A Reminder to Put Pants on Every Morning

I have a very dear Uncle, Uncle G, and it is only through medical miracles and (perhaps) prayers sent around the world that he is here with us today.  He is the Big Dawg’s brother, and they share red curly hair, freckles, and a love for the outdoors

Perhaps roughly two years ago, Uncle G was in the midst of getting a divorce.  It was a good thing for him, truly was.  One weekend morning, he hopped on his motorcycle and sped away to the local grocery store, because he was having people over and he was out of toilet  paper.  While on his journey, he was sideswiped by a truck.  He was life-flighted to KU Med, which is where anyone goes when anything really serious happens, in Kansas City, about an hour away.

We didn’t know for quite awhile if Uncle G was going to make it, and then when it became clear that he WAS going to live, we were very unsure that we would get back the same Uncle G that had been literally scraped off the road just weeks before.

My sister, a physical therapist, living in the same town, went and spent time with Uncle G nearly every day.  She read his medical reports, kept family updated, and just spent time with Uncle G.  She was a true blessing for him and for family, for us, to keep us updated.

Time went on and there were many different complications.  More surgeries, more IV’s, more antibiotics.  The guy couldn’t catch a break.  Even after leaving the hospital, he had to be rehospitalized at least once, that I know of.

But little by little, Uncle G was coming back.  And he did it with the most positive attitude I have ever seen in a person, and I mean ever.  Prior to his accident, he was always extremely positive and seemed like a happy person.  This accident didn’t take it away from him.

Today I was home alone, feeling bad for myself, having slept half my day away because I was up half the night, thinking I might as well just go back to bed instead of facing the intolerable loneliness I often feel these days.  Angry at myself for screwing up my psych meds for far too long, angry that the doctors just can’t figure out what is wrong, angry that I still don’t feel good.  Just angry.  Lonely and angry.

And then my favorite Uncle G called.  He wanted to stop by and visit.  He’d be here in five minutes.  The depressed part of  my brain screamed out, “Nooooo!  Your house is a mess and your hair isn’t washed.  Just put him off!”  So, that’s what I did.  Immediately after hanging up the phone, I had a revelation.  Uncle G would SO understand what I am going through.  So, I called him back and asked him to, yes, please come over.

Walking through the house, it really isn’t all that messy.  The kitchen is clean, and other than Avon products strewn across my dining room table, isn’t even cluttered.  I was only worried then about the fact that my now-short hair couldn’t go into a ponytail, but I found a headband and it actually looks rather cute.  To give myself a little burst, I gave myself one squirt of body splash and felt almost immediately better.

I put on jeans.  Better still.  One of my favorite tops.  Even better.  My feet still won’t fit into my shoes, but I jammed a pair of flip flops on and decided that would work.  All of this took less than five minutes.  I timed it.

And then Uncle G came and all was well, all was fine.   We had a really nice conversation and we talked about how it is to be sick for long periods of time and what we can do to make ourselves feel better.  I told him that just changing my clothes was motivating enough that I was going to run out and do a few errands.

So, a phone call and an uncle made my day today.  What’s making yours?

 

Sun in My Eyes

Things are looking up from yesterday.  Yesterday was not pretty.  It was filled with frustration and anxiety and irritability.  I would have blogged about it, but I was in too much pain to sit.  That, and I was whiny.  No one likes a whiner.

Long story short, yes, I do have staph.  No, it is not MRSA.  Wound remains about 3/4″ deep.  Abcessed area is 2″x2″, down from 4″x3″.  I am healing, but too fast.  Yesterday, my ARNP cut me back open and messed around in the wound.  She then told me that the dressing that keeps getting applied isn’t going to work, because there is too much drainage.  Obviously…I had to go back twice yesterday and every day this week.

I am really liking the ARNP that I have seen a couple of times for my cyst wound and I have an appointment scheduled with her to become my new primary care doctor.  She is even going to do my psych meds, which would be fabulous, because going to the community mental health center is hell.  Especially now that my ARNP at the CMHC thinks that I am a drug addict.

Having an Rx for Clonopin does not make me a drug addict, especially when I barely ever use it for PRN.  Anyone that knows my Clonopin-taking habits knows that I rarely use it, even when I need it.  Because I do not want to be a DRUG ADDICT.  Ok, still a little peeved at that lady, but I’ll get over it.  As long as I don’t have to see her again.

Back to my new ARNP, who I shall name Giggles.  She really seems to know her stuff, she is friendly, supportive, and always listens.  She makes time to see me and talk to me about my concerns and makes me feel better by really explaining things to me.  That is hard to find sometimes, when you have Medicaid for secondary insurance.

I worked my four hours today and am not going to do anymore.  I worked for two hours, took a 30 minute rest on the couch, and then worked another two.  I was busy during that time, but it was super-painful to sit that long.  I may or may not have tried to do a few things at QoB’s house, just to take a little stress off of her.  The rest of the day calls for the couch, and then back to the clinic this evening to have my wound repacked and redressed.  I did start a load of laundry, but we’ll see how far I get with that.  Baby steps, baby steps.

It is funny how physical pain can make you feel mentally unstable.  I have to keep reminding myself that I am not getting depressed.  I am laying on the couch and taking naps because my physical well-being REQUIRES it.  I am only working half-days at work because my doctor REQUIRES it.  Sometimes I just need to give myself a break.

I have been at odds with my stepsister for the last month or two.  My dad told me a few choice things that she said, and I was already fed up with her behavior before that.  She is mean to her kids, verbally abusive, really.  That bothers me.  The youngest just turned one year old and the older is 11.  Also, when I go over to her house for dinner, I bring everything to make dinner with me and she doesn’t contribute at all.  And then she gets upset if I take home extras with me.  Things that make ya go, “hmmmm.”

She called yesterday to invite me to my niece’s first birthday party slash new housewarming party.  I was relieved to tell her that I had a staph infection and could barely sit, therefore I could not make it.  I am not mad or upset, I just don’t want to be around her.  I don’t find that I get anything positive from it and it is often upsetting.  That is part of my life now — choosing what I will and won’t tolerate and sticking to it.

Kizz and Birdie have been driving me a bit crazy lately.  Birdie is still not house-trained and my beautiful hardwoods are getting ruined.  I really think that they will clean up with some Bona treatment, but it is hard getting around to that when I am all gimped out.  I am looking forward to feeling better so I can catch up on that.

The dogs also really have separation anxiety, and that can be stressful.  They chew up things, they act crazy when I leave and when I get home, and they rebel when I leave them alone for longer than a work-day.  It has been good for them for me to be around more, and I think that now that summer is over, I will be home more often in the evenings.

Now that I live closer to my parents, I am doing a lot more of going over for a few hours and then coming home around 7:00 or 8:00.  That seems to work better than when I was at the old house, not being able to stand hanging out there, and being gone from 7:00am to 9:00pm, and then going straight to bed.  They hated that, and so did I.

I am really enjoying being back to blogging and am trying to find a few more blogs to follow.  I enjoy reading about other people’s lives, their struggles, their dreams.  Reading another person’s words can be so inspiring and uplifting, and can also remind you of where you came from and why you aren’t going back.  I hope my blog does that for a few people, and even if not, I enjoy doing it just for myself.

Cheers to Thursday…it’s almost the weekend!

Sheryl Crow, Soak up the Sun