Theoretically, I’m at work today. I have gotten darned little that could be so construed done so far today, though, and this at the start of what promises to be a horribly busy week.
Instead, this has been my morning for fielding calls from people who have a crisis in their lives. Some want advice; some merely an acknowledging ear. One woman’s mother has been conclusively diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. This is happening just as she’s trying to move to another state, because she’s gotten into a good relationship for the first time since she was widowed eight years ago. (She’s younger than I am.) A man I’ve been friends with since high school is beyond depressed, because his elder son has been back from college for a week, and has yet to call. (My friend and the kid’s mother are divorced, but on pretty good terms. The kid is at his mom’s.) There are some fences that are pretty badly in need of mending there, because my friend attempted suicide about a year and a half ago. A third friend has just figured out that her husband is going to jail, probably for several years. He richly deserves it; he hit his 13 year old disabled step-son — but his wife doesn’t know how she’s going to survive financially. The fourth one just found out that an attempt at invitro fertilization didn’t take, and is trying to figure out if she has the strength to face the possibility of another failure. I know that last one far too well; I’ve been answering the question on medical forms about type of birthcontrol used with “infertility” for too many years.
I’m turning off the ringer on my phone for the rest of the day. Anyone who wants me can leave voicemail, and I’ll call back — as long as it isn’t another personal crisis. Mother Confessor is out!