Dad and I went to see Baryshnikov last night. Other than me wearing a skirt as an homage to my first love (“girlish infatuation” not being nearly a strong enough description for my 12-year-old ardor), …

Boy, what a difference a little catheter makes. You’d think that it was the cancer bumming him out all those months, but after he got the catheter removed, it was as though Dad was one …

“Today you are you!
That is truer than true!
There is no one alive
who is you-er than you!
Shout loud, “I am lucky
to be what I am!

Thank goodness I’m not
just a clam or a ham
Or a dusty old jar …

On this eve before we go into the doctor’s office for Dad’s Round 2 with hormone therapy, I let his bi-annual equinox greeting speak for all of us. Greetings and good wishes.
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“I want to watch this,” said our five-year-old. I had turned on the television to find some sort of ridiculous afternoon movie, some pablum from the Eighties finding an audience only in re-run ignominy. What …

There’s not much to write about these days as Dad has settled into a steady state. Doctor’s visits aren’t fraught with the same level of anxiety as we’ve all adapted to the cycles of his …

This health care debate–I admit I haven’t been following it all that closely. I suppose that my reasoning is somewhat lazy, as is my response to it, but not my feeling about health care. That …

Dad’s arthritis has decided it needed to branch out, franchise. So it moved from one foot to stake out new territory, claiming the other foot for a Starbucks.
You can’t win for losing.
He had a few …

“Feeling better?” Dad asked this morning.
“Was I feeling bad?” I asked in return.
“You seemed at a low ebb,” he said. “On your blog.”
It’s funny that he keeps up to date with my heights and valleys …

Sometimes I find my own interest in my suffering galling. Here I am, forty years old. Nice house, good life. Amazing kid, unbelievable and perfect husband who thinks I’ve got merits too. Enough money through …

That Dad’s condition still has the power to surprise me keeps coming as a surprise to me.
After the chaos of the first couple of weeks of Dad’s illness, and then the incremental revelation of his …

The house I grew up in was a tiny thing, 1100 square feet, but it seemed like a palace full of surprises. I suspect that was due in no small part to the mountains of …

Ah, the patter of little feet around the house. There’s nothing like having a midget for a butler. W.C. Fields
Dad told me yesterday after he read “Get It, Got It, Gout” that they had an …

It’s hard to believe how obtuse I can be. Despite all the tests and wills and health directives drawn up, you’d think I would get it.
But sometimes it just takes time, even when you’re looking …