I made the bed with fresh sheets, a heated mattress pad, and my trusty wool blanket. Biscuit immediately went for the blanket, he loves it.
I went to bed, and was awakened an hour later by Ron screaming for me. I had tried to ignore the racket, but I couldn't.
I got up, disturbing Biscuit (I was most unhappy about that), and checked on Ron. He had taken half the cleaning supplies out from under the sink, and was attempting to climb underneath, yelling about stuff in his bedroom, where's my bed, etc.
I didn't respond as Jesus would have. I yelled at him for wrecking my kitchen (yes, it's already a mess but it's my mess), and told him, rudely, he was nowhere near his bed.
Once I ascertained he was trying to go to bed, I pushed his wheelchair to the bedroom, very angrily, and parked him by the bed. I put his hand on the bed and told him it was there.
He was quiet after that, for hours. I had a good sleep with Biscuit. He's so cute. He loves his blanket. Around 7 AM I started hearing a racket again. Ron was up in the front of the house, making noise. It sounded like the cleaning supplies again.
I rolled over (carefully, so as not to disturb the Biscuit), and went back to sleep. I finally gave up around 8, he kept making noise.
I try not to lie in my bed when I'm angry. It affects my sleep, if I can sleep, and just leads to nightmares.
I got up. Ron had put all the cleaning supplies back, although, he told me, he couldn't figure out why I took them out to begin with. And people wonder why I get headaches.
I explained he had done it. He asked for some help with things, rolled himself around in circles for a couple minutes. I asked him if he wanted to go back to bed. No, he said, and then he went anyway.
He's lying in bed now, hopefully quiet for several more hours.
I discovered he had messed up the dish drainer so I fixed that. I saw a hungry looking blue jay (Ron hates them, but I like them, they're so brash) foraging for bugs, and decided to spread the bird seed.
If you are a long time reader you may remember, several years ago I was big into feeding the birds. I was buying huge sacks of seed every week or so, and it was a lot of fun to watch the birds. I just spread the seed on the ground.
About a year ago I had gotten the idea to feed the birds outside the catio, but Biscuit got so excited he slammed into the "bars" of his jail and got what I'm sure was a horrible headache. I felt awful about that, so I put the birdseed aside.
I got it out and spread it all over, it was sleeting very gently and I could feel the temperature dropping. I hope the birds and squirrels take advantage while it's still light out, feed up on a high-oil thing like birdseed to give them lots of heat energy for tonight.
It's supposed to get down to 25 tonight, or about -3 C. Pretty cold by any standard. An absolute apocalypse by Houston standards. I think a lot of plants are going to die tonight.
That reminds me, I want to get some cuttings of the purple things before the cold gets really bad. I'll be back.
I will also elaborate on my do it now philosophy.
OK, I'm back. I took 3 cuttings which should be plenty for the area, maybe 8 square feet.
My do it now philosophy, my short term memory is so bad at times I have to do things the minute I remember. If I think I will remember later, I won't, and it won't get done.
Now I am feeling sorry for the purple things and thinking I should cover them. I got an old litter box and covered a lively-looking patch. They will regenerate from the patch, I know for sure. They have come back from 20 degree temperatures before, so I have faith in them, but I don't want to torture the poor things.
And this is where I tell you I seriously considered a horticulture major. However, one year was sprinklers, and one year was pesticides and fertilizers. They only had a few classes in botany, propagation, things I was actually interested in. I could take those classes at Urban Harvest downtown if I wanted. I haven't had the energy to "do" the garden I always wanted, due to depression, demands on my life, and exhaustion due to medication. I know God has a great garden for me in Heaven, in my heavenly mansion. I just need to be patient.
I've given up a lot in my life. Had a lot taken from me, like the ability to drive. Thanks, Mom. To be honest, the FAS doesn't really affect me much other than that, or the issues I have are subsumed by the bipolar super duper crazy.
I'm going to go take my shower, then do my God time and take a nap. It will get pretty wild tonight, but not too much, I think, due to the cold weather. But a lot of people were "popping" things last night.
One fireworks stand had a sign up "Pop one for the USA!" Not sure what popping one has to do with patriotism but there you have it.
Pop one for the USA.
Edit: I went ahead and put some cardboard over the purple things so they are all covered.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Saturday, December 30, 2017
A lot about black women
I've been getting those "happy Christmas cards, we just have such a glorious life" in the mail.
Sometimes they make me mad. Sometimes I think no one can have that good a life. Sometimes I mentally write my own card: "Heather battled more frequent episodes of depression as Ron continued his slow and steady slide into alcoholism. Sales continued to plummet, leading to increased worry about finances. Biscuit continues to vomit everywhere, including Heather's bed. Torbie scared Heather by developing a bladder infection this summer, costing nearly $300." You get the idea.
I won't be doing a year in review this year. Too depressing. Ron has back surgery, long recovery, thousands of dollars out of pocket, and it didn't work. In fact, his back is worse, so bad even the radiologist seems amazed he is functioning.
I got up, with the headache. Yay me. Fed Biscuit. Took my shower. I didn't take one yesterday so I needed it. My hair actually looked OK but I could tell it would be getting greasy if I didn't get it this morning.
I had a very interesting discussion with a black woman one day, about her hair. And mine. I explained my hair gets very greasy if I don't wash it pretty much every day. She said her hair doesn't get greasy, and it will get too brittle if she does wash it every day. So she can't, and I have to. I found that interesting. It's not often "we" can have these discussions.
I will never forget my shock when one black woman told me "Most of what you see on us (black women) is not our real hair." She explained about wigs and weaves as I gaped in shock. She said it is very common for a black woman to slap her hair if the glue holding her hair in place is itching. She doesn't want to dislodge the glue, or the hair, by scratching so she has to slap at it. It explained a lot of formerly unfathomable behavior to me. Personally, I like a black woman in braids, or natural hair. They've mastered that in a way white women can only attempt.
I admire and respect black women. My first experience with a black woman, over a period of years she ran "my" daycare. She was very competent, professional, kind, and caring. A really nice change from my drunken, neglectful, mother. I'm sure I was a real PITA but she was always very kind. A friend once gave me a lecture about being a "strong black woman" when Ron was going through a bad phase back in 1994. A black woman, he told me, was strong and stood by her man. She took care of her own emotional needs if he couldn't. She didn't quit just because times got tough. It was what I needed to hear.
My continued experience (a lot of black women on the paratransit service) has shown they are very emotionally strong, hard workers, and kind. I could do a lot worse than to know them.
So, back to work. I went to Sam's and got all our supplies. I got Ron a hot dog. The manager doesn't like Ron because he's always complaining, not that I blame her.
Jack came and we got the truck loaded. We went to work and unloaded. It was supposed to be a "park it" sort of day, just shove everything in there and park it, but it didn't work that way. They gave us about twice the time we asked for. I did pastry, sold one right off the cart in fact, and then did "big chips". I helped Ron. If I have enough time, I can help Ron with his work, even though it would probably be faster just to do it myself. But Ron needs to do something and I want to respect what he can do. I put all the drinks in the fridge. I made sure the fridge wasn't pressed against the wall, we had some problems with that, and it was affecting the fridge.
Got all that done. I ate a bag of pretzel pieces but otherwise stayed on plan.
I hadn't taken my antidepressant due to the vicious headache. I only just killed it by taking 3 aspirin. It's interesting, all the painkillers, you only take one or two, but aspirin you can take 3, every 6 hours. At least according to my Walmart generic label.
I had more energy than usual due to not taking my pills - and this is where it gets dangerous. It is very easy to skip more and more often, I imagine, once you have started. If my headache ever abates, I will take it, if I can't, I can't. But I will take it bright and early tomorrow.
Now I want some chips. I'll be back.
I "can't" take my antidepressant when I have a bad headache, because it makes the vessels in my head clamp down, causing, or provoking, a headache. It does this every day. The one time I tried taking my antidepressant with a bad headache, I went straight to "migraine" and vomited everything up anyway.
Since I had some energy, I wrapped the outside faucets, watered the purple wandering jew, watered the jasmine, and clipped a blanket around the base of the jasmine. The "purple things" have persisted through 14 years of home ownership. Nothing kills them, not drought, heat, or cold. They don't get bugs. They just grow. My yard guy whacks them whenever he comes to visit. Now I'm ready for the cold snap.
Watering a plant makes it better able to withstand bad weather. I could probably make some spiritual thing about that, but truth is, I didn't do my God Time today.
Then I went inside and took a nap. Ron was asleep when I got up at 3. Since I still had some energy (not manic, I think, just a lack of grogginess from the antidepressant), I stripped the bed. I put everything in the washer on "soak". Then I made up the bed with the heated mattress pad and a fresh set of sheets. That done, I did my blog and message boards.
Not a bad day's work.
I will call Dad in 45 minutes and see if he feels like talking.
Since the cold snap is coming tomorrow Ron doesn't want to go anywhere. And I am craving a hamburger.
I might get a cheeseburger pizza.
Sometimes they make me mad. Sometimes I think no one can have that good a life. Sometimes I mentally write my own card: "Heather battled more frequent episodes of depression as Ron continued his slow and steady slide into alcoholism. Sales continued to plummet, leading to increased worry about finances. Biscuit continues to vomit everywhere, including Heather's bed. Torbie scared Heather by developing a bladder infection this summer, costing nearly $300." You get the idea.
I won't be doing a year in review this year. Too depressing. Ron has back surgery, long recovery, thousands of dollars out of pocket, and it didn't work. In fact, his back is worse, so bad even the radiologist seems amazed he is functioning.
I got up, with the headache. Yay me. Fed Biscuit. Took my shower. I didn't take one yesterday so I needed it. My hair actually looked OK but I could tell it would be getting greasy if I didn't get it this morning.
I had a very interesting discussion with a black woman one day, about her hair. And mine. I explained my hair gets very greasy if I don't wash it pretty much every day. She said her hair doesn't get greasy, and it will get too brittle if she does wash it every day. So she can't, and I have to. I found that interesting. It's not often "we" can have these discussions.
I will never forget my shock when one black woman told me "Most of what you see on us (black women) is not our real hair." She explained about wigs and weaves as I gaped in shock. She said it is very common for a black woman to slap her hair if the glue holding her hair in place is itching. She doesn't want to dislodge the glue, or the hair, by scratching so she has to slap at it. It explained a lot of formerly unfathomable behavior to me. Personally, I like a black woman in braids, or natural hair. They've mastered that in a way white women can only attempt.
I admire and respect black women. My first experience with a black woman, over a period of years she ran "my" daycare. She was very competent, professional, kind, and caring. A really nice change from my drunken, neglectful, mother. I'm sure I was a real PITA but she was always very kind. A friend once gave me a lecture about being a "strong black woman" when Ron was going through a bad phase back in 1994. A black woman, he told me, was strong and stood by her man. She took care of her own emotional needs if he couldn't. She didn't quit just because times got tough. It was what I needed to hear.
My continued experience (a lot of black women on the paratransit service) has shown they are very emotionally strong, hard workers, and kind. I could do a lot worse than to know them.
So, back to work. I went to Sam's and got all our supplies. I got Ron a hot dog. The manager doesn't like Ron because he's always complaining, not that I blame her.
Jack came and we got the truck loaded. We went to work and unloaded. It was supposed to be a "park it" sort of day, just shove everything in there and park it, but it didn't work that way. They gave us about twice the time we asked for. I did pastry, sold one right off the cart in fact, and then did "big chips". I helped Ron. If I have enough time, I can help Ron with his work, even though it would probably be faster just to do it myself. But Ron needs to do something and I want to respect what he can do. I put all the drinks in the fridge. I made sure the fridge wasn't pressed against the wall, we had some problems with that, and it was affecting the fridge.
Got all that done. I ate a bag of pretzel pieces but otherwise stayed on plan.
I hadn't taken my antidepressant due to the vicious headache. I only just killed it by taking 3 aspirin. It's interesting, all the painkillers, you only take one or two, but aspirin you can take 3, every 6 hours. At least according to my Walmart generic label.
I had more energy than usual due to not taking my pills - and this is where it gets dangerous. It is very easy to skip more and more often, I imagine, once you have started. If my headache ever abates, I will take it, if I can't, I can't. But I will take it bright and early tomorrow.
Now I want some chips. I'll be back.
I "can't" take my antidepressant when I have a bad headache, because it makes the vessels in my head clamp down, causing, or provoking, a headache. It does this every day. The one time I tried taking my antidepressant with a bad headache, I went straight to "migraine" and vomited everything up anyway.
Since I had some energy, I wrapped the outside faucets, watered the purple wandering jew, watered the jasmine, and clipped a blanket around the base of the jasmine. The "purple things" have persisted through 14 years of home ownership. Nothing kills them, not drought, heat, or cold. They don't get bugs. They just grow. My yard guy whacks them whenever he comes to visit. Now I'm ready for the cold snap.
Watering a plant makes it better able to withstand bad weather. I could probably make some spiritual thing about that, but truth is, I didn't do my God Time today.
Then I went inside and took a nap. Ron was asleep when I got up at 3. Since I still had some energy (not manic, I think, just a lack of grogginess from the antidepressant), I stripped the bed. I put everything in the washer on "soak". Then I made up the bed with the heated mattress pad and a fresh set of sheets. That done, I did my blog and message boards.
Not a bad day's work.
I will call Dad in 45 minutes and see if he feels like talking.
Since the cold snap is coming tomorrow Ron doesn't want to go anywhere. And I am craving a hamburger.
I might get a cheeseburger pizza.
Shut up, Heather
Ugh. I shouldn't have bragged I wasn't getting headaches. "Oh, I'm not getting headaches anymore!" Had a NASTY ONE all night long, finally took some Excedrin when I got up.
I only have to get a literal truckload of inventory today. I hope my headache has abated by then. [yawn] I'll be glad when I get home, and can have a nap.
I only have to get a literal truckload of inventory today. I hope my headache has abated by then. [yawn] I'll be glad when I get home, and can have a nap.
Friday, December 29, 2017
"Trying to save lives"
I'm having a hard time writing lately.
Yesterday was pretty quiet, we went to Walmart, got a few things. I forgot to get a reloadable debit card.
I want to buy the Fitday app for my phone, but I don't want to give Google my debit card. If someone steals my phone they would get the card number. I would rather have a $25 prepaid debit card and use that. But I didn't have time to get it.
Ron had a good nap with Baby Girl, and I got you a photo.
I also did some laundry and got a nap. I didn't do my God time. I think I'm getting depressed again.
That's never any fun. I did take everything as directed the last long while. No headaches, I have been avoiding nuts and chocolate.
It's sad, one of our suppliers gave us a lovely chocolate Christmas basket, and all I saw was a giant migraine. We gave it to someone else, who could eat it.
Glad I did that. It just wasn't worth the migraine.
So, no headaches lately, yay! I try to look out for the small victories.
I'm still spotting from a period that started last Monday. Not this Monday, last. The joys of menopause.
So here I go, uninspired and exhausted.
Still went to work today, but I spent a lot of time in bed cuddling with Biscuit before I got up. He's a real charmer, very rumbly and cute. Once I got up and brushed my teeth, he started begging. I got him a case of Fancy Feast Seafood pate yesterday so I got him a can of that. He was delighted. He's a very easy to please cat.
I already did the litter box so I don't have to worry about that.
I do need to check their water. Someone (not sure who) drinks a lot. One of my Facebook friends actually locks her cat up in a room when she's sick, weighs her food and water intake. I bet the vet loves her. I am not as good a parent "Well, he didn't want his tuna this morning".
I went to work. Sales were incrementally better but not much. I decided I need to help Ron more at work. His back is a wreck, that's proven. I read the report. He doesn't have one good disk in his lower back. They are all blown out, wrecked, whatever you want to call it. That's not looking at the severe arthritis in his back, either.
So I did my work, it didn't take long. Then I went to helping Ron lift heavy cases of drinks. I was OK. My shoulder is still a little raw but workable. Ron was happy for the help, but thought it was un-necessary. I told him I read his X-ray report and I disagreed.
There's very little he can do at work, however I was careful to "let" him do what he could. He can stock canned sodas, so I didn't bother him with that. He can stock the bottled sodas if they're on a cart, so I did that. We had plenty of time.
He finished up. I took the money out of the vending machines and counted it, privately, in the stockroom. We had enough to pay me, at least.
After work, we went to the bank. Even the teller noted we didn't have as much as usual. She is a good teller and I was happy to get her. She got the total correct and we went on our way.
We called Alex the cab driver and went through the Wendy's drive-through for lunch, then home. I tried to take a nap.
Ron had heard a story of a little 3-year old who was playing with the knobs on a gas stove, caught the apartment on fire. That family got out but other people died. Imagine being a 3 year old murderer.
Anyway, Ron kept making phone calls telling people to take the knobs off their gas stoves. That's what we did. Ron kept bumping the knob and turning it on, and almost burned down the house at least twice, before I took the knobs off. We put them in a drawer, it's very easy to take one out and put it on the stove.
Anyway Ron's "Trying to save lives" by telling everyone to take the knobs off the gas stove. I don't think most people care. The good parents who would do it, have done it already.
The bad parents, it won't make any difference.
I told Ron to shut up, already, and let me sleep. He finally did, but resumed his phone calls the minute I got up. I don't need to do anything tonight, but I need to wrap the outside faucets, wash my sheets, put my heated mattress pad on the bed, and then the "new" sheets.
That's it for now. I'll let you know how our "big" inventory day goes tomorrow.
Yesterday was pretty quiet, we went to Walmart, got a few things. I forgot to get a reloadable debit card.
I want to buy the Fitday app for my phone, but I don't want to give Google my debit card. If someone steals my phone they would get the card number. I would rather have a $25 prepaid debit card and use that. But I didn't have time to get it.
Ron had a good nap with Baby Girl, and I got you a photo.
I also did some laundry and got a nap. I didn't do my God time. I think I'm getting depressed again.
That's never any fun. I did take everything as directed the last long while. No headaches, I have been avoiding nuts and chocolate.
It's sad, one of our suppliers gave us a lovely chocolate Christmas basket, and all I saw was a giant migraine. We gave it to someone else, who could eat it.
Glad I did that. It just wasn't worth the migraine.
So, no headaches lately, yay! I try to look out for the small victories.
I'm still spotting from a period that started last Monday. Not this Monday, last. The joys of menopause.
So here I go, uninspired and exhausted.
Still went to work today, but I spent a lot of time in bed cuddling with Biscuit before I got up. He's a real charmer, very rumbly and cute. Once I got up and brushed my teeth, he started begging. I got him a case of Fancy Feast Seafood pate yesterday so I got him a can of that. He was delighted. He's a very easy to please cat.
I already did the litter box so I don't have to worry about that.
I do need to check their water. Someone (not sure who) drinks a lot. One of my Facebook friends actually locks her cat up in a room when she's sick, weighs her food and water intake. I bet the vet loves her. I am not as good a parent "Well, he didn't want his tuna this morning".
I went to work. Sales were incrementally better but not much. I decided I need to help Ron more at work. His back is a wreck, that's proven. I read the report. He doesn't have one good disk in his lower back. They are all blown out, wrecked, whatever you want to call it. That's not looking at the severe arthritis in his back, either.
So I did my work, it didn't take long. Then I went to helping Ron lift heavy cases of drinks. I was OK. My shoulder is still a little raw but workable. Ron was happy for the help, but thought it was un-necessary. I told him I read his X-ray report and I disagreed.
There's very little he can do at work, however I was careful to "let" him do what he could. He can stock canned sodas, so I didn't bother him with that. He can stock the bottled sodas if they're on a cart, so I did that. We had plenty of time.
He finished up. I took the money out of the vending machines and counted it, privately, in the stockroom. We had enough to pay me, at least.
After work, we went to the bank. Even the teller noted we didn't have as much as usual. She is a good teller and I was happy to get her. She got the total correct and we went on our way.
We called Alex the cab driver and went through the Wendy's drive-through for lunch, then home. I tried to take a nap.
Ron had heard a story of a little 3-year old who was playing with the knobs on a gas stove, caught the apartment on fire. That family got out but other people died. Imagine being a 3 year old murderer.
Anyway, Ron kept making phone calls telling people to take the knobs off their gas stoves. That's what we did. Ron kept bumping the knob and turning it on, and almost burned down the house at least twice, before I took the knobs off. We put them in a drawer, it's very easy to take one out and put it on the stove.
Anyway Ron's "Trying to save lives" by telling everyone to take the knobs off the gas stove. I don't think most people care. The good parents who would do it, have done it already.
The bad parents, it won't make any difference.
I told Ron to shut up, already, and let me sleep. He finally did, but resumed his phone calls the minute I got up. I don't need to do anything tonight, but I need to wrap the outside faucets, wash my sheets, put my heated mattress pad on the bed, and then the "new" sheets.
That's it for now. I'll let you know how our "big" inventory day goes tomorrow.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Wednesday, December 27, 2017
No photos, please
When Ron said he wanted to stay home today (It is pretty miserably cold for Houston), I asked him not to get ugly with drink. He got offended and said he would be fine.
To his credit, as of 6:38 PM, he has been fine. That's not saying much, I know, but at least I had a quiet day.
I slept in until 9, Biscuit patiently waiting for me to wake up. When I did get up, I fed him his tuna and he gobbled it. I took my shower and did my God Time.
Ron was asleep in his bed, Torbie and Baby Girl curled up with him. It was very cute. I wanted to take a photo but Torbie gave me a really filthy look. So I didn't. No photos, please.
I tried to take a nap but wasn't very successful, then I had a nightmare. Always tired, take a nap, have a nightmare.
When I woke up I heard Ron bellowing into his phone, trying to find the address of the liquor store. Chuck couldn't get him liquor for a week and Ron wanted more.
Great. He recruited a cab driver to go to the store, buy him a case of vodka, and bring it to the house. The guy actually brought it to the front door, until Ron yelled at him from the garage. Ron paid him and gave him a generous tip. As I've said, Ron's a good tipper.
I didn't help, as I see it, but I did make sure the cats didn't get out during the delivery process. Ron brought two bottles into the house, on his own. I got a little weary when I saw that but so far he is behaving. And it's 6:56. He's in the bedroom now, away from the alcohol.
Boy, I remember the old days when Ron kept the vodka in his room and drank straight out of the bottle. Bad times. Very bad. That's about when I signed him up for Intervention, the TV program. And they wanted him.
Ron's been pretty clear since I told him about it (well after the fact) that it's a good thing it didn't work out because he would have chosen the alcohol over me.
Yet tonight he gave me a nice little speech about how I have really kept my (wedding) vows, in particular sticking around as he has deteriorated physically. He really respects that.
His sister in law told his brother, if (brother) were disabled to the point Ron was after the accident, she would have put him in a nursing home. Ron's brother was quite angry that I was determined to stick around.
Embarrassing to get that kind of insight into his marriage. She (my sister in law) once told me she was only with Ron's brother for the pension and medical coverage. She went out to clubs and partied every weekend with one of their (Ron and his brother's) female cousins. She was in her early 50's. So was the cousin.
Since the accident, Ron has loved the fact that I am happy staying home on my day off. Maybe a trip to Walmart but that's it.
So, Ron got a vodka delivery - I remember a comment made by a woman at AA when I was going to Alanon meetings. She said an alcoholic will always find a way to get alcohol. Even a blind one in a wheelchair. Yup.
Ron didn't seem to be in a lot of pain today, but he had his back massager working on his legs when the cats were lying on him. I think Torbie likes the vibration. It's like he's purring at her.
Biscuit got on my foot during my nap, after I had woken up, and before I went to the bathroom. He was pretty cute.
After I fed Biscuit dinner, he threw up on the floor. He ate too fast. Poor baby.
I think that's why his first family dumped him. Biscuit was very well socialized and thought everyone was his friend when I met him. So they did a good job on that. Dumping him in the woods to starve? Barbaric. It would have been kinder to take him to the shelter.
He's cute, he's a good boy with the litter box, he only pukes a couple times a week. But I suspect he puked on the wrong thing and that was it for him. Gravy had an abscess on his tail, which healed quickly once he got some good food, so he may have been dumped for that. Gravy was more shy with me at first but warmed up to us quickly.
I can't help but remember all they did was eat, use the box, and sleep, for a solid week after I brought them home. Then they began to explore and get into mischief. They were a lot of fun. Biscuit still is.
I do feel funny eating biscuits now, though.
To his credit, as of 6:38 PM, he has been fine. That's not saying much, I know, but at least I had a quiet day.
I slept in until 9, Biscuit patiently waiting for me to wake up. When I did get up, I fed him his tuna and he gobbled it. I took my shower and did my God Time.
Ron was asleep in his bed, Torbie and Baby Girl curled up with him. It was very cute. I wanted to take a photo but Torbie gave me a really filthy look. So I didn't. No photos, please.
I tried to take a nap but wasn't very successful, then I had a nightmare. Always tired, take a nap, have a nightmare.
When I woke up I heard Ron bellowing into his phone, trying to find the address of the liquor store. Chuck couldn't get him liquor for a week and Ron wanted more.
Great. He recruited a cab driver to go to the store, buy him a case of vodka, and bring it to the house. The guy actually brought it to the front door, until Ron yelled at him from the garage. Ron paid him and gave him a generous tip. As I've said, Ron's a good tipper.
I didn't help, as I see it, but I did make sure the cats didn't get out during the delivery process. Ron brought two bottles into the house, on his own. I got a little weary when I saw that but so far he is behaving. And it's 6:56. He's in the bedroom now, away from the alcohol.
Boy, I remember the old days when Ron kept the vodka in his room and drank straight out of the bottle. Bad times. Very bad. That's about when I signed him up for Intervention, the TV program. And they wanted him.
Ron's been pretty clear since I told him about it (well after the fact) that it's a good thing it didn't work out because he would have chosen the alcohol over me.
Yet tonight he gave me a nice little speech about how I have really kept my (wedding) vows, in particular sticking around as he has deteriorated physically. He really respects that.
His sister in law told his brother, if (brother) were disabled to the point Ron was after the accident, she would have put him in a nursing home. Ron's brother was quite angry that I was determined to stick around.
Embarrassing to get that kind of insight into his marriage. She (my sister in law) once told me she was only with Ron's brother for the pension and medical coverage. She went out to clubs and partied every weekend with one of their (Ron and his brother's) female cousins. She was in her early 50's. So was the cousin.
Since the accident, Ron has loved the fact that I am happy staying home on my day off. Maybe a trip to Walmart but that's it.
So, Ron got a vodka delivery - I remember a comment made by a woman at AA when I was going to Alanon meetings. She said an alcoholic will always find a way to get alcohol. Even a blind one in a wheelchair. Yup.
Ron didn't seem to be in a lot of pain today, but he had his back massager working on his legs when the cats were lying on him. I think Torbie likes the vibration. It's like he's purring at her.
Biscuit got on my foot during my nap, after I had woken up, and before I went to the bathroom. He was pretty cute.
After I fed Biscuit dinner, he threw up on the floor. He ate too fast. Poor baby.
I think that's why his first family dumped him. Biscuit was very well socialized and thought everyone was his friend when I met him. So they did a good job on that. Dumping him in the woods to starve? Barbaric. It would have been kinder to take him to the shelter.
He's cute, he's a good boy with the litter box, he only pukes a couple times a week. But I suspect he puked on the wrong thing and that was it for him. Gravy had an abscess on his tail, which healed quickly once he got some good food, so he may have been dumped for that. Gravy was more shy with me at first but warmed up to us quickly.
I can't help but remember all they did was eat, use the box, and sleep, for a solid week after I brought them home. Then they began to explore and get into mischief. They were a lot of fun. Biscuit still is.
I do feel funny eating biscuits now, though.
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
The vending machine is always optional
Sometimes, I have to balance what someone might read vs. being totally honest.
If I seem a little stilted that's why.
I went to bed, no phone call. I woke up, no missed calls, no voicemail, no text. A post on Facebook how much fun they all had, her kids, their families, him, and her. "Missing those who aren't here".
Well, I couldn't have eaten the gumbo. I don't even need to ask to know that would not work with my medication. Ironic that the California son is the one making gumbo and I'm married to a Creole.
Ron says I do make a good gumbo, when I do, but ever since he found the frozen gumbo he hasn't asked me to make any.
It's very hard not to feel unimportant. But last year I didn't mail a present because I was sick, I didn't want to get cooties all over the place and get them sick. But they may not have seen it that way.
I am unreliable when it comes to birthdays and I can't remember the last time I did something for their anniversary. One could make an argument for me being a "bad daughter".
But they could have sent me a text. How hard is that? There, I'm done.
I had a hard time getting up this morning so I managed to reset my alarm, I didn't do my God Time today as a result. When I did get up I took an abbreviated shower (I always have to wash my hair) and got ready for work.
We went to work. Sales were, as expected, dead. Sales have been really bad this year. I know we will make enough, somehow, to pay the property tax but it looks pretty grim. I may need to talk to Ron about lowering my pay. If we have to cut my pay to buy more inventory or whatever, I am OK with that. I don't want to take my regular wage if it is hurting the bottom line.
I stocked what I could. The sandwich guy called early, and made an early delivery. I was glad to see he's feeling better, he had the flu for 2 weeks, his whole family actually. That must have sucked.
"My son is the only one who got any presents" he told me.
I went back to work. We had a lot of unsold sandwiches. Sigh. I always take poor sales so personally. I feel unwanted, unloved. No one likes us.
No, people are being cheap because they bought a lot of presents and have to make payments on the credit card. Or they didn't get the hours they thought and cut back on "discretionary" spending as a result.
The vending machine is always optional, unless you are a diabetic having a catastrophic drop in your blood sugar. As far as I know, we don't have many of them running around.
They would probably put them out on disability, rather than chance them working with heavy equipment.
So, we finished work. I told the other vendor's wife how much Biscuit enjoyed his toy. She laughed.
Ron took a while to do his work, but we had enough time.
We came home. I checked the mail. The results of Ron's X-rays came in: fractured clot filter, "advanced arthritic and degenerative changes in lower back", etc. Very grim.
Ron was happy he got 3 talking books. We got a couple of Christmas cards, a bank statement, and something from an insurance company (not ours). I took a nap.
I had a hard time getting up again so I got up about 20 minutes before we went to Denny's. Ron wasn't hungry but he wanted to take me out.
He got some soup while I got a built your own slam: whole wheat pancakes, fried eggs, ham, and hashbrowns. I had diet soda.
Ron spent half the time complaining bitterly about the "bad" paratransit trip (they left us there almost 2 hours) and the rest making phone calls. I wasn't very happy.
When I took my medication, it hit me really hard. I could just envision a tidal wave of pink capsules with "H 98" stamped on them, washing over me (lithium). I felt pretty off-center, wobbly, and overwhelmed for a while. I still do, a little.
This stuff is hardcore. But I have a hardcore illness - mixed episodes, type one, rapid cycling, psychosis - nothing to play with. I need hardcore medication. I would far rather take side effects over symptoms. No question in my book. Give me the old stuff, the strong stuff, the benchmark for all other treatments. I don't want any question marks in my pill box.
I still feel like I got off the tilt-a-whirl carnival ride, though.
We don't have anything planned for tomorrow. Sales are so bad we could probably take half a week off if we wanted. We won't, but we could.
I checked the weather app on my phone and it looks like it will be very cold (teens to twenties for our low) this weekend. Good, that will keep the parties down. Too bad that couldn't have happened on Christmas eve.
We can pretty much stay home during all that, except for Tuesday. The absolute worst of it should be over by then.
I talked to Ron about the x-ray results. I asked him if he wants to get the clot filter out, since it is fractured. He said no, it's fine, he doesn't want any surgery.
I can't blame him. He's certainly had a lot. I also can't help but think Doc would have asked us to come in if it was a major issue.
We came home. While I was on the computer, Baby Girl got up with Ron.
I have to digress. I was having a pity party earlier over my family and Baby Girl laid on my foot, twice. For her, that's like getting in my lap. When I bent over to pet her, she showed me her tummy and let me pet her tummy. She only lets me do that. That made me feel a lot better.
So Baby Girl got up with Ron. He got the scissors and started cutting out her mats. I don't know if I've written about this, but over the last year she's started developing mats on her upper back right leg. Ron managed to cut out several mats, while giving her treats, before she left.
I told Ron he is the official Baby Girl groomer, and encouraged him to brush her every day too. We may take her in to the vet to see what is causing the mats but it seems to be a pretty common thing. I think all they would do is hold her down and shave her, and she's really not going to like that.
Biscuit slept with my last night, and is currently sleeping on my right foot as I sit at the computer.
So, that was my day.
When Ron asked about tomorrow, I told him I am happy to stay home if he controls his drinking. I told him I didn't want to be stuck at home with him if he has an ugly, abusive, blackout. He assured me he would not.
I hope he can keep that promise.
If I seem a little stilted that's why.
I went to bed, no phone call. I woke up, no missed calls, no voicemail, no text. A post on Facebook how much fun they all had, her kids, their families, him, and her. "Missing those who aren't here".
Well, I couldn't have eaten the gumbo. I don't even need to ask to know that would not work with my medication. Ironic that the California son is the one making gumbo and I'm married to a Creole.
Ron says I do make a good gumbo, when I do, but ever since he found the frozen gumbo he hasn't asked me to make any.
It's very hard not to feel unimportant. But last year I didn't mail a present because I was sick, I didn't want to get cooties all over the place and get them sick. But they may not have seen it that way.
I am unreliable when it comes to birthdays and I can't remember the last time I did something for their anniversary. One could make an argument for me being a "bad daughter".
But they could have sent me a text. How hard is that? There, I'm done.
I had a hard time getting up this morning so I managed to reset my alarm, I didn't do my God Time today as a result. When I did get up I took an abbreviated shower (I always have to wash my hair) and got ready for work.
We went to work. Sales were, as expected, dead. Sales have been really bad this year. I know we will make enough, somehow, to pay the property tax but it looks pretty grim. I may need to talk to Ron about lowering my pay. If we have to cut my pay to buy more inventory or whatever, I am OK with that. I don't want to take my regular wage if it is hurting the bottom line.
I stocked what I could. The sandwich guy called early, and made an early delivery. I was glad to see he's feeling better, he had the flu for 2 weeks, his whole family actually. That must have sucked.
"My son is the only one who got any presents" he told me.
I went back to work. We had a lot of unsold sandwiches. Sigh. I always take poor sales so personally. I feel unwanted, unloved. No one likes us.
No, people are being cheap because they bought a lot of presents and have to make payments on the credit card. Or they didn't get the hours they thought and cut back on "discretionary" spending as a result.
The vending machine is always optional, unless you are a diabetic having a catastrophic drop in your blood sugar. As far as I know, we don't have many of them running around.
They would probably put them out on disability, rather than chance them working with heavy equipment.
So, we finished work. I told the other vendor's wife how much Biscuit enjoyed his toy. She laughed.
Ron took a while to do his work, but we had enough time.
We came home. I checked the mail. The results of Ron's X-rays came in: fractured clot filter, "advanced arthritic and degenerative changes in lower back", etc. Very grim.
Ron was happy he got 3 talking books. We got a couple of Christmas cards, a bank statement, and something from an insurance company (not ours). I took a nap.
I had a hard time getting up again so I got up about 20 minutes before we went to Denny's. Ron wasn't hungry but he wanted to take me out.
He got some soup while I got a built your own slam: whole wheat pancakes, fried eggs, ham, and hashbrowns. I had diet soda.
Ron spent half the time complaining bitterly about the "bad" paratransit trip (they left us there almost 2 hours) and the rest making phone calls. I wasn't very happy.
When I took my medication, it hit me really hard. I could just envision a tidal wave of pink capsules with "H 98" stamped on them, washing over me (lithium). I felt pretty off-center, wobbly, and overwhelmed for a while. I still do, a little.
This stuff is hardcore. But I have a hardcore illness - mixed episodes, type one, rapid cycling, psychosis - nothing to play with. I need hardcore medication. I would far rather take side effects over symptoms. No question in my book. Give me the old stuff, the strong stuff, the benchmark for all other treatments. I don't want any question marks in my pill box.
I still feel like I got off the tilt-a-whirl carnival ride, though.
We don't have anything planned for tomorrow. Sales are so bad we could probably take half a week off if we wanted. We won't, but we could.
I checked the weather app on my phone and it looks like it will be very cold (teens to twenties for our low) this weekend. Good, that will keep the parties down. Too bad that couldn't have happened on Christmas eve.
We can pretty much stay home during all that, except for Tuesday. The absolute worst of it should be over by then.
I talked to Ron about the x-ray results. I asked him if he wants to get the clot filter out, since it is fractured. He said no, it's fine, he doesn't want any surgery.
I can't blame him. He's certainly had a lot. I also can't help but think Doc would have asked us to come in if it was a major issue.
We came home. While I was on the computer, Baby Girl got up with Ron.
I have to digress. I was having a pity party earlier over my family and Baby Girl laid on my foot, twice. For her, that's like getting in my lap. When I bent over to pet her, she showed me her tummy and let me pet her tummy. She only lets me do that. That made me feel a lot better.
So Baby Girl got up with Ron. He got the scissors and started cutting out her mats. I don't know if I've written about this, but over the last year she's started developing mats on her upper back right leg. Ron managed to cut out several mats, while giving her treats, before she left.
I told Ron he is the official Baby Girl groomer, and encouraged him to brush her every day too. We may take her in to the vet to see what is causing the mats but it seems to be a pretty common thing. I think all they would do is hold her down and shave her, and she's really not going to like that.
Biscuit slept with my last night, and is currently sleeping on my right foot as I sit at the computer.
So, that was my day.
When Ron asked about tomorrow, I told him I am happy to stay home if he controls his drinking. I told him I didn't want to be stuck at home with him if he has an ugly, abusive, blackout. He assured me he would not.
I hope he can keep that promise.
Monday, December 25, 2017
A lot about hazelnut candy
Ron continued to be very moody, right up until the time my uncle arrived. Ron had sent my aunt a couple of text messages, but he wouldn't tell me what they were about. When I asked her, she said she could handle him.
I kept telling Ron, my aunt and uncle are strong-minded people. If they don't want to do something they will say so. He persisted in saying they were taking me to their house because they were "being nice".
If they didn't want me, they wouldn't have invited me. I knew that.
Anyway, my uncle showed up, wanted to talk to Ron. He got a good idea why Ron was staying home, but persisted in giving him some cordial cherries (Ron has eaten most of them already) and some sausage balls.
Then we left. We had uneventful trips both ways, my uncle drove me there, my aunt brought me back. We had dinner. They liked my sweet potato pie. Well, it wasn't "mine", I got it at Walmart, but they found it interesting if nothing else.
We had fun talking. I saw a couple of my cousins and one cousin in law. I got some gifts, and some gifts for Ron (nothing major for Ron). I gave my aunt her gifts, she seemed to like them.
It was nice to be around people who weren't wishing they would end in their next breath, yelling at God, or getting hammered on cheap vodka. After 4, though, I decided I'd better go home.
My aunt took me. I had some evangelism material I gave to the girls at the gas station where I got some drinks. We had an uneventful ride home. My aunt gave me a big hug and told me she loved me, and I could tell she meant it.
I will try to compact a long story. Basically, my Dad loves gravy, all gravy, with a deep and abiding passion generally reserved for chocolate. He loves it hot, he loves it cold. He just loves it.
At dinner, I sent him a picture message of the gravy boat as a joke. He said it looked good, they were just sitting down to dinner. So I called about an hour and a half later. My adoptive Mom said they were just sitting down to dinner, they would call me back.
So I stay up, waiting, to see if they'll call. If they don't call in the next half hour (8PM my time) I will turn off my phone and go to bed. I can't afford to miss out on my sleep tonight, especially considered last nights "sleep" could only be considered more a "nap". Missing out on my sleep two nights in a row would be catastrophic.
Ron woke up eventually. He said thank Mom for the Almond Roca (she wanted a food treat for him, I suggested). He ate half the cordial cherries and some of the Ferrero Rocher.
A story on them (the Ferrero Rocher). Ron's accident was January 7, 2003. The day that will live in infamy. When it was apparent Ron would not be waking up immediately, ready to go back to work, Ron's Dad sort of adopted me. He brought me snacks. He brought me coins wrapped up in foil, for the vending machine. He spent time with me waiting to see if Ron would make it. He cared. My love language is quality time and he sure pegged that.
And one time he brought me a half-eaten box of Ferrero Rocher hazelnut candies. Being an emotional eater, and a chocolate lover, you can bet I ate them. I thought it was very sweet.
A lot of people would probably say, Oh, how tacky, to bring you half a box. Well, that's all he had. He couldn't afford to bring me a new box, because they were expensive. He was spending a lot on gas and parking at the medical center. He probably got the box for Christmas in 2002 and hadn't finished it at the time of Ron's accident. But he thought of me and that's all I cared about.
I still miss Ron's dad. He was cool.
22 minutes. Better hurry up. I am dead serious about going to bed at 8.
I kept telling Ron, my aunt and uncle are strong-minded people. If they don't want to do something they will say so. He persisted in saying they were taking me to their house because they were "being nice".
If they didn't want me, they wouldn't have invited me. I knew that.
Anyway, my uncle showed up, wanted to talk to Ron. He got a good idea why Ron was staying home, but persisted in giving him some cordial cherries (Ron has eaten most of them already) and some sausage balls.
Then we left. We had uneventful trips both ways, my uncle drove me there, my aunt brought me back. We had dinner. They liked my sweet potato pie. Well, it wasn't "mine", I got it at Walmart, but they found it interesting if nothing else.
We had fun talking. I saw a couple of my cousins and one cousin in law. I got some gifts, and some gifts for Ron (nothing major for Ron). I gave my aunt her gifts, she seemed to like them.
It was nice to be around people who weren't wishing they would end in their next breath, yelling at God, or getting hammered on cheap vodka. After 4, though, I decided I'd better go home.
My aunt took me. I had some evangelism material I gave to the girls at the gas station where I got some drinks. We had an uneventful ride home. My aunt gave me a big hug and told me she loved me, and I could tell she meant it.
I will try to compact a long story. Basically, my Dad loves gravy, all gravy, with a deep and abiding passion generally reserved for chocolate. He loves it hot, he loves it cold. He just loves it.
At dinner, I sent him a picture message of the gravy boat as a joke. He said it looked good, they were just sitting down to dinner. So I called about an hour and a half later. My adoptive Mom said they were just sitting down to dinner, they would call me back.
So I stay up, waiting, to see if they'll call. If they don't call in the next half hour (8PM my time) I will turn off my phone and go to bed. I can't afford to miss out on my sleep tonight, especially considered last nights "sleep" could only be considered more a "nap". Missing out on my sleep two nights in a row would be catastrophic.
Ron woke up eventually. He said thank Mom for the Almond Roca (she wanted a food treat for him, I suggested). He ate half the cordial cherries and some of the Ferrero Rocher.
A story on them (the Ferrero Rocher). Ron's accident was January 7, 2003. The day that will live in infamy. When it was apparent Ron would not be waking up immediately, ready to go back to work, Ron's Dad sort of adopted me. He brought me snacks. He brought me coins wrapped up in foil, for the vending machine. He spent time with me waiting to see if Ron would make it. He cared. My love language is quality time and he sure pegged that.
And one time he brought me a half-eaten box of Ferrero Rocher hazelnut candies. Being an emotional eater, and a chocolate lover, you can bet I ate them. I thought it was very sweet.
A lot of people would probably say, Oh, how tacky, to bring you half a box. Well, that's all he had. He couldn't afford to bring me a new box, because they were expensive. He was spending a lot on gas and parking at the medical center. He probably got the box for Christmas in 2002 and hadn't finished it at the time of Ron's accident. But he thought of me and that's all I cared about.
I still miss Ron's dad. He was cool.
22 minutes. Better hurry up. I am dead serious about going to bed at 8.
I'm going to have a Merry Christmas if it kills me
Last night Ron and I went to Denny's for a couple of hours. I read the entire menu to Ron. He kept saying he would remember everything I read, but he didn't. He kept asking me to go back and repeat.
I finally told him it was like those manuals for his ham radios and scanners. He would say he'd remember it, he wouldn't, and I had to keep reading the same instructions to him again and again, until he finally consented to put it on tape. Once he did that, it was fine.
Then he got out the digital recorder.
It was fine at the restaurant. It was pretty busy but not overly so, and one table with people I am pretty sure were drunk. Hopefully everyone was a good tipper.
We came home to find a party in full swing (as expected) at #6. Kids running around outside and screaming at the top of their lungs. I did my best to ignore it for an hour and a half or so, and then I went to bed.
It was pretty cold for us, so the kids went inside after a while and it got quiet enough that I fell asleep. I woke up around midnight. A bunch of adults were outside, talking. As midnight hit they began singing, quite badly, the same thing over again several times. It had a tricky part with a high note and none of the men could hit it, but it didn't stop them from trying.
From midnight until well after 3 AM, the adults stayed outside (I guess they were drinking, had brought their coats, or both). They were gabbling away in Spanish, sometimes yelling, making it impossible to sleep. Then they started playing music. I could tell, for them, they were "trying" to be quiet but not doing a very good job. They also had firecrackers. At 3 AM on Christmas.
Now, I have to admit, other neighbors do "pop" firecrackers, etc. around Christmas eve up to midnight. But they stop at midnight.
They finally did a big parting scene and then cars started leaving. It finally got quiet and I went to sleep.
I woke up around 6-7 AM. I am programmed to get up early most days. I went back to sleep. Well, I tried. I couldn't really sleep.
I finally got up around 8.
Ron was drunk, and belligerent. He didn't know why I wanted to go to my aunt's house today (one, everyone is sober!). He said they didn't want me there, they were just being polite, they hated me for "making" them pick me up, etc. He was so awful I ended up in tears. He insisted I take a cab one-way to "keep from cutting off his balls".
Huh? We have always needed help with transportation. Nothing new. However, I keep my drama to myself and I don't ask them for money, so I think I am doing pretty well. I take all my medication as directed; that's what they really want. I know they don't care about driving me, they make a little ritual of it, buy my aunt a Coke with lots of ice and just a little soda, etc. They have fun with it, and that's one thing Ron can't understand.
I think he is bitter because his family dumped him so fast after the accident. Ron simply told his brother "Treat Heather with the respect due my wife or I don't want to see you again" and his brother took that and ran. His sister was even worse, she came and screamed at Ron in the hospital and accused me of "ruining everything" (their happy family mask) before she got out of his life. Ron tried to "patch it up" with them both for a period of years, but they persisted in acting as though he's dead.
When Ron does die, I don't plan to publish the location of the funeral in the paper. I will tell those who are interested in attending, but I don't want his family showing up and acting as if they have suffered a loss, pointing fingers at me, etc. That's the last thing I would need.
Anyway, he was very ugly and bitter. I really think a lot of it is envy. He kept calling them "your parents" and correcting himself, so I think envy is a lot of it. Although his family's Christmas parties were mainly drinking and talking. Getting really wasted. I remember one time Ron was getting sick in the gutter at his parents party, and his brother came along screaming at him to "sit up and vomit like a man". I kid you not.
We lived on the third floor, no way Ron was getting up those stairs. So I told Ron's brother I would take his keys and money, and leave him downstairs. Ron's brother didn't like that and somehow got Ron up the stairs to his bed.
They didn't like anything I did with Ron. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned no loss, but I think it still resonates for Ron.
They wanted him in a nursing home. If they couldn't get that they didn't want a part of his life. They were done with "helping" (I can certainly relate to that).
So, now I'm stuck with 3 Christmas presents I need to unwrap. Ron is so bearish I don't dare suggest it now.
I am certain he has been drinking, this morning.
I'm going to take a shower, do my God Time, and see if his mood has improved. If it has, I will open presents with him. If not, I will open the presents on my own (they are all just generic Amazon boxes, I don't know who gets what).
I was dying to make some serious noise outside at 6 AM and wake up #6, but I figure the kids are waking him up right now anyway. They certainly didn't get any more sleep than I did.
What a stupid ritual, staying up all night on Christmas.
I finally told him it was like those manuals for his ham radios and scanners. He would say he'd remember it, he wouldn't, and I had to keep reading the same instructions to him again and again, until he finally consented to put it on tape. Once he did that, it was fine.
Then he got out the digital recorder.
It was fine at the restaurant. It was pretty busy but not overly so, and one table with people I am pretty sure were drunk. Hopefully everyone was a good tipper.
We came home to find a party in full swing (as expected) at #6. Kids running around outside and screaming at the top of their lungs. I did my best to ignore it for an hour and a half or so, and then I went to bed.
It was pretty cold for us, so the kids went inside after a while and it got quiet enough that I fell asleep. I woke up around midnight. A bunch of adults were outside, talking. As midnight hit they began singing, quite badly, the same thing over again several times. It had a tricky part with a high note and none of the men could hit it, but it didn't stop them from trying.
From midnight until well after 3 AM, the adults stayed outside (I guess they were drinking, had brought their coats, or both). They were gabbling away in Spanish, sometimes yelling, making it impossible to sleep. Then they started playing music. I could tell, for them, they were "trying" to be quiet but not doing a very good job. They also had firecrackers. At 3 AM on Christmas.
Now, I have to admit, other neighbors do "pop" firecrackers, etc. around Christmas eve up to midnight. But they stop at midnight.
They finally did a big parting scene and then cars started leaving. It finally got quiet and I went to sleep.
I woke up around 6-7 AM. I am programmed to get up early most days. I went back to sleep. Well, I tried. I couldn't really sleep.
I finally got up around 8.
Ron was drunk, and belligerent. He didn't know why I wanted to go to my aunt's house today (one, everyone is sober!). He said they didn't want me there, they were just being polite, they hated me for "making" them pick me up, etc. He was so awful I ended up in tears. He insisted I take a cab one-way to "keep from cutting off his balls".
Huh? We have always needed help with transportation. Nothing new. However, I keep my drama to myself and I don't ask them for money, so I think I am doing pretty well. I take all my medication as directed; that's what they really want. I know they don't care about driving me, they make a little ritual of it, buy my aunt a Coke with lots of ice and just a little soda, etc. They have fun with it, and that's one thing Ron can't understand.
I think he is bitter because his family dumped him so fast after the accident. Ron simply told his brother "Treat Heather with the respect due my wife or I don't want to see you again" and his brother took that and ran. His sister was even worse, she came and screamed at Ron in the hospital and accused me of "ruining everything" (their happy family mask) before she got out of his life. Ron tried to "patch it up" with them both for a period of years, but they persisted in acting as though he's dead.
When Ron does die, I don't plan to publish the location of the funeral in the paper. I will tell those who are interested in attending, but I don't want his family showing up and acting as if they have suffered a loss, pointing fingers at me, etc. That's the last thing I would need.
Anyway, he was very ugly and bitter. I really think a lot of it is envy. He kept calling them "your parents" and correcting himself, so I think envy is a lot of it. Although his family's Christmas parties were mainly drinking and talking. Getting really wasted. I remember one time Ron was getting sick in the gutter at his parents party, and his brother came along screaming at him to "sit up and vomit like a man". I kid you not.
We lived on the third floor, no way Ron was getting up those stairs. So I told Ron's brother I would take his keys and money, and leave him downstairs. Ron's brother didn't like that and somehow got Ron up the stairs to his bed.
They didn't like anything I did with Ron. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned no loss, but I think it still resonates for Ron.
They wanted him in a nursing home. If they couldn't get that they didn't want a part of his life. They were done with "helping" (I can certainly relate to that).
So, now I'm stuck with 3 Christmas presents I need to unwrap. Ron is so bearish I don't dare suggest it now.
I am certain he has been drinking, this morning.
I'm going to take a shower, do my God Time, and see if his mood has improved. If it has, I will open presents with him. If not, I will open the presents on my own (they are all just generic Amazon boxes, I don't know who gets what).
I was dying to make some serious noise outside at 6 AM and wake up #6, but I figure the kids are waking him up right now anyway. They certainly didn't get any more sleep than I did.
What a stupid ritual, staying up all night on Christmas.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
36/29
Yesterday, after my nap, we went to Walmart. Ron wanted to get some more pants. It was very busy, all the kiddie carts were taken so I had to push Ron in his wheelchair to the clothing area.
He's a 36/29. The clothes were pretty picked over, I guess a lot of men are getting Walmart clothes for Christmas.
They had work pants, jeans, and slacks. Ron wanted the slacks. He will pair anything with a pair of twill slacks (well, anything he'd wear, t-shirts and sweatshirts mainly). I found one pair in a 38. Ron said his pants have been a little tight lately so I started the pile with them. Then I found 3 identical pairs of elastic back pants in his size. They will have some give if he overeats. I put all 3 on the pile and went to the fitting room. We had to wait on a vacant room.
We finally got one, but it was small. I pushed the wheelchair into the room (benefits of a small wheelchair), and Ron moved to the seat, then he took the pants (2 pair). I knew security was watching us intently because I had a large, open, bag on the back of the wheelchair. I didn't have a problem with that, I wasn't going to do anything wrong so I didn't care if they watched me.
Ron tried on the elastic waist ones. He liked them. He thought they might have a baggy butt. I told him it looked fine. I found it amusing, because he hardly ever stands up and when he does, no one's going to be looking at his butt. The crotch fit about where it should so I told him it was fine. He tried on the 38's, said they were way too big. I told him, if they don't fit, don't buy them. Just because it's $12 doesn't mean you have to buy it. You have 3 of the other ones. He said OK and got dressed in his own clothes, then opened the door.
We put back the 38's and went shopping for my stuff. I wanted eggnog. So, apparently, did everyone else. I managed to score 2 quarts of pumpkin spice eggnog and then I got some drink mix (powder I put into my 2 quart drinking vessel and mix up into punch/tea/lemonade/whatever).
Then we checked out. I kept telling the cashier to put the items into the large bag, but she kept handing them to me instead. I guess she thought it was my job to put them into the large bag, even though she would be bagging things herself if I'd wanted plastic bags. Ron reminded me, later, she had probably been working a long day.
So I let it go. We had some time left (I had put the large bag back on the back of the wheelchair), so we went to McDonald's. I got a double cheeseburger. Ron didn't want to eat and have to use the toilet at Walmart. During the holidays. Can't say that I blame him.
We waited until our pickup. The driver was a nice lady we had just last week. She told us about her son's legal troubles. We got home.
We unloaded Ron and got him and the stuff in the house. I put his new pants in the laundry room. I want him to try them on, though, before I wash them, in case there's a problem. If there is a problem I saved the receipt so I can return it.
I did find it annoying that the men's pants, even in the large size, were only about $14. Women's pants are at least $5 more than that.
I put the eggnog in the fridge. Ron wanted to try some later, and he did. He felt it wasn't icy cold enough but it was good. I thought it was fine. I had to sit and do up my medication while Ron drank (vodka) in the kitchen.
I didn't want to call my parents with Ron drinking right at my elbow, he tends to interrupt and go off on weird tangents. My parents don't like it any more than I do.
So I did up my pills until Ron "finished". Besides, I also wanted to be able to say I took my meds when I called them, not that they ask these days. They know I take my medication faithfully, and I'm sure it's a big comfort to them.
So I did it all up. Lithium, 4x every day of the week, x 2 weeks. Depakote, one pill, Wellbutrin, two pills, Haldol, one pill. All times 14 days of the week. Then the supplements. I won't get into all the supplements but I take a fair amount. I did focus on immune boosting ones like Vitamin C and oregano oil. Finally, all done. I took Saturday night, from one pills-of-the-week organizer, then I put that one on top of the other (the in-use always goes on top so I don't get mixed up).
Ron was about done drinking but I reminded him not to interrupt, but the call went to voicemail. Called too late. Well, it was inevitable. I try to minimize the effect Ron's drinking has on my parents. If they ask, I will tell them he is drinking. If he has a bad blackout I might tell them about that. But I don't think they need to experience it for themselves.
I went to bed pretty soon after that. Odds are, #6 is going to have their big pre-Christmas blowoout party tonight. I slept in as late as I could, trying to catch up on my sleep as much as possible. I started having really sad, depressing, dreams, so I finally woke up and got out of bed.
Biscuit was quite pleased so see me up and about. I brushed my teeth and got him breakfast. Then I ate my protein bar, took my morning pills, and drank my 500 ml Diet Mountain Dew. I allow myself one every morning, unless I have a really bad migraine, when I allow myself two.
I watched a little Law & order, a little internet, and now I need to take my shower. I plan to take a nap around 12-1, hopefully that will be early enough that #6 will be quiet. They tend to go pretty late on Christmas. From what I have heard, from a Mexican no less, the goal is to go as late as you can and get as drunk as you can, on Christmas eve.
They don't even consider the neighbors want a "silent night".
He's a 36/29. The clothes were pretty picked over, I guess a lot of men are getting Walmart clothes for Christmas.
They had work pants, jeans, and slacks. Ron wanted the slacks. He will pair anything with a pair of twill slacks (well, anything he'd wear, t-shirts and sweatshirts mainly). I found one pair in a 38. Ron said his pants have been a little tight lately so I started the pile with them. Then I found 3 identical pairs of elastic back pants in his size. They will have some give if he overeats. I put all 3 on the pile and went to the fitting room. We had to wait on a vacant room.
We finally got one, but it was small. I pushed the wheelchair into the room (benefits of a small wheelchair), and Ron moved to the seat, then he took the pants (2 pair). I knew security was watching us intently because I had a large, open, bag on the back of the wheelchair. I didn't have a problem with that, I wasn't going to do anything wrong so I didn't care if they watched me.
Ron tried on the elastic waist ones. He liked them. He thought they might have a baggy butt. I told him it looked fine. I found it amusing, because he hardly ever stands up and when he does, no one's going to be looking at his butt. The crotch fit about where it should so I told him it was fine. He tried on the 38's, said they were way too big. I told him, if they don't fit, don't buy them. Just because it's $12 doesn't mean you have to buy it. You have 3 of the other ones. He said OK and got dressed in his own clothes, then opened the door.
We put back the 38's and went shopping for my stuff. I wanted eggnog. So, apparently, did everyone else. I managed to score 2 quarts of pumpkin spice eggnog and then I got some drink mix (powder I put into my 2 quart drinking vessel and mix up into punch/tea/lemonade/whatever).
Then we checked out. I kept telling the cashier to put the items into the large bag, but she kept handing them to me instead. I guess she thought it was my job to put them into the large bag, even though she would be bagging things herself if I'd wanted plastic bags. Ron reminded me, later, she had probably been working a long day.
So I let it go. We had some time left (I had put the large bag back on the back of the wheelchair), so we went to McDonald's. I got a double cheeseburger. Ron didn't want to eat and have to use the toilet at Walmart. During the holidays. Can't say that I blame him.
We waited until our pickup. The driver was a nice lady we had just last week. She told us about her son's legal troubles. We got home.
We unloaded Ron and got him and the stuff in the house. I put his new pants in the laundry room. I want him to try them on, though, before I wash them, in case there's a problem. If there is a problem I saved the receipt so I can return it.
I did find it annoying that the men's pants, even in the large size, were only about $14. Women's pants are at least $5 more than that.
I put the eggnog in the fridge. Ron wanted to try some later, and he did. He felt it wasn't icy cold enough but it was good. I thought it was fine. I had to sit and do up my medication while Ron drank (vodka) in the kitchen.
I didn't want to call my parents with Ron drinking right at my elbow, he tends to interrupt and go off on weird tangents. My parents don't like it any more than I do.
So I did up my pills until Ron "finished". Besides, I also wanted to be able to say I took my meds when I called them, not that they ask these days. They know I take my medication faithfully, and I'm sure it's a big comfort to them.
So I did it all up. Lithium, 4x every day of the week, x 2 weeks. Depakote, one pill, Wellbutrin, two pills, Haldol, one pill. All times 14 days of the week. Then the supplements. I won't get into all the supplements but I take a fair amount. I did focus on immune boosting ones like Vitamin C and oregano oil. Finally, all done. I took Saturday night, from one pills-of-the-week organizer, then I put that one on top of the other (the in-use always goes on top so I don't get mixed up).
Ron was about done drinking but I reminded him not to interrupt, but the call went to voicemail. Called too late. Well, it was inevitable. I try to minimize the effect Ron's drinking has on my parents. If they ask, I will tell them he is drinking. If he has a bad blackout I might tell them about that. But I don't think they need to experience it for themselves.
I went to bed pretty soon after that. Odds are, #6 is going to have their big pre-Christmas blowoout party tonight. I slept in as late as I could, trying to catch up on my sleep as much as possible. I started having really sad, depressing, dreams, so I finally woke up and got out of bed.
Biscuit was quite pleased so see me up and about. I brushed my teeth and got him breakfast. Then I ate my protein bar, took my morning pills, and drank my 500 ml Diet Mountain Dew. I allow myself one every morning, unless I have a really bad migraine, when I allow myself two.
I watched a little Law & order, a little internet, and now I need to take my shower. I plan to take a nap around 12-1, hopefully that will be early enough that #6 will be quiet. They tend to go pretty late on Christmas. From what I have heard, from a Mexican no less, the goal is to go as late as you can and get as drunk as you can, on Christmas eve.
They don't even consider the neighbors want a "silent night".
Friday, December 22, 2017
Delivery day
I slept horribly (no fault of Ron, he did try to be quiet). I just tend to have a hard time going to bed early on delivery eve.
I got up around 2 and took my shower, got dressed, made sure Ron was ready to go. For a change, Ron was ready to go when the driver arrived.
It was a different guy; he has some strong opinions and is always hustling. He doesn't ask the clients for money, though. But he took all the equity out of a house to pay for remodeling. He thinks if he makes a couple of bedrooms in the garage with a wheelchair accessible bathroom, he will get disabled, elderly, tenants. They're going to live with his daughter, who will apparently be the caregiver.
Sounds like a horrible idea to me, but then I am pretty caregiver burnt right now. Anyway, today he was ranting about his grandson. He is disobedient, doesn't mind, and wears pull ups all day and night at 4 years old. The driver wondered what would happen if you took the pull-ups away, would he "piss all over the house, like a damned dog" or would he use the toilet "properly"? His daughter just says "Oh, he's a baby". He's four years old.
Now, my parents practiced corporal punishment. I think what they did was appropriate and needed. For instance, one time I ran out into the street in front of our house. They spanked me so hard I never even considered doing it again. If Ron and I had kids, I am sure we would have spanked.
We got to work. Things were pretty slow, not surprising with their holiday party yesterday. Those parties always kill our business, but it's their place, not ours. Someone moved one of the vending machines, I had to move 2 to fix it. My shoulder's been bothering me a little since our big water run a few days ago, but I was able to get it.
Oh, totally off topic but my blood pressure tested at 122/70, which I am accustomed to seeing at the doctors. The other meter was a fluke, but still glad I bought this one.
Back to work, I stocked. Our delivery man got me good today. I was sitting at a table with the cart at my back. Suddenly I heard someone rustling around on my cart. I spun around, ready to tear their head off (I have had stuff stolen off the carts while stocking), and encountered the laughing face of the delivery man. I thought it was pretty funny!
He delivered my stuff and stacked it up even. I got him a sandwich and a drink. I helped Ron do the bottled vendor.
Then Ron said, we have two and a half hours before our pickup, but I'm done. Do you want to just go home?
I said yes. Ron cancelled the paratransit pickup and called a cab. We got a very nice Nigerian man by way of London. Surprisingly, he didn't really have an accent. He took us home.
One good thing I will say about Ron, and this has been consistent our whole life together: he is a very good tipper. So it's always good to "get" Ron if you're in the service profession. They fight over us, at Denny's.
We got home and I went to bed. I hadn't tiptoed when we left the house. I see it as making a point, we don't go out of our way to be loud but I don't tiptoe and whisper, either. I want #6 to know we get up very early, some days.
Anyway, they got me back today, he had all the kids in the backyard and they were making some sort of noise, moving things around (not playing). That went off an on for a couple hours but I still got some sleep. I got about 3 hours total.
After I finish this, I'm going to do my God Time and then do up some candy. I am out of candy right now and I need at least a dozen bags to get me through the next couple days.
Happily I have plenty of supplies.
I got up around 2 and took my shower, got dressed, made sure Ron was ready to go. For a change, Ron was ready to go when the driver arrived.
It was a different guy; he has some strong opinions and is always hustling. He doesn't ask the clients for money, though. But he took all the equity out of a house to pay for remodeling. He thinks if he makes a couple of bedrooms in the garage with a wheelchair accessible bathroom, he will get disabled, elderly, tenants. They're going to live with his daughter, who will apparently be the caregiver.
Sounds like a horrible idea to me, but then I am pretty caregiver burnt right now. Anyway, today he was ranting about his grandson. He is disobedient, doesn't mind, and wears pull ups all day and night at 4 years old. The driver wondered what would happen if you took the pull-ups away, would he "piss all over the house, like a damned dog" or would he use the toilet "properly"? His daughter just says "Oh, he's a baby". He's four years old.
Now, my parents practiced corporal punishment. I think what they did was appropriate and needed. For instance, one time I ran out into the street in front of our house. They spanked me so hard I never even considered doing it again. If Ron and I had kids, I am sure we would have spanked.
We got to work. Things were pretty slow, not surprising with their holiday party yesterday. Those parties always kill our business, but it's their place, not ours. Someone moved one of the vending machines, I had to move 2 to fix it. My shoulder's been bothering me a little since our big water run a few days ago, but I was able to get it.
Oh, totally off topic but my blood pressure tested at 122/70, which I am accustomed to seeing at the doctors. The other meter was a fluke, but still glad I bought this one.
Back to work, I stocked. Our delivery man got me good today. I was sitting at a table with the cart at my back. Suddenly I heard someone rustling around on my cart. I spun around, ready to tear their head off (I have had stuff stolen off the carts while stocking), and encountered the laughing face of the delivery man. I thought it was pretty funny!
He delivered my stuff and stacked it up even. I got him a sandwich and a drink. I helped Ron do the bottled vendor.
Then Ron said, we have two and a half hours before our pickup, but I'm done. Do you want to just go home?
I said yes. Ron cancelled the paratransit pickup and called a cab. We got a very nice Nigerian man by way of London. Surprisingly, he didn't really have an accent. He took us home.
One good thing I will say about Ron, and this has been consistent our whole life together: he is a very good tipper. So it's always good to "get" Ron if you're in the service profession. They fight over us, at Denny's.
We got home and I went to bed. I hadn't tiptoed when we left the house. I see it as making a point, we don't go out of our way to be loud but I don't tiptoe and whisper, either. I want #6 to know we get up very early, some days.
Anyway, they got me back today, he had all the kids in the backyard and they were making some sort of noise, moving things around (not playing). That went off an on for a couple hours but I still got some sleep. I got about 3 hours total.
After I finish this, I'm going to do my God Time and then do up some candy. I am out of candy right now and I need at least a dozen bags to get me through the next couple days.
Happily I have plenty of supplies.
Mobile update
Ron kept picking at me last night. I told him I don't feel close to him because he is verbally abusive. He didn't much like that, but I told him I need respect. I need to sleep at night. If he can't do that, then I need to leave. He got very angry for a while, but then made an apparent effort to be quiet last night.
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Ron doesn't come off too good in this one
So, we went to the dentist.
Ron has a cracked tooth. We didn't do anything with that one. He ate the "temporary" on the root canal (another tooth) and now the proper crown won't fit. God only knows how much that will cost.
The back molar that instigated this visit has a crown, and the crown is well seated. So no problems there.
It is hard to keep track of all of Ron's crowns and root canals. Since he doesn't take care of them anyway, I would just as soon pull the ones that go bad and get him dentures. But then he wouldn't take care of the dentures.
While at the dentist, Ron had the bright idea to go to Walmart, get a few things (I wanted to get that blood pressure meter, and some eggnog), and then call Chuck to take us to Sam's for water, then go to work. Great idea, I told him, but I don't have my badge and I am wearing flip flops. Not in the dress code.
After we were done at the dentist, we went to Walmart and got our stuff, then Ron had Chuck pick us up, take me home to change my shoes and get my badge, then go to Sam's. After that, go to work and put them up. Ron would stay in the truck.
By the way, he says his back is just as bad as it was last year and he isn't interested in having another laminectomy. Fine, stay in the truck. I'd move faster without him, anyway.
I put on a cheap pair of sneakers and we went to Sam's. I got the water, and some tea, for Ron. I got a guy to help me put the water in the truck.
I lost the receipt but Ron was nice about it. I will give him that.
We went to work. I got the "buggy" (the term all Texans use to refer to any sort of cart, I've finally adopted it), and unloaded the water, with Ron's help. He got in the truck bed and pushed it toward the tailgate, for me. I did appreciate that.
Ron was very grateful to the both of us for helping him. Then I put the water away and locked the fridge.
We went home, went to bed. The next morning we went to work and stocked the now-cold water. I did snacks, but they didn't need much, sadly. We had a long day so I actually got to accomplish everything I needed done.
They are having a big party at work today so we were asked to stay home. I can understand that. Ron is havoc on wheels when he is working, and he would probably knock a table over. They are apparently charging $20 a ticket for this party so they plan to have a lot of food.
It does, of course, hurt our sales, not that I think they considered that.
We finished and came home. I took a short nap. With Biscuit, he's just the cutest thing ever and I love him to pieces. I woke up and got dressed.
Ron had scheduled the trips on paratransit, of course, but they changed the pickup to bring us home and weren't going to give us enough time to eat. So Ron decided he would cancel that ride, call a cab after we ate, and then go home.
We were stuck waiting on a cab over and hour after we finished our meal. Next time, I suggested to Ron, make an appointment with a cab driver ahead of time to pick us up at a certain time, that works for us, after the meal. Don't try to call a cab after we're done and trying to get home. He agreed.
He was still pretty amenable because the facility doesn't have a liquor license, so he was sober. We waited, he made a lot of phone calls.
I decided to view it as a one hour mission trip. I would give the driver (and did) candy with an evangelism booklet inside, so I was just spending an hour of my time to meet the right guy, who would benefit from this and get saved. It made me feel better, but I didn't share it with Ron because he would have been ugly about it.
We got home, the driver was really nice. He loved the candy and the generous tip.
I told Ron, I need to check the mail, and put away the garbage can. Can you wait outside while I go?
Ron has issues with his bowels, after eating, sometimes. I didn't want to leave him there if he needed to use the toilet. He said he was fine, but asked me to unlock the door to the house. I did that.
I left him in the garage, with the door open, and the door to the house unlocked. While I was getting the mail (maybe 3 minutes), he decided he didn't want to wait (he didn't have to use the bathroom), so he shut the door to the garage, and opened the door to the house. When he did that, Baby Girl got into the garage. Once he was in the house, he shut the door to the house and opened the garage door, letting Baby Girl out.
I spent about an hour, at Ron's instigation, searching for her. Ron's fear for his cat and agitation fed on the many drinks he had "worrying" about her. I finally told him I had to go to bed, she would come home when she was hungry. He didn't like that much, but said he understood.
He went into his room and shut the door, then opened the window and did his "treats" routine. After an additional 30 minutes of so, Ron started screaming for me.
Baby Girl was home, totally fine, but Ron was so upset at her for "scaring" him he didn't know what he'd do with her. I removed her from the bedroom and he shut the window. I patted her and gave her a can of tuna, I figured she was hungry. I also put down some dry food for all of them because it was about finished.
I went back to bed. Ron kept yelling at Baby Girl everytime she got into bed with him, yelling in general, muttering, exclamations, cursing at God, etc. keeping me up most of the night. My only consolation was the fact that I could sleep late today, and I did, once he finally shut up.
This morning I got up around 10 and Ron came into the front room while I was eating my breakfast. He's been wanting me to "watch" (translation: narrate for him) an old Star Trek episode. I told him I was too tired, he kept me up all night. He got very ugly when I said that, he was drinking a lot and said some horrible things I won't repeat. He tries to use my weight as a weapon against me, I will say, saying things like I am no longer attractive to him, he didn't want to "marry a fat woman like his mother" (Ironic on that: when Ron was in his young 20's he almost married a woman, she was significantly overweight, like his mother). It's been an ongoing issue. I figure about half my weight is due to carbs and the other half is due to medication.
The ironic thing: when I did lose weight, and I have gotten to within 20 pounds of goal, or actually at goal, on a couple of occasions, Ron will change his insults to I will get fat again, I have a skinny body but a "fat" mind, etc. He always finds a way to make my weight an issue, no matter my weight. When I was very thin (120) when I met him he used to say I had a flat chest and no curves. He actually encouraged me to gain weight at first.
He started raving that it (keeping me up all night) didn't happen if I couldn't prove it did, and the only way I could "prove" it was to make a recording. I asked him if he couldn't take it on faith, that's not the sort of thing I'm going to make up, and he said no, I was a bitch, and a lot worse. He kept drinking.
The poor cats are standing around, and Ron's giving them treats while he's screaming at me and Torbie's just munching away and asking for more, Biscuit says Hi to me and hides, and Baby Girl is nowhere to be found, which angers Ron to no end.
Don't worry, if I leave him I will take the cats. I may have to leave the house for a night, or a couple of days, if Ron gets really awful, but I would come back and get the cats before I left.
I need to change the password on my cell phone, and get Ron's name off of it. Why should he get a year's worth of good credit from my payments? If I left, I have no doubt he would try to turn off my cell phone. If it's in my name with a different password he can't do that.
Anyway, I finished my protein bar, made some decaf iced tea, and took a shower. I heard Ron's voice in the front of the house, and him yelling my name and cursing me, but happily with the shower noise I couldn't really hear the gist of it. He finally started screaming my name again and I told him I'm in the shower. He said something to that but then he shut up. He got bored, I think, and went to bed.
Now he's sleeping. I will admit to really wanting to play my music really loud and wake him up a few times, then tell him he needs to record it or it didn't happen. But I don't want to start a war and I am sure God wants me to be better than that.
I will be taking a nap when I finish this, just so I can get some sleep.
Sometimes Ron apologizes after he is horrible to me, but a lot of times I just don't care. He is slowly burning out all my love for him. I'm not going to do anything stupid, like cheat, but I have to not-care when he gets like this. If I don't-care when he gets hateful, then he can't hurt me. And he can't have it both ways. Either I care, or I don't. And if he wants me to care he has got to cut out the verbal abuse.
I wish I could just attribute it all to the head injury, but truth was, he was pretty awful to me before the accident. He was verbally abusive, he cheated, he didn't appreciate me. He trusted me and expected me to be the #1 star performing employee the whole time he did all that. Like I said, you don't get all of that.
I naively assumed that my love and devotion for him, after the accident, would redeem him somehow and he would become a "better" man. Then he got drunk and tried to choke me 2 months after we got married.
He only has 3 pairs of pants that fit, and he got angry at me because they weren't washed. I asked him where they were "In a bag, between my bed and the wall". I told him, if he wants me to wash his clothes, he has to give them to me every couple days, otherwise they won't get done. Don't hide your clothes until you have a huge monster bag and then tell me "I need these clean in 20 minutes". That's impossible. It takes at least 2-3 hours to do a load of clothes, depending on how long they take in the dryer. Assuming I am able to drop everything and get to them.
"Just throw them in" he said. I reminded him I have to check the pockets. "I do" I find stuff all the time. "Well, do it after that". No, I told him, then we get to stain pretreating. He makes a lot of stains on his clothes. I have to pretreat them to make sure they come out.
Hopefully he has a better understanding of how "laundry" works, now, but it's just typical. He doesn't appreciate anything I do until I don't do it.
Ugh. I try to appreciate him in return, you can find something redeemable, I think, in almost anyone. Ron was nice about me losing the receipt. I sure liked the help unloading the drinks from the pickup. He was thankful I got all those drinks put up in the fridge for him. He is appreciative when I help him at work (about half the time), and he tries to take care of what he sees as my needs.
As far as Ron is concerned, I need utilities and the mortgage paid. I also need occasional trips to Walmart. If he accomplishes those, he thinks he is "taking care" of me. I have tried to explain I need a little more than that.
I don't think he listens.
Ron has a cracked tooth. We didn't do anything with that one. He ate the "temporary" on the root canal (another tooth) and now the proper crown won't fit. God only knows how much that will cost.
The back molar that instigated this visit has a crown, and the crown is well seated. So no problems there.
It is hard to keep track of all of Ron's crowns and root canals. Since he doesn't take care of them anyway, I would just as soon pull the ones that go bad and get him dentures. But then he wouldn't take care of the dentures.
While at the dentist, Ron had the bright idea to go to Walmart, get a few things (I wanted to get that blood pressure meter, and some eggnog), and then call Chuck to take us to Sam's for water, then go to work. Great idea, I told him, but I don't have my badge and I am wearing flip flops. Not in the dress code.
After we were done at the dentist, we went to Walmart and got our stuff, then Ron had Chuck pick us up, take me home to change my shoes and get my badge, then go to Sam's. After that, go to work and put them up. Ron would stay in the truck.
By the way, he says his back is just as bad as it was last year and he isn't interested in having another laminectomy. Fine, stay in the truck. I'd move faster without him, anyway.
I put on a cheap pair of sneakers and we went to Sam's. I got the water, and some tea, for Ron. I got a guy to help me put the water in the truck.
I lost the receipt but Ron was nice about it. I will give him that.
We went to work. I got the "buggy" (the term all Texans use to refer to any sort of cart, I've finally adopted it), and unloaded the water, with Ron's help. He got in the truck bed and pushed it toward the tailgate, for me. I did appreciate that.
Ron was very grateful to the both of us for helping him. Then I put the water away and locked the fridge.
We went home, went to bed. The next morning we went to work and stocked the now-cold water. I did snacks, but they didn't need much, sadly. We had a long day so I actually got to accomplish everything I needed done.
They are having a big party at work today so we were asked to stay home. I can understand that. Ron is havoc on wheels when he is working, and he would probably knock a table over. They are apparently charging $20 a ticket for this party so they plan to have a lot of food.
It does, of course, hurt our sales, not that I think they considered that.
We finished and came home. I took a short nap. With Biscuit, he's just the cutest thing ever and I love him to pieces. I woke up and got dressed.
Ron had scheduled the trips on paratransit, of course, but they changed the pickup to bring us home and weren't going to give us enough time to eat. So Ron decided he would cancel that ride, call a cab after we ate, and then go home.
We were stuck waiting on a cab over and hour after we finished our meal. Next time, I suggested to Ron, make an appointment with a cab driver ahead of time to pick us up at a certain time, that works for us, after the meal. Don't try to call a cab after we're done and trying to get home. He agreed.
He was still pretty amenable because the facility doesn't have a liquor license, so he was sober. We waited, he made a lot of phone calls.
I decided to view it as a one hour mission trip. I would give the driver (and did) candy with an evangelism booklet inside, so I was just spending an hour of my time to meet the right guy, who would benefit from this and get saved. It made me feel better, but I didn't share it with Ron because he would have been ugly about it.
We got home, the driver was really nice. He loved the candy and the generous tip.
I told Ron, I need to check the mail, and put away the garbage can. Can you wait outside while I go?
Ron has issues with his bowels, after eating, sometimes. I didn't want to leave him there if he needed to use the toilet. He said he was fine, but asked me to unlock the door to the house. I did that.
I left him in the garage, with the door open, and the door to the house unlocked. While I was getting the mail (maybe 3 minutes), he decided he didn't want to wait (he didn't have to use the bathroom), so he shut the door to the garage, and opened the door to the house. When he did that, Baby Girl got into the garage. Once he was in the house, he shut the door to the house and opened the garage door, letting Baby Girl out.
I spent about an hour, at Ron's instigation, searching for her. Ron's fear for his cat and agitation fed on the many drinks he had "worrying" about her. I finally told him I had to go to bed, she would come home when she was hungry. He didn't like that much, but said he understood.
He went into his room and shut the door, then opened the window and did his "treats" routine. After an additional 30 minutes of so, Ron started screaming for me.
Baby Girl was home, totally fine, but Ron was so upset at her for "scaring" him he didn't know what he'd do with her. I removed her from the bedroom and he shut the window. I patted her and gave her a can of tuna, I figured she was hungry. I also put down some dry food for all of them because it was about finished.
I went back to bed. Ron kept yelling at Baby Girl everytime she got into bed with him, yelling in general, muttering, exclamations, cursing at God, etc. keeping me up most of the night. My only consolation was the fact that I could sleep late today, and I did, once he finally shut up.
This morning I got up around 10 and Ron came into the front room while I was eating my breakfast. He's been wanting me to "watch" (translation: narrate for him) an old Star Trek episode. I told him I was too tired, he kept me up all night. He got very ugly when I said that, he was drinking a lot and said some horrible things I won't repeat. He tries to use my weight as a weapon against me, I will say, saying things like I am no longer attractive to him, he didn't want to "marry a fat woman like his mother" (Ironic on that: when Ron was in his young 20's he almost married a woman, she was significantly overweight, like his mother). It's been an ongoing issue. I figure about half my weight is due to carbs and the other half is due to medication.
The ironic thing: when I did lose weight, and I have gotten to within 20 pounds of goal, or actually at goal, on a couple of occasions, Ron will change his insults to I will get fat again, I have a skinny body but a "fat" mind, etc. He always finds a way to make my weight an issue, no matter my weight. When I was very thin (120) when I met him he used to say I had a flat chest and no curves. He actually encouraged me to gain weight at first.
He started raving that it (keeping me up all night) didn't happen if I couldn't prove it did, and the only way I could "prove" it was to make a recording. I asked him if he couldn't take it on faith, that's not the sort of thing I'm going to make up, and he said no, I was a bitch, and a lot worse. He kept drinking.
The poor cats are standing around, and Ron's giving them treats while he's screaming at me and Torbie's just munching away and asking for more, Biscuit says Hi to me and hides, and Baby Girl is nowhere to be found, which angers Ron to no end.
Don't worry, if I leave him I will take the cats. I may have to leave the house for a night, or a couple of days, if Ron gets really awful, but I would come back and get the cats before I left.
I need to change the password on my cell phone, and get Ron's name off of it. Why should he get a year's worth of good credit from my payments? If I left, I have no doubt he would try to turn off my cell phone. If it's in my name with a different password he can't do that.
Anyway, I finished my protein bar, made some decaf iced tea, and took a shower. I heard Ron's voice in the front of the house, and him yelling my name and cursing me, but happily with the shower noise I couldn't really hear the gist of it. He finally started screaming my name again and I told him I'm in the shower. He said something to that but then he shut up. He got bored, I think, and went to bed.
Now he's sleeping. I will admit to really wanting to play my music really loud and wake him up a few times, then tell him he needs to record it or it didn't happen. But I don't want to start a war and I am sure God wants me to be better than that.
I will be taking a nap when I finish this, just so I can get some sleep.
Sometimes Ron apologizes after he is horrible to me, but a lot of times I just don't care. He is slowly burning out all my love for him. I'm not going to do anything stupid, like cheat, but I have to not-care when he gets like this. If I don't-care when he gets hateful, then he can't hurt me. And he can't have it both ways. Either I care, or I don't. And if he wants me to care he has got to cut out the verbal abuse.
I wish I could just attribute it all to the head injury, but truth was, he was pretty awful to me before the accident. He was verbally abusive, he cheated, he didn't appreciate me. He trusted me and expected me to be the #1 star performing employee the whole time he did all that. Like I said, you don't get all of that.
I naively assumed that my love and devotion for him, after the accident, would redeem him somehow and he would become a "better" man. Then he got drunk and tried to choke me 2 months after we got married.
He only has 3 pairs of pants that fit, and he got angry at me because they weren't washed. I asked him where they were "In a bag, between my bed and the wall". I told him, if he wants me to wash his clothes, he has to give them to me every couple days, otherwise they won't get done. Don't hide your clothes until you have a huge monster bag and then tell me "I need these clean in 20 minutes". That's impossible. It takes at least 2-3 hours to do a load of clothes, depending on how long they take in the dryer. Assuming I am able to drop everything and get to them.
"Just throw them in" he said. I reminded him I have to check the pockets. "I do" I find stuff all the time. "Well, do it after that". No, I told him, then we get to stain pretreating. He makes a lot of stains on his clothes. I have to pretreat them to make sure they come out.
Hopefully he has a better understanding of how "laundry" works, now, but it's just typical. He doesn't appreciate anything I do until I don't do it.
Ugh. I try to appreciate him in return, you can find something redeemable, I think, in almost anyone. Ron was nice about me losing the receipt. I sure liked the help unloading the drinks from the pickup. He was thankful I got all those drinks put up in the fridge for him. He is appreciative when I help him at work (about half the time), and he tries to take care of what he sees as my needs.
As far as Ron is concerned, I need utilities and the mortgage paid. I also need occasional trips to Walmart. If he accomplishes those, he thinks he is "taking care" of me. I have tried to explain I need a little more than that.
I don't think he listens.
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
A trip to the dentist, part one
I had a migraine yesterday. I took my Excedrin and phenergan, and bucket, and went to work. Happily I did not need the bucket. I did my stocking and helped Ron.
I came home, we had about an hour before Chuck picked me up. I got the presents, mailing labels, etc. I had two presents, one for Cindy (older stepsister, 5 years older) and one combined present for Mom and Dad. I didn't have the juice to wrap the presents but I think everyone can figure out who gets what. They are obvious.
Now, they might read this so I won't say who got what, but I am pretty sure they will like them.
No, they aren't Bibles. They have Bibles already.
So, I had them all in a bag. Chuck came, we went to the post office. He waited while I went in.
They had a temporary "helper". I asked if she could help me tape Mom & Dad's box a little better because "my hands are messing up" as I held up a shaking hand in the air.
I am pretty cynical, but most people are very generous in helping me if I ask. She taped it. I got in line.
It wasn't a long line and it moved pretty quick. I gave the clerks some candy (also the gal who helped me) and got everything mailed off. It should arrive Thursday. Good. I will keep an eye on the tracking number.
I went out and met Chuck. Now, it was my understanding we were going home, but I sure didn't object when Chuck took me to Walmart. "Take your time" he said. Absolutely, although I did move as fast as possible.
I got Ron's gabapentin ($245 for 3 months), my deposit ($400+ for health insurance) and looked what little I had left. I put some candy in the cart. I really like the Walmart taffy for my candy bags. It's nicely sized and, I have to admit, one piece was partly unwrapped one day. I couldn't give it away. So I ate it. It was REALLY good. So I am handing out a quality item. Good.
My head was still bothering me so I thought about something I keep hearing "Heather, check your blood pressure. High blood pressure can lead to headaches.". I had just enough left to buy the cheapest model blood pressure meter.
I paid and found Chuck, we went home. I thanked him and he left.
I went in and sat for a while, then tried to use the blood pressure meter. I couldn't get it to work. I had Ron help me, it worked, but said 160 over 110. I hope that is not an accurate reading, but if it is, it explains a lot.
I decided I would return it. I want something at least as easy as my blood sugar meter. I had saved the receipt. I put it in a bag, along with the candy I have for the dentist's office.
We had a pretty uneventful night. Ron was happy to get his medicine. He is in a lot of pain when he doesn't take it, is late, or whatever.
I went to bed early, slept pretty well, and late. I did not wake up with a headache. That was nice. I had Biscuit with me. When I got up I weighed myself for the first time in a while. I am down a couple of pounds. Also nice.
I didn't measure, though. I was feeling pretty good.
I went and fed Biscuit, who was wailing for his breakfast. I gave him some "Seafood". He really likes that. Good. I want to spoil him.
I put my new stats into Fitday, I think I still have a link up somewhere on this page. Got on the computer for a while and looked around. Watched a little TV.
In a couple of hours I take Ron to the dentist. Praying that will be cheap. Worried it will not be cheap. Ron takes terrible care of his teeth.
I wouldn't mind paying for the dentist if he at least brushed every day. I don't floss, I'm not going to "nail" him on that, but take some minerals (his bones are getting weaker so he clearly needs minerals), and brush regularly, try to keep expenses down. He just says "Oh, it's too late for that, no point in trying".
It's one thing I really don't like about him, almost as bad as the drinking.
After the dentist we can run to Walmart, return my meter, and get a better one. If I find my blood pressure is high I plan to see my doctor and get pills immediately. I won't mess around with this. High blood pressure killed my mother, and I don't need a heart attack, stroke, or kidney failure on top of my existing problems.
I'm not wrecking my health, I will do my best to preserve it. I may also look into some sort of exercise program. I have some Walk Away the Pounds DVD's, which have been very popular with some people on the low carb boards. It's something I can do at home without specialized equipment.
Of course energy level is also a big problem, it is hard to do anything when my meds just have me wanting to sleep. You may wonder why I don't ask Doc for something else.
I did. He said, and I agree with this: your symptoms are well controlled on the medication (I haven't been manic in years). I don't want to mess with that and put you on something else that may not work as well. The way I see it, there are two types of side effects, the ones that will kill you, and the ones that won't. If it won't kill you I'd rather you continue taking it.
So I agree. I do. I bitch and moan a lot but I sure don't want to go back to how I was before.
And here comes the Wellbutrin headache. Ugh. It's not bad, I just feel like everything tightens down. It will go away soon. It's a good antidepressant, though. I used to go to work and just sit in the stockroom, too depressed to work or even help Ron (this was back when Ron was a little more perky). Now I can work, take care of myself, the cats, Ron, etc.
Sometimes I realize I have a lot on my plate. I understand others have it worse, there is a woman not far from me who is a mother to blind-deaf triplets. They were born very premature. Her husband left her. She ended up meeting a nice guy from High School and he married her (them). She is getting some assistance from the state but will never get a day off, ever. I can't imagine having that load.
There's another woman who got an infection after giving birth at home, they had to amputate all her limbs to "save" her. She also lives not far from here.
I'm "just" Bipolar,with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, trying to take care of a blind, alcoholic, partly paralyzed TBI husband. I have a loyal readership, and I love you guys. Even just seeing the stats makes me feel better, some days when I feel like everything is in flames.
I have 3 great cats, well, two that love me and one that loves Ron. Baby Girl is sleeping with him right now, like she does. Ron is very happy with her.
I had better go, I need to take a shower and do my God Time before I take Ron to the dentist.
I came home, we had about an hour before Chuck picked me up. I got the presents, mailing labels, etc. I had two presents, one for Cindy (older stepsister, 5 years older) and one combined present for Mom and Dad. I didn't have the juice to wrap the presents but I think everyone can figure out who gets what. They are obvious.
Now, they might read this so I won't say who got what, but I am pretty sure they will like them.
No, they aren't Bibles. They have Bibles already.
So, I had them all in a bag. Chuck came, we went to the post office. He waited while I went in.
They had a temporary "helper". I asked if she could help me tape Mom & Dad's box a little better because "my hands are messing up" as I held up a shaking hand in the air.
I am pretty cynical, but most people are very generous in helping me if I ask. She taped it. I got in line.
It wasn't a long line and it moved pretty quick. I gave the clerks some candy (also the gal who helped me) and got everything mailed off. It should arrive Thursday. Good. I will keep an eye on the tracking number.
I went out and met Chuck. Now, it was my understanding we were going home, but I sure didn't object when Chuck took me to Walmart. "Take your time" he said. Absolutely, although I did move as fast as possible.
I got Ron's gabapentin ($245 for 3 months), my deposit ($400+ for health insurance) and looked what little I had left. I put some candy in the cart. I really like the Walmart taffy for my candy bags. It's nicely sized and, I have to admit, one piece was partly unwrapped one day. I couldn't give it away. So I ate it. It was REALLY good. So I am handing out a quality item. Good.
My head was still bothering me so I thought about something I keep hearing "Heather, check your blood pressure. High blood pressure can lead to headaches.". I had just enough left to buy the cheapest model blood pressure meter.
I paid and found Chuck, we went home. I thanked him and he left.
I went in and sat for a while, then tried to use the blood pressure meter. I couldn't get it to work. I had Ron help me, it worked, but said 160 over 110. I hope that is not an accurate reading, but if it is, it explains a lot.
I decided I would return it. I want something at least as easy as my blood sugar meter. I had saved the receipt. I put it in a bag, along with the candy I have for the dentist's office.
We had a pretty uneventful night. Ron was happy to get his medicine. He is in a lot of pain when he doesn't take it, is late, or whatever.
I went to bed early, slept pretty well, and late. I did not wake up with a headache. That was nice. I had Biscuit with me. When I got up I weighed myself for the first time in a while. I am down a couple of pounds. Also nice.
I didn't measure, though. I was feeling pretty good.
I went and fed Biscuit, who was wailing for his breakfast. I gave him some "Seafood". He really likes that. Good. I want to spoil him.
I put my new stats into Fitday, I think I still have a link up somewhere on this page. Got on the computer for a while and looked around. Watched a little TV.
In a couple of hours I take Ron to the dentist. Praying that will be cheap. Worried it will not be cheap. Ron takes terrible care of his teeth.
I wouldn't mind paying for the dentist if he at least brushed every day. I don't floss, I'm not going to "nail" him on that, but take some minerals (his bones are getting weaker so he clearly needs minerals), and brush regularly, try to keep expenses down. He just says "Oh, it's too late for that, no point in trying".
It's one thing I really don't like about him, almost as bad as the drinking.
After the dentist we can run to Walmart, return my meter, and get a better one. If I find my blood pressure is high I plan to see my doctor and get pills immediately. I won't mess around with this. High blood pressure killed my mother, and I don't need a heart attack, stroke, or kidney failure on top of my existing problems.
I'm not wrecking my health, I will do my best to preserve it. I may also look into some sort of exercise program. I have some Walk Away the Pounds DVD's, which have been very popular with some people on the low carb boards. It's something I can do at home without specialized equipment.
Of course energy level is also a big problem, it is hard to do anything when my meds just have me wanting to sleep. You may wonder why I don't ask Doc for something else.
I did. He said, and I agree with this: your symptoms are well controlled on the medication (I haven't been manic in years). I don't want to mess with that and put you on something else that may not work as well. The way I see it, there are two types of side effects, the ones that will kill you, and the ones that won't. If it won't kill you I'd rather you continue taking it.
So I agree. I do. I bitch and moan a lot but I sure don't want to go back to how I was before.
And here comes the Wellbutrin headache. Ugh. It's not bad, I just feel like everything tightens down. It will go away soon. It's a good antidepressant, though. I used to go to work and just sit in the stockroom, too depressed to work or even help Ron (this was back when Ron was a little more perky). Now I can work, take care of myself, the cats, Ron, etc.
Sometimes I realize I have a lot on my plate. I understand others have it worse, there is a woman not far from me who is a mother to blind-deaf triplets. They were born very premature. Her husband left her. She ended up meeting a nice guy from High School and he married her (them). She is getting some assistance from the state but will never get a day off, ever. I can't imagine having that load.
There's another woman who got an infection after giving birth at home, they had to amputate all her limbs to "save" her. She also lives not far from here.
I'm "just" Bipolar,with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, trying to take care of a blind, alcoholic, partly paralyzed TBI husband. I have a loyal readership, and I love you guys. Even just seeing the stats makes me feel better, some days when I feel like everything is in flames.
I have 3 great cats, well, two that love me and one that loves Ron. Baby Girl is sleeping with him right now, like she does. Ron is very happy with her.
I had better go, I need to take a shower and do my God Time before I take Ron to the dentist.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Plenty of time
I knew I was in trouble when I saw 4 cars parked outside #6. Knew it was a party when I heard him and his cronies gabbling away in the backyard during what I had attempted as my nap. Knew it was BIG trouble when they brought a HUGE speaker up the driveway.
Sure enough, they are having a party. They are playing loud music, kids screaming in the yard, etc. I guess they postponed the party from last night (rain) to tonight (no rain, warmer).
Ugh. I have to work tomorrow. I don't know if the kids have school tomorrow, maybe, maybe not, but I have to get up and work tomorrow. It is immensely frustrating to me when anyone messes with my sleep. I really need a good night every night or I'm unwell. Not tired, unwell. I'm not in optimal control of my illness and I think anyone would agree that's a problem.
I go out of my way to be a good neighbor. I don't go on their property (wish they could say the same), I put their balls back when I find one in the yard, I don't play loud music, I locked up the cats, I don't have parties of any sort, especially loud ones, and I don't keep my neighbors up, ever. I even warn the driver, when the kids are running around, that the kids run into the street.
The worst you can say about my behavior; when I am frustrated with them I don't tippytoe out the door at 4 am, hushing Ron not to wake them. I'm not loud, but I don't go out of my way to be quiet, either. And if I am waking them up, wouldn't they realize I am getting up at 2-4 AM every work day? God knows he (the husband/father at #6) gets up pretty early most days, making plenty of noise revving his pickup and waking me up if it's a rare day I'm sleeping in.
I'm going to bag up some candy, with Scripture booklets. It takes forever and it looks like I have plenty of time.
Sure enough, they are having a party. They are playing loud music, kids screaming in the yard, etc. I guess they postponed the party from last night (rain) to tonight (no rain, warmer).
Ugh. I have to work tomorrow. I don't know if the kids have school tomorrow, maybe, maybe not, but I have to get up and work tomorrow. It is immensely frustrating to me when anyone messes with my sleep. I really need a good night every night or I'm unwell. Not tired, unwell. I'm not in optimal control of my illness and I think anyone would agree that's a problem.
I go out of my way to be a good neighbor. I don't go on their property (wish they could say the same), I put their balls back when I find one in the yard, I don't play loud music, I locked up the cats, I don't have parties of any sort, especially loud ones, and I don't keep my neighbors up, ever. I even warn the driver, when the kids are running around, that the kids run into the street.
The worst you can say about my behavior; when I am frustrated with them I don't tippytoe out the door at 4 am, hushing Ron not to wake them. I'm not loud, but I don't go out of my way to be quiet, either. And if I am waking them up, wouldn't they realize I am getting up at 2-4 AM every work day? God knows he (the husband/father at #6) gets up pretty early most days, making plenty of noise revving his pickup and waking me up if it's a rare day I'm sleeping in.
I'm going to bag up some candy, with Scripture booklets. It takes forever and it looks like I have plenty of time.
Weekend update
Well, I have to give Ron his props. After fortifying himself, he went into the bathroom and took the lid off the toilet talk. Then he got some tools. He worked in there for a while, I heard a couple of flushes.
He fixed it. We had problems with the toilet running after we flushed it and jiggling the handle didn't help. It is an American Standard toilet so it doesn't have "standard" parts.
I thought we would have to get a repairman out to replace the insides of the toilet. I figured it would cost some money.
We also had problems with water leaking out of the tank also, so Ron had to replace a gasket. I had ordered the gasket already.
So he went in there with his tools and his gasket. I was talking to Mom and Dad on the phone. When I finished, he told me he had fixed it.
He demonstrated, it flushed, and it stopped. "I had to turn a screw" and he also told me he had replaced the gasket.
Not bad for a blind man with only one good arm! I was impressed.
I know I write a lot about his negative behavior so I figured he needed some recognition on this one.
I had a good talk with Dad, he talked about his biopsy and his options. He has 3-4 options. He will be meeting with a "radiation specialist" on Monday (is that a radiologist, or do they just read X-rays?) to get some more options.
He is very positive, which, selfishly, makes things easier for me. I don't have to worry about him; that's good to know. He has Mom, he has my stepsister and brother, he has friends. He has a very good support system.
I need to work on building mine. I have Ron, and my aunt, locally and that is about it.
So I feel good about Dad, or as good as I can with him having cancer of any sort. It's so odd, I always figured if I had to worry about Dad it would be his heart, but nope, here's a curveball.
I did end up committing to getting a mammogram. Dad is concerned because I have a maternal history of breast cancer, but, in my defense, my birthmother took horrible care of herself. She smoked, she drank, I'm sure she didn't eat right. I don't eat right but I do take supplements, and I don't use chemicals, aside from a very modest amount of caffeine (about 100 mg a day).
So I will have to do that. I hope they don't find anything. It would be hard to work after a biopsy or surgery. So, hoping I don't have anything. I don't feel anything.
I woke up with another headache this morning. Makes it hard to sleep late.
Anyway, I'm going to go for now. Take care.
He fixed it. We had problems with the toilet running after we flushed it and jiggling the handle didn't help. It is an American Standard toilet so it doesn't have "standard" parts.
I thought we would have to get a repairman out to replace the insides of the toilet. I figured it would cost some money.
We also had problems with water leaking out of the tank also, so Ron had to replace a gasket. I had ordered the gasket already.
So he went in there with his tools and his gasket. I was talking to Mom and Dad on the phone. When I finished, he told me he had fixed it.
He demonstrated, it flushed, and it stopped. "I had to turn a screw" and he also told me he had replaced the gasket.
Not bad for a blind man with only one good arm! I was impressed.
I know I write a lot about his negative behavior so I figured he needed some recognition on this one.
I had a good talk with Dad, he talked about his biopsy and his options. He has 3-4 options. He will be meeting with a "radiation specialist" on Monday (is that a radiologist, or do they just read X-rays?) to get some more options.
He is very positive, which, selfishly, makes things easier for me. I don't have to worry about him; that's good to know. He has Mom, he has my stepsister and brother, he has friends. He has a very good support system.
I need to work on building mine. I have Ron, and my aunt, locally and that is about it.
So I feel good about Dad, or as good as I can with him having cancer of any sort. It's so odd, I always figured if I had to worry about Dad it would be his heart, but nope, here's a curveball.
I did end up committing to getting a mammogram. Dad is concerned because I have a maternal history of breast cancer, but, in my defense, my birthmother took horrible care of herself. She smoked, she drank, I'm sure she didn't eat right. I don't eat right but I do take supplements, and I don't use chemicals, aside from a very modest amount of caffeine (about 100 mg a day).
So I will have to do that. I hope they don't find anything. It would be hard to work after a biopsy or surgery. So, hoping I don't have anything. I don't feel anything.
I woke up with another headache this morning. Makes it hard to sleep late.
Anyway, I'm going to go for now. Take care.
Friday, December 15, 2017
"Right Mind"
I got to sleep late today; I got up at 8. Still tired, though. Always tired.
Not the illness, the "cure". I wish it wasn't this way but it is.
I had a thought, in the shower: I have never been in my "right mind". I was either under the control of my illness "Let's marry a verbally abusive alcoholic!" or under the influence of my medication, asking the same question three times in a row because I forget the answer. I suppose I don't know what it is to be in my "right mind".
God will fix all that one day; there's nothing I can do about it now. My situation is very black and white. Sick, or not. Medicated, or not. No real gray there. Which is fine. Grey is, in my opinion, a bad area.
Good grammar there, Heather.
We went to work. Uneventful. Ron didn't give us enough time at work so it was challenging. I have decided Ron creates dramas for himself: he doesn't get ready to leave home until after the ride arrives, he works until the last minute at work, etc.
I have decided if he wants to create drama that's fine, I don't have to participate. So I don't. It bothered him some, today.
Then we got outside. The driver pulled up in an odd fashion, making it impossible for me to load Ron normally. Ron normally climbs in the backseat, I either join him or sit in the front seat, and off we go.
She got out and glared at me as I pushed Ron over to the back driver's side seat, the only one she had left "open" to access by the wheelchair. I could see she had a client in the front seat, fine. I would sit in the back.
She told Ron he could not transfer, it was "a rule". Ron said it wasn't, because other drivers let him transfer all the time. She said she would have to call dispatch, as if that settled it. She stood there. I told her, go ahead and call dispatch. She stood there for another minute or two and said Ron couldn't transfer, because I was riding, and she had [taken up] the back passenger seat with a walker. Drivers are supposed to put all adaptive equipment in the back compartment so it doesn't take up seats. I didn't state the obvious, put the walker in the back compartment like you're supposed to and let Ron sit there. I just told Ron to ride in the back. Then she got very confrontational with him about his "ticket". Ron showed her his pass. He was pretty frustrated by this point but he let her strap him in.
He did ask her the driver number so he could call in a complaint.
In response, she called dispatch, slandering Ron, making false statements about him making "horrible comments" and saying he refused to show his ID, which was a flat out lie.
Ron calmed down and talked to her about other things, but she wouldn't answer him, so he talked to me. We were kidding around and laughing and she hated it. She was boiling. She was so angry she wouldn't even take some candy from me, and the drivers love that stuff.
I was just glad we got away from her. Later on, I encouraged Ron to call in a complaint, which he did. They will "get" her on the storing equipment in the backseat. It is ridiculous to get so ugly with a client because he simply wants to ride in a regular seat, which is totally permissible if it doesn't already have a client in it. But she had it in her head, the walker would go here, Ron would go there, etc. She seemed upset that I was riding, even, and it's in the notes. I doubt they will "get" her on the ugly but if they look at the video they will see she was very rude to us.
Ron already has troubles with his temper due to the head injury, and when someone is baiting him he often "bites", one reason I don't fight dirty with him. It's not fair to either of us.
Anyway, we went into the bank. We made our deposit and I got paid. Then we left. Ron was still so frazzled by our earlier experience he wanted to go to Cracker Barrel. I said OK.
I remembered nice big pieces of fried fish on Friday, moist and juicy. I remembered baskets of cornbread. We didn't get that. We got some small, overcooked, pieces of fish, no bread, and a $10 a plate bill. I wasn't impressed. I got some blackberry cobbler, which was basically tepid blackberry jam with a half scoop of ice cream on the top. I wasn't impressed at all.
In the meantime, Ron loved his meal. I was glad of that, at least.
We had a little trouble finding a cab to take us home. Most of the cabs were working high-end malls in the area. We finally got Alex, he is great, I like him a lot.
He took us home. Ron discovered, to his horror, he screwed up the trips for tomorrow and Monday. He made the Monday trips for tomorrow and no trips for tomorrow. So we need to figure out a way to get to Sam's Club tomorrow morning, and a way to get home from work tomorrow afternoon. The BBQ for dinner trip can stay but nothing else.
This, of course, means I don't have my desperately needed trip to the Post Office trip on Monday. Ron said he will arrange for a cab to take me.
Good, I need to mail my presents. Well, their presents.
Oh, I'm tired. Still. But at least we got it all done today.
I was smart and laid out all my clothes for tomorrow. I don't pair my socks, so I always have to dig around and find a matching set (I wear white, quarter crew, cotton socks). Now I have some and all my clothes are set up and ready to go.
Good. It's finally getting busier at work so we have decided we will go to working 6-days a week until it is over. I don't mind working if we are making money.
Ron needs dental work; we have property taxes due. We need all the money we can make.
Not the illness, the "cure". I wish it wasn't this way but it is.
I had a thought, in the shower: I have never been in my "right mind". I was either under the control of my illness "Let's marry a verbally abusive alcoholic!" or under the influence of my medication, asking the same question three times in a row because I forget the answer. I suppose I don't know what it is to be in my "right mind".
God will fix all that one day; there's nothing I can do about it now. My situation is very black and white. Sick, or not. Medicated, or not. No real gray there. Which is fine. Grey is, in my opinion, a bad area.
Good grammar there, Heather.
We went to work. Uneventful. Ron didn't give us enough time at work so it was challenging. I have decided Ron creates dramas for himself: he doesn't get ready to leave home until after the ride arrives, he works until the last minute at work, etc.
I have decided if he wants to create drama that's fine, I don't have to participate. So I don't. It bothered him some, today.
Then we got outside. The driver pulled up in an odd fashion, making it impossible for me to load Ron normally. Ron normally climbs in the backseat, I either join him or sit in the front seat, and off we go.
She got out and glared at me as I pushed Ron over to the back driver's side seat, the only one she had left "open" to access by the wheelchair. I could see she had a client in the front seat, fine. I would sit in the back.
She told Ron he could not transfer, it was "a rule". Ron said it wasn't, because other drivers let him transfer all the time. She said she would have to call dispatch, as if that settled it. She stood there. I told her, go ahead and call dispatch. She stood there for another minute or two and said Ron couldn't transfer, because I was riding, and she had [taken up] the back passenger seat with a walker. Drivers are supposed to put all adaptive equipment in the back compartment so it doesn't take up seats. I didn't state the obvious, put the walker in the back compartment like you're supposed to and let Ron sit there. I just told Ron to ride in the back. Then she got very confrontational with him about his "ticket". Ron showed her his pass. He was pretty frustrated by this point but he let her strap him in.
He did ask her the driver number so he could call in a complaint.
In response, she called dispatch, slandering Ron, making false statements about him making "horrible comments" and saying he refused to show his ID, which was a flat out lie.
Ron calmed down and talked to her about other things, but she wouldn't answer him, so he talked to me. We were kidding around and laughing and she hated it. She was boiling. She was so angry she wouldn't even take some candy from me, and the drivers love that stuff.
I was just glad we got away from her. Later on, I encouraged Ron to call in a complaint, which he did. They will "get" her on the storing equipment in the backseat. It is ridiculous to get so ugly with a client because he simply wants to ride in a regular seat, which is totally permissible if it doesn't already have a client in it. But she had it in her head, the walker would go here, Ron would go there, etc. She seemed upset that I was riding, even, and it's in the notes. I doubt they will "get" her on the ugly but if they look at the video they will see she was very rude to us.
Ron already has troubles with his temper due to the head injury, and when someone is baiting him he often "bites", one reason I don't fight dirty with him. It's not fair to either of us.
Anyway, we went into the bank. We made our deposit and I got paid. Then we left. Ron was still so frazzled by our earlier experience he wanted to go to Cracker Barrel. I said OK.
I remembered nice big pieces of fried fish on Friday, moist and juicy. I remembered baskets of cornbread. We didn't get that. We got some small, overcooked, pieces of fish, no bread, and a $10 a plate bill. I wasn't impressed. I got some blackberry cobbler, which was basically tepid blackberry jam with a half scoop of ice cream on the top. I wasn't impressed at all.
In the meantime, Ron loved his meal. I was glad of that, at least.
We had a little trouble finding a cab to take us home. Most of the cabs were working high-end malls in the area. We finally got Alex, he is great, I like him a lot.
He took us home. Ron discovered, to his horror, he screwed up the trips for tomorrow and Monday. He made the Monday trips for tomorrow and no trips for tomorrow. So we need to figure out a way to get to Sam's Club tomorrow morning, and a way to get home from work tomorrow afternoon. The BBQ for dinner trip can stay but nothing else.
This, of course, means I don't have my desperately needed trip to the Post Office trip on Monday. Ron said he will arrange for a cab to take me.
Good, I need to mail my presents. Well, their presents.
Oh, I'm tired. Still. But at least we got it all done today.
I was smart and laid out all my clothes for tomorrow. I don't pair my socks, so I always have to dig around and find a matching set (I wear white, quarter crew, cotton socks). Now I have some and all my clothes are set up and ready to go.
Good. It's finally getting busier at work so we have decided we will go to working 6-days a week until it is over. I don't mind working if we are making money.
Ron needs dental work; we have property taxes due. We need all the money we can make.
It's been a long day
Had a cab driver from hell today. The rare one is a complete control freak. Sigh.
Thursday, December 14, 2017
If you can call it "cheese"
Today was hard. Ron was in a lot of pain and very ugly as a result. He was nice to everyone else, pretty much.
I got up, slept with Biscuit again. I really love that cat. I'm going to put up a photo of him. Done.
So all day was spent with Ron in a horrible mood, extreme pain, lots of complaining. He reminds me of a woman in labor. It's the neuropathy, which we all know is worsened by alcohol.
Ron swears alcohol is the only thing that "helps" but said it didn't help today. It didn't stop him from drinking, though.
Last night we had the bath. That was miserable for Ron because any kind of rubbing or touching on his skin makes him scream. Yeah. Imagine washing his back. I'm not sure what was worse, the grimacing or the screams.
I ended up going to bed late and I slept late because I had a sweet, fat, Biscuit in my bed. He is so lovable. Who cares if he has a dirty butt? And vomits? He's a good boy.
I got up and took my shower, got us dressed. Ron wore sweatpants which turned out to be a good idea.
We had a rather long ride to the doctor. Finally got there, about 40 minutes early. We checked in. Ron's blood pressure was high because he was in pain, and had trouble standing on the scale.
We waited in the exam room for a long while. I read all the patient literature. Doc wanted a urine test for Ron, I think to test for opiates, but Ron couldn't give a sample. Ron had gone in asking for pain relief.
Ron talked to the assistant for a while and she left. Doc came in about 10 minutes later. He was impressed when Ron specifically said he did not want narcotics, or anything addictive. Doc and Ron figured out a medication that can help Ron sleep but is not addictive. Doc also increased Ron's dosage of Neurontin. Hopefully that will help.
Ron said he can't do an MRI but Doc had them take a series of back x-rays. Hopefully they will show some details on what's wrong with Ron.
Our copay (traditional Medicare) was $30. Not bad.
We had about an hour after that, before out pickup. Ron didn't want to wait in the waiting room "With all the sick people". I agreed. We went outside. It was a little chilly but not too bad.
There was a Starbucks nearby. Ron wanted a coffee so we went. He got a latte but it made his symptoms worse. I reminded him caffeine is a stimulant and he got rid of it. I got a piece of pound cake. Normally I don't buy anything at Starbucks because I don't agree with their politics (extreme left) but I was pretty worn down.
Our ride finally came. We had 2 other people in wheelchairs. Ron had to sit in the far back. One woman was dressed in a nice outfit, knee high leather boots, nice leather purse, custom deluxe wheelchair (not a Medicare model), cut-dyed-styled hair, etc. We dropped her at the food bank. She was hoping they had turkeys.
"It's for the needy, not the greedy" Ron said, when I told him. I agree.
The other passenger had a tantrum when he found out we were next. Hey, buddy, we rode all over North Houston this morning. We got dropped off and went in.
I checked on the status of the prescriptions, they were being processed. I did a little shopping.
Since I am having such an extreme dry mouth lately, I decided to get some new test strips for my blood sugar meter. I'm not a diabetic and I'd like to keep it that way. But if my sugars are getting a little whack I need to know before I have any damage. A lot of diabetics don't find out they have a problem until they go blind, lose a leg, etc.
I will test my fasting sugar every morning for a while, and after certain meals. I wonder if Fitday has a way to put blood sugar readings into your daily info. I will have to check.
I bought my stuff and we waited on Ron's drugs. They told us they couldn't do the Neurontin because it is prescribed at 6 a day for 90 days. That's 540 pills. They absolutely don't have that in the little pharmacy.
They did have the other medication. So I checked, and it was ready. 90 days for $10. Not addictive. We'll see if it works for Ron.
While checking out, I said it was funny to buy someone else's pills instead of my own, and thanked them for "keeping me out of prison".
We had some time after that so I went to McDonald's and bought a hamburger with just ketchup. I can't stand mustard and onions. Ugh. Actually it was a cheeseburger, if you can call it "cheese".
I logged everything into my Fitday and waited on our ride. It was a longtime driver we like. We went home.
I was mentally and physically exhausted. I had taken my medication at Walmart and it always wipes me out. I took a nap for a couple of hours, and woke up to Biscuit in my bed, purring.
Such a good baby. I can't believe someone threw him out, can't believe someone else wanted to kick him in the head. Can't believe no one looked for him (I ransacked every board and link I could to find his "owner"). But he's mine now and he couldn't be better.
He was a really nice bright spot in my day. I think that's why God gave me the cats. He knew I'd need some unconditional love.
We got up and went to Denny's. I had already eaten my big meal (the cheeseburger) and taken my pills, so I just had a lava cake. It was good. I just hope it doesn't give me a headache tomorrow. Ron had some soup.
He took his Tylenol, and his Neurontin, at the restaurant. Hopefully they will help him. He took the increased dose so I am hopeful.
Doc seems to have a pretty good handle on pain control.
We came home. Now Ron is calling a cab driver (Chuck said he couldn't help Ron get vodka, today) to buy him vodka because he ran out. If I were an alcoholic, and buying it by the case, I'd be getting the next case when I got down to 1 and half bottles. But that's me. I'm certainly not going to suggest it to Ron.
He creates these crises for himself, and I won't help him drink. So it's on him.
I checked the mail. The last thing for my gifts arrived. So I just need to wrap them and tape up the box for the shipment to Mom and Dad. That will get mailed, probably, Monday. Not sure if it will get there in a week if I send it priority but I will take the chance.
Baby Girl got out when I went to check the mail. I had to chase her through the neighbor's yard (#2) to catch her. Now she wants to go out again. And she has a catio!
I've got a lot on my plate. Thank God Dad will be managing his own care; I don't see how I could help 2 people. And no one's going to ask me, I'm disabled, and I'm already helping Ron. Thank God Dad doesn't "need" me to help. He just needs me to take my meds, get my sleep, and stay straight.
I can manage that.
I got up, slept with Biscuit again. I really love that cat. I'm going to put up a photo of him. Done.
So all day was spent with Ron in a horrible mood, extreme pain, lots of complaining. He reminds me of a woman in labor. It's the neuropathy, which we all know is worsened by alcohol.
Ron swears alcohol is the only thing that "helps" but said it didn't help today. It didn't stop him from drinking, though.
Last night we had the bath. That was miserable for Ron because any kind of rubbing or touching on his skin makes him scream. Yeah. Imagine washing his back. I'm not sure what was worse, the grimacing or the screams.
I ended up going to bed late and I slept late because I had a sweet, fat, Biscuit in my bed. He is so lovable. Who cares if he has a dirty butt? And vomits? He's a good boy.
I got up and took my shower, got us dressed. Ron wore sweatpants which turned out to be a good idea.
We had a rather long ride to the doctor. Finally got there, about 40 minutes early. We checked in. Ron's blood pressure was high because he was in pain, and had trouble standing on the scale.
We waited in the exam room for a long while. I read all the patient literature. Doc wanted a urine test for Ron, I think to test for opiates, but Ron couldn't give a sample. Ron had gone in asking for pain relief.
Ron talked to the assistant for a while and she left. Doc came in about 10 minutes later. He was impressed when Ron specifically said he did not want narcotics, or anything addictive. Doc and Ron figured out a medication that can help Ron sleep but is not addictive. Doc also increased Ron's dosage of Neurontin. Hopefully that will help.
Ron said he can't do an MRI but Doc had them take a series of back x-rays. Hopefully they will show some details on what's wrong with Ron.
Our copay (traditional Medicare) was $30. Not bad.
We had about an hour after that, before out pickup. Ron didn't want to wait in the waiting room "With all the sick people". I agreed. We went outside. It was a little chilly but not too bad.
There was a Starbucks nearby. Ron wanted a coffee so we went. He got a latte but it made his symptoms worse. I reminded him caffeine is a stimulant and he got rid of it. I got a piece of pound cake. Normally I don't buy anything at Starbucks because I don't agree with their politics (extreme left) but I was pretty worn down.
Our ride finally came. We had 2 other people in wheelchairs. Ron had to sit in the far back. One woman was dressed in a nice outfit, knee high leather boots, nice leather purse, custom deluxe wheelchair (not a Medicare model), cut-dyed-styled hair, etc. We dropped her at the food bank. She was hoping they had turkeys.
"It's for the needy, not the greedy" Ron said, when I told him. I agree.
The other passenger had a tantrum when he found out we were next. Hey, buddy, we rode all over North Houston this morning. We got dropped off and went in.
I checked on the status of the prescriptions, they were being processed. I did a little shopping.
Since I am having such an extreme dry mouth lately, I decided to get some new test strips for my blood sugar meter. I'm not a diabetic and I'd like to keep it that way. But if my sugars are getting a little whack I need to know before I have any damage. A lot of diabetics don't find out they have a problem until they go blind, lose a leg, etc.
I will test my fasting sugar every morning for a while, and after certain meals. I wonder if Fitday has a way to put blood sugar readings into your daily info. I will have to check.
I bought my stuff and we waited on Ron's drugs. They told us they couldn't do the Neurontin because it is prescribed at 6 a day for 90 days. That's 540 pills. They absolutely don't have that in the little pharmacy.
They did have the other medication. So I checked, and it was ready. 90 days for $10. Not addictive. We'll see if it works for Ron.
While checking out, I said it was funny to buy someone else's pills instead of my own, and thanked them for "keeping me out of prison".
We had some time after that so I went to McDonald's and bought a hamburger with just ketchup. I can't stand mustard and onions. Ugh. Actually it was a cheeseburger, if you can call it "cheese".
I logged everything into my Fitday and waited on our ride. It was a longtime driver we like. We went home.
I was mentally and physically exhausted. I had taken my medication at Walmart and it always wipes me out. I took a nap for a couple of hours, and woke up to Biscuit in my bed, purring.
Such a good baby. I can't believe someone threw him out, can't believe someone else wanted to kick him in the head. Can't believe no one looked for him (I ransacked every board and link I could to find his "owner"). But he's mine now and he couldn't be better.
He was a really nice bright spot in my day. I think that's why God gave me the cats. He knew I'd need some unconditional love.
We got up and went to Denny's. I had already eaten my big meal (the cheeseburger) and taken my pills, so I just had a lava cake. It was good. I just hope it doesn't give me a headache tomorrow. Ron had some soup.
He took his Tylenol, and his Neurontin, at the restaurant. Hopefully they will help him. He took the increased dose so I am hopeful.
Doc seems to have a pretty good handle on pain control.
We came home. Now Ron is calling a cab driver (Chuck said he couldn't help Ron get vodka, today) to buy him vodka because he ran out. If I were an alcoholic, and buying it by the case, I'd be getting the next case when I got down to 1 and half bottles. But that's me. I'm certainly not going to suggest it to Ron.
He creates these crises for himself, and I won't help him drink. So it's on him.
I checked the mail. The last thing for my gifts arrived. So I just need to wrap them and tape up the box for the shipment to Mom and Dad. That will get mailed, probably, Monday. Not sure if it will get there in a week if I send it priority but I will take the chance.
Baby Girl got out when I went to check the mail. I had to chase her through the neighbor's yard (#2) to catch her. Now she wants to go out again. And she has a catio!
I've got a lot on my plate. Thank God Dad will be managing his own care; I don't see how I could help 2 people. And no one's going to ask me, I'm disabled, and I'm already helping Ron. Thank God Dad doesn't "need" me to help. He just needs me to take my meds, get my sleep, and stay straight.
I can manage that.
Biscuit
I'm not sure why he looks brown. It must have been the flash. He's all white with gray. Here he is, in my bed.
Needy or Greedy?
Fancy purse, nice expensive outfit, leather knee high boots. Going to the food bank.
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
So my Dad has cancer
I didn't sleep well last night. I kept thinking about Dad having cancer. Even if it isn't a "bad" one, it's still a cancer.
Fairly recently, my stepmother told me she had a spot removed, it was suspicious. When it came back it was melanoma but they got it all. That was much easier to hear.
I still had to get up, do my morning routine, take my pills (the LAST thing Dad needs right now is me, off my pills) and go to Sam's Club to get supplies. I wanted to get some more of the candy I hand out. I did that. I also got some stuff for work.
We had to wait a long time (over an hour) on our ride to work. I had packed 2 things with me today. One, "The Value of Trials" - a tract. Secondly, I brought "Help From Above", a scripture booklet. I read the whole tract and about 1/4 of the booklet and felt much better.
About that time, our ride came and we went to work. The light was out in my snack machine. The good, working, one. I decided to steal the "good" bulb from the "bad" machine we are sending back anyway. It was a perfect fit and worked well, once I got it in there (I don't mind saying I asked God for some help with that).
Ron found another problem in the bottled vendor. The vendor has 45 slots. Each slot can take up to 9 drinks. It can hold a lot of drinks! At any rate, one slot was messed up and I didn't see a way to fix it. We contacted the repairman.
The nice thing about today's tech, I could send him a picture message as opposed to trying to "tell" him what was wrong. He could look at the photo and say "Oh!". So I did that. We will see him next week.
It's only about 2% of the machine, not a huge deal. Most importantly, the whole machine is working. That's what matters. Just the slot. And Ron didn't stock it so no one will try to buy anything. Even if they do, it will give them a refund.
I slept with Biscuit last night. Rather, he slept with me. He was very cuddly. I think he knows I'm having Hard Times.
I'm actually cycling out of the depression, but I really got slapped with Dad's email, and Ron's ongoing depression.
After work, we stocked it all, we came home. I took a nap. We ate dinner.
I got Ron in the bathtub, which he began cleaning. He didn't like my cleaning job. We're not here to clean the tub, Ron, we're here to bathe you. So we did that. He is going to the doctor tomorrow and I like to make sure he looks presentable.
I am also doing a load of laundry so he has a clean outfit. If he has his way, he will just wear the same clothes every day. I have to "make" him change, sometimes. The clothes will be washed in about 20-30 minutes, and then I'll run them in the dryer for a little bit, then finish them off tomorrow.
I need to find out when we have our first pickup so I can set my alarm accordingly. I like to get up 2 hours before our pickup, take my shower, eat my protein bar, do my God Time. Then I can get Ron up and ready to go.
Biscuit took a nap with me today, too. He is so adorable. He is becoming my favorite. He sleeps by my chair when I'm on the computer; he sleeps in my bed with me. He doesn't pester me for breakfast, but is ready for it when I do get up. He knows "the signal" is when I turn off my noisemaker. If I'm just getting up to use the toilet, I leave it on. If I want some water, I leave it on. But if I'm about to feed him, I turn it off and he gets up right away. Then he starts meowing.
He's really a perfect cat for me. I haven't seen Torbie as much recently, she's been more independent. That's fine, I miss her, but she's my companion, not my slave. She doesn't have to do anything but use her box. When my shoulder was messed up, she slept with me every night, by my head even (I love that, but cats generally don't).
What else? I downloaded the Fitday App to my phone. I like it so far. It has purchases, not ads. I would much rather make a purchase (and I probably will) than deal with a bunch of annoying ads popping out at all the wrong moments. I had that problem with one app, I had a devil of a time getting rid of it. I don't know how it got on my phone but it wouldn't leave me alone. Ugh.
I don't think I would ever download a "free" app that had ads. It's just not worth the aggravation.
I have a couple of apps on my phone that I use regularly: Accuweather, Blogger (where all the photos come from), and Fitday. I have Ztrip, a Yellow Cab Houston app, but it doesn't work. It can never get my location correct.
Torbie must have read, or sensed, what I wrote about Biscuit. She is now lying on my foot as I type. She's pretty cute. They all are.
I adopted them because they needed us. I made a commitment to them and I intend to keep it. But they are cute, and that just makes it easier to love them. Even Baby Girl ("Ron's" cat) let me rub her tummy today. If Ron tries to do that she growls and hisses at him, but she will stretch out and show me her pretty spotted tummy, I talk to her, and gently stroke it. Not for long, though.
I'm not stupid.
Fairly recently, my stepmother told me she had a spot removed, it was suspicious. When it came back it was melanoma but they got it all. That was much easier to hear.
I still had to get up, do my morning routine, take my pills (the LAST thing Dad needs right now is me, off my pills) and go to Sam's Club to get supplies. I wanted to get some more of the candy I hand out. I did that. I also got some stuff for work.
We had to wait a long time (over an hour) on our ride to work. I had packed 2 things with me today. One, "The Value of Trials" - a tract. Secondly, I brought "Help From Above", a scripture booklet. I read the whole tract and about 1/4 of the booklet and felt much better.
About that time, our ride came and we went to work. The light was out in my snack machine. The good, working, one. I decided to steal the "good" bulb from the "bad" machine we are sending back anyway. It was a perfect fit and worked well, once I got it in there (I don't mind saying I asked God for some help with that).
Ron found another problem in the bottled vendor. The vendor has 45 slots. Each slot can take up to 9 drinks. It can hold a lot of drinks! At any rate, one slot was messed up and I didn't see a way to fix it. We contacted the repairman.
The nice thing about today's tech, I could send him a picture message as opposed to trying to "tell" him what was wrong. He could look at the photo and say "Oh!". So I did that. We will see him next week.
It's only about 2% of the machine, not a huge deal. Most importantly, the whole machine is working. That's what matters. Just the slot. And Ron didn't stock it so no one will try to buy anything. Even if they do, it will give them a refund.
I slept with Biscuit last night. Rather, he slept with me. He was very cuddly. I think he knows I'm having Hard Times.
I'm actually cycling out of the depression, but I really got slapped with Dad's email, and Ron's ongoing depression.
After work, we stocked it all, we came home. I took a nap. We ate dinner.
I got Ron in the bathtub, which he began cleaning. He didn't like my cleaning job. We're not here to clean the tub, Ron, we're here to bathe you. So we did that. He is going to the doctor tomorrow and I like to make sure he looks presentable.
I am also doing a load of laundry so he has a clean outfit. If he has his way, he will just wear the same clothes every day. I have to "make" him change, sometimes. The clothes will be washed in about 20-30 minutes, and then I'll run them in the dryer for a little bit, then finish them off tomorrow.
I need to find out when we have our first pickup so I can set my alarm accordingly. I like to get up 2 hours before our pickup, take my shower, eat my protein bar, do my God Time. Then I can get Ron up and ready to go.
Biscuit took a nap with me today, too. He is so adorable. He is becoming my favorite. He sleeps by my chair when I'm on the computer; he sleeps in my bed with me. He doesn't pester me for breakfast, but is ready for it when I do get up. He knows "the signal" is when I turn off my noisemaker. If I'm just getting up to use the toilet, I leave it on. If I want some water, I leave it on. But if I'm about to feed him, I turn it off and he gets up right away. Then he starts meowing.
He's really a perfect cat for me. I haven't seen Torbie as much recently, she's been more independent. That's fine, I miss her, but she's my companion, not my slave. She doesn't have to do anything but use her box. When my shoulder was messed up, she slept with me every night, by my head even (I love that, but cats generally don't).
What else? I downloaded the Fitday App to my phone. I like it so far. It has purchases, not ads. I would much rather make a purchase (and I probably will) than deal with a bunch of annoying ads popping out at all the wrong moments. I had that problem with one app, I had a devil of a time getting rid of it. I don't know how it got on my phone but it wouldn't leave me alone. Ugh.
I don't think I would ever download a "free" app that had ads. It's just not worth the aggravation.
I have a couple of apps on my phone that I use regularly: Accuweather, Blogger (where all the photos come from), and Fitday. I have Ztrip, a Yellow Cab Houston app, but it doesn't work. It can never get my location correct.
Torbie must have read, or sensed, what I wrote about Biscuit. She is now lying on my foot as I type. She's pretty cute. They all are.
I adopted them because they needed us. I made a commitment to them and I intend to keep it. But they are cute, and that just makes it easier to love them. Even Baby Girl ("Ron's" cat) let me rub her tummy today. If Ron tries to do that she growls and hisses at him, but she will stretch out and show me her pretty spotted tummy, I talk to her, and gently stroke it. Not for long, though.
I'm not stupid.
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
"Mentally Defective"
Yesterday was pretty uneventful, we went to work, stocked, came home.
I woke up today with a nasty headache but the Excedrin helped. I took a shower, Ron woke up. We got dressed, and he got into the vodka.
He asked me a question and I replied. He didn't like my tone of voice. He asked if I was angry at him.
"No" I told him "I'm scared and sad that you think you go to the vodka first thing in the morning."
I got the chronic pain speech, vodka is the only thing that helps, I don't want him to hurt, do I? I told him there are people known as doctors, who can write prescriptions, for real painkillers instead of Ron getting drunk every day in the name of "pain control".
He said he couldn't make an appointment because he didn't know when I'd go, which is bullshit. I just told him yesterday I would go to the dentist with him whenever they could fit him in.
I hate when he uses me as an excuse to drink. Nonetheless, I went to the taqueria with him. As soon as we got to our table, Ron decided to order a beer. I was not encouraged.
He said he couldn't eat anything because they didn't have an accessible bathroom, and he was worried about digestive issues. That's his business.
I ate a quesadilla, some chips and hot sauce (they don't really serve a salsa, it is a served-warm hot sauce), and a couple of bacon and egg tacos. Everything was very good. I only dripped a little hot sauce on my shirt, which I pretreated when I got home. The hot sauce helped my headache.
Ron ate maybe 2 chips, and one bite of a taco.
Things were fine. He did play what I considered to be a mean prank on the waitress, who knows us pretty well. He had a $100 bill. He called her over and showed it to her, said he had "the tip", then gave her a $5. I thought that was borderline cruel. She was so excited when she thought she was getting $100.
When we got home (we had nice drivers both ways), Ron told me that while he had been drinking, he was fine, right? I told him I will never say him drinking is fine.
He got "hurt" and railed at me for over an hour. He finally concluded that, since I am "mentally defective", my opinion shouldn't matter anyway. I didn't say anything, the only way I have found to deal with him is to be quiet and just let him get it all out of his system.
Biscuit got in my bed with me (my headache was back) and we took a nap. I woke up pretty pissed and got dressed, started my blog.
Ron woke up and wanted to apologize. I told him he should. I told him, under no circumstances ever will I EVER tell him his drinking ANYTHING is OK. Ever. He knows that.
"You asking me, looks like a game" I told him.
I reiterated a few of his more memorable acts, choking me, beating me up, hurting himself, etc. All the cleanups I have had to perform. I asked him how, after going through all this, could I EVER think any amount of alcohol is OK?
He just said poor you and said he understood now, I would never approve of his drinking, anything, even if he "was" "fine". I said that was right.
"Ask someone else" I told him. I do think he is playing a game, he gets me to say drinking OK and then he has a blackout.
On his own, he decided to call our doctor and make an appointment. I told him they have good antidepressants that make you sleepy (he says he wants to "tune out"), he will just have to give it a little while to work.
I think my Wellbutrin took about 3 weeks. But, oh, the Wellbutrin headaches! It's a good thing it works so well for me or I'd be getting something else.
Back to Ron. So, we will have a doctor appointment this week, and a dentist on the 19th. I really pray the dentist is cheap. Ron does not take care of his teeth at all, and they are crumbling. He just had a root canal about 6 months ago, now something on the other side. Let's hope it is a $100 filling.
I even flat-out told Ron "If you're not going to take care of them why not get them pulled (when they go bad)?" He didn't answer me.
What a day. I'll let you know if I get any new developments.
Edit: found out my Dad has "mild" prostate cancer. Crap.
I woke up today with a nasty headache but the Excedrin helped. I took a shower, Ron woke up. We got dressed, and he got into the vodka.
He asked me a question and I replied. He didn't like my tone of voice. He asked if I was angry at him.
"No" I told him "I'm scared and sad that you think you go to the vodka first thing in the morning."
I got the chronic pain speech, vodka is the only thing that helps, I don't want him to hurt, do I? I told him there are people known as doctors, who can write prescriptions, for real painkillers instead of Ron getting drunk every day in the name of "pain control".
He said he couldn't make an appointment because he didn't know when I'd go, which is bullshit. I just told him yesterday I would go to the dentist with him whenever they could fit him in.
I hate when he uses me as an excuse to drink. Nonetheless, I went to the taqueria with him. As soon as we got to our table, Ron decided to order a beer. I was not encouraged.
He said he couldn't eat anything because they didn't have an accessible bathroom, and he was worried about digestive issues. That's his business.
I ate a quesadilla, some chips and hot sauce (they don't really serve a salsa, it is a served-warm hot sauce), and a couple of bacon and egg tacos. Everything was very good. I only dripped a little hot sauce on my shirt, which I pretreated when I got home. The hot sauce helped my headache.
Ron ate maybe 2 chips, and one bite of a taco.
Things were fine. He did play what I considered to be a mean prank on the waitress, who knows us pretty well. He had a $100 bill. He called her over and showed it to her, said he had "the tip", then gave her a $5. I thought that was borderline cruel. She was so excited when she thought she was getting $100.
When we got home (we had nice drivers both ways), Ron told me that while he had been drinking, he was fine, right? I told him I will never say him drinking is fine.
He got "hurt" and railed at me for over an hour. He finally concluded that, since I am "mentally defective", my opinion shouldn't matter anyway. I didn't say anything, the only way I have found to deal with him is to be quiet and just let him get it all out of his system.
Biscuit got in my bed with me (my headache was back) and we took a nap. I woke up pretty pissed and got dressed, started my blog.
Ron woke up and wanted to apologize. I told him he should. I told him, under no circumstances ever will I EVER tell him his drinking ANYTHING is OK. Ever. He knows that.
"You asking me, looks like a game" I told him.
I reiterated a few of his more memorable acts, choking me, beating me up, hurting himself, etc. All the cleanups I have had to perform. I asked him how, after going through all this, could I EVER think any amount of alcohol is OK?
He just said poor you and said he understood now, I would never approve of his drinking, anything, even if he "was" "fine". I said that was right.
"Ask someone else" I told him. I do think he is playing a game, he gets me to say drinking OK and then he has a blackout.
On his own, he decided to call our doctor and make an appointment. I told him they have good antidepressants that make you sleepy (he says he wants to "tune out"), he will just have to give it a little while to work.
I think my Wellbutrin took about 3 weeks. But, oh, the Wellbutrin headaches! It's a good thing it works so well for me or I'd be getting something else.
Back to Ron. So, we will have a doctor appointment this week, and a dentist on the 19th. I really pray the dentist is cheap. Ron does not take care of his teeth at all, and they are crumbling. He just had a root canal about 6 months ago, now something on the other side. Let's hope it is a $100 filling.
I even flat-out told Ron "If you're not going to take care of them why not get them pulled (when they go bad)?" He didn't answer me.
What a day. I'll let you know if I get any new developments.
Edit: found out my Dad has "mild" prostate cancer. Crap.
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