Archive for the ‘Family’ Category
Cheer Up Sleepy Queen
Ok, those aren’t the lyrics, but it will have to do.
I’m sleepy because I had to take pain medicine this morning. The pain woke me up. Stretching just made the blood rush to my head and made me dizzy. But I still go up, got dressed, and went to work. It’s cloudy today, so I don’t know if Harvest Moon will be a bust or not. I want to see the moon! It’s supposed to bring good luck and health throughout the Harvest and Hibernation seasons.
Judson left me a mess at work. He fell asleep at the counter, and spilled several vials of mercury. He’s not even supposed to be using mercury. I had to wake him up when I got in, then clean up his mess and try to get what little bit of work he had started done. The detectives weren’t too happy with having to wait fifteen hours for a DNA run to get started. I didn’t fire him. Least I need a ride to treatments next month. Even doped up on Vicodin, I am still doing a better job than he did.
Not too many people question me about the door. I don’t volunteer anything. I have a doctor appointment tomorrow, and I’m not sure if I want to keep it. Doc Mick will push those papers on me. He’s even said he’d examine me and sign a statement that my injuries were intentionally inflicted, but I don’t want to rock the boat. A wave-less, calm journey is best, but impossible. I know eventually there will be waves or the boat will be rocked, I just don’t want to be the one to cause either of them.
Back to work. I’m keeping Harvest Moon in my sights.
So Far
I didn’t eat today. It wasn’t intentional, it just happened. I got through the entire day, setting up things for my mom, buying her things because she intimidates me like that, and throwing away the ill-fitting, faded, worn out sheets that I have slept on nearly half my life, without eating anything solid. I drank several bottles of water, though. Making the bed shouldn’t have me reaching for my inhaler. It’s just too hard to keep those old sheets on the mattress, and it had nothing to do with the type of mattress we have, either. I’m sure they wouldn’t stay on if we had a regular box spring mattress. It’s always liberating to get rid of some of this clutter. Life shouldn’t be hard when it doesn’t have to, and making the bed shouldn’t be hard for anyone, even if that person sleeps on top of a few hundred gallons of thickened water.
I was able to go back to work yesterday. I will be going tomorrow. It seems as though my boss is the only one who is clued in on me being sick. I was denied insurance because of my cancer status. I wanted to quit after that, but I need my check to pay for my treatments. Dennis assured me that his going on the road in a few weeks has nothing to do with my health status or the financial aspects of it, and he really wants to just promote his new album. Sure. I believe that. I think it’s more that he doesn’t want to watch what is going to become of me. While I still have my hair and nails (yes, my fingernails tend to fall out during chemotherapy), it’s only the first treatment, and I will soon be hairless and full of holes, which I think he doesn’t want to see. The last time he was on the road, our nephew had just gotten the “3-6 months to live” prognosis. Our daughter had gotten the “we can’t do anything for you” prognosis. I truly believe he didn’t want to watch his family members get sick, degenerate and die. It’s not a pleasant thing, but after everything is all said and done, I know I couldn’t live with myself if I had just turned away from them when they were at their sickest.
For some reason, my co-workers did not call me today. I don’t understand why. Any other day, they would be calling every few minutes. How does this work? What is this chemical? Can you tell me where [this or that] is? Today my phone was silent. I embraced the quietness. Even if it was just for a few seconds.
Tomorrow night is Harvest Moon or the first full moon of the fall season. It’s a time of gathering, and a time of sharing the harvest with others. I am going this year. I just learned of it tonight, but I want to go anyway. It has been an important part of my life for the past ten years, and I want to continue to keep it that way. The moon is always so brilliant at the gathering, even its reflection off the lake is brilliant. I won’t be able to take photos, because cameras are not permitted, but I will fully update on what goes on when I get home.
Judgement Day
Thursday night, Chloe wasn’t feeling too well. I made her go to school Friday anyway. The first graders only go four days a week, so I thought she needed to go just for the last day. Feeling bad about this decision, when I went to pick her up, her grandfather, Dennis’ dad, rode along with me to the school, to keep me company. We got there thirty minutes before class let out, and sat on the bench in the hallway outside Chloe’s classroom.
Mother Superior walked by, and asked us if we would like a beverage. Water? Tea? Soda? Lemonade? I thanked her and said no, but my father in law said yes. She left and returned several minutes later with some water for him. She made small talk with us, as several other Sisters dismissed their classes for the day and the halls began to fill up. Chloe’s class then let out. She was the third student out of the class, and her eyes widened when she saw us there talking to Mother Superior. She ran to me first, calling “Momma, momma, I didn’t do it!” Then she saw her grandfather there, and said, “Daddy!” and ran to hug him.
Mother Superior and several of the Sisters, as well as some other parents, and many of the students were just staring at us. Mostly at me. With looks that were either, “She’s a gold digger.” or “INCEST!” After me, they glared at our hands, apparently searching for at least wedding bands. While I wear my wedding band, my father in law is a divorced widower, and does not wear his ring. Eyebrows started being raised. I could feel my face turning red. I was relieved when Mother Superior started ushering the students and parents out the front door.
I blame this on my husband and I. At home we call Dennis’ dad “Dad”. Even I do it. It was bad enough when Chloe did this when she was a toddler in stores or at the doctor’s office, but doing it in front of nuns? Mother Superior? As we were leaving, Mother Superior commented to me, “Mass always welcomes you,” with a small smile. Oh lord. Not her too! I need to start wearing a sign that says “I’m married to his SON.” when I’m out with my father in law. Or just not going out in public with him.
The worst of all of this is, the school we send our kids to is affiliated with the church my husband attends, and usually drags our kids to every Saturday night and Sunday morning. I usually stay at home, sorting dirty laundry, watching TV, basking in the silence, or whatever I want, really. It’s my short vacation time where I don’t have to focus on work or kids or anything, really. But now, I wonder. Being judged by people who interact with my husband and our children is a little unnerving. Even if I was married to a 74 year old man (he’ll be 75 next month), that’s no excuse for the stares, the disapproving looks, the parents steering their kids away from our family. Is it?
Toujours Une Illusion
Doc Mick’s meds have made me sick and irritable. He says this is normal, and as long as I don’t see blood in my stool or vomit, I’m ok.
I feel pretty bad, emotionally, too. Last night I was mean and nasty to my husband, and today he’s asking me where I want to go out to eat. It started over him washing laundry Tuesday afternoon. Having a husband who does laundry is like having unlimited money. It’s great for people who don’t have it, but then you realise how lonely or annoyed it can make you. My husband washing laundry throws off my entire system. We live out of antique Bonnet Collection dressers and shelves, so we can’t have too many clean clothes at once. I needed clean socks. He washed underwear. Every dirty pair in the house. After I had just washed us enough to last through the month. He always does things like this. Washes the sheets when there are too many on the shelves, washes clothes when there’s no place to put the clean clothes. I have underwear and socks mixed in with jeans and tees. It just drives me nutso. I must be obsessive compulsive.
It’s my fault. I encouraged this. I told him he did a great job organising the closet with the plastic totes for my shoes and the bags for our smaller dirty items so they wouldn’t fall from the basket and get lost behind my trunk. Oh, and I always praise him when I come home to find the mountain of dirty laundry we pile up at the foot of the bed has been sorted and put in the right baskets and bags in the closet. Those little things I really don’t mind, but please don’t wash the clothes! Aside from the fact that we rarely have a place to put clean clothes, when he washes them, he doesn’t use fabric softner, nor does he dry them properly. Sometimes the socks come unwound and the strings wrap around other parts of the laundry, where the middles don’t dry because they’re wadded together. Then he dries everything on extremely high heat so it shrinks. All those brand new pairs of underwear, shrunk three sizes smaller.
Looking back, that was hardly anything to get upset about. It was certainly no reason for me to tell him what I did. I feel bad about it, especially since we’re getting ready to go out and eat tonight, and he’s taking me out tonight and tomorrow night to kind of give me a mini-vacation before I have to undergo those treatments. I doubt I’ll want to do much of anything that I don’t have to after I start them. To make me feel worse, he’s making me DVDs of old Monkees episodes, and he has all of them downloaded, because he remembered I loved that show when it was coming on as re-runs in 1986.
In other words, I don’t deserve what I have. I know this more than anyone else can tell me.
Last, I feel badly because I had to work a double shift. Lance called in until next week. I was the only on there when he called, so I volunteered to take the shift, then split his other days up between Michelle and Judson.
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