Wednesday, September 30, 2009
This is where I wanna say the F word but I won't 'cause my daughter reads this.
I'm also keenly aware that the picture on my driver's license makes me look like a Macy's Thanksgiving Parade float. It's just a giant head. A giant head with no make-up on and flat hair.
Tomorrow Mr. Man is scheduled for spinal fusion surgery in the Big City. At 3 AM tonight, we will get up to drive him there. We have about 4 or 5 days in the hospital and then a six month recovery period stretched out before us.
Yesterday my son was diagnosed with H1N1. He is young & healthy so there are no worries, but he is very sick. He says everything in his body hurts and last night he was shaking so hard, his teeth were rattling. I actually had to crawl in bed with him and wrap my arms around him to hold him long enough for it stop.
Because of Mr. Man's surgery, I am going to have to send my son to his Dad's to convalesce and that is upsetting to me. It's not that he doesn't have a wonderful Dad. He does. But when the Big Dog is sick - Momma is the hero. At fifteen now, and every bit of 6 feet tall, he still wants me when he doesn't feel good. It's killing me that I won't be home to take care of him. I can't quit crying this morning and even though I know that's completely ridiculous, the tears come anyway.
Then there is the Mister. This is not an easy surgery and we have been fully prepared for what comes next. He's going to need me to care for him and I'm terrified I'll get sick and won't be able to do that like I should. We don't have relatives in our city who can (or will) swoop in and help. He has a sister in a nearby town who is going to dog sit, but as unbelievably scared of H1N1 as everyone seems to be, (thanks for that, Media) I wouldn't ask her to show up here and take care of us.
So I'm overwhelmed. I'm feeling completely human and not at all like Super Woman. I figure when I finally do snap and take part in a spectacular crime spree on my way to Venezuela, Nancy Grace will have something to say about it - especially when she finds out I kidnapped a twenty-five year old cabana boy at gun point. Just so long as she pronounces my name correctly and uses the above picture, she can talk all she wants.
I'll have Tad to comfort me.
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