Bond is missing. H let him out last night.
A little recap: Spunky (the cat) passed shortly after Mama. More recently, Bond was diagnosed with some huge horrible growth that we can't so anything about. (Yes, we brought the cat from New York City).
H is angry at me about the cat. It's my fault he's lost, my fault he's sick. H actually tripped last week and blamed me for it. I wasn't in the room, hadn't touched anything in the room, and have no powers of telekinesis but it's all my fault.
Wednesday, April 02, 2014
Saturday, March 01, 2014
Tuesday, December 03, 2013
Monday, December 02, 2013
Still out there?
According to my blogger stats, I still have a follower.
HELLO FOLLOWER.
I find it hard to believe that after being silent for a good long while, that someone would have the patience to still be there, waiting for me. Waiting to hear from me. Waiting to see if I am okay.
Well.
Hello, Follower. I am okay. Except for the fact that I am miserable.
How are you?
So, I've left New York City. I kind of had to.
Spunx was diagnosed with Autism about three years ago now. Which, can I say, was just such a FUCK YOU from God. You will struggle for years with infertility, you will break your back taking care of your crazy mother in law, and just when you start to think that there is hope in your life, your only son is autistic. Yup. What did I do, God? When will you stop pouring shit upon my head?
Spunx is five. Being in a blue state, we got lots and lots of therapy but. Being in New York City, its crowded. And there wan't room for him in the school. And my husband couldn't keep a job. Or stop spending money. And I couldn't support the family any more. And my father offered to let us move in with him.
In Georgia.
So here I am. And I am okay. Except for the fact that I am miserable. And lonely. And H is mad at me All The Time. And my father is mad at me. All The Time.
Spunx is hyperlexic, for those of you who chart. So he is, even now, playing with some damn toy that whistles and beeps and he is giggling and jumping and oblivious to all around him. Oblivious to the fact that Mommy is crying, that Mommy is sad.
But I am okay.
How are you?
HELLO FOLLOWER.
I find it hard to believe that after being silent for a good long while, that someone would have the patience to still be there, waiting for me. Waiting to hear from me. Waiting to see if I am okay.
Well.
Hello, Follower. I am okay. Except for the fact that I am miserable.
How are you?
So, I've left New York City. I kind of had to.
Spunx was diagnosed with Autism about three years ago now. Which, can I say, was just such a FUCK YOU from God. You will struggle for years with infertility, you will break your back taking care of your crazy mother in law, and just when you start to think that there is hope in your life, your only son is autistic. Yup. What did I do, God? When will you stop pouring shit upon my head?
Spunx is five. Being in a blue state, we got lots and lots of therapy but. Being in New York City, its crowded. And there wan't room for him in the school. And my husband couldn't keep a job. Or stop spending money. And I couldn't support the family any more. And my father offered to let us move in with him.
In Georgia.
So here I am. And I am okay. Except for the fact that I am miserable. And lonely. And H is mad at me All The Time. And my father is mad at me. All The Time.
Spunx is hyperlexic, for those of you who chart. So he is, even now, playing with some damn toy that whistles and beeps and he is giggling and jumping and oblivious to all around him. Oblivious to the fact that Mommy is crying, that Mommy is sad.
But I am okay.
How are you?
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday, November 10, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Waiting Room Etiquette
So today, I'm changing Spunketta in the hospital waiting room. (They call it the solarium. I don't know why.)
It's a little space with chairs and couches just off the elevators, and away from the patient rooms.
Anyway, I'm watching the TV (because there has to be a TV, right?) out of the corner of my eye as I am changing the squirming Spunketta, (and I am RIGHT in front of the TV, okay?).
And this fella walks out from the patient area, talking on his cell phone. And without hesitation, he steps in front of me and turns off the TV. Which I was watching. (An infomercial for a Dean Martin something).
And I'm thinking WHAT A JERK and I gear up to say something (don't piss off a gal with a dirty diaper) but then I think -- he might be in pain. Losing someone. Like I am.
SO I don't say anything.
But he's still a jerk
It's a little space with chairs and couches just off the elevators, and away from the patient rooms.
Anyway, I'm watching the TV (because there has to be a TV, right?) out of the corner of my eye as I am changing the squirming Spunketta, (and I am RIGHT in front of the TV, okay?).
And this fella walks out from the patient area, talking on his cell phone. And without hesitation, he steps in front of me and turns off the TV. Which I was watching. (An infomercial for a Dean Martin something).
And I'm thinking WHAT A JERK and I gear up to say something (don't piss off a gal with a dirty diaper) but then I think -- he might be in pain. Losing someone. Like I am.
SO I don't say anything.
But he's still a jerk
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
"It Happens All The Time"
"It happens all the time," says the medical malpractice lawyer. (At a time that isn't now, I will go into how we backed into a lawyer. it wasn't on purpose).
But apparently, this kind of negligence is "common." Even happened to the lawyer -- his doctor wasn't thorough, so the lawyer nearly died of a detectable, treatable cancer.
Any IFer knows to be aggressive with her doctor.
But now I realize that we all should be equally distrustful, aggressive with every doctor for every member of our families.
And i long for the days when i could trust the white coats.
But apparently, this kind of negligence is "common." Even happened to the lawyer -- his doctor wasn't thorough, so the lawyer nearly died of a detectable, treatable cancer.
Any IFer knows to be aggressive with her doctor.
But now I realize that we all should be equally distrustful, aggressive with every doctor for every member of our families.
And i long for the days when i could trust the white coats.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Cancer, Cancer Everywhere
Okay, I'm pissed.
Here's the thing: for the past few years (YEARS) we have been taking Mama to the doctor every three or four months. EVERY. She has not gone more than six months without seeing a doctor.
So when the oncologist tells me that Mama has breast cancer that spread UNDETECTED for several YEARS I get pissed.
Mama is not in any condition to give herself self-exams. Any and all doctors that we have taken her to see in the past few years have known that. Would have to know that.
And how many doctors, you ask? Four that I can count. There may be more. See, we used to take her to a "doc in the box" that was associated with her daycare. Good in a pinch but not the best.
And not ONE of the four did a full examination.
Of course, then we took her to a very reputable doctor in Manhattan. Who also did not do a full exam.
My mother in law is going to die because none of these doctors did a full exam.
(Just in case you were thinking medical incompetence ended at IF treatment).
Here's the thing: for the past few years (YEARS) we have been taking Mama to the doctor every three or four months. EVERY. She has not gone more than six months without seeing a doctor.
So when the oncologist tells me that Mama has breast cancer that spread UNDETECTED for several YEARS I get pissed.
Mama is not in any condition to give herself self-exams. Any and all doctors that we have taken her to see in the past few years have known that. Would have to know that.
And how many doctors, you ask? Four that I can count. There may be more. See, we used to take her to a "doc in the box" that was associated with her daycare. Good in a pinch but not the best.
And not ONE of the four did a full examination.
Of course, then we took her to a very reputable doctor in Manhattan. Who also did not do a full exam.
My mother in law is going to die because none of these doctors did a full exam.
(Just in case you were thinking medical incompetence ended at IF treatment).
Friday, August 15, 2008
Cancer Scare Day 2
At first, it's easy to cope.
There's an edge of tears in my voice, but not too much. Just enough. I have Stuff To Do. I make phone calls. Assemble resources, marshal reserves. And the edge is there, just enough to make people listen a bit more intently, but not so much that they press for details. Something is up, they're sure of it. But what.
It's a few moments before we have to wake and clean and clothe Mama. I know her bed will be soiled with her own waste, I know that every move will be painful for her. And part of me wants to just let her be. (I won't and it's silly to think of it. But.)
What's the quote? About crisis and day-to-day living?
Coping. Harder today than yesterday, but coping.
There's an edge of tears in my voice, but not too much. Just enough. I have Stuff To Do. I make phone calls. Assemble resources, marshal reserves. And the edge is there, just enough to make people listen a bit more intently, but not so much that they press for details. Something is up, they're sure of it. But what.
It's a few moments before we have to wake and clean and clothe Mama. I know her bed will be soiled with her own waste, I know that every move will be painful for her. And part of me wants to just let her be. (I won't and it's silly to think of it. But.)
What's the quote? About crisis and day-to-day living?
Coping. Harder today than yesterday, but coping.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Cancer
The vet says the cat has cancer.
The doctor says Mama has cancer.
I have to go back to work in 2 weeks.
I need a babysitter.
Mama is going into the hospital on Monday.
The cat is going to have to wait for treatment. We may have to put the cat down.
H held Spunketta and cried. I placed the baby in his arms before I told him.
I haven't cried yet.
I will. When everyone else is taken care of.
watch me cope.
The doctor says Mama has cancer.
I have to go back to work in 2 weeks.
I need a babysitter.
Mama is going into the hospital on Monday.
The cat is going to have to wait for treatment. We may have to put the cat down.
H held Spunketta and cried. I placed the baby in his arms before I told him.
I haven't cried yet.
I will. When everyone else is taken care of.
watch me cope.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Updates
Mama is worse. She no longer moves without screaming, although some of it is pure melodrama. I'm taking her in for a ct scan (spelling?) next week to see what there is to see. We can't have a MRI because Mama has a clip in her head from her brain surgery.
One of our cats (Schpoonky) has an odd growth on her chin. Truth be told, she's had it for some time, but this is the first time that we've had time to breathe and look at the needs of the non-humans in the family. The local vet is clueless, so I'm taking the cat to a specialist in Manhattan.
Spunketta is good. H is good. I am good.
I do NOT want to go to work next month.
How are you?
One of our cats (Schpoonky) has an odd growth on her chin. Truth be told, she's had it for some time, but this is the first time that we've had time to breathe and look at the needs of the non-humans in the family. The local vet is clueless, so I'm taking the cat to a specialist in Manhattan.
Spunketta is good. H is good. I am good.
I do NOT want to go to work next month.
How are you?
Saturday, July 19, 2008
In No Particular Order
I'm tired. Which, frankly, has been my first thought sooo many times when I look at this blank blog form. But today I finally say it.
Mama is not doing well. She's having rolling pains in her back. By "rolling" i mean sometimes she has them, sometimes she doesn't, sometimes they're here, sometimes they're there. These pains started showing up as my belly got too large to be ignored; some have asked if there's a connection. (As in, she's got pain to get more of our attention).
And get more of our attention she has... she now cannot walk without assistance, has to be wheeled everywhere in her chair. Cannot (or will not) dress herself. Soils herself aggressively.
Spunketta is doing well. He needs to be fed every three hours no matter what. Which means I don't get to sleep more than three hours no matter what. I feed him for a half hour, he's good for about a half hour (or so) after that, and then he cries unceasingly until I feed him again.
H, my husband, does well on some days, not so well on others. He's smoking again, and drinking a bit more than I'm comfortable with. You can imagine, the pressure on him is incredible. He's the one (more often than not) wheeling Mama around and dealing with her soilage. I try not to ask him for anything with regard to the baby, but.
And that leaves me. And I'm tired. Happy, thankful, stressed. Tired.
Mama is not doing well. She's having rolling pains in her back. By "rolling" i mean sometimes she has them, sometimes she doesn't, sometimes they're here, sometimes they're there. These pains started showing up as my belly got too large to be ignored; some have asked if there's a connection. (As in, she's got pain to get more of our attention).
And get more of our attention she has... she now cannot walk without assistance, has to be wheeled everywhere in her chair. Cannot (or will not) dress herself. Soils herself aggressively.
Spunketta is doing well. He needs to be fed every three hours no matter what. Which means I don't get to sleep more than three hours no matter what. I feed him for a half hour, he's good for about a half hour (or so) after that, and then he cries unceasingly until I feed him again.
H, my husband, does well on some days, not so well on others. He's smoking again, and drinking a bit more than I'm comfortable with. You can imagine, the pressure on him is incredible. He's the one (more often than not) wheeling Mama around and dealing with her soilage. I try not to ask him for anything with regard to the baby, but.
And that leaves me. And I'm tired. Happy, thankful, stressed. Tired.
Friday, June 27, 2008
What happens now
It's like this:
at one point in the hospital, one day that H actually made it to visit me (and Spunketta). H was playing and holding and cooing Spunketta (as you do). And at one point, H looks up at me, a look of vague panic dancing across his face, and H asks me
"Does this seem real to you?"
No, I answered.
H nodded in agreement. "Doesn't it seem as though any minute someone's going to come in and say, whoops! Sorry! Not you, not your baby. Give him back; you're IF."
It was my turn to nod in agreement.
Having a baby, giving birth, does not make me feel less IF. Hell; not being PREGNANT makes me anxious. I could explain, but it doesn't make a lot of sense.
BUT. As much as I feel a continued sisterhood with the IFers of the world, I realize that some IFers do not want to read the blog of someone with a child. *I* do not like to read blogs of folks with babies and kids. At least not those who blog about said child and kids. So if you're going to part ways with my blog... I get it, and God bless.
If you want to continue to read my blog... well, I don't really know where I'm going with it. I may become the kind of blog I don't read (about babies). I may look a gift horse in the mouth, and whine about the baby. I may just put up Mama stories.
I don't know.
So. Buckle up for the ride. And thanks for flying Sandwich Life...
at one point in the hospital, one day that H actually made it to visit me (and Spunketta). H was playing and holding and cooing Spunketta (as you do). And at one point, H looks up at me, a look of vague panic dancing across his face, and H asks me
"Does this seem real to you?"
No, I answered.
H nodded in agreement. "Doesn't it seem as though any minute someone's going to come in and say, whoops! Sorry! Not you, not your baby. Give him back; you're IF."
It was my turn to nod in agreement.
Having a baby, giving birth, does not make me feel less IF. Hell; not being PREGNANT makes me anxious. I could explain, but it doesn't make a lot of sense.
BUT. As much as I feel a continued sisterhood with the IFers of the world, I realize that some IFers do not want to read the blog of someone with a child. *I* do not like to read blogs of folks with babies and kids. At least not those who blog about said child and kids. So if you're going to part ways with my blog... I get it, and God bless.
If you want to continue to read my blog... well, I don't really know where I'm going with it. I may become the kind of blog I don't read (about babies). I may look a gift horse in the mouth, and whine about the baby. I may just put up Mama stories.
I don't know.
So. Buckle up for the ride. And thanks for flying Sandwich Life...
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