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Whaddya Get?

What did you get for Christmas? Or what did you give?

Unfortunately, I  did not give anything, not that I did not try. Just another unfortunate example of what I cannot do for myself, even though I have an augmentative and alternative communication device.

After a Christmas morning of quiet, personal lamenting and escaping reality through sleep, my family showed up with gifts and laughter.  Precisely what I needed to lift my flagging spirits. My sister, my surviving sister, the one who, allegedly, doesn't cook, cooked a whole Christmas dinner.

My family invited my husband for the Christmas dinner and he brought my mom and dad out to their place in Puyallup. Part of me was jealous that I wasn't even given the opportunity to participate, but a bigger part of me was grateful. I was grateful for the knowledge that my family has fully enfolded my husband into the family, and he won't be alone after I'm gone.

I also benefited from her Christmas dinner preparation, they brought me a packaged, delicious meal. Juicy turkey breast, jellied cranberry sauce, deviled eggs, black olives, and a personal pan pumpkin pie. I'm so grateful! My institutional, advanced dysphagia diet of chopped ham, and slurried pie left me disillusioned  and depressed. And hungry. I refused to eat that nasty meal, beyond a  bite which confirmed the wretchedness. Thank God and my sister for the wonderful meal.

As I said, my family showed up, my mother, dad, sister, brother-in-law, and husband, with Christmas gifts, no less.What do you buy a dying woman, who cannot move and won't likely live to see next Christmas? My sister got me a super-soft teddy bear sporting a Seahawks t-shirt. Super cute. My mom gave me some of her gorgeous hand-knit socks. My daughter sent something called an eye massager. I must admit that I'm baffled. I'm excited to try out my husband's gift, a virtual reality viewer.

Unfortunately, my husband got it wrong. He insists on shopping for me at the Harley Davidson Motorcycle store. I'm over my Harley Davidson Motorclothes fetish. I wouldn't mind so much if he bought comfortable stuff, but he buys stuff my caregivers cannot put on me. Last year, he made the same mistake and I, graciously, accepted it. I blame myself. To his credit, he got it right with the jammies, a super-soft, cold weather night shirt with matching super-soft socks.

I guess you could say that I got what I needed, family, food, fun, and peace of mind. And the opportunity to practice telling the truth and seeing my part.

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