This Is The Life

Anyone who knows me could figure that the title of this blog post is also, not by any small coincidence, a Weird Al song. Of course this was done purposefully, and this is a bit of a lie - life's been a pain in the tuckus as of late - but we manage all the same. Finances have been a horror but through some perseverance and a lot of trying to keep our caseworker on track, we've managed to get back onto the Illinois LINK/SNAP card program, meaning that at least our groceries are taken care of. Rent, insurance, water bills, and all those other grossly important things aren't taken care of right now but the least we can do is work one day at a time and hope for the best. Our landlords are amazingly understanding people who know we've been in a tough spot, and I can't begin to express our appreciation for that.

The mini garden needs desperately to go outdoors where all the plants can get suitable light and fresh air, but I have nothing to put them on that could keep them safe from the numerous groundling critters that like to sneak in and munch on greens. The old gifted coffee table I was using has since lost two of its legs and is incredibly unwieldy, so for now our plants have taken up residence on our kitchen table - still! - and will remain there until I can figure out something better. Unfortunately, they seem to be suffering thanks to our lack of suitable light, so I hope I can rearrange things without losing them all. Here's hoping.

My mother is still in the hospital. She's got two doctors right now who are overseeing her care, the floor on call doctor and a separate podiatrist who are apparently in conflicting opinions as to what should be done for her foot. The on-call thinks she should stay another day or two to ensure she has enough IV antibiotics pumped in her, and that the tissue isn't necrotic and the remainders of the abscess she had disappear, and the podiatrist thinks she may need to have surgery after all, likely some degree of debridement, even though the MRI she had showed that there were (thankfully) no pockets of puss in her bones. Too much information, I know, but it is what it is. She is absolutely miserable there, and I can't blame her; it's not the world's greatest hospital and she also works there, down in their pharmacy, so she is absolutely tired of being there all the time. Thankfully, she has had visitors, and the antibiotics seem to be doing their job, so that's good news. The poor woman is only 53 and is too young for all of this crap. On top of her foot problems she is pre-diabetic, has asthma and COPD, has an enlarged heart, had her right knee replaced in 2007 and will need the other knee done soon as well, has extreme back problems, has osteoarthritis in her feet and knees and back, and a menagerie of other potential issues that I probably don't even know about. Needless to say, this is a big downer for a woman already troubled with physical health problems.

Sadly, her being in the hospital means twice the work on my end, too. She has two dogs whom I grew up with also, and they are used to being in their kennels only about eight hours a day, with freedom to roam and eat and drink and be let outside whenever they please otherwise, including at night. She also is obsessed with keeping a very clean house, so it's up to me now to start my day an hour earlier than usual to let the dogs outside and feed them, then head home and take care of my own house and kids while Hubby is at work, then when he comes home and I've done cleaning my house, I go to her house and clean there, which means dusting and vacuuming her entire house, cleaning her floors, doing her laundry that I bring home for her, feeding and watering and brushing the dogs, keeping everything generally picked up, and then in the evening I head over to see her and stay at her room in the hospital with her, keeping her company until 9 or 10 PM. Then I come home in time to almost wake up the kids and finish picking up and cleaning before sitting around, a complete insomniac, until 1 or 2 AM. Then I finally fall into bed and the whole process begins again the next day, and will continue to do so for some time even after she gets out of the hospital, because she will still need my help at her house. To say that I am overwhelmed would be an understatement; I am exhausted, sick constantly, and grouchy beyond explanation. I know this isn't really anyone's fault, but I am still overwhelmed because I need to manage our finances and am working to find a job in the meantime. My head is spinning almost constantly and by the time my day is over and it's too late to accomplish anything else I realize that I have forgotten ten or so different things that needed to be done, too, and were simply forgotten amongst the other things that needed to be done too. I would try to get back in to see the therapist I was seeing previously, but at this point I am not sure when I would have free time to go in. Probably never.

Otherwise, I have nothing new or interesting to report or discuss. There are a dozen things I could rant about but at the moment, nothing seems more important than my own problems, which I'm having difficulty dealing with. I am simply angry, and bitter, and tired, and sick, and see no end in sight, that's all.