If you can’t eat it or play with it, just pee on it and walk away.
Wanna go out and play?
I’m a mystery writer–read my ‘about me’ page to find out more. Feel free to check out the excerpts from my Doggoned Mystery series and take a look at my favorite pictures of our garden and what was once our pond. The Bull Pen page has pictures of our bullies and friends.
What we thought was a visiting physical therapist turned out to be another visiting nurse. We had one here just the day before. WTF?
Really? Two days in a row? You’d think they spread it out a bit more. My gawd I haven’t caught my breath from his hospital stay yet and they all come piling in the door giving me more work to do.
It’s all well and good if they actually did something to help, but they just sit there acting all superior (looking and sounding way to much like my estranged sister) and making him feel like a fool.
It’s not his fault he got C-Diff it is the damned hospital’s fault.
There’s nothing quite like a day without crisis, no drama, no dealing with idiots.
Oh wait, I lie. We did have a little drama. Lucy doesn’t like rain, we had rain all day. Lucy played drama queen every time she had to go outside to pee. Poor little special pup thinks she’s going to melt or something.
Gavin doesn’t care about rain, snow, sun, whatever. If he has to go out he has to go out. No drama.
The other drama was the fog. Wonderful, gorgeous fog. Yes, I love fog.
Work progresses on the porch to the point of done but he wants to do finishing touches.
Meanwhile a visiting nurse calls and wants us to let her come in no less than two hours from the call. Idiot man said yes.
Our food delivery got screwed up and while I spoke to our salesman on the phone, the nurse began to bug me about seeing all The Curmudgeon’s medications. I opened a cupboard door and pointed to them. Still on the phone with the salesman.
Not good enough, she couldn’t possibly get them down herself I had to climb the stepladder and haul down every fucking bottle for her to check.
That screwed up my ‘filing system’ and it took me an hour to set up his pills for the next week and put them back in the cupboard in some order.
While she went through each bottle comparing them to her “list” from the hospital. I found several gross errors on their part where they double listed several medications. She didn’t appreciate it when I pointed out the errors. Tough shit, you invaded my home without making a proper appointment with us. A couple of hours in advance? Nope not going to find me being a pleasant person.
His release from the hospital added three new medications to his already long list of nineteen medications he takes each day, some of which, he takes twice a day. Two of the new ones he is to take four times a day and the third one he is to take three times a day.
Pray tell how the heck am I supposed to keep track of all his medications AND all of mine?
I didn’t get all the cleaning done that I wanted to do before he got home. At least the bathroom and hallway are clean, as well as his bedding and his room.
If I can keep him from under my feet I might get the rest of the house cleaned well enough to keep my sanity on an even keel.
Spotless? Nope, not my house. I don’t have the energy to do that.
Maybe I could if the house weren’t half a wreck. Decent flooring, walls, and ceilings go a long way to make it easy to keep clean.
The past year or so I’ve been spending a lot of time browsing homes for sale in warm, beach areas.
As of the blizzard of 2016 and 31.9 inches of nasty white stuff, I am looking with all the seriousness one can have when one is ready to get the heck out of Dodge.
I told The Curmudgeon it is time. We’ll fix up the house to sell and find a new life somewhere where I can thaw out and play on a beach for what life I have left.
I will not suffer through another winter.
Looks as though they plan to send him home on Monday. I wonder if I will have my car out of the driveway by then. (Tuesday or Wednesday would be easier…)
If not G’s car is plan B. Anyone volunteering to get him and bring him home is plan C.
Just my luck, Monday is also the day the guy wanted to start work on the porch. Plan C is looking better every minute.
As defined by Google:
past tense: overwhelmed; past participle: overwhelmed
bury or drown beneath a huge mass.
“the water flowed through to overwhelm the whole dam and the village beneath”
synonyms: swamp, submerge, engulf, bury, deluge, flood, inundate
“advancing sand dunes could overwhelm the village”
“his teams overwhelmed their opponents”
synonyms: defeat (utterly/heavily), trounce, rout, beat (hollow), conquer, vanquish, be victorious over, triumph over, worst, overcome, overthrow, crush
informal: thrash, steamroller, lick, best, massacre, clobber, wipe the floor with
“Canada overwhelmed the U.S. in the hockey final”
give too much of a thing to (someone); inundate.
“they were overwhelmed by farewell messages”
Another day or so and we might be able to get out of here.
However, getting my van out of the drive may not happen for a week or so.
Good thing G has a 4 wheel drive vehicle so we have a way.
A trip to the grocery store, farmers market, and Target are on for tomorrow.
The street is still blocked.
Idiots parked cars in the middle of the street blocking the snow plows from clearing it. More idiots shoveling more snow in front of my driveway. Maybe I’ll get out come spring.
Cabin fever set in. If G hadn’t stopped in, I may have gone completely around the bend.
The Curmudgeon called and we argued. Seems we do that a lot lately.
Think I’ll go cuddle with Lucy on the couch. She’s waiting for me.
When the other one has MS you have special ways to get ready for the ambulance after taking care of a very ill him for hours and, for the third time, he’s climbed out of bed and collapsed to the floor, this time you can’t get him up.
First, directly after calling 911, you must print out his medication list, a copy of his living will, and copies of his medical insurance cards.
While those print out you crate the dogs.
Turn on the porch light and unlock the door.
Then you must remove the baby gate that keeps the dogs downstairs.
Finally you run back upstairs to make sure he has clean dry clothes on then dash back downstairs and wait if they haven’t arrived yet.
When the paramedics arrive, you tell them he has secondary progressive MS, you hand them all the paperwork, and lead them to him answering their questions as you climb the stairs for the fiftieth time in the last twenty minutes. (The millionth time that day.)
When they leave with him, you collapse in exhaustion and debate following them to the hospital or getting some sleep first.
Sometimes I follow them in, other times I get some sleep. Guaranteed it will be hours before he’s admitted.
He’s still in the hospital. There’s no way he’s coming home until he’s better and the roads are cleared.
I yelled at this doctor telling her they sent him home three times still ill, they’d better keep him until he’s well this time.