Seriously? Is that how it's going to be?

I have had the dreaded "writers block" which has been ongoing for about a month or so, give or take a few days. I have things going on in my life, never a shortage of things to talk about when life is concerned eh? But when I try to write all that comes out is whining shit that I don't really think I should subject anyone including myself to (ending a sentence with the word "to" makes me think I am breaking some sort of sentence law but it's late and who the hell really cares?) (ok so maybe it is bothering me, perhaps it should be "anyone to, including me"? yeah, yeah I think that's it but I have already typed in "cute" thoughts so deal ok?) So basically I have started and trashed everything I have written, including the 2000 words I have completed for my senior seminar paper which is due Dec. 2nd. Yeah me. The paper needs 3000 more words and I could really just give a flying shit about that paper. Screw you paper fairy you can't eat me! (fail me perhaps but eat me, never)

So what is going on in my oh-so-itchy life? Well, the cast of doom is still on. I am on the countdown however, 7 more days until the cast comes off or I lose my sanity. We shall see. For some crazy reason I have it in my head that I can be mostly non-weight bearing since August and just return to work full-time Nov. 5th after getting my cast off. I think I am delusional but what's a girl to do? She can dream can't she? Not that I ever really want to go back to work but I sure like electric, food, water and the such and without work, this fat girl is going to starve. Thank Goodness for savings or Tony would be out there hooking, making me some money!
(by the way, if your place of employment offers short-term disability and you don't take it, you are a dumbass, just ask me, Mrs. Dumbass).

My love and I just celebrated 16 years of marital bliss. Or some shit like that. 16 years of total drama, fighting, whining, bitching and moaning and I wouldn't change a thing (well, except maybe have sex more often but you really didn't want to know that eh?) Good lord I was just a baby. What the hell we were thinking! Getting married young is hard but I wouldn't trade Tony for the world (maybe a Dodge Charger, full loaded however, but not the world. Have you seen the shape it's in?!)

But onto other things. Tony has been really sick with this gallbladder, which, most generally other than being sick, isn't a big deal. Meet up with a surgeon, select a date and boom, no more gallbladder. But things are never that easy in Tony's life. He just can't have surgery because he has ITP (which is idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura, basically, low platelet count of no known cause). For those of you not in the know, platelets are these wonderful things that make the blood clot, thus if platelets are low, blood doesn't clot making surgery a big no-no. If you are really excited about ITP you can read up on it here:
http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/dci/Diseases/Itp/ITP_WhatIs.html
I am really feeling bad for my husband because I am broken and I can't drive so no matter how bad he feels he is dragging my ass to p-town for college once a week. Steph thank god is taking me to class on Weds. Thanks Steph!  Sean has been riding up with us to keep Tony company and that has really been a blessing, as the Tone is getting pretty down about all the upcoming Dr. appt and crap he has to do before he can even have surgery! Life is never simple. For example, to get the platelet count up, Tony has to "trial" steroids, which in turn make can make blood sugars raise and because of the super dose he will be taking, it is almost a sure thing that his blood sugar will go through the freaking roof. So one appointment to the hematologist, one to the family doc. See the cycle here. Weekly blood work, daily blood glucose checks, more meds, repeat. All this for a damn gallbladder. At least it is just annoying things and nothing really serious. It always could be worse.

Well, I think that is about all I have to say tonight. It's late and everyone else is snoring.

Humm

Just a quick note then off to bed. My leg is swollen and mercifully not itching at this current point in time. I am starting to become stir crazy as I can't get out by myself. Tony won't leave me by myself either, so if he leaves for more than a few hours, I have to get a sitter. I am 35 years old and I need a damn sitter. What kind of shit is this? But what can I do? I can get around some but I can't be trusted and that is the biggest reason Tony won't leave me alone, he knows I will be doing something I shouldn't and he is afraid I will break my damn fool neck. Take tonight for example. I wanted to go into the kitchen, so I hop up on betsy the knee walker and off I go around the corner, until I get stuck on my book bag. Well, now I am in the shit because I can't get to it and I am really stuck. So Tony had to come and save me from the book bag of death and chased me back to my seat.

I feel so fucking helpless though. It is a shitty feeling. I hate it. It is starting to wear me down and make me not so pleasant to be around. All I want is freedom! And something to scratch my leg, please.

Well, I am off to bed. I can feel the lovely tightness of the cast. Goodnight.

Do blogs count as grades?

I am loafing about reading some blogs and wow, there are some talented bloggers out there. They really blow my mind. With their pure faith in God and his plan, or perhaps the pure true love of their husbands, or whatever it might be that they have true faith in. I envy that faith. I am a doubter by nature and nurture for that matter, as my Gran never trusted anyone and always questioned their intentions. Doesn't make for a good lesson in trust. I am one of those dip-shits that trust the bad guys only and those I should trust I can't because I have been burnt too much. I never fully give of myself and that is a damn shame. I have a husband who trusts me, who loves me and yet I never, ever give myself over to him. Not sure I ever will. I think that I would like to work on my trust issues but I don't trust anyone when they tell me things, so, I am sure you get the idea.

Which brings me to religion. I did not grow up in church and when I did go to church it was usually by the big blue bus that picked us kids up at our houses. I liked Sunday school and the lessons taught there, what I did not like was the pressure to bring a friend, neighbor, loved one, etc, I don't like to feel pressured. I don't think that it is my job to "force" my beliefs on anyone else. Do you want to discuss them? Sure I will open up (some) but other than that, I will kept to myself thank you. Not that I think it's wrong to invite someone to church, that isn't the point, I never felt like the church I attended wanted me to "invite" someone to church, they wanted me to drag my friend to church so that the "wacky youth minister" would cut his tie off if I managed to bring 10 friends. For someone like me I didn't have 10 friends to bring this was a true dilema, how could I prove I loved God and Jesus if I didn't have 10 friends to bring to church with me on wacky tie Sunday. There was something wrong with this picture because I was going to church because I needed a friend, why didn't they understand that?

Midterms today in theatre, since I can't sleep I did get some decent studying done. I should have worked more on my paper but I can't do it. I just don't feel impassioned about my topic or anything at this point. I suppose I am depressed but depression is my friend and together we will work this shit out. Or my husband will kill me for wasting 2 and 1/2 years of my life.

I have to get some sleep! The constant itching inside my cast is driving me insane. I itch a lot anyway with the weather change because of this eczema I have on my hands and feet. I often wake up scratching something raw. Well, that was gross and probably more than anyone cared to know. Wish me luck and a swift kick in the ass to get my paper completed. This paper is my Bachelor degree, it has to be done.

Grief, a rose by any other name?

My Gran and I got into this nasty argument when I was 20 years old over going to the cemetery to visit the her various loved one that were buried there. I was very full of myself and thought I knew it all. I told her "Why do you have to go to the damned cemetery? It's only dead bodies there. Your loved ones aren't there, they are dead." Or some other useless blabbery of shit that comes out of a twenty year old know-it-all. I, at that time, didn't understand grief. My Grandmother, well, she was well versed in grief. She lost her only brother to the war, then her husband to carbon monoxide poisoning( after surviving the war), and then about 6 months later her only son to a tragic hunting accident. Gran was about twenty when this death happened to her and she survived. How I am not sure. But with that being said, I still don't understand going to the cemetery, although I feel guilty about not going, I just feel that I can't go, I don't want to face the grief that is there, the fact that my very beloved grandparents are there, Gertrud is there, underground and they are gone from my life. Never gone from my heart or far from my thoughts, just gone from my life. And it makes me sick with grief. When I think about it I feel this "backup" of snot in the back of my throat like I can't breathe and a heaviness in my heart that I can't shake. It pisses me off.

Why is all this thought of death laying heavy on my mind? Well, for one there is this huge poster board memorial of Gertrud just sitting on the kitchen table. Along with her "little purse" that she kept at work. Tony had to go to the library the other day and they gave him those things. Not sure what they were thinking but it was not a nice thing to do.

The other reason? Well it's my senior seminar topic. Death with dignity, code status or what the hell ever you want to call it, it is a shit topic. But I am half way in and I don't think I can change things now. It brings up the fact that Gran, who wanted so desperately to live was made a DNR because, well, she was dying and I truly believe she was ready at the end but dammit, she wanted to live, pain, shortness of breath and all, she was a toughie to say the least. Then I think about Gertrud and her CT scan with all the blood in her brain and the grim picture the Dr's painted about her recovery, if recovery was possible at all. And the decision Tony and I made from the many open and honest discussions we had with Gertrud, who was adamant that she never wanted to live in a nursing home, or live with any impairments at all. She was scared of losing her independence. She was 70 and still worked full-time, for shit-sake. We made the right decision for her, I know we did, but then people will say, my aunt (uncle, cousin, neighbor) had the same thing happened, they did surgery and they are fine. Well, mostly fine, but they do OK. Why the fuck would you tell anyone who made the decision to let someone die with their wishes in place, with their dignity intact, that someone else lived? That maybe there was hope and maybe we made the wrong choice, by following her decisions. As painful as it Gertrud's death was, I do support the decision that was made, because it was her decision in the end.

As I go back and re-read this blog to ensure my thoughts aren't too scattered and my English, eh, passable, I feel that this thought isn't complete and I am not sure why? I felt like it was complete a minute ago but now, I dunno. But I'm done. My eyes burn, I need to blow my nose and I feel exhausted now.

The Chill is in the Air

Fall just happens to be my favorite season. I love the warm sunny days and the crisp cool evenings. I love the turning of the leaves, festivals (which I never attend, I just think about how great it would be to go...yeah I dunno either...), pumpkins and the anticipation of the upcoming holiday season. This year, fall is a little bit different for me as I can't get out as much as I would like. I know that I am on sick leave, trying to get healed but this is the first time in a long time, I have had weekends off and it is just annoying that I can't enjoy anything. I guess I could rent a wheelchair and let Tony push me around in it but I don't like to be seen this way. Tony took me to Walmart once and I could tell by the looks on people's faces that all they seen was this hugely fat woman using a scooter and damn it those scooters are for sick people. No one even noticed the bright green cast on my foot, that keeps my foot at an odd angle so that I can't bear weight on it. Or I would be walking on my foot, as I am not the most compliant patient. I hear that nurses make the worst patients and I do believe it is true.

I should be hard at work on my senior seminar paper but I am really unfocused and uninspired at this time. I just don't care. I am more interested in my theatre class, I really think I missed my calling but I am frustrated by that class also. We have to present a monologue that is 3-4 mins long, doesn't sound hard does it? Well, once you add in some rules, as it can't be from a movie and it has to be in your age range. Apparently no one is 35 except for me. So I email my ever helpful instructor my issues and two monologues that I thought might be suitable and as usual, she was full of help with the advice "the first one is too short, try adding something to it" and "the second one is too long, so try taking away from it" and (gasp, good advice?) "try timing them?". Shut the front door. I should time them and see how long it takes me to read them. Is that really how that works. My god, college is full of brilliance, how my mind has opened and blossomed under the tutelage of such wisdom. Damn it, can't a girl get a break (other than her foot...).

Tony is still taking pretty good care of me. Bathing has now become the issue of the hour. I LOVE baths. I soak every day. I am a pampered princess and I love it. However, with ol' cast here, I can't bathe like I want. The damn thing gets wet! I even paid $25.00 for this cast cover that you are supposed to be able to swim in. NOT true. It worked well the first time and since then, soggy cast each time thereafter. I have basically ruined my hairdryer because of my cast. It takes about an hour if it is kind of wet to get dry, longer if it is soaked like last time. I glad press and sealed it, trash bagged it and covered it with the "waterproof" sock thing and it still gets wet. So now I have to shower, on a shower chair, which scares the hell out of me because it doesn't fit well in the tub and I have almost fallen using it. It sucks. So I have decided not to bath, not like I am going anywhere huh? Maybe things would be easier if I was a size two but I am thinking not so much. Size two or not, you still have to balance.

Well, I have all of this damn research staring at me. Every time Tony comes in I click open the link that makes it look like I am actually working on my paper. I don't think he is falling for it though. Wish me luck. The countdown to graduation is on, 8 more weeks!

Really?

Well, just when I thought things were looking up, I kicked my kneely-wheely bullshit thing with my "good foot" bruising my last three toes. Those poor toes are so sore I can barely stand to touch them. Putting on a shoe this evening about killed me. I wanted to cry and whine more about it but Sean was over and well, I didn't want to look like more of a baby than I already do. So I just put on my shoe, cried a little inside and sucked it up. And because I was "up" on my leg too much (basically I didn't have the damned thing elevated over my freaking head because we were eating dinner out) my leg is swollen, my cast is so freakin' tight it's cut off circulation to my brain and I got the son-of-a-bitch wet again. I am ready to say, fuck it, what's the worst that can happen, take this thing off. I am too embarrassed to call the dr for another cast replacement, as it has only been a week with me being casted and this is my second cast. My first one had to come off because I have a sore on my ankle, so my damn foot is going to rot off in the long run anyway, so there. Wah is me.

What else? Well, senior seminar is killing me, too much work and too lazy me. My dumb ass chose dying with dignity as a topic and damn it is a BUMMER. I can only read so much at a time before I either start crying or fall asleep. Hell of a topic, slick, way to go.

Tony has been so good to me while all this is going on. He takes pretty good care of me and is now even up to taking me out in public. He even let me go to school with Stephanie. I think he was thrilled not to have me home for a few hours. Stephanie sucks, however, as moral support, she laughed at me the whole time we were gone. Thanks Steph for your confidence building skills. Actually, I really appreciate Steph, she didn't complain at all about getting me in and out of the van and fed me to boot. Then to show my appreciation I cried on her while talking about my grandparents at dinner. I am a piss-poor date.

Last night I broke out in a weird rash and took a benadryl, best sleep I have had in months. Even if it was ten hours of sleep! It was wonderful. Maybe tonight I will get a "rash" again and sleep like a baby.

Well, I am off here to go and elevate the leg of doom. My toes are starting to look like sausages and the puppies are hungry.