"I should make you get naked for this"

Today I read a comment on Facebook "No one understands what it's like to be tired.  Only parents understand." 

I beg to differ.  I am constantly fatigued.  I wake up exhausted.  I only have energy when I'm manic and that's on top of the exhaustion. 

Not to mention, you chose to be a parent, unless, as Ron thinks, "All kids are 'accidents'".  He can't fathom someone planning a pregnancy unless it's to "trap" someone.  So, when you choose to be a parent, if you're online, you know you are going to be pretty tired a lot of the time.  But, based on what I see in the neighborhood - parents running around with their kids, they can't be all that tired.  At the end of it, they chose to be parents and would not want that taken away from them. 

I, however, did not choose to be ill.  I have to take toxic medication that exhausts me. I keep yawning just writing about this.  I battle horrific, taxing, depressions that wipe me out.  Then I have to take fatigue producing medication on top of that.   It gives me severe, chronic, daily headaches and frequent migraines. 

And you (speaking figuratively) get a tax deduction.  Great.  You get someone to love you.  I get abcesses and migraines.   You can drive.  My caregiving will never end, yours will.  In fact, every year that passes by your child requires less and less ongoing physical care, and at one point your child will end up taking care of you. 

Please don't cry about "your difficulties".  Now, if you are a parent with severe depression you have my sympathies.  Parents with newborns, parents with multiples, I get it.  But if you have a 7 year old and a 15 year old please don't tell me I don't understand "tired". 

I am a bipolar, "schitzo", brain-damaged caregiver, responsible for a very disabled special needs man who is blind, hearing impaired, traumatic head injury, "stroked out", bad back, and very mobility impaired.  Oh, and he's an alcoholic.  He gets a little worse every year.  You want to talk tired?  Really? 

Trust me, you wouldn't want to switch. 

Why am I in such a bad mood? 

I woke up, slept OK, but really depressed.  Praise God no headache, I have had so many lately I'm almost out of aspirin (which is what my pharmacist suggested). 

Our driver was 15 minutes early, honked like a lousy boyfriend who won't come in and meet the parents, and banging on the door like a bill collector when that "didn't work".  I finally opened the door a crack, to the delight of the cats, and told her we would be out by the pickup time.  She got all huffy at me and tried to act as though she were just 'informing' me she was here. 

He's blind.  I'm not.  I saw you.  We both heard you.  We know you're there. 

When we came out she put the car in reverse as she filled out the paperwork.  It makes a really annoying "backup" beep when you do that.  It is loud and very penetrating.  When Ron complained she backed all the way down the street to the corner and then left. 

It got better.  Our next pickup was 3 miles away, literally.  She drove the scenic route as mandated by her GPS and took us 13 miles out of the way, taking the longest possible route one could take and still head for the destination. 

Then she fiddled around with the straps in the back for several minutes "tying down the groceries" and creating yet another earsplitting safety alarm.  We dropped that customer off and had to endure the "safety scream" again as she undid it all. 

I understand the safety features are there in case the wheelchair becomes unfastened during transit.  That would be Very Bad.  But AGH!  Hurry it up already! 

I rudely stuck my fingers in my ears in silent protest.  Ron said he couldn't hear it if he turned his head "right", which, to me, indicates the depth of his hearing loss.  A person ought to be able to hear that no matter how they turned their head. 

I have, by the way, begged him to see a hearing specialist.  His response "What if they mess it up and I lose more hearing?"  This is the same reason he refuses to get the joint replaced in his hand.  I tried to tell him the most they would do is clean some wax and then run tests, but he won't hear it. 

So, I have to get up and walk into the other room whenever he wants to talk, because he can't hear me.  I don't talk about this much but I find it profoundly frustrating.  If he really couldn't be helped, I'd live with it, but if help is available and you refuse it... 

Ron just offered to see an ear doctor.  If I didn't know better I'd say he was reading the blog as I typed. 

Next, we had to pick up a lady in a wheelchair, with another safety scream as she strapped the wheelchair down so it wouldn't move. 

We did drive past the Brisket House, which I hear has spectacular food.  They had 3 hour long lines at their other location.  That's some good food!  We will see - I want to check it out.

Finally, we got to Taco Bell.  All I wanted was a Crunchwrap, some cinnamon things, and a large diet beverage.  I settled Ron at the table with our driver, who was eating something off the dollar menu. 

I went to the counter to order.  A woman stood in front of me, looking annoyed.  I saw one manager and one employee in the back, doing busy work and avoiding us. 

I would never do that to a customer.  Never.  The customer gives you money, you don't treat them like an inconvenience. 

After about 5 minutes I asked her if they knew we were here.  "He took my order" she replied with annoyance. 

I waited another couple minutes, watching the manager.  He was deliberately avoiding us. 

"Hello!" I yelled into the back. 

"I'm coming." he said with massive annoyance.  We waited another 5 minutes. 

He told her the total and looked at me, annoyed.  I was clearly "The trouble maker" and the "problem". 

I began to order.  He interrupted me and said "We're out of eggs". 

What? 

He basically told me I had to order something without eggs because they were out of eggs - forever - because someone came by and made a big order. 

It's breakfast rush.  You should have had another bag of eggs in the warmer.  I used to be an opener for Taco Bell, about 20 years ago, I know how it works. 

Failing that, you should say "I'm sorry, we don't have eggs right now, but we will have more in 15 minutes if you can wait."  You don't just refuse business. 

I was so disgusted I walked over to Ron and said "We're leaving".  Our driver wanted to know what I had ordered and kept telling me they had eggs for him.  It didn't help. 

We went to a local taqueria.  I told him (the boss) what had happened and asked if he had eggs.  He laughed and said yes, of course.  I thought that a "proper" response. 

I wanted a quesadilla with eggs and cheese, but it's not on the menu and she waitress didn't understand.  She is, however, very nice, so I settled for "on the side" scrambled eggs and a cheese quesadilla.  It was good. 

Ron got Chilaquiles, which is probably a contender for "ugliest breakfast ever" but he loves them and didn't get any on his clothes.  Our driver choked when the waitress set the food down, left, and I told Ron "I should make you get naked for this".   So he wouldn't drop food all over his clothes.  We do that at home. 

But, he did fine.  I nearly dripped cheese grease on my clothes but I caught it in time.  Our driver ate the free tortilla chips.  He's not a real fan of Mexican food. 

At one point in the meal Ron's cell phone started yelling DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS.  I thought it was funny.  It was the pharmacy.  That's what Ron called them in the phone book.  I don't know why they call him but he usually makes the trip to go get them, so it works out. 

I watched a telenovela on a screen in the corner.  A cross-dressing, "transgendered" (presumably, my Spanish isn't that good and the volume was down) boy was in trouble.  As we left, he had apparently threatened suicide and the family was having hysterics.  I thought they only pulled that programming in America. 

Our driver had brought alcohol for Ron - 3 boxes of wine and a bottle of cheap Vodka.  I wasn't happy but at least he is drinking the cheap stuff. 

We came home, I was exhausted.  Since I had eaten a big meal I took all my meds at one, after spilling the AM stuff on the floor. 

I picked it all up and took it.  Happily Biscuit didn't try to "help". 

I went to bed.  I was exhausted.  Ron made some noise and we had the garbage truck making the rounds in the subdivision.  It wasn't the most restful nap I've had. 

I finally woke up because Ron had mentioned he wanted to go out on the Catio when I got up.  I didn't want to block him from that, but he seems happy lying in his bed now. 

He didn't.  He told me he had called corporate "on" the Taco Bell and suggested they send a secret shopper.  That's really the best way to do it.  Send a secret shopper and let them "tattle".  They aren't going to believe some random caller. 

I'm just starting to hate that store.  I only go because it's close to the post office and I can leave Ron there with something to eat. 

I got online for a while which is where I read the stuff about "No one understands tired like a parent".  Well, as far as I know, every parent I know has chosen to keep their baby. 

If I could get rid of my illness, I would do it!