stories from an ordinary life …
My mother is spending the weekend at my place. This morning, after I showered and spent a little bit of time working.
MOM: “I heard you up and around early today.”
ME: “I told you last night I had an 8 am Zumba class, Mom.”
MOM: “Yeah, but I didn’t think you really meant to go.”
A pause.
ME: “Then why did you think I mentioned going?”
MOM: “I don’t know. I thought you were just making conversation.”
ME: … {{silence}} …
And then I left the kitchen.
My attempts at remaining calm are starting to show cracks. I want liquor or a pill or a time machine … I want it all to just be over.
And the truth is that I haven’t suffered the effects of the flood yet. While I’m stuck away from home, I haven’t had to go without shelter or power or food or any of my comforts. While I know that my home is probably going to be under water before we’re done, I’m not going to be there to live through it.
My family is safe. I am safe.
But it’s minute after minute, hour after hour, and day after day of knowing, seeing, feeling that this city I love is being drowned out (literally). I feel like someone is squeezing my heart a little more with every news report.
I just want it to be over.
In the next month I have 7 health appointments. Yes, 7.
No, I’m not seriously ill. The truth is that only one of the appointments is mine. The other 6 are my mother’s. After years of resistance I finally convinced her to do all those exams and other things that she’s been putting off. There appointments include 4 doctors and 2 scheduled groups of exams.
I’m glad that she’s finally getting all of this done. It’s good news, really. Unless you’re her chauffeur. Because what this also means is that I have to take time away from my regular schedule (and I have a lot of meetings) to drive her there and wait with her and drive her back. And, of course, pick her up and drop her off.
I want her to be healthy. I just wish someone else could drive her.
Yes, I sound like a bad daughter … except I will take the time off to drive her. And I will make sure she follows up with the doctors. And I will make sure she takes her medication.
I don’t have children. But I do have an aging parent. I’m a caregiver, though not exactly a perfect one.
I got sick and I’m still sick. Why can’t they just make it go away?
Last Tuesday I woke up sick. There wasn’t any real indication that I should expect it. I went to sleep well and woke up hacking up a lung. It was seasonal allergies, I’m pretty sure. And I treated it with the regular over-the-counter medications. And I got worse.
Almost immediately I saw my energy level go down and my attention span disappear. My billable hours went down down down.
On Thursday I had to “go into work” to cover a client event. I was miserable all evening, but made it through the night. But I knew, halfway through the evening, that I was going to pay for working an event where I had to yell to be heard over the DJ and had to go out into the cool winter air.
On Friday I woke up with my throat feeling like I’d swallowed cut glass. It hurt to swallow and cough. It hurt when I tried to talk. And my voice was non-existent. It was time to see a doctor.
Armed with prescriptions and additional over-the-counter goodies, I prepared myself to feel better. When, exactly, is that supposed to happen?
Today is my ninth day ill and I’m still having trouble breathing, I’m dragging myself through the day and doing the bare minimum to keep my work up to date. Things are piling up. I’m making mistakes and oversights. I’m cranky and tired. All I want to do is take a nap.
My new out of office responder and voicemail message should read something like: “Thank you for your message. I’m too sick to deal with it. Send me the details of your problem and I’ll take care of it in the order in which I received it. And I’m too sick to care how this will affect you. I’m taking a nap.”
Wait … I know there’s a reason why I can’t use that message … but my brain’s too fuzzy to think clearly. It’ll come to me later.
I came across this quote in an op-ed about reconciling pro-life beliefs with the reality of ongoing Christian values:
[snip]
“I can no longer persuade myself that the birth of the child is the end of my pro-life agenda. I must be “pro†everything needed for that child not just to be born, but to flourish.
This means that I need to be pro education and pro job growth, and pro many other things I never considered as connected to my pro-life convictions.”
[snip]
I’ve always wondered how some people can be fine with endorsing legislation that ensures that children live in poverty, go hungry, and have very little access to education or hope while at the same time saying that they’re pro-life. Does the care for that life end with the first breathe?
It’s an interesting read.
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SOURCE: I’m Pro-Life, and Pro-Refugee