In one regard, this has been the best holiday season we've had in years because MW is socializing some and even eating out on occasion. So we do have Thanksgiving plans that will keep us occupied most of the day. Much better than the previous five years with the holidays spent alone; sitting around a dark house depressed. Instead, we will be eating lunch at a friends and, later, turkey at my brother's. A full dance-card. Then, on Friday, we're meeting another set of friends for a pizza diner.
Too busy to be sad. Hopefully that holds true.
Of course, there is still plenty to be fearful about this horrible season. Primarily, MW's chorea is pushing right up to that edge where I'm not sure I can obfuscate the truth much longer. Every single day brings a newly broken dish; a mess of spilled food. Also, she is becoming very difficult to understand; not only in speech, but the words she uses are confusing. I think I do well parsing MW's meaning at home, however, I worry about her going to work. Her primary job is data entry over the phone. Indeed, the job doesn't require much by way of formulating thoughts or presenting unique information, nevertheless, she stammers and slurs a lot, at least when she's around me. If she does the same at work...?
And that's just her job; what about visiting friends? Eating with friends? What if one of them says something about MW's behavior? Her appearance? Something innocent - even said to be funny - could send MW spiraling.
I hate not having control over MW's environment. I hate this time of year.
Well, we've no choice but to push through. And there has been another life event that's sort of working to my advantage. MW is, apparently, starting menopause. How can this be advantageous, you may rightfully ask, and the answer is - the symptoms of menopause got nothing on Huntington's disease. Indeed, they're even helpful as long as they provide a distraction. So MW has been obsessively anxious about hot flashes lately; well, that's a whole hell of a lot better than her being worried about having HD. Yes, the obsession itself is equally exhausting and frustrating, but there's no real terror of misspeaking. I don't mind spending countless hours batting about the intricacies of menopause because, no matter what, it's just a natural thing. It's going to happen. There are no traps or pitfalls for me to skate around.
I can't fuck up menopause.
