Lately I have been feeling more and more useless. I am sure that a large part of this is due to my electric wheelchair being irrevocably dead, which means I am housebound again unless Sam can take me out. I didn't realize how amazing that chair was until it died. And it will be at least six months, and possibly as long as 18-24 before all the red tape sorts out with Medicaid for me to get a new one. I can't even go down the street to get a soda without help. The arthritis is in my shoulders now, and I can't push the wheelchair without ending up in horrible pain, the kind that keeps me from sleeping because I can't get into a position where my shoulders don't make me cry. I can't even use the restrooms at places like WalMart, because the disabled stall is far down at the end of a very long bathroom, and I can't push myself there. So I am extremely limited in everything I do.
I hate being a fucking cripple. I come from a family of healthy people, it looks like I get to be the one who isn't. Like my great aunt Jeannie, who died while in her early fifties was for HER generation of the family. I'm the fat one, who has always been fat, in a family of rail thin women. I'm the asthmatic, the diabetic, the cripple, the hypothyroid. The only thing I am not alone in is being batshit crazy. I got that shit straight from the bitch who whelped me, mainlined. At least I'm less crazy than she is, it seems to dilute. My daughters are less crazy than me, thank God.
I have five wounds on my body that refuse to heal. One on my thigh that has been there for more than three months. Three on my breasts that have been there for nearly a year. One on my abdome that has been there for at least two years. All from ant bites that got infected. They ooze pus continually, and I wake up stuck to the sheets, so whatever scab formed over night tears off onto the sheets, which have to be washed every day. Dressing these wounds is not an option, I get the worst tape burns from bandaging, which results in more wounds and more pus. And of course, at the end of the day, my bra and my skirt or pants are adhered to my body, so the scabs are ripped off again. My life is a never ending round of debriding and cleaning of these damn things, and a constant fear that they'll go totally septic and I will lose a leg or a breast due to infection. And I've been fed so many antibiotics for these that I am becoming resistant to most of them.
Christmas is coming, and Andy won't be here. I can't lie and say I'm sorry about that, he makes life a living hell for everybody in this house when he is here. But Sam is hurting over it. He feels like Andy's issues are somehow his fault, that if he were a better person, Andy wouldn't be OCD to the extreme as well as a generally self-absorbed person to top it off. So Christmas is likely to be somewhat of a downer for Sam, and thus for me and the kids.
The cat keeps trying to sit on my shoulders. It's driving me crazy.
At least the majority of the Christmas shopping is done already. I still need to order Amy's heart's desire. She wants a good mortar and pestle, and we chose a fantastic one together the other day:
It's made of granite, has a 6 inch wide bowl, holds 1.5 cups, with a six inch pestle. And it is just what she wants. In addition, she wants some slack key guitar lessons that Keola Beamer has all webbed up and ready to go. So that's Amy's main stuff taken care of, except for stocking stuffers.
The boys are getting the Wii, the Guitar Hero, a couple of Legend of Zelda games, and some Wii accessories as their main gifts. They'll also get various and sundry smaller items, such as books and new wristwatches (BADLY needed, their current ones are falling apart!).
I have no clue what to get for Sam. He's difficult to shop for, as his main desires are computer guts related, and I never know what he needs or what specs. I hate to just tell him "Go to Fry's and get something reasonably priced". I am thinking I may get him some books, but books are hard too. I think he may have already read every sci fi book ever published, I will NOT get him any self help books, as he uses them as an excuse to feel bad about himself. Maybe some good faith based books this year, to help him learn more about his own spirituality. Or a trip to Recycled Books, just the two of us, and a big gift certificate. He really loves browsing books.
Me, I just want the holidays to be drama free. And that will be difficult, as we are kicking off the holiday season by going to Waco Thanksgiving weekend for a McWhorter family reunion. And those people are kind of crazy. At any given time, half of them aren't speaking to the other half, there's schizophrenics and manic depressives and everything in between. Hey, Missy, let's see if we can get together while I'm there? I will NEED the sanity check!
I keep looking at my desk, thinking that I should really clean it off. It has about 18 inches of crap piled on it, willy nilly. I can't find a damn thing, including my MP3 player, which I want to give to Ian because he hasn't got one and really wants one badly.
Note to self: get each kid a 2 gig flashcard thingy for the Wii.
I want to go to bed, but I can't. Sam is grading, and is spread out all over the bed. I don't want to disturb him, it breaks his concentration and adds significant amounts of time to his work. After the kids leave for school in about 20 minutes, I will go nap on Evan's bed.
The kids have been scaring me medically lately. Evan had a bout with stomach flu, Ian fell off his skateboard and sprained his wrist so badly that it was splinted for a week, and Sean took a dive in PE the other day and has a badly sprained ankle. And we have no health coverage for them and can't get them seen by a doctor. The good news is that my friends Kelly and Susan, who live two doors down, are RNs and more than happy to help us out with stuff. I need to find a way to get them some coverage. Need.