It's been a long and not very good day today. Maybe I'd be feeling a little better if my head wasn't full of gunk and if I could get a decent night's rest. I think I need to take a cue from Gretchen and get myself a Sicilian Kiss immediately. Preferably gallon-sized with a bendy straw.
This morning we had our first doctor's appointment with the ENT specialist that did Monkey Man's adenoid surgery last fall. I really like the doctor - not big on the bedside manners, so if you want someone to talk to you about how things are going at the country club or what the score of last night's game was, he's not your guy - but he is really the best in town for pediatrics.
Rather fortuitously, my brother-in-law and the ENT sat next to each other and a boring medical dinner so they had already discussed our case at length. Dr. B said that he didn't even really need to look at Monkey Man's throat, because those suckers needed to come out immediately. As a matter of fact, he would've done it next week if Monkey Man hadn't been so sick in the hospital. Dr. B then proceeded to drop a little bomb that apparently Monkey Man had gotten septic by the time we got him to the hospital...nothing like that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you realize how close you came to dodging a serious bullet. YIKES.
So of course, the surgery scheduler was on vacation today so we won't have a date set until probably Monday or Tuesday...and he wants it done in the next two weeks (but not next week so he can build his strength up). I am hoping, praying, that this is all done before Monkey Man's 5th birthday so that he can have a serious throwdown with his buds from school. He will be crushed if he doesn't. I mean, we've been talking ponies, stripper poles, and jello wrestling. The kids will be talking about it for years!
Between appointments we went and met Cat Door M for lunch. Really, this was a mistake - he was having a bad work day, I was not feeling well (not to mention still in shock over the whole septic thing and the speed for the surgery), the service and food sucked, and in general we had a rather horrible lunch. I ended up calling him later to apologize for my funk and he said, "Cut yourself a break - you really need a break from this soap opera you're trapped in so don't be so hard on yourself." Of course, in typical M fashion, he didn't apologize a bit for his funk...but I digress.
On to the appointment with my brother-in-law...the good news is that Monkey Man can go back to school next Monday! Hooray! (Mommy needs a paycheck!) The bad news is that his tonsils are still a wreck and he will be on antibiotics until the surgery. Not to mention that he seems to have developed a little sour stomach so we need to give him Zantac. But overall he is doing so much better than a week ago that it's a big relief.
This afternoon I came home, whipped from driving all over hell's half acre today, and laid on my bed and cried while Monkey Man was dancing to a Wiggles video. No, not because it was a reemergence of the Wiggles in our household. I just feel like I'm trapped on this gerbil wheel that I can't quite get off and I'm totally exhausted. I haven't had a good night's sleep in over two months, my stress level is at an all-time high, I am sick, I am not getting any exercise and haven't for weeks, and I just want all this to end.
I want my old life back, the one I had before my dad was sick. Yeah, I know it can't ever happen, so really feeling sorry for myself is about as pointless as it can be. So my mission for this weekend is to get some rest, and to take care of myself - including my soul. The first step in this was calling my sister to make plans to meet for lunch and margaritas tomorrow. Because tequila can cure a lot of ills.
*****
A last note
Tonight, my mom called and said that my cousin Luke had died. You know, I'm not exactly sure how old Luke was, I imagine he was probably in his 50's? He was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, which caused brain trauma and he never progressed past the mental capacity of say a 3 or 4-year-old. He was almost animal-like in a lot of ways - he had no verbal skills other than grunts or screams, he would claw at you if you were doing something he didn't like. Before I truly understood who he was and what had caused all of this, Luke was this mythical beast that terrorized me at all of the family gatherings. It wasn't until I grew older and realized what had happened that I gained empathy for him.
Really, it's amazing he's lived as long as he has. His parents both died years ago and he has been a ward of the state ever since (his brother is schizophrenic and unable to care for him), so my mom and my aunt are having to make all the burial arrangements.
His quality of life the past few years hadn't been very good. He had all kinds of chronic health problems and had ended up in a nursing home. So in a way, this is a blessing so that he doesn't have to suffer anymore.
All I have to say is that I wish I could see him in heaven, because I bet he has a lot to say. One of them being mad that the caregivers took away his Mountain Dew and peanut butter crackers about five years ago when his diabetes got so bad. He was pretty pissed about it and would still throw a fit when he saw a Mountain Dew bottle.
Rest easy, Luke. And enjoy those crackers.
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