I don’t write as often as I should, and I don’t actually foresee that as changing in the coming months. Can’t say that I’m particularly proud of this – writing helps me to focus, to evaluate, and be present. No matter how I slice it though, it falls slightly behind hygiene, sleep, and spending time with my husband – while working and spending hours every week on the phone with Mum. That last… Uff da!
Hours at work have slowed down – the number of people getting tested has dropped by a huge amount. I want to be hopeful about it, believing that masks, social distancing and immunizations are doing their thing. There’s a very cynical part of me that is thinking that people are assuming all of the above, and therefor not getting tested, and calling things a cold or allergies. Fair – it’s been one hell of an allergy season so far, but still… Normal, whatever that is, is a ways off.
Since work was dwindling, and I was coming increasingly close to throttling a co-worker for watching videos all day on her phone, or take the hour + breaks (with management being in the know) I started looking at other departments. There was also the very broad hint that, yes, we needed fewer techs, and management likes me and my work ethic. Quite the turn around from my last job. It’s nice to be considered worth keeping – and when I think of all the amazing twists and turns that have occurred to get me a job I like, with the first interview, and in turn have that contract job want me, and have a great interview with another department so that it was all so fast in happening – time is a blur. An absolute and total mish-mash of “What the hell happened and when?” But I applied for a few jobs that I knew I could do, and was told I’d be on graveyards (10P – 6 A) M – F, in Micro, processing plates. This made me so damn happy, it’s kind of gross in some of the stiff that gets cultured, but at the same time there’s an immense satisfaction in “skating the plate” to set the cultures. I could come home, eat some protein, hit up the Aquasize class at the Y. It sounded good. Then – because there’s always more, the Cytology job came through. 3A – 11A… Not exactly the normal hours I was expecting, or the kind of shift – but it appears I can drink water or coffee at my own little cubby, so I’m not going to complain. It’s just going to take some getting used to, this new sleep schedule that I am bullying into place.
Meanwhile, on the Mum front, she went to see her brother and say her goodbyes. It’s not a pretty situation or a placid death – so much pain, and such a drawn out process. Yes, he’s at home, and family is with him as often as he wants, he’s got good hospice care – but still, it’s a really horrible way to die. It’s kind of like that scene in Deadpool where he’s in the oxygen tube that only feeds him oxygen when he falls below a certain level? Only this is reality, and the oxygen doesn’t get refreshed. So Mum’s an emotional wreck, and I have to kick the sibs into gear to help carry the load of her emotional manipulations. I can’t do it any more – I don’t have the time or the emotional spoons. We also don’t have the estimated $7k it would take to move up there at this point, and that’s been a real hot button of guilt tripping.
It isn’t fair to hold someone to a promise they made when their situation was one way, and now it has radically changed. I wish my family could see that. Even if we had that kind of cash lying around, there’s the more pressing issue of the cataracts that are developing at great speed in both my eyes. We’re going to have to go further into debt to deal with these blasted things now, before someone gets hurt or I make the kind of mistake that creates misinformation for a patient and their doctor. Let’s not talk about what they do to remove the cataracts and all that. I’m just not gorked enough to think those kinds of thoughts without freaking out in a major way. But getting this attended to takes precedence over moving up to Iowa to hang Mom’s pictures on the wall and so on. I feel badly that she’s alone, and needs help with many things, but at this point in my life I can’t just drop everything to pat her on the head. It’s not just my medications, doctor’s visits and all the grocery shopping I’m covering with my paycheck – I’m trying (and failing, I admit I like to get new scrubs or eyeliner or a ding dang dong soda for lunch) to smoosh down my credit card and load up the savings. I’ll give you a hint – it’s taking a little more than what I’d thought it would. And the date nights were far more expensive than I’d anticipated.
Speaking of date nights – we went and saw the director’s cut of Lord of the Rings, and my! what a difference it makes seeing it on a big screen! I’ve sort of half assed seen in on what amounts to your average computer monitor now, years ago, while I was doing other tasks, but seeing all the details and really getting into the story was awesome. We went to the Alamo Drafthouse and had dinner with our movies – and yeeeeaaah… A burger is about $15 – and the hubz only wanted to pay $25 total for the night. I’m not going to rip off a server that way. Same with Buca Del Beppo – he wasn’t paying so there was an appetizer and two desserts along with two main courses. Adding a respectable tip really amped that up, and while I’m not begrudging him any of the enjoyment or the time together, I just wish he’d be more cautious with “my” cash, like he is with his own.
It seems churlish to moan about all that’s gone wrong – I’ve made friends and gotten hugs during the pandemic! I’m slowly creeping back into being an adult, and I hope, doing a better job of it than the last time I tried. I’ve been able to assert myself without feeling guilty or having a meltdown because I assumed (rightfully or not) that the other party loathed me. Mum hasn’t won the manipulation and control over my life to satisfy her choices. These are good things, and I’m owning them.
Now, to look at some Gothic Flower seeds to plant in the front yard. Black and white coleus, anyone?