Christmas Getaway -- Day Three

Christmas Eve was a mixed bag. On the positive side, the weather was ideal. Mid 70s and sunny and virtually without wind. It was too cool to swim, but I managed to wiggle my pedicured toes in the pool and in the sand.

Henry and I were on our own. We had a seaside lunch at the southernmost resort in the contiguous United States. Really, we were closer to Havana than we were to Miami. I had the coconut shrimp with pasta salad, and he had a sandwich, which he only picked at. But he did manage to drink down two glasses of wine to my one drink.

All this alcohol, all these medications, and no food. This concerns me. So I reiterated that I have elevated blood sugar, that booze turns to sugar very quickly in the bloodstream, and I'd appreciate it if he didn't have any more wine in front of me.

"Then turn around," he snarled. Really, my darling Henry was angry at me. His defensiveness spoke volumes. Two glasses of wine in 90 minutes is plenty. Henry's liquor intake clouds his judgement and could be interfering with his recovery. When I ask him if he's been honest with his doctor about his drinking, all he says is, "Dr. Jackson knows I like my wine." That is not an answer to my question.

So things were tense on and off throughout the rest of the afternoon. We were doing last minute Christmas shopping. Henry was supposed to find something for Patrick, Reg's old friend and their houseguest. This assignment made him almost as unhappy as my curtailing his drinking. I already had a gift for Patrick -- a t-shirt from the TCM Film Festival -- but I saw things I think he'd appreciate. My favorite was a mug from The Tennessee Williams Museum gift shop that had a quote from Streetcar: "I don't want realism. I want magic!" Patrick drinks coffee, has enjoyed the museum, and is a self-proclaimed theater nerd. Yet Henry was dismissive.

He began complaining about one of their dogs. He said he never wanted to adopt the pair of dogs, and if it was up to him, he'd just open the door and let the male dog run away. What a horrible thing to say! I know he didn't mean this. To slightly change the subject, I told him I bet he was glad they had both dogs last spring, when his beloved Lola died. Otherwise, the girl dog would be alone and lonely.

"No," he said. "Lola was long gone before we got these two."

"No," I corrected. "Lola was alive last Christmas. I played with her."

"No," he insisted, "Lola has been dead for four years."

I realized now we were in Crazy Town. "You let Lola sleep wherever she wanted, because she wasn't feeling well. She chose a stack of pillows. You said it was her throne."

"I know what I know, Gal. She has been dead for four years."

"She died last spring, Henry. I'm not talking about this anymore."

To make matters worse, he got us lost. The shop he was absolutely certain was near the entrance to the cemetery was nowhere to be seen. He was getting angrier, and angrier.

Even though he still denies it, Henry is recovering from a traumatic brain injury. He is doing the best he can. I'm disturbed by his hostility, but I'm not hurt or angry. The situation is difficult, but it's the one we're in.

We got to church for Christmas Eve service and it was like a balm to his soul. The other congregants greeted him warmly and welcomed me. He sang the carols with gusto. I took communion. I continued to make an effort to get along with Phyllis, even though, ugh. Christmas spirit trumps ugh.

On the way back to my hotel, Henry got weepy and apologetic. He says he gets confused. I told him I know he does and I understand. He said is mind does not work like anyone else's, and he came close to admitting he has an injury. This one step up, two steps back dance is worth it if accepts his condition. If he's at peace with what happened, he'll be able to be a more active participant in his recovery.

In my room, I found that the staff had left me some goodies -- cupcakes and a bottle of wine.

Sorry about the angle; my hotel room was tiny & hard to photograph

I fell asleep watching Christmas movies, loving Henry, missing my late Uncle Ted (who made Christmases extra magical when I was a kid) and missing my cats. I thought about Jesus, of course. It was overwhelming. I slept soundly.