Sunday, August 26, 2007


H and I went walking this morning. (Mama does not have "program" on weekends, and the weekend home care attendant comes about 10:00AM. We try -- operative word TRY -- to get out of the house for a bit when she comes).

So we went walking. We went by a park we don't normally go to (at least at that time) and saw a bunch of fellas playing soccer. They were, on average, a bit older than H and myself. (One fella looked to be in his sixties). But, to a man, they were passionate. They put their all into the game. Chubby, old men running like their lives depended on it, running like it mattered.

H and I watched, enraptured, for over half an hour. The men called to each other in a language neither of us recognized. (We guessed Polish, but who's to say). I started to wonder why they were all, all trying so hard. (The one we thought was in his sixties had a vicious head butt). I wondered if this was just for exercise, or if it had a deeper meaning. Like they were playing for pride or country or beer. And if they'd been playing all their lives, if one time they'd had dreams of being professional athletes or World Cup players or what. Or was it just good fun, the best of their week?

Football season is fast approaching. This makes H very, VERY happy. He likes football, but loves Fantasy Football. He's the commissioner of his league (yes, a bit of a control freak). The draft was Saturday; it lasted hours and H was flying the rest of the day. He exchanged hundreds of e-mails, texts and phone calls with his league members, all twittering like girls off to their first dance. I love this time because it's the one time of year where H has a social life. He gets to go out with his friends and chat about something that isnt his mother, our IF, our debt, whatever.

I on the other hand, can barely breathe. I am waiting. Waiting for drugs, waiting to bleed, waiting. I realized yesterday that it's been year since I had any sort of official IF treatment. Doubly terrifying because of the time off.

And I wonder what it will be like...


Heather said...

Um, hate to break it to you - but it is still just as sucky as you remember it to be.

Bea said...

Yeah... although forewarned is forearmed, so, you know.

Good luck to H in his fantasy league. Sounds like you ran into a pretty hard-core game of soccer. I wonder what their story was?