Home, Sweet, Reality Check

I’m home! Seems like its been forever! Slept 12 hours in my own bed with the dog, Kasha, pressed up hard against me. The cat, Dusty, behind my knees.

But home is also a reality check.

It’s been a disaster area for years, either too tired to do anything about it or too tired to care. But a couple weeks ago, prodded by the conviction that something the cat brought in had died under my home-built bed/storage/loft, I started trying to clean some things up & out. So we pulled out tubs of clothes, leather, and crap. They went to the living room. Then we pulled out bookshelves and tables – onto the deck.

Along the way we swept up bags of lost dog & cat toys, the dog food cans the dog cleaned out that then rolled under the bed, assorted trash items that “missed”,  and an ungodly amount of dog fur and just plain dirt.

I had just started putting tables & bookshelves  back in, after a lot of vacuuming, when I had to drop everything to go help my mom through a bout of vertigo.

We had two days back before it was time to go to Stone’s Rising, so my bedroom items were either left where they lay or moved to the screened porch, and out came the camping gear. Clothes went flying everywhere as I tried things on to see what fits, then they and blankets, towels, etc. were assembled and off we went.

Then just as we got there & got everything set up, with me totally exhausted, I got the horrible call that my mom was really sick, in the hospital, with pancreatitis and gallstones. I wanted to jump in the car and speed back, but, reality check, I was hours away, and spent. And it was Rhiannon’s first chance to see other people for months, and her second anniversary with her boyfriend, Ben.

I stayed two nights, feeling horribly guilty, but when it was clear my mom needed me there, I packed the car with my share of the camping gear, tracked down a tearful Rhiannon, and told her we had to go. She persuaded me that she just couldn’t take it – the summer of headache hell I’d been through, the stress of the last couple weeks, and her deep hatred of hospitals and doctors were too much. She needed a break, and Ben.

A couple hours later, with arrangements made for her to stay with Ben’s mother, and I climbed in the car to drive home. A rough trip, exhausted as I was. Followed by unloading the camping gear, dropping it wherever there was floor space. That was exactly a week ago.

I slept here that night, and hit the road to Fairfax the next morning. A long, long week, full of worry and complications and contrary doctor opinions, overworked, harried nurses, pushing my body beyond it’s limits with the dubious assistance of too many meds.

Now I’m home for a few days, having left my somewhat dazed and  confused brother in charge of getting my mom out of the hospital, and home.

Reality check: the living room is full of the underbed totes we pulled out, plus the camping gear is everywhere. The sink has overflowed dishes to every available spot, as we rushed back & forth over the weeks. Rhia is still in Hagerstown, MD, and I owe Ben’s mom a debt of gratitude. There’s rotting food in the fridge, and trash that needs to go to the dump.

The dog & cat both weigh less, and Kasha is blowing her coat again. I’m also very concerned about Kasha’s health, as I’m pretty sure she wet my bed last night. Kasha has had constant discharge for a long time,and had surgery for it last year. But I woke up at midnight to find a cold, very wet spot in the bed, and while I have been known to have the occassional accident, I haven’t had one since I figured out one of my meds was causing them, and I don’t see how it could have gotten the top of the covers wet, anyway. We were sleeping pretty much butt to butt.

At the moment, there’s towels in place, as I’m too tired to do anything else and am having bad cramps. In fact, I’m so tired I’ve written this from bed, on my phone.

So, like I said, home, sweet, reality check.

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2 thoughts on “Home, Sweet, Reality Check

  1. Yep, definitely the dog who wet the bed. I checked the floor where she’d been laying, and there was a little, not puddle, but spot, and I’m pretty sure it was pee. So she’s back to sleeping in her own bed! She could just have a UTI…? Hmm…

    Clay, my brother, called to report all was well, relatively speaking. Asked if I felt better.

    No, not better. Worse. Without the artificial “energy” of the stimulant meds, reality is here. Sick, tired, weak as a kitten. It doesn’t help that I’m on my period. Cramps never help!

    And I ache in every bone and muscle in my body. I am depleted on a cellular level. And its going to take a good bit of time, maybe weeks, to feel any different.

    *sigh*

    Like

  2. Just an update: Kasha is doing much better with phenylpropanolamine twice a day for the apparently common issue of “sleep incontinence” that some 20% of spayed dogs develop. She also had a UTI we think, but cipro cleared it up.

    Now I have a UTI. Taking cipro. Did I catch it from the dog after cleaning up so many puddles? Don’t know. Maybe it was just overextending myself.

    Like

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