Yeah, that's my actual name. Some of you knew that, but most of you just know me by my internet alias Lois Griffin. Long story short on that is that I love Family Guy, evidently I resemble her character in appearance and my children dared me to use it as a facebook profile. It kind of took off from there and now virtually all of my internet social networking sites I have that listed as my name. In the world we live in, I figured the combination of showing my naughty bits all over the world AND using my real name while living in a rather small area in which I was born and raised could be a safety risk. So that's how that went. I don't know why exactly I felt like explaining that because this blog is nothing about that really, but it explains the title I guess.
I'm having a bad week. Just an altogether fuck shit stack of craziness that I can't seem to work my head through. I don't know that I'm any better today than I was when I wrote the last blog. I'm embarrassed that I blasted all that all over, but I feel better having gotten it out. I also feel like maybe I'm not the only wife with a husband like that, so maybe there's one person out there that read it and feels a little less alone because of it.
In the saga that is my mother, we've been battling a housewide virus for over a month. All of us have had it. The little boys have had it the worst and the longest, Maxwell spent over a month coughing and in and out of the doctor's office. Ronnie finally got it and it kicked his ass pretty bad. 100 degree fever and coughing so hard it was making him see stars. I couldn't get him to go to the doctor to save his life so he just took dollar store dayquil and powered through and still is. My mom on the other hand went to the ER (I think) 5 times via ambulance 4 of those times she was not admitted and the last time, she called without our knowledge at 4 something in the morning without waking anyone else in the house up. Keep in mind my 20 year old daughter is in the bedroom next to hers. She had the presence of mind to pack herself a bag, hide her "good drugs" (because she's convinced I steal them) and tell the medics to be semi quiet so as not to wake the sleeping children upstairs. We know this now because we have since talked to the EMT. They also discovered the level of morphine in her system was more than triple what it should be at her prescribed dose. That last 911 call, she told them she had no one to help her, she put my whole family at risk, yet again, because she needed to take a vacation in the hospital. When she got there that time, they did finally admit her, from what I understand, because they just didn't want her to keep coming in by ambulance every day or every other day until they did. While she was there, her primary care doctor told her that hospitals are not hotels, and that there are people that are truly sick that need to be there. But yet they kept her there for a week to monitor her meds because they could clearly see that she had overtaken her morphine. She comes home to what should have been 2 weeks worth of meds and has none. Who does she blame? Me. Because ya know I must have stolen them all from her. So that I could what? Take them myself? Sell them? WTF? I get the same fucking drugs and if I DO overtake mine (and I admit, there are months that I do and I run out for a few days before refill time) I just suck it up and get the shits until refill day. BUT I DON'T STEAL HER PILLS. Hell, most of my drugs are better than hers anyway. Not the point, but damn. So now she's home, convinced I'm the reason she's out of her meds, because whatever she didn't take she can't find...and you know what, that serves her right.
While she was in there, I had a doctor's appointment of my own. I had my pain management appointment and several things about that scared me. That makes two doctors now that have told me that this staph infection running rampant will probably just kill me dead if I don't deal with it sooner rather than later. I can't afford to live without my device, but beyond that, from what this doctor can tell, the cyst is wrapping around my spine bad enough that it's affecting my ability to walk now too. Some days I'm fine, some days my legs buckle mid step and I look like I'm walking drunk. My god I wish I could get drunk....But anyway, beyond just the pain factor, which there is a really lot of mind boggling head spinning, make you want to rip your ears off just to distract yourself from the burning hot iron of ache running from your tailbone to the top of your head while your whole spine throbs. And did I mention while it's doing that every little bone spur (all 17 of them in various places on various vertebrae pressing on various nerves of their own) ping off little spikes of pain in various directions and to various limbs? I promise, there really IS A REASON they put me on pain pills for the rest of my life. When we talked about surgical removal of any of those spurs the orthopedic surgeon looked from me to my husband and said "my insurance isn't that good, I wouldn't operate on you with someone else's hands". And that was the end of trying to find a surgical solution to by back pain. Anyway, beyond that, there's this infection in there. Sepsis in a body like mine is fatal. It's not something any doctor is delusional enough to think I'll recover from...I may LOOK pretty healthy on the outside, but I'm one fucked up body once you peel off the skin.
Moving on, how this is affecting me I cannot fully explain. I want nothing more than to be a functional human being. To get up in the morning, have a cup of coffee and go sit in my living room and watch the world go by while I putter around the house and do what I can do. But I can't. When she's here, she makes messes I can't contend with, she feeds all our food to the animals, she does whatever she can to alienate us all and then treats us like we are demons for wanting some independence of our own. Before we moved here, we weren't doing great per se, but we did ok. We had our car to go places, we had happiness. I can't find my happy. I don't know how. And I feel so lost and so sad that I can't be happy for my children while all of this is going on. I need help and I know that. I need counseling, maybe to have my psych meds upped a bit.
I'm hoping maybe some of my readers out there will have some encouraging words for me because if now is ever the time to start commenting, I REALLY NEED IT. On that note, I'm gonna go clean up a pile of puppy shit and help phiz go to the bathroom, maybe in that order or maybe not.
Until next time...