Friday, February 20, 2009

Best Laid Plans

Which I never have, by the way...My standard MO is scattered bits of ideas that pass for some semblance of a plan.

Anyway, I supposed it surprises no one that the last post was a month ago. I'm never good at sticking to my plans, and much less so when facing any kind of adversity. I'm really good at zombie-ing (yes, it's a word...if I say it's word, then it's a word dammit...whose blog is this anyway?) through the day to day, but really bad at anything outside of basic survivorship.

The last month has been rough. Adjusting to losing Scout, trying to help Cass through the grief, dealing with the fact that my girlfriend has finally gotten a life, something she richly deserves and has deprived herself of for far too long on my behalf. And of course, the amazing ends to which my body will go to keep me from getting too bored with it's repertoire of wacky symptoms that range from annoying (constant ringing in the ears) to unsettling (an accumulation of fluid in my neck and lower face....I'm so purty) and of course, to painful (pressure headaches from all that fluid build up). And I'm fairly anemic at this point as well, so staying awake is even more of a chore than usual, unless of course, I want to sleep...then tiny invisible elves come and tape my eyelids open and then scamper about beating me with really large sticks.

Jamie is going out this weekend to Faces. I'm at once envious and relieved that she is allowing herself to go. She holds back from doing stuff because she feels guilty for leaving me at home. Yet, when she's here odds are I'm either half asleep or in too much pain to talk. She has a group of friends that she's been spending time with and they all wonder why I "let" her go out without me, and why I don't call every two hours like their partners do when they're out. I'm always kind of surprised that people would think for a second that I could question this woman's commitment to me. She's sat up with me holding my hand during too many ER trips to count. She sees me at my worst...unshowered, the same pajamas two or three days running, grumpy from pain and dead stupid from brain fog, and she still comes home, and has for years. By all rights she should have run as far and as fast as possible some years ago, but she sticks. Luckily for me she's a stubborn bitch and doesn't give up on me.

Cass is slowly coming to terms with losing Scout. I read her the poem about the rainbow bridge (google it if you're unfamiliar, I'm too lazy to try to remember how to imbed links) and we talk about Scout often. She has cried at random times, little things will set her off, but she's coming through it. She doesn't treat Woody (our newest dog) as a replacement for Scout, but he is helping her heal.

Final thought for the night (I think I'm almost ready to actually fall asleep)...If you haven't heard All American Rejects new song GivesYouHell, you should check it out. It's my current obsession...

1 comment:

Archaeogoddess said...

Both husband and I have separate social lives, such as they are. I have friends he's only met at the wedding and he has social events at the newspaper that spouses are not invited to. Neither of us call the other to check up on the other. I know he'll be home when he gets home and he knows I'm too much of a ditz to remember to call when plans change.

I am trying to remember to call him if I've said I'll be out until 2 and it's moving on past 5. He doesn't usually call me, pissed off, until 7 though, when he's woken up and I'm not there.

Love is not calling and pestering constantly. Good grief.