The BetsyG-Spot

It’s been a prety active week on The BetsyG-Spot. Mate For Life? generated some interesting comments both on the blog and privately to me. I thought I was going to get an argument about my theory and perhaps anger some people, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that people concurred that some people do seem meant to mate for life. But most people really need to work at marriage to make it successful. Or bearable.

It raises some interesting questions. When do you stop working on a marriage? Some people struggle along endlessly. How much better would life be if they just put an end to the marriage? It’s a hard question to look at, and I confess I was not clever enough to answer those questions honestly when I was married. That was a marriage that should have ended long before it did, but I kept thinking it would get better, or that I could bear it. Looking back, I realize I tried for too long when I never could have been happy.

I was also pleased that my analysis of being left-legged seemed to interest people. When I decided to write about it, I wondered whether anyone would give a shit about my weird body wiring. I think part of the key to that piece was I forced it down to the magical length of 750 words. I felt lucky that it came together. The first draft did not feel good when I wrote it, but it turned out to be very malleable so it was a snap to straighten it out. One of the fastest pieces I’ve written.

Today I was in Boston with my son for his quarterly echocardiogram (see Echoes of Anxiety) and a pulmonary function test. These are generally pretty draining experiences, although I wasn’t my usual adrenaline-filled self this time. He’s been stable with pulmonary hypertension for 16 months now, so I don’t expect to get crazy bad news at this point. A slight turn in the wrong direction would be a bad thing, for sure, but unless it was a dramatic change, we’d have time to try to solve the problem. Whatever is going on in there is not into drama, except for the day of the blue hands.

I don’t have official reports and didn’t speak to any physicians, but the unofficial word from the two technologists who did the test was that he was about the same. I wanted to push: “A little worse? A little better?” but decided to wait until I got the final reads from the cardiologist and pulmonologist. No drama, that’s all I know, and that’s good enough for me.

It was quite a tiring day (did I say that already?) so I think I’m going to jammify myself and snuggle into bed with some ibuprofen and Big Love On Demand. Now if those last four words all started with lowercase letters, it would be a lot more exciting…

Have a great weekend. Thanks for reading and commenting.