of situation where the gentleman in question wanted to see it go to someone that would appreciate and play the instrument rather than make a bundle. Because we don't have a bundle, we were grateful on a few levels. The instrument appeared to be in marvelous shape, from a good company, from a knowledgeable source, and things fell into place.
On Saturday, Andy and I retrieved his shiny, (old) new accordion. Say hello to Antonio (which I will probably call Big Tony).
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| Behold! |
He's lovely, isn't he? I've referred to him as the Sith Accordion once or twice, given then overall color scheme. It has more bells and whistles on it, so to say, than we needed, but again, this was really a God thing, how well this fell into place.
For me, though, it was a put-up or shut-up moment. When it became apparent that Torvald was not going to last as long as we had hoped, Andy and I set a limit on how much we could spend on a new one. We set up a fund in its own account with some agreements, but I know I didn't expect anything soon; I even asked if he could wait until summer, when we might have a little more put away. And then this happened. I could have made him wait or said no. But we had the money--it was allocated to our Norway trip, but we had it.
I balked. This savings was for OUR vacation, but this accordion would be for HIS dreams. Then I thought about it. And I really thought about it. I have told my husband that I support his dreams: did I mean that? Was it fair to call this a test? What was I really willing to do or give up? Certainly Andy wasn't going to make these accusations, but I felt their weight all the same.
So I took a leap. In this case, it's only money. We essentially made a loan to ourselves with a plan for repaying it, and I'm so excited for my husband in the joy this brings him. Am I still a little frustrated that my goal amount to put away for this month is in the red? Sure. But I'm trusting that our hard work and some determination is going to help us continue to save back up to our trip's goal. Trusting that things are going to be there when we're ready for them and deciding to take the risk was more difficult than I would like to admit, but worth it. I've had to come to terms with some of what that promise could really mean.
We can handle this setback just as we can and have handled other, larger setbacks. We can do this together. There's no small part of me that doesn't think about Carl and Ellie in Up! and how their fund for Paradise Falls went. But this is another story in the Great Peterson Adventure. And now it is a page in the digital scrapbook when I go back and read previous entries. (Plus, it looked like Carl and Ellie were passively saving and we've set harder goals in a place that will receive interest.)
I've had it happen a few times now where I've had some kind of appointment where I'm meeting a new/temporary doctor or explaining a situation to a Nurse Practitioner or Physician's Assistant or other healthcare professional. I come with a lot of medical baggage, which involves quite a bit of story time because everything in my care must be considered very holistically.
This, of course, is all related in my own unique way, full of dry humor and rather flippant verbage considering some of the disasters and harsh realities that I have lived with and through. Sometimes, there's even a "and THEN this happened" kind of chain when they're shocked at the first fallout with the next and the next, all started with a quick couple of questions about past surgeries, an old scar, or my litany of current medications.
There is a particular look, though, that I've seen once or twice that sticks out to me. In my head, I call it the "Oh, Honey..." look. This expression is one of regret and sympathy. These are usually people that have enough medical experience or similar life experience to start to grasp the ramifications of what I'm talking about, that it's a chronic and complicated situation. Sometimes, they double check my age. I might mention that I've had Crohn's since I was twelve. The "Oh, Honey..." look might then get a little deeper crease in the brows or include a small head-shake.
I have some cognitive dissonance regarding this look.
There is a part of me that is gratified.
There is a part of me that is sad, too.
There is a part of me that is just plain confused.
Most people do not understand what it is like to live with a chronic condition, something that you are acutely aware of every day, and I'm glad for them. However, to anyone that has to constantly check their blood sugar or run through a mental checklist to ensure that they have enough energy or pack different kinds of emergency bags that come with them whenever they leave the house, it's a different kind of reality. It is always in the back of my mind. So to meet someone that understands either because they have their own experience or they have enough medical knowledge to have an idea? There's a bond there. For a moment, I know that I am understood, that this person grasps me on a level that some close friends cannot.
I think that's what I appreciate when I'm on the receiving end of the "Oh, Honey..." look. I don't like seeking attention for what I've gone through, but at the same time, I know that I need be able to express certain emotions and stressors and feel that I have communicated them effectively, the what it really means part. I've gotten to a point where I can often recognize that I need to vent now or I just need generic consoling or I need to be distracted, but there is still a part of me that feels guilty for asking, even though I know I shouldn't. I'm still endeavoring to find the most beneficial ways to cope, looking out for new and better strategies. But if someone can understand what's implied, that saves me a long explanation and a lot of frustration. If someone can know what the test I had to take already entails, I don't have to stop in the middle of what I'm saying to explain and instead use that time to talk about whatever the main point is that I needed to get to. Because sometimes it can take me a while to really find that point and put words to something that is just understood. There are some things that I try to get across to my husband, where I end up saying the same things again and again because as empathetic and kind as he is, there are some things that he still does not understand to the real depth of what I mean.
Medical professionals and those close to people with chronic illness can master the "Oh, Honey..." look. Those with the experience tend to have a slightly different expression, the wry smile and nod, the "Yeah, that does suck" look, if you will. Both of these have that understanding, but the degree of understanding is different. Both are appreciated; one is just deeper. Both can reflect support, so both are helpful.
As an example, I need the "Oh, Honey..." crowd to recognize that if I turn down an offer, it is because my reserve of energy is not sufficient; I need the "Yeah, that does suck" group to talk about how some people just don't get it. My support system is complex and pretty solid--I've got a "Yeah, that does suck" person right in the family, even. I don't tend to have many people actively trying to convince or guilt me to do things I don't have the energy for. I have some people who ask me how I am and mean it sincerely, not letting me get away with a flippant response. I have some people ask me the right kinds of questions when I'm getting everything off my chest, helping me identify things that I hadn't thought of yet. To fill in the gaps, I'm looking at getting a counselor again. This is not a failure on my support system's part but a recognition that I still have some things to unpack, need an unbiased resource, and know that problems in every system are best treated by a specialist.
Sometimes, though, the best way I have found to help wade through my own problems is to help someone with theirs. Everyone is fighting their own battle. It may not be with chronic illness, no, but everyone is working through something and it significant to them. There is actually a word for this awareness: sonder--"the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own." There are some places where I can do the "Oh, Honey..." look, but that is the deepest level I can understand in that case. But that can still be helpful support. As a side effect, it offers me perspective. And even if the something is better or worse than what I'm going through, I know that their feelings are valid. I know that I would want someone to just listen to me in those moments, too.
And I know that we're all in this together. How do we build each other up on our individual journeys? How can we do this better in the future? How can we remember that this person's concerns are valid even if we have heard it for the umpteenth time or secretly think they're overreacting? It's exhausting to be empathetic all the time: how can we recognize when we really should be listening?
Compassion is more important than we give it credit for. Empathy can make all the difference. Real understanding can change someone's life or at least get through it for now. And sometimes that's enough, just to survive one day at a time.
I went through a huge Pride and Prejudice kick in high school, up into college, even. I have seen about every movie adaptation out there, and a friend and I even cast our friends as different characters--coincidentally, the character I was did end up marrying the character Andy was, though no one else has necessarily fit into their roles quite as well as we did.
So, when Pride and Prejudice and Zombies came out, I gave it a funny look, but of course I had to try it out.
Overall, it's funny, particularly if you can allow it to be. In comparing it to the original, there are elements that work together rather well and some points that simply try too hard. For example, in the original, Mrs. Bennet is fixated on getting her five daughters married. She suggests that the eldest, Jane, ride on horseback to meet with some of the family of a potential suitor because it looks like rain and they would have to invite her to stay out of propriety's sake, meaning that her daughter would ultimately spend more time with the potential suitor. In the zombie version, same idea, but it is pointed out that it looks like rain which makes it easier for zombies to spring out of the earth. Keeps the same spirit; adds in black humor.
In other places, there are issues with the women being so touchy about their honor that they're willing to kill people on a whim, but they also somehow still care about propriety? It doesn't quite work. Persons are thought well-of for their class and wealth, but also now in one's skills as a warrior. It's about survival. However, I don't feel that hundreds of years of sexism is going to suddenly go away after fifty of a zombie apocalypse--there would still be a lot of people of that era who would frown upon women doing much fighting. Knowing some basics on how to survive? Sure. But as part of the main force? No. Here, the Bennet sisters could still be a part of some progressive ideas, but at least aware that not everyone thinks as highly of these skills as everyone else.
I also have beef with Lady Catherine. In the original, she has wealth and status, but is otherwise kind of useless, claiming that if she had ever learned to play music, she would be the best and ridiculous things like that. However, in the zombie version, she's someone respected for how proficient she is at killing zombies, if still full of herself. She also does not understand the inverse ninja rule (the more ninjas there are, the less effective they are), which I'm not sure is ignorance of the author or the character. I was frustrated that she was well-thought of for earned reasons, counter to what she was in the original. Part of the original novel's charm was that people might be worth more than what money or status have to show for it. She was supposed to be another foil toward that effect, but instead she became someone to actually be respected. How the characters pick and choose in the zombie version what elements of society they care about is inconsistent.
In some elements, I could look past on Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and appreciate the intended humor and the ideas about the world, and at other times, I had to shake my head. Overall, it was fun but not something I was inclined to re-read.
Enter, now, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, the movie.
Like the book I figured this was going to be worth a laugh if nothing else. However, I found the movie in this case to be more successful than the book. If nothing else, this is a different sort of zombie movie. Zombie's add tension and conflict, but the main focus is still on the Bennet sisters and their interactions. After a jarring opening, contrasting people attempting to hold on to civility and those who are almost cruel in their pragmatism, we are treated to a brief pop-up book history of the zombie menace during the the credits, sealing how this universe operates in a tidy, amusing manner.
The sisters are skilled--some of my favorite sequences were conversations held while Elizabeth is talking while fighting (particularly in one Husford cottage, for those familiar with the story)--but it's more assumed in society and in how they prepare for a ball. They still have to overcome societal prejudices, keeping with that theme from the original that a person's character is far more important. Mrs. Bennet is still ridiculous, but more so because she's interested in things that are considered frivolous, now that the undead are knocking at their door. Again, we have people trying to keep some parts of society as it was, and others that know survival is what is most important; as another example, women are not part of the militia nor is it implied they are really part of the front line anywhere. Some rules still exist, but no one objects when the Bennet sisters appear there.
Lady Catherine is a certified bad-ass, but this time, I'm okay with it. The world has established enough credibility in itself, that I believe in an alternate timeline such as this, it could be a path that she chose and actually was good at. She's still full of herself, but it is earned and she has a coldly logical demeanor, meaning that her pride is not flouted as wholly as it could have been, so much that she might become idle. The movie did not try to make her seem like the original and fail; the movie allowed her to just be a different character.
Our villain figure has an entirely different story that drives the plot in the movie. This is the part where everything deviates the most. I have some mixed feelings here that will require at least a second viewing the resolve. The zombie book version gives this character a harsh justice which is validating, but less authentic; he is punished because we want to see him punished. In the original and in the movie, he gets off comparatively lighter, because the world is more complex than that, much as we want to see it otherwise.
To those familiar with the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice (the five hour long one with Colin Firth), yes, Mr. Darcy does jump into a lake wearing a white shirt. They even shot it in a very similar way for that part. Again, this movie knows what it is.
Oh, and Matt Smith a la Doctor Who fame is Mr. Collins, for those who need a star factor. Charles Dance (Tywin Lannister) and Lena Hedley (Cersei Lannister) are also in the game. Lily James who was Cinderella in the new live action version plays our lead.
There are a few other components that I would like to talk about, but I have been trying VERY hard not to have any real spoilers in this post. In any case, is adding zombies into Pride and Prejudice a stupid idea? Maybe. But the results are amusing, and I would even suggest the movie over the book in this case. For those not familiar with the original story, it's still a fun zombie movie.
Recently, Andy and I have held a couple of small events at our apartment.
For the first one, a couple weeks back now, Bernie Sanders was doing a live feed, a pep talk really, and Andy signed us up to open our home to whomsoever wanted to come join us, up to a certain cap of course.
All told, we had nine people show up at our door. Nine people came that we had never met before, but all held some common beliefs or were interested in learning more about what was going on. We had men and women, ages nineteen through eighty-some-odd. We had different races and different walks of life.
But the best thing that we had that night was fellowship, brought together in constructive conversation and our mutual excitement in the potential changes in our country.
So many times, we got caught in the safety of our anonymity on the internet and say things on Facebook or in YouTube comments that we really don't think through. There can be a lot of nasty rhetoric floating around or otherwise a lot of negativity in general. It's refreshing to hold a conversation where the tone was civil and different opinions and insights were appreciated. There was mutual respect instead of accusations. There was optimism.
I did not realize how much I needed that, nor how much hope that gives me until we had seen our last guest out. I typically get a lot of that community spirit from church, but even still, this new set of voices brought a refreshing vantage point. There are still things that can bring us together in this world. There are still things that can excite us outside of ourselves. There are still plenty of things to talk about and the courage to talk about them in person with respect.
Yes, the goal was pro-Bernie, but I appreciate the renewed sense of community, acknowledging that we are not alone, and making plans together for the future.
I missed out on most of the phone banking that we did (not convincing people, but gathering data which was still oddly exciting) because I wasn't feeling well, but I imagine that we will be opening up our home again for debate watching parties and goodness knows what else. Andy and I want to open up the opportunity for people to be included in, to allow others to feel part of the group.
That's kind of the point--a lot of people have felt left out of political process. We want to be part of reclaiming it. Furthermore, it's another opportunity to show hospitality to others. Regardless of the outcome of the election in November, we will have made that impact on our community. It may be small, but having an open door can be a powerful thing and an open heart even more so.
Excitement is catching in more than one way--here's hoping for a better world tomorrow, always working toward a better world. It only comes when we remember and respect each other as people, reforging the community again. So much more can happen if we simply take the time to care for one another. Not expecting any drastic change overnight, but steps. Making sure your neighbor feels included, safe, and equal requires not only changes in how we act in the world but changes in our ways of thinking. Expand your concept of neighbor and expand your concept of "the community." It's larger than you think. It's closer than you remembered. And it is in need of healing.
I'm hoping this optimism will continue to carry me forward.
So, the last two posts were relatively optimistic. I was quite and very busy starting out the new year between work, cooking for a new diet, and finding all kinds of new things to occupy my time. I was exercising, finding things to take care of at home, and otherwise doing probably too much. Andy has called me before "The Little Engine that Could but Probably Shouldn't."
Going to be a bit of downer on this one and get into some of the grosser elements, but I need to have a small vent. I had a minor health issue crop up, and that in turn for all I can guess has pissed off a reoccurring bigger issue. When my colon's contents spilled all over my abdominal cavity, gosh, getting on four years ago now, there was and is still no real way to clear out all of potential infection. Microbes everywhere, yo. The gut is packed full of bacteria that helps in so many different ways, but only when it's in the right places to do so. That means an infection can crop up whenever. Compound that with another happy Crohn's side effect: fistulas, where the body events new little random paths here and there, hopefully not connecting anything that shouldn't really be connected. One particular abscess has taken advantage of this fistula thing and now drains outside of the body, meaning that it has breached the skin in order to drain itself--a rather mixed blessing. Seeing as it's been here for over a year and a half by this point, I don't think it's going to close ever. When it's "calm," it oozes and, whatever, I deal. When it's "angry," it oozes a lot and hurts a lot to the point where I cannot sit, lie down, walk, etc with any level of comfort.
So, that's been my last week and a half. I have gotten through work, and then sat down directly on the couch with my beautiful, beautiful heating pad, cycling throughout the day between ibuprofen (a Crohn's no-no) and acetaminophen to keep things at least tolerable. I cut out all other activities and watched a lot of My Little Pony. And I've been left to stew in my thoughts of "well, if things are getting worse here, what other abscesses/fistulas don't I know about?"
And one of the things that absolutely frustrates me most is that I just wrote a couple entries about how things were going pretty well. And two weeks ago, they absolutely were, dammit. But this is definitely sits in my mind each time I do go to write something new--am I going to jinx myself by saying something? I don't actually think that's why it happened, nor that I could cause it happen at all. It's not bad luck even. It just is. I'm not being punished, my doctors have overall made their decisions based on the best information we knew at the time, and it's no one's fault, not even straight "genetics." It just is.
I don't know how to talk about in terms of status, because it is something that is truly always in flux and it's hard living feeling like I'm living on a hair-trigger for things to go wrong. But I do. I'm "The Little Engine that Could but Probably Shouldn't," damn it. I keep planning new things and I keep stretching because I don't know how else to keep going otherwise. But I still hesitate sometimes to say something is going well--I know it can turn around by tomorrow. As excited as I am for Norway, I keep wondering if I'm going to be okay during that particular stretch of time and trying not to think about how disappointed I will be if I'm not. I wonder how many times I can ride the figurative Tilt-a-Whirl before I finally vomit. There is a small cascade of panic that I cannot stop, so rather than try to hold it in I've had to figure out healthy ways to work with it. Is it any small wonder that IBDs and depression can go together so smoothly?
Since I've always got to try and flip things up toward a lighter ending, I will mention that a couple days on some antibiotics have me sitting somewhat comfortably again and my spunk is making its way back. I hope to resume normal activities outside of work next week. At least my bounce-back factor is better and my awareness of those body cues is improving, where I can catch some things before they get too out of hand. Either way, when I compare to how I felt even a year ago, we've made some lovely strides. And even with that, tonight I'm feeling rather low. Tomorrow, I'll be ready to take on the world again, but I needed to have this moment and will take it unapologetically. Thank you for bearing with me.
