Lesson learned, don't take drugs and blog. That last one was an Ambien/vicodin combo with a terrible day thrown in for good measure. I don't really hate the "girls" at work, although I was almost surely letting out the inner demon on that blog. The thing is they are so blatant in their hatred and mockery of me. I am like a bear protecting it's den. I only get a small cubicle and they basically want to take that away from me and leave me nothing. A job is a great big deal for a 58 year old woman with no husband, 401k, or retirement plan. See I was living the Mormon dream. I really thought my X husband would be there and provide for me. I believed him when we knelt across an altar and promised forever. Whoa there Nelly, sliding back into bitter ville. Anyway, I should have done something by now to insure my future but I have never had the great job or the steady income to do it. Now it's almost over and whoops, my bad. No money saved. No retirement plan. So here is the new improved retirement plan: Work till I die.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Bitter much?
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.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Ya'll come back now, ya hear?
Another blizzard sailed through the area on Monday. There is nothing like an early morning commute in horizontal snow. Last weekend was the same. The weather station here has a 90 million dollar doplar weather radar system. They said high 50's to 70 degrees all week. Today is Wednesday and we made the 60's today finally. Give me one million dollars and I will predict weather better than this.
Sparky and James let the house go into foreclosure. There are no words for how I feel about this. On the one hand I can tell they just got in way over their heads. On the other hand this has been a giant CF from day one. She took out a second mortgage and raised our rent. I can't personally see why but recently she bought a home for her son too. Now this one is going into foreclosure? I have begun the onerous task of packing up my stuff again. At the first real hint of any sort of notice, I am going to be ready to go. Pray for me.
Other problems: Robert has started talking with a southern accent. (See previous blog on Why Oh Why can't my family be normal) This accent would be (a little) OK if he had ever been to the south. Or had been around anyone with a southern accent in the last 13 years. Or had ever talked this way before except to joke about our dearly departed mother. Or didn't go in and out of the accent 3 times during a conversation.
Also new problem: He has become a hugger. Don't get me wrong, the huggers of the world are alive and doing OK, just not in my family. If my mother or father ever stretched out an arm towards us you would have seen 5 kids stop, drop, & roll away fast. I have NEVER hugged Robert before last Sunday. Now he wants a hug all the time. Can you hear the Twilight Zone theme music, because I can.
Tomorrow his social worker is coming with him to the house to make sure he has some sort of grasp on how to live with his new titanium hip in our home. Also to check that I have moved his stuff upstairs into a "better situation than what he was in before". She called me today at work to tell me all about her visit. As she prattled on I thought to myself what if I say NO, then what? They keep him in the hospice for the next however long? He can't drive, walk, stand up to cook, go to the bathroom, or use a shower alone. I felt as if she were trying to threaten me with not letting him come home.
And all the hinting that this was going to be better for him to be upstairs. Like I had argued against it with her before or something. He can't navigate stairs, I get it. But what's better?
Better than his old room and door with a lock on it? Better than a geeks wet dream solid state computer set up with high speed Internet and a 40" screen and surround sound? Better than his own refrigerator, griddle, toaster, and coffee pot in the room with him? Better than what? Who offered the inferior alternative? I feel like there is a piece of the puzzle I am missing here.
Well, now it is cold so I better go start the heater.
Sparky and James let the house go into foreclosure. There are no words for how I feel about this. On the one hand I can tell they just got in way over their heads. On the other hand this has been a giant CF from day one. She took out a second mortgage and raised our rent. I can't personally see why but recently she bought a home for her son too. Now this one is going into foreclosure? I have begun the onerous task of packing up my stuff again. At the first real hint of any sort of notice, I am going to be ready to go. Pray for me.
Other problems: Robert has started talking with a southern accent. (See previous blog on Why Oh Why can't my family be normal) This accent would be (a little) OK if he had ever been to the south. Or had been around anyone with a southern accent in the last 13 years. Or had ever talked this way before except to joke about our dearly departed mother. Or didn't go in and out of the accent 3 times during a conversation.
Also new problem: He has become a hugger. Don't get me wrong, the huggers of the world are alive and doing OK, just not in my family. If my mother or father ever stretched out an arm towards us you would have seen 5 kids stop, drop, & roll away fast. I have NEVER hugged Robert before last Sunday. Now he wants a hug all the time. Can you hear the Twilight Zone theme music, because I can.
Tomorrow his social worker is coming with him to the house to make sure he has some sort of grasp on how to live with his new titanium hip in our home. Also to check that I have moved his stuff upstairs into a "better situation than what he was in before". She called me today at work to tell me all about her visit. As she prattled on I thought to myself what if I say NO, then what? They keep him in the hospice for the next however long? He can't drive, walk, stand up to cook, go to the bathroom, or use a shower alone. I felt as if she were trying to threaten me with not letting him come home.
And all the hinting that this was going to be better for him to be upstairs. Like I had argued against it with her before or something. He can't navigate stairs, I get it. But what's better?
Better than his old room and door with a lock on it? Better than a geeks wet dream solid state computer set up with high speed Internet and a 40" screen and surround sound? Better than his own refrigerator, griddle, toaster, and coffee pot in the room with him? Better than what? Who offered the inferior alternative? I feel like there is a piece of the puzzle I am missing here.
Well, now it is cold so I better go start the heater.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)