debboamerik

As it turns out, not going to Uncle Bobby's funeral isn't going to be the drama I was dreading. The funeral is on a Wednesday, so unless I wanted to miss a week's work (and therefore a quarter of my monthly income), there was no way to do it. I'll be saying a rosary on Tuesday while they have his rosary service at Holy Cross, and I'll try to take a half day on Wednesday so I can go to the noon Mass at St. Matthew's here in DC and do a funeral pray-along. (My family is mainly Catholic - French, Irish, and Italian - so this is an act of solidarity with them.)

I actually had a conversation with my dad today. He's pretty down about losing his only older sibling, and is expressing it in angry terms, as he often does. He says he's lost four pounds this week, and with the way I was eating and sleeping on Wednesday and Thursday, I believe it. He and my little cousin A., who is going into her Senior year of high school and was really, really close to Bobby, are going to do the eulogies. I am proud of my cousin for being strong enough to make herself so vulnerable.

I am still very upset. We will miss him very, very much.

For all of you who have been praying for Uncle Bobby - we just got word from his doctor that he is in multiple organ failure and will most likely die in about a week. It does not help at all to know that he is cancer-free.

That's your update, folks. I'm just sorry it wasn't better news.

Today, I talked to Farba Sow (my Mauritanian brother) via Skype. He found me about a week ago on facebook, and we've been writing back and forth a lot since. Apparently, Mali ("book name" Mutar) misses me, and I miss her, too. We used to sit together every evening and discuss things before dinner: cooking, TV shows, words in English and Pulaar, and we taught each other songs and folktales. Farba and Idrissa were mostly away at school (the town had no high school), but home on many weekends and for the summer. Ceerno and Bebe were younger; Bebe (book name Jeri) was one of my students. Ceerno was a little young - he was still in elementary school. Mamadou, who died two years ago, was in Nouakchott being a young rogue. Aissata, who is now an English teacher, was in Nouakchott until she got pregnant with Jellia. It's encouraging to know that she's finished her studies even though she had a husband and kid. Marieme, our aunt, was unhappy with Aissata's pregnancy because she believed it would be the end of her studies and career aspirations. Fatimata is still married to a soldier and living in heaven-knows-where.

Mali has two kids now, a remarkable feat for someone whose husband lives hundreds of miles away and gets back to visit only every couple of years. As papertigers pointed out, it only takes a few minutes.

Sadly, one of my favorite kids died. Little Zakaria had such personality. Fate has made a clean sweep of that family. While I was living there, his mother died, followed by his tiny, sickly baby sister (my particular pet, only about six weeks old) and his grandfather - all within a few weeks of each other. His dad was despondent, and sat around the compound like so many clothes. The dullness behind his eyes was terrible to see. Now father and son are both gone, too, giving a little more credibility to the idea (voiced by my friend Miranda) that it was AIDS that killed the mother. There's no way of knowing for sure; there was no HIV testing to be had in the village, or even in Kaedi, and in general, when people die and you ask the question "What did so-and-so die of?", people look at you blankly and respond, "They were sick." Malaria? Influenza? Dehydration? Heart disease? Who knows?

Some things have changed, but most stay the same. Jeynaba Moussa and Kadja Silley are still at their regular posts. Their kids are well. Little Aissata must be eight or nine by now, and little Jeynaba as well.

The number of names is limited - I was also Jeynaba in the village, better than my Boghe name, which was a nickname (Boobo) rather than a proper name (their daughter in Nouakchott who was called Boobo was also - surprise! - Jeynaba).

I'm rambling on, but it's been an interesting day. Tonight, I'm going to call Uncle Bobby and talk to Aunt E. a little.

I love Freecycle. I love, love, love, love Freecycle. You don't have to haul your things out to the thrift store. You get to meet the people who need and want your old things. You get, really, the double pleasure of giving things away and having fewer things. It's wonderful.

We have been using Freecycle a lot lately, as we are moving on Thursday to a much smaller place.

It's Mothers' Day. Today after church, I brought Myra an azalea (actually two azaleas, one pink and one white) for us to plant. That way, two of our earliest-blooming spring plants will be hers and we'll have a nice show on the patio. I also brought bacon and biscuits and blood orange Italian soda, so we had a nice little brunch at home. We spent a good part of Mothers' Day at the Old Country Buffet in Gaithersburg because S., C., & Z. were there, along with a moderate portion of the V. family in general. Several were out-of-towners. It was a good time. Z. learned my name; we drove them home since their hotel is near where we live, and at the end of the night, I said, "You're going to go to bed with Mummy and Daddy now," and Z. replied, "And papertigers!" She started to doze against my shoulder and was quite reluctant to let her mother take her. I tried to steal her, but they're going to the hospital for S.'s radiation tomorrow, and C. needs to have her baby with her, understandably enough.

I did not call my mother, but this is only unusual in the sense that I am with papertigers (who always made me call my mother in years past). Before that, I never called my mother. My mother vocally scorns Mothers' Day as a commercial holiday designed to force people to spend money.

Overall, a nice break from the endless round of packing stuff up. Back to the salt mines tomorrow.

I went to Aunt Rochelle's* funeral today. I didn't know her well, but it was pretty heartbreaking to see my family so badly hurt. She died quite young (cancer), and she was the first of Grandma Webster's children to die. The funeral service was Cathotist (Catholic service with Baptist preacher doing the eulogy and a Baptist choir singing a couple of songs). The oddest part was when they did the sign of peace (the priest says, "Let us offer each other a sign of peace") and I heard people behind me saying, "What do we do now?" Partly in reply, I said to one, "Peace of Christ," and hugged her. She went on to say, "Peace and grace," and hug the person behind her, which works well enough. (After that, she caught that what I had initially said was "Christ," though I think grace is also an awfully nice thing to wish someone.)

papertigers's brother S. came quite a long way by public transportation to give her some love and a massage. She had put away most of the Christmas ornaments. We finished undressing the tree and the house; it is all put away now.

Later, efbq and scooterbird and their younger daughter came over with games and cake and other amusements for the injured party. They bought us a few groceries and amused us over dinner and dessert, and for the remainder of the evening. They have just left. I was sternly admonished to look after papertigers. I'm glad there are so many other people who love her.

Tired now; papertigers has already gone to bed. Good night, all.



*of my DC family, not my birth family

Happy new year, everyone.

I worked today. There were few students, but I hope the ones who were in class got a lot out of it, for all that.

I've been thinking about 2009 as a year ever since melebeth mentioned something about its not being so good.

She's right. I started the year with a sprained ankle that acted like a fractured ankle. There have been health problems for me and mine - everything from cancer to bad teeth. There have been emotional upheavals. There have been family upheavals. There was even a fire.

Still, I will say that some things have gone well. I've continued to learn just how valuable my friends and (extended) family are. I've learned, too, just how strong the support of my Family-of-Choice is. papertigers and I have drawn closer together, and (not coincidentally) I have grown a lot less emotionally dependent on her. I have been lucky in many ways. I still have blessings to count when anxiety tries to keep me awake.

Tomorrow, we will continue our Christmas celebrations with scooterbird and efbq's oldest, redheaded child. (Though I suppose, at 16, she is almost not a child anymore!)

Tonight, we have a clean house and Christmas carols on the stereo, good food, and cute cats. We are going to have a quiet and relaxed New Year's celebration with just the five of us (two humans, three cats). That is my favorite way to mark the change of the year. I feel good about this. May 2010 be a year of blessings and favors, joy and goodness for everyone who is reading this.

Just to make my day a little better... here's tonight's cancer update.

I called my Uncle Bobby tonight to see how he's doing. He's in the ER waiting for a blood transfusion. The doctors aren't sure why he isn't producing enough blood, but they don't like it.

Our friend S., whom we went to help in Florida, had a biopsy of a mass in his parietal lobe yesterday. It's a slow-growing tumor. He needs chemotherapy and radiation.

My cousin Mary also has cancer. She had a session of chemo last week.

In better news, Vince is slowly improving, and the doctors think they may be able to cut down his chemo regimen - he could be out a little early.

I hate cancer.

It's almost midnight, and I shouldn't be sitting up worrying about not having health insurance and what happens if I get sick. But I am. My parents have made it pretty clear that they wouldn't help me for anything short of a coma... and they couldn't help me for something that big. They simply wouldn't be able to afford it. According to the New York Times, people without health insurance get a lower level of treatment at emergency rooms even in genuine emergencies, such as car accidents.

Yesterday's examiner complained that "Obamacare Will Break the Bank," but from where I'm sitting, the bank has been broken. As most doctors could tell you, health care in the United States is rationed based on ability to pay. Where is the moral outrage? It's just wrong that some people should be (quite literally) in mortal danger because they have no insurance while others are visiting their doctors and getting antibiotics for the common cold (which is viral, anyhow).

No, we most definitely do not want to follow the British model - the National Health is a total disaster. But who says we have to? There are other countries with more equitable health care systems that are not a total disaster. I lived in France, where everyone is covered by "Social Security" (which in most countries means public health care) and where you may, if you choose, purchase health insurance for any procedure not considered essential. It's a remarkably effectively administrated system. Doctors will come to your house if you have the flu. The very beggars on the street can walk into a doctor's office and receive everything from vaccinations to dialysis. For lesser problems, one generally goes to the local pharmacist, who is also qualified to diagnose and treat the most common minor ailments.

Come to think of it, I was sick on a trip to Brussels once, and the pharmacists were lovely to me and asked me all the right questions and gave me a suitable medication. They told me to come back and check in with them the next day, even... and I just had the usual travel ("I'm not used to this continent's weird viruses and I've been on an airplane for hours with no sleep") cold.

I should go to bed. I'm sure most of my anxiety over this is fueled by sleepiness.

Overheard on the Metro:

Guy 1: ... Skeletor.

Guy 2: Dude, he's awful! He's like the next Jeffrey Dahmer.


This gave me a much-needed laugh today. klaughingbrook's mother, and my adoptive mother, is in the hospital with what they think is cancer. She had a bone marrow biopsy yesterday. I saw her today, and she was apparently much better... but to my eyes, red and exhausted and a bit out of it. She was also in a great deal of pain.

For those who would like to put out a prayer for her, it would be much appreciated. Her name is Denyce.

I hate cancer.

Sorry I haven't been writing - it's been a heck of a time. In the past few weeks, among other things, two of my students have died (one committed suicide and was found by another of my students; the other died in a car accident while he was on vacation). Uncle Bob is going back into chemotherapy this week. I had kidney stones. I went to an interesting Africa Day event, but no one I met there has yet replied to my emails. I was invited to volunteer for another event that will take place in a couple of weeks, which includes a private party at the large local embassy of a rich country and former colonizer of Maryland which shall remain nameless.

Most interestingly for me, I have been working very hard on my genocide book. I am beginning to really formulate my questions and solidify my methodology. These are the less interesting brass tacks of the work, but they are the most important things to get just right. Now I am feeling a little more focused and confident, which is a good thing. More about this later (probably in a locked post).