Today I picked up my brother from the rehab place. It was a nightmare. I really feel badly for feeling so put out. Like this is more important than work and I know that but I also want to express how crappy things are at work right now and I so did not need to miss another day. I can not find myself without a house and a job. Then the rehab/ hospice people schedule his release on a day that the 8 year veteran at work has scheduled off too. It just couldn't be a drive-by quick pick up either. They planned a whole day of suckitude for me. I had to take him to all these appointments, the store, and the bank. You know like I don't have a job and have unlimited chauffeur time for the injured brother?
I feel so low even just typing this so I may erase it all and start over with a perky blog on how happy I am he did not die from injuries sustained at my home. Screw that line of thinking, it is not my fault. However I am selfish for thinking how put out I was by spending my day toting him and all his injury accoutrement around all day. How I had no breakfast or lunch and had to spend my $ on parking valets and jeopardize my lofty career at Doofy just to take him to all the places he needed to be. Not that I am a whiner or anything but he got Oxycontin all day. I was stone cold sober.
I'm not even sure he was mentally there for most of this crap. But he WAS rambling on and on to anyone that could hear how much pain he is in and how terrible the injury was. That's the key word: was. It has been more than a month since the surgery. He recovered 20 days in basically a spa with enough drugs to sedate a small elephant. He GAINED weight. A lot of it. He refuses to use the walker for more than half the stuff he should use it for and had me pushing a borrowed wheelchair all day to take him to his various appointments. He has not had a day since the accident that someone else wasn't bringing him everything he wants and needs including me.
Wow, that was a little bitter. I better not post this.
Alright I will post it cause it makes me feel better and I do not get any Oxycotin with that cup of gall.
I feel so low even just typing this so I may erase it all and start over with a perky blog on how happy I am he did not die from injuries sustained at my home. Screw that line of thinking, it is not my fault. However I am selfish for thinking how put out I was by spending my day toting him and all his injury accoutrement around all day. How I had no breakfast or lunch and had to spend my $ on parking valets and jeopardize my lofty career at Doofy just to take him to all the places he needed to be. Not that I am a whiner or anything but he got Oxycontin all day. I was stone cold sober.
I'm not even sure he was mentally there for most of this crap. But he WAS rambling on and on to anyone that could hear how much pain he is in and how terrible the injury was. That's the key word: was. It has been more than a month since the surgery. He recovered 20 days in basically a spa with enough drugs to sedate a small elephant. He GAINED weight. A lot of it. He refuses to use the walker for more than half the stuff he should use it for and had me pushing a borrowed wheelchair all day to take him to his various appointments. He has not had a day since the accident that someone else wasn't bringing him everything he wants and needs including me.
Wow, that was a little bitter. I better not post this.
Alright I will post it cause it makes me feel better and I do not get any Oxycotin with that cup of gall.
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