This sucks!

I'm at work right now. I can't concentrate at all.

My dog had surgery this morning to remove a mass on his side. When the vet opened him up he said that he was pretty certain it was cancerous, and that it was pretty invasive. What that means for the time being, I don't know. The mass is being sent off for testing to determine the type and severity of the cancer. We won't have results for a few days.

We adopted this dog from the pound 10 years ago (almost to the day!) when he was 2 months old. He's older than our children. I knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but he hasn't been acting like anything is wrong.

In fact, the only reason we brought him to the vet is because, what we had been told a few months earlier was just a lipoma and nothing to worry about, had changed size and texture drastically over the last week.

It's just such a shock.

I feel like I want the last 12 months back. It seems like everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

Starting at about this time last year:

Hubby lost his job because his employer ran out of money to pay their employees. He found another job, but it was still stressful for a little while.

Found out the Chipmunk was missing a testicle.

Around labor day, the Chipmunk had Roseola twice! A hospital visit for dehydration was included somewhere in there for him.

The Chipmunk had surgery to locate the missing testicle a few days before Halloween. We spent the night of Halloween in the ER due to an infection from the surgery, as well as dehydration.

My husband broke his shoulder on thanksgiving day.

Right before valentine's day I came down with mastoiditis - aka the ear infection from HELL - that lasted 4 months.

In the beginning of March, the kids and I all had the stomach flu so bad the Chipmunk and I had to be hospitalized for dehydration.

In June, I was diagnosed with scoliosis, degenerating disk disease, and bone spurs - at least I finally got an explanation for the back pain I've been suffering with for years.

The day after fathers day Hubby took 30 Tylenol PM and 6 vicodin, in an attempt to kill himself. A result of him taking too many prescribed steroids for his asthma and allergies.

The next week, the Monkey was diagnosed with asthma and has been given the greatest number of prescriptions than anyone else in the household combined.

The week after that, it was confirmed that the Chipmunk is extremely allergic to cows milk - making it nearly impossible for daycare to feed him anything she feeds anyone else in her care.

And now, the dog.

I think I would really like to slow down for a little bit. If I believed in god I would probably be thinking something along the lines of "you don't get more than you can handle".

But I don't believe in god. So, I have nothing to rely on but myself.

And I'm not sure how much more I can handle.


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Stress

So much has been going on my life lately that I'm not sure I can handle it all.

My back pain has been pretty bad lately. It's really affecting my attitude. I'm trying to get my chair at work fixed, but it doesn't look like it will happen anytime soon. That's what I get for working for the government.

This is what's been bugging me lately too. I try and take care of myslef and do the right things for my health, but everything just seems to get even more difficult the harder I try. At this point I'm thinking I shouldn't bother about the chair. But, I know that once it is fixed I'll feel much better. At least I hope that's the case.

The Hubs seemed depressed this morning. I'm worried about him all the time. I want him tell me what's wrong, but I don't want him to feel like I'm prying. I also don't want him to fell like if I don't try to find out what's wrong, then I don't care. It feels like I can't win no matter what I do.


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Journaling

I started seeing a new therapist a few weeks ago. I only saw the old one a few times too. I decided to change because she couldn't remember my name. Kind of important to remember who you're speaking to, don't you think?

Anyway, the new has asked that I start keeping a journal. I didn't tell her about the blog. Couldn't tell you why. Maybe it's because I post so rarely here that I don't really consider it a journal. Maybe it's because I don't think I could stand her wanting to read it. Who knows. I just know I don't want to tell her about it.

Anyway, I've never kept a real write-with-paper-and-pen journal. I hate the physical act of writing, it makes my hand hurt and my handwriting sucks so much I'm afraid I'd worry more about how the writing looked than what I actually wanted to write.

So I guess for now this will have to be my journal. I hope the few people who stop by don't mind. If you do, let me know and I might consider using an actual hard-copy journal. We'll see.


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Playing favorites

Yesterday I downloaded a song solely because it's the Chipmunk's favorite. I've never done this before, not even for the Monkey. It just makes me so happy when he starts dancing and singing along.

I'm afraid that the Chipmunk is turning into my favorite kid. I will do anything for him, even if it means that I suffer. He'll cry to be picked up, and I'll do it. He'll beg to go outside, and I'll go with him.

I'm not this accomodating with the Monkey. Is it because he's older and I can reason with him? Perhaps. Is it because if the Chipmunk doesn't get what he wants he throws a mega-tantrum? Maybe. But I'm not sure I don't get some sort of satisfaction from making him happy.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy making the Monkey happy, but the amount of joy the Chipmunk gets from little things seems a little intoxicating and I'd do anything to get that feeling myself. So, if I can make him happy, why not?

Am I wrong for doing this?

Does the Monkey realize the Chipmunk is my favorite?

Am I Spoiling him?



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Decision

I ended up starting the Lexapro the night I voiced my concerns. The final decision was made after a long talk with the Hubs where it was made clear that we are both going to need some help to get through this. Either medicinal, or otherwise.

I didn't take the Xanax until last night. It seems that one of the side effects of the Lexapro for me is insomnia. Since I was already an insomniac I was at my wits end after not sleeping for a few days. So, I took a Xanax last night and had the best nights sleep I've had in a long time. Which is unfortunate since I've just recently kicked an Ambien addiction. I really don't want to add Xanax addict to the list.

So, it seems for right now that there is better living through chemistry for me.



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Unsure

I don't know what came over me in that last post.

Unfortunately, I made it seem like the Hubs cheated on me. That is absolutely not the case. Although, I do think I feel somewhat betrayed.

Actually, I'm so confused I don't know if I even know what I'm feeling.

I went to the doctor today and asked for medication to help me cope with what's going on. I was prescribed Lexapro and Xanax. I'm scared to take them. I feel like such a failure for not being able to get through this without putting chemicals in my body. Chemicals that will change the way my brain works. Also, once I start taking them I'll have to stay on them or risk even more problems.

The sooner I start taking them, the sooner they'll start helping. But, what if the worst is over and I can get through the rest without assistance? I hate having these "what ifs" floating around my head.

Sometimes I wish we all came with owners manuals.


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One week

I feel like a sack of shit.

I'm so pissed at him.

I feel like I have lost my best friend. He says he wants to fix this. I want to fix this. I don't know if that's possible.

He says that I didn't have anything to do with it. I don't believe him. I don't believe him because the day it happened he called me to tell me what he had done. When I asked him why, he said that it was because he didn't think that I loved him anymore. If that's not an excited utterance, I don't know what is.

So now, I'm expected to go back to life as normal. I don't know how to do that.

He's getting help. He's on medication.

Where's my support? He was it. Now I can't trust him to be there for me. I have no one else in my life.

It's been one week and I can't concentrate on anything. I cant work. I can't sleep. I can't stop crying. He wants to know what's wrong.

What the fuck does he think is wrong?


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Keep on truckin'

Evidently I'm having a hard time keeping up here. No excuses, just blocked. Will try again.


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Three days!

It took me three days to figure it out.

Three days!

I bought the bottle on Sunday and didn't touch it until I was in the shower on Monday morning. So, maybe it only took me two days to figure it out.

I ran out of shampoo during my shower on Sunday morning.

I bought another bottle - with a pump dispenser - later on that morning.

While I was taking a shower Monday morning, I tried to open the new bottle - I couldn't do it.

I twisted, and twisted, the pump to try and get it to pop up so I could actually, you know, pump - I couldn't do it.

I tried pulling the pump up - I couldn't do it.

I went through all of this on Tuesday morning too.

Both days I gave up and took the whole top off of the bottle and dumped some shampoo into my hand. Do you know how awkward that is?

All this time I still had the old bottle (with the same pump dispenser!) in the shower. What can I say, I'm lazy.

Finally, on Wednesday morning, I came to my senses. I swapped out the pumps on the two bottles!

I was able to wash my hair without frustration.

I can't believe it took me so long to come up with a solution.

I'm such an idiot.

Either that or I'm just really tired when I shower in the morning.

Nah, I'm an idiot.

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I can't sleep

It's 15 minutes til midnight and I've been up since 5:45 this morning.

I've been running full on from then until 8:30 tonight. I was exhausted when I left work tonight.

But, for some unknown reason I'm awake right now. I've even taken extra Ambien and I still can't sleep.

What's wrong with me?


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I don't know who to choose

When I was driving home from work last week the song "Live Like We're Dying", by Kris Allen, came on the radio.

I don't like country music, and I'm pretty sure that's what you'd classify that song as. But, for the first time since it's been playing on the airwaves I actually listened to the words.

This next line made me think.

And then cry.

"And if your plane fell out of the skies
Who would you call with your last goodbye?"

My first reaction was that I would call my husband.

I immediately reconsidered and thought I would call the Monkey.

Again, I immediately reconsidered and thought I would call the Chipmunk. Oh how I would want to call the Chipmunk.

But then I felt guilty.

And confused.

I felt guilty because I was picking one of them over the others. I felt guilty because calling the Chipmunk wouldn't accomplish anything, since he wouldn't really be able to understand me.

I felt confused because I really would want to speak to all three of them, but if I truely had to choose one I kept going back to the Chipmunk. And I have no idea why.

That's why I was crying. I cried the whole way home after that. I kept going back to that line in the song and trying to make sense of my feelings.

Why do I have to choose one? They are all part of my heart. I would want them to know I was thinking of all of them during that time.

I guess I'm just going to have to hope it doesn't happen before I make up my mind.

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This sucks

It's almost six o'clock Friday evening and I'm still at work. I'm here until 6:15 - I normally finish at 4:15.

I'm still paying back my maternity leave. My employer doesn't offer what most people traditionally know as maternity leave. They will advance up to 240 hours of sick leave, which will then be paid back at the rate at which I earn it - 4 hours per pay period. And, that's assuming you take no other (advanced) sick leave for actually, you know, being sick.

Since I had the baby long over a year ago, and have only made headway on paying back about 35 hours, my employer is getting antsy about the amount still owed. Due to this, they "suggested" I work credit hours to have available should I, or anyone else I'm responsible for, get sick.

I've comitted to working 2 additional hours most Friday's until I have 24 hours saved up.

No one else is here.

I'm lonely.

I'm tired.

I can't wait to go home.


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A little pee

A while back all four of us were in the car.

I was driving, the hubs was in the front passenger seat.

Everyone was being quiet.

That's when the Monkey decided was the perfect time to announce - "Mommy & Daddy, sometimes, when I laugh, a little pee comes out."

The Hubs and I laughed so hard I almost did pee a little.


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I want instant gratification!

As I've already said, I received an iPod touch for Christmas.

I can blog from this thing!

The only problem is, I can't access any wireless networks from my office.

Bummer.


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