Saturday, March 29, 2008

Weeks 9 thru 13 of 2008

Oy vey. Who says my memory is this good? I hope I can remember anything at all.
Here goes:

Week 9, 2008 (Feb 24-March 1)
Pneumonia! I woke up on in the middle of the night Sunday. I was freezing. I looked at the little thermometer and it was 73 degrees Fahrenheit. That's warm. I put an extra comforter over me and could not shake the chill. When I finally got up my temp was 103. I didn't go to work...I went to the doctor.
I missed the entire week of work. I slept downstairs on the couch for three days. I couldn't breathe enough to walk up the stairs. I didn't have the energy to read e-mails or talk on the phone. I was down for the count.
2008 has been a flu season like none I've ever seen. I don't know one single person who hasn't had this gunk yet. I've watched everyone at work take a turn. Our local newscasters have had it. Actors and even the American Idol contestants have been stricken. Is it germ warfare?? Who knows?

Week 10 (March 2-March 8)
The hubby flew home to North Carolina on the 4th. This was supposed to be the week I took vacation and got the spring cleaning done. Because I missed the previous week of work, that plan got squashed. I got nothing done. I ate badly. I rented movies and tried to enjoy the quiet. Mostly, I just missed him. He finally came home on the 11th.
His parents are doing ok. His dad has recovered enough from last year's bladder replacement surgery that they were able to take in a hockey game and go out a bit. That was lots of fun for my hubby. There are worries in his home. The parents aren't young and his grandmother's mind is starting to fail. (She's mid 90s or so). He sees that world changing and he's very worried. Me too - for him.

Week 11 (March 9- March 14)
A bland week, as far as I can remember - with one exception. Tuesday, March 11th, my husband took "a few" Flexaril. I think he took it because he has so much worry in his head. He's been prone to panic attacks and mid-life-crisis kind of issues since we lost my dad in '05. I guess that's too much reality for a man in his late 40s. I'm sorry for him and I wish I could help...but I don't know how at all.
Anyway, the Flexaril caused hallucinations. Worse yet, I didn't know he took them. I've never experienced the effects of them either.
It started when he came out of the bathroom and excitedly said "Where's Barry?" (his brother - who lives in NC and has never been in my house)
I looked at him like he was nuts. "What!"
"Oh, I was thinking of something else."
Then he started acting weird. He washed the dishes and said "What is that still doing there?" referring to the sponge drainer. He then dismantled the drainer.
He tried to fill a bag with kitty litter using the litter scoop - which, of course, has holes in it. I let him do that for a while.
He filled a glass with water, mixed dish soap in it and then went looking for the cat. "Heere Mishu Pishu. Where are you little kitty?" (Little kitty was having none of that and was hiding under a chair.
All the while his eyes were barely open. At first, I thought he was having a stroke. Then it dawned on me what he'd done. He couldn't tell me how many he'd taken and I probably should have taken him to the hospital but he was none to agreeable with my demands.
This insanity went on for about 4 hours before I could get him to go to sleep. He slept the entire next day. He does this again 10 days later and it will be the last time ever.

Week 12 (March 15-23)
Things are ok. Nothing out of the ordinary. His Mom is scheduling a biopsy on a shadow in her lung. (panic) His dad is waiting for a host of doctors to schedule the 9hr surgery to repair the unhealed and torn parts of the bladder replacement from last August. (scary)
The hubby and I (mostly I) are looking for a house. Not too seriously yet. More like "browsing" for a house.
Then it happens.
The hubby has Good Friday (March 21) off work. I go home for lunch and he's out running around. This is not abnormal.
There's a message on the machine. It's my husband. It's from 9:03 a.m.
He says, "Beeep. Beeeeep. Hi baby it's me. I'm at the store and I'm WAY confused. I don't know what the hell I'm looking for..."
That's odd...but not really concerning. I finish lunch and go back to work.
I call him when I get to work. He answers the phone but his words are slurred.
"Honey, where are you?"
"I'm at Best Buy."
"Are you ok? Your not talking right. Does your head hurt."
"I'm fine. I'm just confused." It comes out "I fii-iinuh. I'm dust con-cufust."
"Ok, hon. I'm going to come up there. You shouldn't drive."
"I dint dribe. You brought me here."
"Ok. And I'm coming back to get you now so just stay there, ok?"
"Yes, but I'm coming back to get you so just don't leave."
He hung up on me.
I BOLT out of the office and I'm driving 60 in school zones praying to get to him before he drives home. He's been out of the house and hallucinating for 3 hrs now. In my mind, I see him driving through some big intersection on a red light and a diesel plowing over his little bitty KIA.
I call him on the way and he says, "Well I don know how it got here but I fount my car. I just going to drife home."
Oh GOD let me get to him before he does!
"NO. Just stay there. Your car doesn't work."
He's mad at me. "I'm not leaving my car here!! It works fine!!"
"Just stay there. Please. Just stay there."
We do this 4 times before I get there. He's so angry at me for leaving his car there. He goes home with me anyway.
We get home and he says he's going to walk back to Best Buy or take a cab. I'm afraid to leave him but I have to go back to work.
I call his brother and ask him to call our house and talk him out of leaving. His brother calls me back and says the phone is busy. I don't know if my husband is at home or aimlessly wandering the streets.
I leave work for the rest of the day. Crap! Bad day!
We have tickets to a hockey game that night. I finally get him to nap a while and then we get up, dress, go get his car (he's still stoned) and go to the game.
This stupid medicine hangs on him all night. Around 10 pm he looks right at me and says "My brother had a baby boy." (his brother does not have a baby boy)
He's cranky and says mean things to me and I finally have enough. I stop talking to him.
On the way home we get in an argument because he thinks I said I'm going to Wal-Mart but then I drive right by it. All of my frustration hits at once and I start yelling at the top of my lungs at him....about nothing.
I want this to be a miserable experience for him so he'll never do it again. At the same time, I'm hurt and angry and exhausted.
We get home around 11pm and I pack a bag and go stay in a hotel. It's a horrible night. I don't sleep and I cry a lot.
I get home the next day and he's asleep. He's awake for about two hours the entire day but we're not speaking.
The weekend is shot.
Sunday night he apologizes. I've already flushed every prescription he has in the whole house.
It won't happen again.
The thing is....I know why he did it. He's trying so hard to escape the worry and fear going on in his head. For the record, this is the wrong way to do it.

Week 14 (March 24-March 29)
Everything is back to normal. (a.k.a. status quo) I feel tired lately. Upstairs kitty gets bored about 3am and wakes us up to play. That's taking a toll. I'm looking forward to a new house so I can lock upstairs kitty out of the bedroom at night. Right now, there's just no other place unless he's downstairs fighting with Mishu. (Gawd - will they ever get along?)
I'm missing my family and want to see them soon.
I'm bored stiff at work and trying to keep in mind that I need to remain employed to buy a house. Priorities!!!!!!
Today, March 29th, is the first Saturday the hubby has worked in 3 weeks. It's 8:15 a.m. The house is peaceful for here I am. Trying to catch up.

Monday, March 24, 2008

A promise not kept.

I don't recall now if it was Thursday or Friday when I made the promise. I said I would update. I got tagged and intended to follow through...but then...
I'll get around to weeks 9 through 12 later. When I find the time. I'm working on the tag in my head but not yet in my own space.
The weekend was a total bust. What, in our world, is known as Good Friday turned out to be Very Bad Friday compliments of Flexaril, Xanax, a cellphone and Best Buy. Those are key words so I'll remember the cause and the event. It means nothing to anyone but me anyway.

Everything in life is fragile at all times. Even a good rut can be shattered without intent or forewarning. If we're lucky, we can find our way back to our rut.....our comfort zone. If we're lucky, we can move forward in life without more damage. We can live without walking on eggshells.
But we never really lose the scars, do we?

Everything is back to normal now....for now.
May we all have a peaceful, rut-filled, boring week.
Until next time.
Hugs and love.