In 2007, Friday during this time of year was on the 7th, and I was getting ready for my last Cystic Fibrosis walk.
Another dark rainy morning going by, and I'm wondering where my motivation has gone. Dang, I'm really missing those drugs this morning. They made everything so easy. I could have been walking around with a fork in my eyeball and still been able to get things done. But last week was a bust, and now this week has slipped away somehow.
I have less than a month to contact a costume shop about a Jack Sparrow outfit for the local look-alike I found awhile back. Every year this is so hard. Last summer I was dragging to class in the heat on two different antibiotics and was useless, barely got any fundraising done. Walked into the library yesterday and saw another group's stuff up in a display case and thought, I should have been on the library system a good month or two ago........ I was so hoping the online donation sites would make it easier, but not one cent in.
In 2008 it was the 5th.
Sorry for the gross pic here. I get the staples out Sunday, so I'm not freaking or anything, but my knee is so obviously irritated. I made the terrible mistake yesterday of sharply bending it and then nearly falling right on it, and I *felt* the staples tear through some skin.
I'm not going to share the gross pic of the staples in my knee...
There was also a World of Warcraft incident that inspired a letter. I don't write letters any more, because I've learned to talk. Aspienado + super ADHD = very poor communication. At any rate, we both survived being full time step parents living next door to his parents. Why I was ever jealous of this is beyond me now. A person can be married and still become an autonomous being, which I think is a very healthy way to live. I used this letter to be mean, when behind it all I was simply jealous, and when all boiled down, not the sort of person to actually demand that kind of time in the first place. Also, I had come through a really rough illness that lasted several months, which I'm sure would be exhausting for anyone who is both sole breadwinner and caretaker.
I would LOVE to be able to trade places with xxx or xxx. I would be able to command you to do things, I would be able to whine at you every day, and I would be able to beseech you for selfish stuff and dump all my problems on you, and you would always COME BACK FOR MORE. I would never have to apologize, I would never have to feel bad if I was taking advantage of you, and I would be able to throw it back in your face if you tried to stick up for yourself.
But because I'm me, and because I keep my mouth shut so much, and because I step aside for other people needing you, and mostly because I don't want to be demanding when I can see you are already so financially and emotionally burdened with other cares and problems, I don't usually bother you. I feel bad that I'm as useless as I am, and I'm grateful for every crumb I get from you.
But I feel I would get more attention from you if I were a dog. Or a whiny child.
This would be different if you were a trucker and not able to be home for a week. It would be different if you were a federal agent like Jack Bauer and got sent all over the place and couldn't talk about your gruesome work. This would be different if you literally could not be here for me.
I made a joke awhile back. One weekend. Just one weekend out of the whole rest of the year. Just one. No phone calls, no interruptions, no one butting in on my time with you and taking you away, no one being more important than me. In some ways it's a funny joke. In other ways it's a really sad testimony to this marriage.
I know you have things that need taking care of. I'm not saying drop everything you're doing right now and pay attention to me, because that is stupid. You have a roof to fix, you have your teeth to fix, you have a trip coming up, you have your daughter's birthday coming up. And you know I'm not going to accept a spontaneous weekend without planning or forethought, especially if I'm not in on the plans myself. If there is anything I truly hate, it's that you discuss details with other people and leave me in the dark. I have a whole list of examples that other people would find astonishing, most of them last minute announcements that I had no idea about but that you'd already planned with other people.
Now it's just all funny stories, the stuff sitcoms are made of. One of the most personally iconic sayings I've ever run across was about pulling up one's big girl panties. Funny how something silly can turn perspective around. Perspective demands that I share that I missed getting to be much of a child as a child, and I was quite jealous of my step daughter having the kind of father I always dreamed of, because I felt so estranged from my parents even in their presence. Once it hit me that I married him and he's awesome, I realized how petty I was being. Step parenting feelings get pretty layered, especially around an extremely opinionated mil. I've learned so much about myself being here, I'd never change it.
Ok, in 2009 Friday was on the 4th.
I remember watching over the sheep as a kid when we let them out to graze the scrub beyond the pasture, with them grunting contentedly like pigs as they moved along in batches, kicking at flies here and there, bleating and catching up, and through it all *fart* *fart* *fart* all over the flock. The constant farting was hilarious.
So today I ate my sweet tato fries, haven't been able to do that for some time since I've had to go out so often, and I'm having this wonderful morning meandering contentedly around my house doing stuff here and there, and through it all is *fart* *fart* *fart*.
Woopsie, the 11th would have been a closer Friday to today's date, hang on. Oh, nevermind, didn't post that weekend. Moving on.
Friday in 2010 was the 10th. Ah, the year @bonenado had hernia surgery.
Scott's incision area clear on down is absolutely black with bruising. I tried calling him Black Ball the Pirate, and he told me not to make him laugh.
He's much more subdued today, thank goodness. He was so wired that he didn't sleep all last night, and you know I get up a lot, and I've been up since 4 this morning and hoping we gets naps pretty soon.Wow, Friday in 2011 was the 9th, just like this year. I'm going to cut miles out of this one, too much personal stuff, but wow was I having a day.
191. That's 45 total. Now I can start thinking 190 and my goal towards 50 total. Wouldn't it be cool if I lost 50 pounds by my 50th birthday.
Buncha stuff cut out. The most crucial thing I didn't know in this next bit is that I'm actually and very officially documented now being allergic to dogs, aside from peanut butter, and this was the last day I ever touched a dog, and after leaving the salon I did discover my face was almost welty mottled red and puffy. Also, nothing against the guy in the salon except I expected a lot more from his obsession with his own looks. Also, we later found out that xxx had full blown PTSD, which I'm sure caused the nerve thing. A word to women- NEVER cover for your men who are having meltdowns. They need help, you can't fix it, and it can get dangerous.
@ 3:15 p.m.
I'm still trying to figure this day out.
It's 10:30. I'm doing super. Twink calls. She's shaky, should she go to urgent care or the ER.
I ask the usual questions. Have you eaten today. How long ago. Could you possibly be pregnant. Anywhere near your period. Do you think you're just super stressed now that you're a newlywed and your husband is suddenly working 12 hours days and you never see him.
She wants to know if I can come check her blood sugar.
This is a subject that has come up a few times over the last couple of weeks between her and Scott. She's convinced she's hypoglycemic. He's wondering if she's already becoming diabetic, blah blah.
I say sure, I can drive right in. I figure what the heck, really go see what's going on with her, right? Her blood sugar when I got there was 96. Thirty minutes later was 94. Thirty minutes later was 90. Nope, you don't have low blood sugar, despite how little you've eaten today. (A few crackers and a little orange juice for 'breakfast', a "piece of bread" {is that a slice? or a torn off piece?} with some peanut butter for 'lunch'.) Blood pressure was 123/70. I didn't see any shakiness in her hands at all, color was good. Looked tired, but a nap can fix that. Asked her if she couldn't just make a doctor appt instead of urgent care. Nope, she has new insurance (it's 3 months old) and has no doctor in the xxx network. Ok, fine, go to urgent care and maybe they'll refer you to a doctor for follow up. Well, maybe later, she's going to take a nap right now... Said xxx could take her to urgent care in the morning.
So we ruled out the usual suspects that doctors ask first thing, and I'm pretty sure she isn't anemic because she's been checked ~~so many times~~. My unprofessional diagnosis is she isn't getting enough calories. I told her eat more, she argued every which way that she eats all day long and pigged out just the night before. Given her obsession all summer with the P90X workout video and all the pictures they got for her engagement and wedding and reception, I hardly think she's pigging out.
While I was there, she showed me a book for doggy recipes, and showed me some of the stuff she made for (dog name). Salmon loaf with cream cheese and nuts, will take at least a week to eat it all if it doesn't spoil first. Peanut butter snacks baked in the oven. The whole book was a culinary delight for canines that basically looked like toned down yet still very high quality people food. Funny... Twink is 'shaky' all the time now, but feeding her dog like royalty. I've heard of anorectics becoming obsessed with feeding other people, learning to cook complicated gourmet dishes, obsessing over ingredients, etc.
Anyway, I told her I didn't see what an urgent care of any kind to do for her, she has no obvious infection or injury, they would only tell her to go to the ER to check for something ridiculously major just to rule out anything and everything that could possibly make her feel shaky. All this over her being too lazy to get a doctor going in the first place.
I was very careful while I was over there not to touch much of anything, even took extra benadryl, but her little dog snuffled my face on the couch, and boy was my face itchy when I left. I didn't see any puffiness or swelling or any extra redness, just stayed calm and kept my hands off my face. Didn't even occur to me at her house that her dog could have peanut butter all over her mouth, but dang, it's in nearly every recipe in that book, AND Twink was going to offer her a spoonful of peanut butter as I was leaving. Decided to use the bathroom at Walmart in Nixa, just take my time going home and make sure it wouldn't get worse. While I was there I got the bright idea to get my hair cut, surely that would give me plenty of time to make sure I wasn't having an allergic reaction.
Half an hour later, I walked out practically in shock at how badly misunderstood I was by a gay guy doing my hair. I was scalped. *Scott* could have done ~that~. When I walked in, it was the longest my hair had been in at least 4 years. When I walked out, it was the shortest EVER. Scott is going to croak.
And. Yes, there is an and. I guess just being around Twink popped my hormone cork, boy did I start having cramps the second I left her house. And being around the gay guy right after her got my girls a-singin', came home and stripped off my stupid peanut butter clothes and discovered the exuberant joy of being female.
And I'm ~still~ having cramps.
You see, I've learned something today. 1- Twink's house is deadly. Don't go there. 2- There is a gay guy that lives in Nixa and styles hair in Walmart and worries obsessively about a microscopic cuff on his shiny pointed leather shoe and takes himself seriously enough to look absolutely perfect while he sheers the old sheep that come in, and he doesn't even seem to notice he's not within a city block of Times Square in Manhattan. Don't go there. 3- My decision to go see for myself what was really going on is spot on. Anyone who feels shaky for two solid weeks (suspiciously about as long as xxx's been working) and suddenly decides to go to urgent care is off their rocker. EAT SOMETHING. Good lord. Regression back to the good old days when she punished xxx by throwing up all the time and running to urgent cares and ERs over and over is one way to handle being married to a husband managing a store, I guess. Maybe she'll wind up going through another completely unnecessary surgery and scare the crap out of everyone with weird complications again. THAT gets her lots of cuddly attention and support. Until the bills come in.
So I'm not going to write this day off as a total cosmic misunderstanding. Sometimes knowing the truth is worth the humiliation of being nearly bald for the rest of the month.
Friday in 2012 was the 7th. Context is I got my pneumonia and flu shots that week. I was almost cleaned off benzo meds for the first time in 20 years and had started months of physical therapy. This is all I wrote that day.
My arm still hurts....
Psyche guy at 8:30, PT at 10:15. 5 hours of sleep last night. Sick of the car. Need to get more salad stuff on the way home.
Got dishes and laundry DONE last night after supper, felt too ugmo to sit and watch tv or do puter.
I'm about due for my once a week 7 hours of sleep, really really hope I get that tonight.
Need to keep getting ready to drag out of the house.
But the next day I wrote this about it. It's significant because I had been doing so much better with my blogging, and I wasn't able to divert into distracting myself. Back then we still had no clue that ragweed spiking histamine levels in turn strongly spike pain levels. I just blindly kept plowing through the pain, really glad I did.
Yesterday sucked. I was doing fine, psyche guy went well. Got on an exercise machine at PT and immediately went downhill, started cycling through severe fatigue and pain, couldn't help crying, had to quit and leave early because nothing was helping, went straight to the chiropractor, and sure enough, I had slipped that disk again. The adjustment was rough, but thankfully worked, and I got on the ice and buzzy things and was able to get to the grocery store after that. Got home and took it real easy, put a chicken in a pot and laid down for a couple hours. I think I'll tell them in PT Monday that I don't want to do that machine again. Sitting with my legs kinda up and doing bicycle motions really screwed me yesterday for some reason. I need to get some more core strength built up first. I'm going to work on my home exercises and stretches all weekend, hopefully that'll help.
I had almost completely stopped private blogging by 2013, so I'll stop here.
This is me getting through ragweed season. Crossing my fingers 2016 is the year I get past it without massive prednisone rescue. If I need super focus again later I'll probably be buried pretty deep in minecraft.
