Unwritten.

August 21, 2017

Thursday night I believe. Well yes, I know it is because I consulted the calendar. And it's August 17th, 'cause I checked that as well. So I am up-to-date, so to speak. Otherwise, my sense of time, day and place is so f*cked up. Not sure how or why this happens- is it our brain and body's way of protecting itself against the ungodly outside forces trying to unravel your world as you once knew it? Heady stuff for sure; I just know it's a "thang" and it's totally different from my old "normal' daily life as I knew it. It's like being in a Christopher Nolan film (Ben's favorite director- Interstellar, Memento, Inception, The Dark Knight, more) where time is really twisted into something else, whether another dimension, parallel universe, short term memory loss, whatever. It's very unsettling and weird and not easily understood I guess, whether you are an actual participant or a viewer, trying to make sense of it all. Me? I feel like I'm both a participant and a viewer, seeing this new life of mine from all these different angles with all these different weird interconnected threads that just seem to keep unraveling and then reforming but never seem to lead to an end just new twists and turns, kind of like a mobius strip. I told you; heady stuff, and no, I'm not drugging or drinking or Hot Rod Lincolning it. And if I were, well, not sure I'd tell you, as we haven't necessarily been properly introduced. Reading this back, maybe there WAS something in the soup I had...

The VNA nurse(s) and social worker(s) really want Abby (as do I) to start to take a bit more control of her own well being. Learning to suction herself, maintain her feeding and understand the pump more, plus more more more. I do think it's important as it ultimately gives her more say over her life and should empower her. Not saying that when she feels sh*tty she should be doing all that crap, but knowing how and what to do and when is important to her own health and psyche, and mine too. And she wants too, so slowly we/they are starting to make little inroads.

I was hoping to finish this post tonight, like on the actual night I'm writing it, but ain't gonna happen, as I feel the Sandman not-so-gently bitch slapping me upside the head. Sorry if I'm not being PC, but the Sandman don't care, the bedbugs are biting and they don't care, and remember that I don't even remember what day it is. So you will get some slightly stale news tomorrow, served on Jewish wry. Saturday post

To quote the band Chumbawumba, "I get knocked down but I get up again", and even though the song is actually called "Tubthumping" and is about being an alcoholic, I can relate to that main line as do so many sport stadium chants. Endless days journey into night. The weekend started out benignly enough; my pal Julie Rainer Cummings came over last night to chill and brought over some Thai food and I actually.... relaxed for awhile. The old self taking over the new self for a few hours- was a welcome reprieve. Abby had slept a lot yesterday- I think the week caught up to her, so alas, after Julie left I was hoping my gal would sleep a fitful night so I might do the same, but did not happen. Was up at 12:30am, giving her meds, plus fluids, plus suctioning. Then ditto at around 4:30am, then she was up for good at 6:30am which meant so was I. But she perky and seemed well rested from the day before, and I'm glad for that. I however, was not, (to be blunt about it), and wanted to crawl back into the hole from which I had emerged, and pull the rock over the cave. But real drudgery every-day-life still marches on, so that meant after doing my husbandry duties (not that you pervs), I was ready to: change the kitty litter, do the laundry, feed the animals, empty all the trash bins and do the recycling.

SUNDAY

I'm going to reverse engineer my weekend - I had a Saturday post started; didn't quite finish it, and now it seems trite and irrelevant in comparison to what happened today, Sunday.

It's hard to describe what unfolded today- after a peaceful night's sleep and uneventful morning.

Saturday: To quote the band Chumbawumba, "I get knocked down but I get up again", and even though the song is actually called "Tubthumping" and is about being an alcoholic, I can relate to that main line as do so many sport stadium chants. Endless days journey into night. The weekend started out benignly enough; my pal Julie Rainer Cummings came over last night to chill and brought over some Thai food and I actually.... relaxed for awhile. The old self taking over the new self for a few hours- was a welcome reprieve. Abby had slept a lot yesterday- I think the week caught up to her, so alas, after Julie left I was hoping my gal would sleep a fitful night so I might do the same, but did not happen. Was up at 12:30am, giving her meds, plus fluids, plus suctioning. Then ditto at around 4:30am, then she was up for good at 6:30am which meant so was I. But she seemed perky and seemed well rested from the day before, and I'm glad for that. I however, was not, (to be blunt about it), and wanted to crawl back into the hole from which I had emerged, and pull the rock over the cave.

But real drudgery every-day-life still marches on, so that meant after doing my husbandry duties (not that you pervs), I was ready to: change the kitty litter, do the laundry, feed the animals, empty all the trash bins and do the recycling,