So a quick update, as I sit here in my mom's office in Andover, wearing one of my dad's old chamois shirts, my feet feeling like ice.
Trip was very efficient -- MARTA, AirTran, the T, Boston commuter rail -- until I got to Andover. I'd been trying to call my parents ever since arriving to tell them when to pick me up at the train station in Ballardvale, but I couldn't get through, not even when I was at the platform. Grrr, for my mom and her propensity to never hang up her Internet connection!
Having no option, I decided to walk home, about 1 1/2 miles... through the 2-3 inches of snow left over from yesterday. I didn't think it would be too hard, since I have a suitcase w/wheels and a backpack, but of course there is a huge HILL and the sidewalks are narrow and none of them have been shoveled, plowed, or salted... so there I am dragging my suitcase up this hill, with snow and slush piling up under it. It was getting dark and I was feeling like the biggest martyr, plus by the time I got to the top of the hill I was dying...
So ONE LAST TIME, I called my Mom and the phone was finally working. She came and got me. Yay!
Tonight at dinner, I decided I was actually living out some kind of Edith Wharton novel:
Mom, Dad and I are in a freezing cold dining room, lit by candlelight, eating tough steak tips, chewy cabbage with raisins, and noodles with butter. The room has not been used since Thanksgiving and the air is stale, and board games from that day are still sitting at the other end of the beat up butcher-block table. All the pictures on the walls look faded and sad. Outside the wind is howling and the powdery white snow is making it look misty.
My dad's health is once again crappy. This past week he's been having bad leg problems, what he and mom call "gout" but is actually something caused by his kidney problems. His feet really hurt. He also is having back trouble, which started after he had a bad fall the other day. His legs kept him confined upstairs for a few days, but once he was better he decided he could go downstairs and bring a tray up with soup and tea. He was almost up the stairs when he wiped out, spilling the tray and gashing open his throat on the bathroom door! (At least he thinks that's how it happened.) I'm concerned for him. He's so shaky on his feet, has trouble getting out of his chair, etc.
My mom continues to go full strength.
Now my feet are just too cold. I'm going to pretend that if I walk around they'll warm up.