Yep, a full month and that's the best I can come up with for a title. Ha.
First I'll say that mom is well and had her final dose of radiation yesterday. She has yet to glow, which is in a way slightly disappointing. I think she's finally feeling some relief over the whole situation. Closure, perhaps.
I'm getting injections in joints I'd prefer not to and being referred out for further treatment for my back. I should donate my body to medical science now. It would be much more interesting for them. Everything else is still going laughably wrong; which I just say with simple irony. And I mean that with all sincerity. Like I've said: in the crazy stories you hear about your friend's grandmother's cousin's paper boy's aunt... well, I'm her...
Shrew #21 was the last to be seen but with another bout of nasty weather coming, who knows? I have had my car's vent/blower replaced twice in the month because mice find it a cozy place to live. Accidentally turned it on high one day and caught one in the motor. Killed the motor and the mouse. Oops.
My gram has trigger finger on one hand and managed to sustain 2nd degree burns on the other. Poor dear. The burns are healing well and her follow up for the other is on the 4th.
But why can't I tell you anything? Really tell you anything? I spend more time staring off, lost in some odd low-level thought than feeling anymore. Knowing me I'd say that is a huge red alert of some sort. Perhaps it is due to the fact that I barely sleep. And that I am doing so much for so many others that I've forgotten about myself. I'm not sad really. Nor angry. (Big lie - sometimes 'angry' is several planes away...) I'm just not anything, to be honest with you. The only thing I know is that things have to change. And by that I mean that in the way that it is some sort of rule. 'Ok, three steps sideways. Good, good.' 'Alright, now LiVEwiRe, time for your change.... Great!' It's just the way it is going to be.
I'm still convinced I could live underwater. But short of growing gills I'm sure that's not it. Winter is here and I hate it. Hate the fucker with a passion. Most of the time. Sometimes it's cool.
My focus is all but gone which makes for some long, drawn out conversations. I can't remember names and places or the name of what I was talking about. Or I just go away and think of something else. Perhaps it is just better there. My gut tells me it is too little sleep and too much responsibility. The balance is off.
But I'm happy for my mom, and for her, we are going to my holiday party at work. I was stressed thinking I have nothing appropriate to wear (or anything purchased within the last, oh, 8 years) but then I realized that whatever I put on will be a step up from the hospital scrubs I wear on a daily basis. I was so surprised and pleased that she wanted to go that I didn't worry about clothes. It is too cold to go naked so no one there needs to worry 'bout that.
Tomorrow my goal is to stop in and visit. It may be brief, but I hope everyone is doing well. I do miss all you silly gooses when I'm not here. You each have your own way about you that is so unique and I feel fortunate to have crossed paths with each of you.
