Lost Holiday Horizons


 My son was just here, and I'm still trying to put my life back together. I've been so sick that my head feels like this vista from Copey de Dota from before the fire took out the ancient wooden church. See the clouds drifting down among the buildings? That's my head right now.

The armpit infection has morphed into a down the arm infection. Too many antibiotics and doctors poking the infected bits. I've put an end to that because I believe they've made it worse by the constantly draining and scraping. Don't ever get an infection here because instead of being told to use hot compresses and antibiotics it's all scraping and prodding. Enough about that boring health shit. Part and parcel of having an immune system illness.

I was so sorry to see my son leave for home a few days before Christmas. I miss him so much, and our just hanging around the house. He did go hiking three times with Jim. One day I felt especially grumble-y about it because they hiked Rincon de la Vieje, a place I've always wanted to visit. Sadly it is not handicapped accessible. I was glad my son was nearby one day at the beach when I took a fall. Worst fall yet, but he got me up and to the car. It's all good. Again, it was all Ticos and POC that helped me. I had gringos step over me to get to the beach. Eye opening.The kindness of Ticos always fills me with gratitude. 

The holiday started going haywire a mere two days after he left. So dinged out right now, and it culminated on Christmas Eve. Since we're usually in the States for the holiday I'd forgotten that Ticos like to party down on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Eve our next door neighbors had a party and started up about 10 pm with a banda band of all horns and drums, and a karaoke set up. Sadly not a soul could sing on key. They kept it up until 2 am. I got very little sleep that night, making me slightly crazed on Christmas Day.

I whiffled about several times about what we were going to do, club, or a party filled with very lots of demonstrative performative Christians. We ended up at the party, and it ended up being okay, in spite of or maybe because I was so tired. I sat back, said little, ate, and just observed piles of bad Christian behaviors that in the old days of writing No Longer Quivering I would have had to write a piece on over the top displays of silly piety and self righteousness. My fatigue completely insulated me against all shenanigans. Somehow there was a trans person with us, someone I know pretty well. They sat with me at the table. It's pretty bad when an old hag like me who possesses zero internal filter is the safest spot in the dining room.

Five pm Christmas day I was horizontal, sleeping for six hours before getting up for another 3 hours and then going back to bed. I feel slightly better today.


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