I made a promise to myself that I was going to post every day for the rest of the year, and I guess technically I am still posting tonight. It just doesn’t feel like much.
I have all of these thoughts and feelings swirling around about a topic I can’t discuss on this blog. I don’t know if he reads it, but it wouldn’t be right to put it out there. To put it simply, my biological dad and I are just not on the same page. That statement is probably not fair to him in some ways, maybe some of it’s me, but I can’t help but feel like an abandoned 6-year old, all over again. That’s all I’m saying about that.
DSB is still in the hospital. Pneumonia, severe. It’s pretty bad, and the treatments for it make all sorts of other things worse. He’s still gasping for air, I’m reminded of my grandfather, now that my mom has mentioned the similarity. It brings back old feelings and sadness and such worry. Extreme worry. Nail-biting, hair-pulling worry. And there is nothing I can do. Nothing. I’m getting help from QoB tomorrow (thank GOD for QoB and her ability to get a dirty house in fast order) to get the house all cleaned up for his homecoming, whenever that may be. His doctors aren’t even setting a projected date yet. DSB and his medical problems could fill every post for a month and I wouldn’t be done. But I’m not going to burden anyone with that (although I seem to keep doing just that).
Related to DSB not being in the hospital, I am sleeping terribly. I miss the feel and heat of him lying beside me. Rascal, his pup, lies right up against me, but it’s just not the same. DSB never licks my face like that, and he doesn’t shed. They both fart in bed. (tee-hee!) In all seriousness, though, it is super-hard to not have him here. I rely on him for so many things, that I didn’t even realize. He is my left hand, he is my rock, he is everything to me. And I can only see him in three or four hour increments, and he can’t talk for most of that, because he is trying to use oxygen. It’s about to kill me, the being home alone. It helps to go to my mom’s, but I’d rather be with DSB, even if I’m just watching TV in his hospital room while he gasps for air and mumbles something to me every so often.
It has come to my attention again today that I have great blog friends. Emails back and forth, talking about things that are important, that aren’t important, that are. I love it. I love you guys. I really do.
My sister goes back to work tomorrow, and, while I’ve asked for my share of prayers and shout-out’s to the Universe here lately, I ask that you think of her today, just for a minute, and wish her well. It’s going to be hard for her, I know. I wish I could live next door and just take care of that baby while she has to be gone, but it isn’t feasible. I just want to fix it. It’s probably not broken — my sister likes her work, but she loves that baby.
I am looking for good book recommendations. I have a few on my Kindle that I’m getting ready to read, but I’m starting to commit myself to reading at least an hour every day, starting this coming Monday. Suggestions and “holy-shit-stay-away-from-that’s” are welcome in the comments or by email.
Speaking of which, you should email me. We should be friends. I love my blog friends, as I said before, and I can never have enough. So drop me a line, whydontcha. RosieSmrtiePants at gmail dot com
I think that’s enough for a day. My friend Bradley tells me he doesn’t like to read long posts and that most people don’t, and I tend to agree with that. You should go say hi to Bradley, and check out the start of his series on his experiences with being homeless. His series “Ten Days in Lockdown” about being hospitalized in a psychiatric facility is also very good.
We’ll cap it off here just above 700 words. Do enjoy the video before you go. Jack Johnson always soothes me. Always has, always will.