Last night Lyric kept me up all night long. He was pacing, he picked on Wicket, pushing him out of his normal spot on the bed beside me, and he kept pawing at me.
Maybe he was picking up on my energy change, because I was not my normal, laid back self when I went to bed. In the morning, I was going for my first shock wave Lithotripsy appointment since we brought Lyric home.
In the morning, I took the dogs for a quick walk for a bathroom break, and it was the first time that I did not poop and scoop, because I had forgotten to bring a flashlight and could not find the package left on the ground.
Then, as I’m packing up to go to the hospital, I couldn’t find my glasses, then my pill for hypertension almost killed me as I gagged while trying to swallow it.
Get to the clinic, my urologist isn’t even there to give me the treatment, the one that said he will be sure to break this stone up, after two previous attempts. The other urologists had all thought that 2 was enough, but this guy wanted to try, he thought one more try was a good idea. Now, he’s not even here. So I get yet another urologist, saying the same stuff to me about the unlikely chance that this is going to work. My feelings are dropping lower, this just feels like a bad day all over.
I smile with all the nurses, we crack the same jokes about needle sizes and how they shouldn’t matter, but they do. Which veins are good veins and which ones need a time out.
Then the anesthesiologist smiles and says it’s ok now, I’ve just gotten the happy drugs and I’ll just drift awa….
I wake up in surgical/procedural recovery, next to a man that is screaming, he’s thrashing in the bed. All the nurses and some of the doctors are there by his side, trying to assist him. I can over hear the staff talking, is it pain or surgical dementia? This is now the second time I’ve heard that term, surgical dementia. They’ll see which it is once they increase his pain meds, if he doesn’t calm down, it’s the dementia. A few minutes go by, he’s still yelling, he’s still trying to leave the bed. Everyone agrees it’s surgical dementia and they get the restraints.
My nurse comes back, sits at her chair and table and starts to check me out. How are you feeling, how is the pain on a level of 1-10. I’ll get you some pain meds. Let me check your blood pressure and pulse first. The blood pressure cuff is still wrapped around my arm from during my treatment, taking constant readings. She noted them in her log, smiles and says she’ll be right back. I close my eyes, then she’s there with a paper cup and two pills, which I take without thinking, but realize that I will now be really out of it for the ride home. Normally it’s only 1 pill and I’m loopy as heck for hours.
I’m sent to the urology recovery room, there it’s just me and one nurse, explaining to me what to watch for after I go home. I’m handed my after care paper work, told to follow up with my absentee urologist and I’m sent to dress and go home.
So much time has passed since my last post, so much for writing here again, although that doesn’t mean that I haven’t been writing. It’s just been pen and paper, and if it was digital, it was for personal use and not published online.
My writing was kind of therapeutic and introspective, dark and disturbing to write. Nothing I want to share online.
Since the new year started a lot has been happening, over Christmas break my son brought home a Christmas cold that he shared with me. When school went back he managed to morph it into something that wasn’t bad, a few fevers and runny nose, but enough that I kept him home from school. Then when he recovered from that, the weather turned and there were many snow days and extreme cold weather days, and he got to stay home with Mom. Then when the weather stopped being so horrible, there were parent teacher interviews and family day.
I joked around with him and told him that he almost he was almost home from school more than he was there so far in 2019. He was not amused.
Now he’s off on March Break, another week off of school, and then in a few more weeks, Easter weekend.
The point is that I’m getting a small idea of how life is going to be when my son graduates in June and he’ll be home with me every day, no more school.
It’ll become a juggling act, of me getting stuff done around the house and keeping him busy with outings, and activities to keep him busy and happy.
Not mention I’ll need to find a way to keep looking after myself then too. They say that you need to do self-care in order to do any form of continual care for others, otherwise you’ll lose your mental or physical health, and that’s not good for anyone.
This past weekend was Canada Day long weekend, which meant that my husband and my son actually got a weekend. Saturday night and Sunday night off. It was wonderful. For the first time in probably a decade we managed to take in the Fireworks, of course we always watched them at Ontario Place, but the days of Symphony of Fire and actual fireworks at Ontario Place are long gone. All that really remains of Ontario Place now are childhood memories of family visits, picnic lunches along the lake and boisterous trips to the children’s playground.
This year we drove down to Ashbridges Bay and watched the fireworks from our car, Devlin enjoyed it for about 10 minutes, which meant that for the final 5 minutes he was not impressed. Not even the grand finale was enough to bring a look of awe, or even a smile to his face.
The weather this past weekend was hot, I mean really hot. I heard that some folks were looking to book a vacation on the sun just to get away from this crazy heat wave we have been having. The air has been so thick with humidity, it feels like walking into a wall of force whenever you leave an air-conditioned location. A wall of force that saps all energy and fortitude from you the moment you come into contact with it. It’s horrible. Even my Mom, who has always insisted the hotter the weather the better for her was struggling with how crazy hot it was.
Lucky for us we have central air to battle the heat this summer, so it’s been quite comfortable for us. Devlin has not lost his appetite due to the sticky, miserable nature of a hot, humid spell and has in fact been gobbling up all the foods that he can.
While Devlin has been happily eating, I can’t say that he’s as happily passing the time since his first official day of vacation last Friday. At first he was smiles and happiness, but as of now the happy bus has stopped and he has jumped off. He’s sleeping in most mornings, which makes him smile and be happy. But about an hour after he’s been up he starts with the channeling the little demon that lives inside him and he’s all about causing the most trouble and yelling the loudest, so that all of us are miserable around him. I’m hoping that as the heat wave breaks that I’ll be able to take him out for a nice walk in the community and explore our new neighbourhood. It’s been hard because of the heat and humidity, like I said earlier, sucking all the energy out of me about a minute after stepping out my front door.
Another week over, the highlights of it have been sitting on my balcony, doodling and I even painted a bit. It’s been a long time since I’ve picked up a pencil, and even longer for a paintbrush.
- Devlin was home for most of last week, sick. He had a fever, and not much else wrong with him. So, we had to keep him home because a mysterious fever is never a good thing. But it became fluctuating, coming and going, so not so serious and then finally by Friday he was feeling better, fever gone. Just in time for the weekend.
- I have a laptop again. After a month of waiting on it being set up for me, it turned out if mostly was, which means that I won’t have to try to write these posts on my phone and have autocorrect mess it all up, because the autocorrect on my phone hates me and loves to change almost every word into something else that makes no sense, and I do catch a lot of the mistakes, but with my eyesight and my phone being a bitch, I still missed a lot. So yay for my laptop.
- I have not been able to pick up a pencil or paintbrush for months now, and the part that saddens me the most about that is that it’s because I haven’t been inspired, not because I want to and just couldn’t find the time. There has been no urge to create, no desire to be artistic at all.
Until the other day, I sat down on my bedroom balcony, as the sun set and drew a dragon head. It’s not very good, but it was a doodle (that is what I call something that I just rush out, don’t spend a lot of time on, basically just a time waster) and didn’t expect it to be good, plus I haven’t really touched a pencil in 2018, not really. A drawing here and there, randomly, and not planned out or anything, doesn’t feel like they count to me.
I’ve got an online drawing course that I keep meaning to start, but I thought that my daughter and husband wanted to do it with me, but they never seem interested. They always have other things that they want to do, so I’m just going to take my laptop, that is now running and amazing, out onto my balcony one sunny day and start the course.
If the husband and daughter are interested, they can join me, if not then I’ll just do it.
- I’ve decided that the husband, the daughter and the oldest son have their video games that they bond over, and I don’t enjoy them. I’ve tried to find things for us to do as a family, and whenever I seem to touch on something they all say they want to do, they never want to actually do it. So I’ve given up. If my not waiting for them to join in with me, means that I do these things alone, then that’s what I do.
There isn’t anything I can do about it, alone is not loneliness. It’s just a state of being.