December 26, 1999 - January 1, 2000

Sunday, December 26
It was another fine, warm day, and around noon I asked Don if he'd like to go for a bicycle ride. He hadn't been on one since his surgery in July. He immediately agreed, and half an hour later (after inflating my tires and doing the usual half dozen things Don does before going anywhere), we were off.

I thought we'd try Rengstorff Park first. The roads there are lightly traveled and the paths wide. Don did very well. He said he was feeling confident, so I said we should try Shoreline Park. So we headed down Rengstorff to the entrance on the other side of 101. Don had some minor problems with his chain sticking along the way. I didn't want to insult him, but I pointed out that he was cross-chained. He said the chain wasn't in that gear ratio when he'd had the problem, that it had gotten cross-chained as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Whatever it was, it went away once he got into a more reasonable gear ratio. I kept an eye out for hazards such as people emerging from parked cars and intersections too complex to cross on bikes. We made it to the old Sybase buildings, and then onto the new bike path along Permanente Creek, the same creek that runs beside my house.

The trail eventually linked with one that ran behind Shoreline Amphitheatre. Coming off that trail was the only scarey moment. I knew we would intersect Shoreline Drive eventually, but I didn't see the intersection when it came up, and Don sailed right on into it without looking for cross traffic. Luckily, there was none or he would surely have been hit by a car coming from his left.

We continued down Shoreline to the theatres, bought two tickets to Galaxy Quest, then went home via Stirlen, the bike path over the Central Expressway (actually, over-and-under), and then down to Evelyn to go under Shoreline (a route we call "Steve's shortcut" because it connects to the parking lot next to the building where Steve works).

From the parking lot, I let Don lead the way home. It's a straight shot down Villa once you leave the parking lot, but navigating through the lot takes some spatial skill. After one false turn, he led us out and onto the sidewalk along Villa. We were almost home when he stopped and looked around with a worried expression.

"I've gone past it, haven't I?" he said. "I've never come home up this side of Villa."

"No, you haven't passed it," I said. "Look for the creek. My house borders the creek."

At first, he didn't know what to look for, but then he saw the bridge.

"That's the bridge over the creek?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I always thought it was just a wall."

Indeed, the bridge is level with the road surface, and since the creek is enclosed on my side of the street, the abutments look like a simple wall. Only on the side we were riding along can you tell that it's actually a bridge over a culverted creekbed.

We enjoyed the movie immensely and again finished the day quietly at home. I filled out the Social Security Disability Income forms with Don's help. It seems a relief to finally be filing these things. I remember when I first brought the forms to the people who were supposed to take care of it last January. I remember saying then, "It takes a long time for this to kick in, so you'd better get started now." Somewhere along the line, someone decided that getting SSDI would limit Don's state disability, and that somehow that would reduce his total payments. So they decided not to file. It may have been the forms themselves that discouraged them. They are tedious and woefully misworded. Most of the questions simply do not apply to someone who is mentally disabled, not physically, and whose work was mostly cognitive and didn't involve any "stooping, crawling, climbing, lifting, standing, or walking."

For simplicity's sake, Don and I also decided to claim disability only since the emergency room visit that led to the discovery of the tumor. Trying to fit the explanation of the hemorrhage and six months of misdiagnosis into the black-and-white language of the forms would have been impossible.

I am glad Don is finally going to get some action on the federal level.

Monday, December 27
Brad, Tanya, Don, and I had lunch together at Lucy's. Don ate about two-thirds of his rice plate. I ate all of mine and was still hungry.

In the afternoon, Brad and Tanya went to see a movie and Mark left to get a haircut. I took this opportunity to go down to the police station and report the name-calling incident from Christmas Day.

Officer Todd Krasno took my statement and filed a report (case number 99-11983). He is the beat officer for my neighborhood. He got all the details and had only a few questions. He wondered why I hadn't reported the incident on the day it happened. I told him that as soon as I got home I had guests arriving and had to cook dinner.

"Why not the next day?" he asked.

The truth was, there was no way I could have gotten away yesterday without drawing Don's attention to the fact. For some reason, I wanted to shield him from my concern over the incident. He has often spoken to me of his fear of being attacked for being gay. I don't want him to know that I think there is danger in our own neighborhood. But for some reason, faced with coming up with a reason, I prevaricated. "It was Sunday," I said lamely.

Officer Krasno chuckled at my response. "Unfortunately, we work every day," he said.

He also tried to reassure me. He said that people often say things without thinking, and without considering that they may be perceived as a threat.

I told him I probably would not have reported it except that it happened on Christmas Day. "It seemed especially mean-spirited," I said, "and from what I know of hate crimes, they tend to start off with something small like this."

I told him I was also worried because Don often walks along Villa by himself.

He wrote up the report and told me it would remain "on paper" indefinitely. I thanked him and returned to work. The whole thing took about half an hour.

Tuesday, December 28
Don finally got a field cut test from an optometrist today. The results show complete loss of the left field, even the lower left quadrant that Angelone and other neurologists have claimed has some recovery.

I could tell these results were upsetting to Don. He has been feeling very upbeat and capable lately, and this reminder of the severity of his decifits threw a cold blanket on his enthusiasm. I reminded him of how well he did bicycle riding on Sunday, and he himself noted that his compensation skills were quite good. "I'm better," he remarked, but without the usual irony.

Wednesday, December 29
Thursday, December 30
Don sounded stressed-out on the phone when I called at noon, so I went home for lunch. He said that Eunice had forwarded all the COBRA checks he had sent her to the Healtheon/WebMD corporate headquarters in Atlanta. He had not only sent her a January payment but, thinking he had fallen behind, he had sent her two more checks. He was now paid up through March. But the forms he received in the mail yesterday, postmarked December 28, indicated that his payments should no longer be made to Healtheon/WebMD, but to a new employee benefits management firm. Did this mean his checks to Healtheon would be credited to new company? Or would they be returned? The new forms said he must send in his enrollment by January 15 and his payment by January 30. But he cannot get an answer to his questions because the person handling Healtheon employee benefits is on vacation until January 10!

He also had a bout of nausea this morning. The timing is the same as his previous round of temodar: the day after the last dose, having not taken a Zofran this morning, he got a wave of nausea as he ate breakfast. I had suggested he take the Zofran this morning last night and he even had one out of its packaging, but he forgot to take it. He intends to take it tomorrow, though.

I called AST StockPlan to find out what was keeping Don from signing on to their website. It turns out they have the wrong Social Security number for him. I gave them the correct one, but they'll have to get confirmation from Atlanta before it can be corrected. In the meantime, he can actually access his data by using the wrong number. What a joke!

I suggested that Don add dental insurance to his COBRA. I hope he does, but he's worried about the additional expense. The coverage plan is changing and the premium is going up by about $25 a month, but Don's monthly income is fixed. He's worried about the expense of the airline tickets to Hawaii. Maybe I can do something about that by shopping for a discount on the net. I don't want his worry clouding the joy of the trip. It's not a vacation if you penny-pinch or regret every cent.

Friday, December 31
Saturday, January 1
Don and I literally "rang in" the new year this morning. Using a ceremony I developed while recovering from a depressing year, we opened every cabinet door, closet door, and cupboard in the house, then went from room to room, ringing a brass bell. As we rang the bell, we told all negative emotions and feelings, harbored grudges, depression, anger, disappointments, and feelings of being slighted, to get out of the corners where they were hiding and leave the house. We hearded them through the hallway and out through the back door in the kitchen. We chased them out of the dining room and living room and out the front door. Once outside, having no dark corners to hide it, we feel they were safely dispelled. A grudge cannot stand the light of day.



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© 2000 Louis Flint Ceci / ceci@best.com