When health scares, money stress, and responsibility collide at the holidays
If this weary Christmas feels familiar, I’d love to hear from you.
It’s that time of year again. The first Christmas card of the year arrived yesterday; it had beautiful photos of their precious family. It reminded me that I meant to send Christmas cards this year.
Leaning Tower of Pisa Tree
Be realistic. It’s Dec 21th. That didn’t happen. In fact, I just realized yesterday that Christmas is this upcoming week and I am woefully unprepared.
This year I’m incredibly weary. It was just last weekend that I finished off the living room tree (I think the tree decided it drank a bit too much or was related to the Leaning Tower of Pisa), my daughter’s children decorated the family room tree, and the Christmas village is complete. There are no outdoor decorations this year though, I ran out of time and gas.
Earlier in the year, my husband failed his stress test, so they did a full heart work up on him—only to discover he was perfectly heart healthy despite high cholesterol and stuff. We both use the same heart doctor, so she decided I should probably take a stress test as well, me the healthy one, failed the test, got scheduled for an angiogram (which we thought would be routine in-and-out procedure and tell me I’m good to go) and came home with hardware.
They then prescribed heart therapy to me. Who even knew that was a thing? Heart therapy, also known as cardiac rehab, means exercising with a heart monitor so they can watch how you do in a controlled setting. They also provide education on cooking and eating techniques, plus tips and tricks for heart-healthy living.
During exercise, they discovered I have RRBB (reduced rate bundle branch). When my heart rate goes over 100, my heart’s electrical system goes a little haywire. When it drops, I’m fine again. ChatGPT told me I wasn’t going to die (so did the heart doctor), but it certainly doesn’t make for a stress-free holiday intro.
This year was different from other years, yeah still poor-ish, still have a truckload of bills we struggle to pay, a lot of undone home repairs. But, I paid off my ride this year, spent some fun times with my seven grands, did my best, though it felt like a “sad best,” to spend time with my parents – and still I feel like an abysmal failure, even though I know that’s not really true.
I know, I know, I work a lot. I teach college part-time, do bookkeeping and compliance work for a vertical marijuana company, write (for money and pleasure), run a couple of websites, and do all the stuff that makes a household run smoothly all while taking care of my spouse, who has been sick for some time.
I’ll quit working, I guess when I die–probably the same day they put me in the coffin. One thing’s for sure: there may not be much glitter to sweep during the next year, but I’ve survived even if I’m hiding it behind laughter.
Anyhow, Merry Christmas! And here’s to a better year next year!
If this Christmas feels familiar, I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to share your own weary, wonderful, complicated holiday story in the comments.
If you’re curious, this isn’t the first time I’ve written through a less-than-sparkly season.
You can read a couple of earlier Christmas reflections here:
- Real Christmas Newsletter (2009) → https://vickysview.com/real-christmas-newsletter-2009/
- Christmas Anxiety & the FBI (2008) → https://vickysview.com/christmas-anxiety-fbi-2008/
Sometimes looking back reminds us we’ve survived more than we remember.
This piece is also published on Medium. You can read and comment there using a free friend link:
Read on Medium → https://medium.com/@vicky_53374/e7d5ab1797e6?sk=1010e2c0387d178a46120298f9346d24
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