… the spirit of love that surrounds us and touches us with its greatness. It’s the kindness and unselfishness of giving. It’s not about gifts wrapped in pretty paper, but the heart that’s put into our actions. It’s the celebration of life. It’s opening our heart up to the miracles that happen everyday. It’s about the birth of a child.
… And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. ~ Luke 2:10-11
First, our Christmas tree is up. I did it all by myself, with a little help from Doc Mick’s called in percocet prescription. *drools* Nothing special in the tree. It’s the same tree, same decorations that we always put up. I got a wild hair up my arse and raided the Christmas party food box. I ate an entire box of mixed nuts, a garlic sausage, then puked my guts out. You’ll soon see why I’m so ill all the time and puking.
So, here’s what all was did to me, test-wise, yesterday. I was supposed to be sedated, and holy shit, look at that high level of meds I was given! Yet, I was awake, felt everything, and remember it all. Gagging, seeing the scope through my stomach skin. And hearing the surgeon tell the tech and nurse to prep me for renal removal because my scan prep was so shitty. Literally. I couldn’t keep that nasty MoviPrep down for all the money in the world! Click the scans to see bigger versions. If you’re curious, the man named Danny listed on the scans is my wacky, warped doctor who makes pornographic videos of himself and then uploads them to YouPorn on the weekends. Google him, if you’re curious. I don’t care anymore.
James uploaded some pictures from the John Lennon memorial. Go visit his page to see them.
Bright and early this morning, my brother-in-law showed up on the door step with a police officer to get his things. He said not one word to me, but gathered his clothes, medicine and a few of the instruments here, and then quietly left. I filmed the entire scenario for his brother to watch when he gets home in a few days. It seems their mother bailed him out of jail, and while he’s still claiming “demon possession” or some other idiotic shit as an excuse for beating up a three year old and myself, I’m sure he certainly remembers what happened and knows he’s in the wrong.
When all else failed, his loving mother screwed around with my doctor appointment today, so I won’t be able to get any relief from this pain until after Christmas. Love you too, bitch. You have successfully ruined Christmas for the last remaining son that you have who cares enough about you to even still speak to you, and your grandchildren. I hope you’re happy with yourself. Not having a phone, I didn’t know this had happened until I drove all the way to the doctor’s office this morning, only to be told that my appointment had been changed, by my mother in law, to an hour earlier, and now I couldn’t be seen. Thanks bitch, thanks.
So here I am, unable to wrap presents, put up the tree, or even finish my shopping for the kids because I can’t fucking move more than a few feet from the house. I took the last of the Vicodin and Tramadol that doesn’t work to get me to the doctor earlier this morning. I was supposed to finish my shopping today. I was supposed to put the tree up this evening. I was supposed to wrap presents with Chloe and show her how to stuff stockings for her little brothers. Now all I can do is sit here and suffer and cry. I can’t even get out of bed for very long. I was supposed to get a pain medicine upgrade to something stronger Fuck you, you hypocritical, hateful bitch. How dare you fucking sit there in judgment of me, who just wants to no longer suffer with chronic pain, when you do illegal drugs for recreational use. You’re not even in physical pain. There’s nothing wrong with you, bitch! like percocet or roxanol so I could actually move around for a few days. At least until after Christmas. That’s not going to happen now.
To make things worse, I can’t eat anything today. I have no clue how I’m going to make that appointment tomorrow, and I know that doctor isn’t going to prescribe me anything. I do know one thing. When Dennis gets home, if he still wants to associate with his family after this, after what they did to me and his children at Christmastime, I’m going to file for divorce and I’ll be 110% serious about it. I’m not going to go through this bullshit where his bitch of a mother fucks with my life because she’s mad that I had her baby put in jail for beating me up and his nephew. That shit doesn’t fly around here. I’m sure I’m the evil, total bitch for having a family member arrested at Christmastime, but I don’t care. I stand by what I did, and I’d do it again if I had the choice to go through it again.
The family Christmas portraits are in!
My Christmas party dress is done!
I was invited to my ex-company’s Christmas party on the 17th. That should be interesting, seeing that I’m going to be spending the morning in an Endoscopy lab. But I’m considering going. Just to see why I, an ex employee who was let go because I got sick, was invited to such a thing.
Dennis will be home a week from tomorrow. We’ve got about a month left before he’s gone for several months. I sincerely hope that this is worth it. Whatever it may be. I have done nothing on the list he left me to consider. Aren’t I a good wife? Mostly I lounged around and tried to get well these past couple of weeks.
Checking my meds today, I see that I have about two days of Tramadol left in the bottle, and no refills. That should make all the people who seem to think it’s somehow their business how much medicine I take pretty happy. Ya, know, cuz it’s totes their authority to tell me I’m an addict and taking too much of a pain medicine that does almost nothing for my pain, huh? Of course come Monday when the Tramadol is about out, I’m going back to my doctor and flat out ask for something stronger. Not because I’m an addict, but because I deserve to be pain free. I couldn’t walk around in a store a couple of days ago to get my mother something for Christmas. I’m not sure how I am supposed to survive taking care of five kids and an elderly adult for four months when I can barely move when I’m out of bed.
Oh! Don’t forget to send me a card!
Actually, momma went to see the Easter Bunny today. I was debating on how to pay the bills Friday and still get an Easter basket for Chloe, when I decided to just pick up the candy this morning, before class. The store didn’t have an actual basket, but I got a free box, and I think that I remembered everything that I’d gone over with Jerry last night. I even bought the extra bag of chocolate eggs for $15. I took $20 over what I thought it would cost, and I’m still $15 over! Woo hoo! How’s that for frugal? I’m also happy to report that I got everything that was in the Spring Delights basket, except for the actual basket because the store didn’t have a basket. Still, I think I did great:
Oh, and a little something for me, for now:
There were actually six of those, three milk chocolate, three white chocolate, but Mark, Lance and I ate them in class today.
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