They ain't heavy, they're my kin.
Things weighing heavy in my mind right now:
1) My grandpa:
- Fell at the farm, couldn't get up on his own, had to call Shut Up Aunt on his cell phone to come out and help him up. He's black-and-blue and sore as hell from it, but can almost chuckle about it. Only one who can, the tough old fart.
- Went into the hospital on Sunday with chest/arm/shoulder pains. Was told he had a very healthy heart for someone like him (eighty-something years old, diabetic), but want him to see a neurosurgeon. Why would they want him to see a neurosurgeon? Or is it the inept doctors in this town talking out their ass?
2) My grandma is just a few signatures away from being in the Alzheimer's ward of one of the best nursing homes in town. (I worked there about three years ago, and Little Aunt runs the kitchen there, so no I'm not spitballing.) It kind of reinforces the fact that she's slipping away. She still does things that make for good "if we didn't laugh we'd cry" stories, but for how long? When do we lose her all the way? It's heartbreaking right now, which is rare. My family have found the humor in it for this long, but it's getting kind of difficult lately.
3) Mom has The Crud Going Around. It's settled in her chest, and she makes a humming noise when she breathes, and she sounds like shit. She doesn't get sick often, but when she does, boy howdy. (She needs to gain weight. Almost as much weight as I currently want to lose. This affects her immune system.)
And all of this is happening during a time when I am at my most neurotic. Not only am I counting down the days until vacation (which is always the time the Brain Weasels play a rousin game of What If), but I'm PMS-ing kind of hard. And although my sleep pattern is better, I'm still kind of worn down. Thus, I fret. I almost said "needlessly fret", but I think I have good reason to.
I have beer - a Czech-style pilsner, according to the bottles Andy brought home tonight. Maybe I can shut up the negativity. For a while.
1) My grandpa:
- Fell at the farm, couldn't get up on his own, had to call Shut Up Aunt on his cell phone to come out and help him up. He's black-and-blue and sore as hell from it, but can almost chuckle about it. Only one who can, the tough old fart.
- Went into the hospital on Sunday with chest/arm/shoulder pains. Was told he had a very healthy heart for someone like him (eighty-something years old, diabetic), but want him to see a neurosurgeon. Why would they want him to see a neurosurgeon? Or is it the inept doctors in this town talking out their ass?
2) My grandma is just a few signatures away from being in the Alzheimer's ward of one of the best nursing homes in town. (I worked there about three years ago, and Little Aunt runs the kitchen there, so no I'm not spitballing.) It kind of reinforces the fact that she's slipping away. She still does things that make for good "if we didn't laugh we'd cry" stories, but for how long? When do we lose her all the way? It's heartbreaking right now, which is rare. My family have found the humor in it for this long, but it's getting kind of difficult lately.
3) Mom has The Crud Going Around. It's settled in her chest, and she makes a humming noise when she breathes, and she sounds like shit. She doesn't get sick often, but when she does, boy howdy. (She needs to gain weight. Almost as much weight as I currently want to lose. This affects her immune system.)
And all of this is happening during a time when I am at my most neurotic. Not only am I counting down the days until vacation (which is always the time the Brain Weasels play a rousin game of What If), but I'm PMS-ing kind of hard. And although my sleep pattern is better, I'm still kind of worn down. Thus, I fret. I almost said "needlessly fret", but I think I have good reason to.
I have beer - a Czech-style pilsner, according to the bottles Andy brought home tonight. Maybe I can shut up the negativity. For a while.