Pop's back in the hospital
This was a couple of weeks ago. I know, I need to post when shit actually goes down.
It was almost like any Wednesday, except Mom had an Air-conditioning Guy over. Our A/C is just fine, it's just getting on in years, and we'd rather not have to suddenly deal with it not being fine. Per usual, I'm in my room messing with the computer, Pop's resting on the bed until dinner, and we've got 5 barking rats running around instead of usual 3 because Ray's up. Next thing I know, there's this big commotion centered around getting Pop out the door and to the ER. For all intents and purposes, I got up from my computer to see what all the noise was about and found that I was alone in the house (with the 5 barking rats) going "Whut?"
And Mom knew right away it was not going to be a quick check-up and back home: she had Ray pack up the shower-chair, wheel-chair, and all the rest into the shed the next day.
Apparently the end of the stump wasn't circulating properly and that means another operation.
We're both relieved. I don't know about Mom, but the twinge of guilt that I'm glad he's out of the house didn't last very long. We can take a bath instead of just showers with the weak-sauce therapy shower-head that barely rinses off sweat. My team lead has been commenting on my obvious lack of sleep during our face-to-face reviews. That's because as soon as I got home, I'd fire up the computer and start playing something turn-based. Not because I'm living the slacker dream of playing video games all day. It was so I could keep my brain awake so I could *hear* any calls for help, from Mom or Pop. And I couldn't go to sleep until Pop called it a night. Because what if something happened while I was taking a nap? I'd never hear the end of it. So I've been operating on about 3 hours of sleep per work night for the past six months. I've haven't gone shopping for my own pleasure. If Mom took off for anything, I had to stay in until she came back. This generally meant I barely had time to get any of my shit done. Now we can both come and go as we please.
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Mom went and got new laptop. And once again, a thing that really requires her input, if only because it's going to be an intimate and personal object for her, gets fobbed off on me. The only thing about the process she would have needed my help with was putting in the router password. And after she gets to desktop, she couldn't get into Yahoo!Mail and I get to spend hours trying not to drip sweat onto sensitive electronics. Hours that, by the way, edged into my "you need to get to friggen' sleep" time bracket.
There's nothing wrong the the computer. I'm positive I know why she can't log in. She changed her password sometime in 2016 and forgot. I know this because one of the things you can access without having to re-enter the password for confirmation is the "last account change" log. And because she's set to auto-login she's never had to remember what she changed it to. The problem is, like me, she is also one of those weird mutant freaks with no smart-phone. And, unlike me, she has no back-up secondary email accounts. So the most common means for password recovery are a no-go. Luckily, it's within the PX's unconditional return time frame.
It was almost like any Wednesday, except Mom had an Air-conditioning Guy over. Our A/C is just fine, it's just getting on in years, and we'd rather not have to suddenly deal with it not being fine. Per usual, I'm in my room messing with the computer, Pop's resting on the bed until dinner, and we've got 5 barking rats running around instead of usual 3 because Ray's up. Next thing I know, there's this big commotion centered around getting Pop out the door and to the ER. For all intents and purposes, I got up from my computer to see what all the noise was about and found that I was alone in the house (with the 5 barking rats) going "Whut?"
And Mom knew right away it was not going to be a quick check-up and back home: she had Ray pack up the shower-chair, wheel-chair, and all the rest into the shed the next day.
Apparently the end of the stump wasn't circulating properly and that means another operation.
We're both relieved. I don't know about Mom, but the twinge of guilt that I'm glad he's out of the house didn't last very long. We can take a bath instead of just showers with the weak-sauce therapy shower-head that barely rinses off sweat. My team lead has been commenting on my obvious lack of sleep during our face-to-face reviews. That's because as soon as I got home, I'd fire up the computer and start playing something turn-based. Not because I'm living the slacker dream of playing video games all day. It was so I could keep my brain awake so I could *hear* any calls for help, from Mom or Pop. And I couldn't go to sleep until Pop called it a night. Because what if something happened while I was taking a nap? I'd never hear the end of it. So I've been operating on about 3 hours of sleep per work night for the past six months. I've haven't gone shopping for my own pleasure. If Mom took off for anything, I had to stay in until she came back. This generally meant I barely had time to get any of my shit done. Now we can both come and go as we please.
----------------
Mom went and got new laptop. And once again, a thing that really requires her input, if only because it's going to be an intimate and personal object for her, gets fobbed off on me. The only thing about the process she would have needed my help with was putting in the router password. And after she gets to desktop, she couldn't get into Yahoo!Mail and I get to spend hours trying not to drip sweat onto sensitive electronics. Hours that, by the way, edged into my "you need to get to friggen' sleep" time bracket.
There's nothing wrong the the computer. I'm positive I know why she can't log in. She changed her password sometime in 2016 and forgot. I know this because one of the things you can access without having to re-enter the password for confirmation is the "last account change" log. And because she's set to auto-login she's never had to remember what she changed it to. The problem is, like me, she is also one of those weird mutant freaks with no smart-phone. And, unlike me, she has no back-up secondary email accounts. So the most common means for password recovery are a no-go. Luckily, it's within the PX's unconditional return time frame.