i'm an addict, apparently
my family came to visit last weekend. mom, dad, and grandmother. i asked them to wait a couple of weeks because allan's mom just left, but i guess my vote doesn't count. fine. i cleaned up everything despite the lack of sleep due to a baby that was still not on schedule. nothing was on the floor, i dusted, allan vacuumed, it was spotless. i did manage to overlook one thing: the medication i left on the ottoman since coming home from the hospital. i had iron pills, naproxin, stool softener, and percocet. my mother fought with me at the hospital, the day after my c-section, about taking pain medication. i was going to get addicted. how many had i taken so far? i was going to hurt the baby. the whole arguement was ignored/avoided when i kicked them out so the nurse could check me, and told her about it. she said that she was going to kick them out as soon as visiting hours were over (half an hour later) because i didn't need that kind of stress.
well, i guess they were all talking about it when i was feeding the baby in her room. when i got back to the living room, my grandmother asked me why i was taking "oxycodone." i ignored the completely wrong drug name and told her that i was taking medication prescribed by my doctor when HE told me to take it. she asked if i was in a lot of pain, and the conversation pretty much ended.
until the intervention the next day. at this point, they were already home. they visited for 6 hours. just long enough for it to not be worth it to clean, and to mess up the baby's schedule even more. my grandmother called first. she told me that she was thinking about me and the baby and was concerned. i was going to make that baby an addict. excuse me, but i must have ground up the percocet and put it in her bottle IN MY SLEEP, because the last time i checked it didn't pass through breast milk. i already explained all of this to all of them, but repeated myself. she told me that my grandfather was prescribed it when he was dying and in so much pain, but he didn't take it because he knew the risks. (she's still calling it oxycodone. they didn't even read the bottle right before starting the intervention.) after her call, my mother called in tears. "you know...i was thinking about that oxycodone, and i don't think you should be taking it. isn't there something else you can take?" i told her that i wasn't discussing it anymore. she told me i was going to get addicted. i told her i was going, and she put my father on the phone. apparently i don't know anyone who was addicted to drugs. his sister was addicted to morphine and had a hard time getting off of it. i had no idea that percocet and morphine had the same addictive qualities. then he told me to take asprin. i told him to buy a baby coffin for when matilda bleeds to death.
on monday, i got a message from my mother as if nothing had happened the day before. "i just wanted to wish you a happy labor day." i guess she missed the screaming the previous day.
yesterday, i picked up when she called because i figured someone died. i was short with her because i'm still really mad about this whole thing. apparently she was able to get through without any medication. even if that wasn't complete bullshit, her gaping wound was half the size of mine because she didn't have an emergency c-section. they had time for an epidural, so they had time to get me out the right way. in any case, when she asked why i was "grouchy," she pretended that the intervention never happened. no...she didn't know that my grandmother called me 10 minutes before she called me. that must mean that i should listen to both of them. i finally told her that it wasn't oxycodone when she insisted that i was going to become addicted. "what is it?" "none of your business." "it is my business, i'm your mother." and that's when i told her i had to go and i was hanging up the phone. i told her goodbye twice and got no response; so i finally hung up. a minute later, she called back. (i figured it was my father calling to tell me how to act after only hearing her side.) "i hope you never need me for anything. and i hope, one day. matilda hurts you the way you just hurt me by hanging up on me."
oh, a grandmother's wish!
i hope there's a nursing home out there that only csts $100 a year. she may end up like an old eskimo woman...on her own floating piece of ice.
well, i guess they were all talking about it when i was feeding the baby in her room. when i got back to the living room, my grandmother asked me why i was taking "oxycodone." i ignored the completely wrong drug name and told her that i was taking medication prescribed by my doctor when HE told me to take it. she asked if i was in a lot of pain, and the conversation pretty much ended.
until the intervention the next day. at this point, they were already home. they visited for 6 hours. just long enough for it to not be worth it to clean, and to mess up the baby's schedule even more. my grandmother called first. she told me that she was thinking about me and the baby and was concerned. i was going to make that baby an addict. excuse me, but i must have ground up the percocet and put it in her bottle IN MY SLEEP, because the last time i checked it didn't pass through breast milk. i already explained all of this to all of them, but repeated myself. she told me that my grandfather was prescribed it when he was dying and in so much pain, but he didn't take it because he knew the risks. (she's still calling it oxycodone. they didn't even read the bottle right before starting the intervention.) after her call, my mother called in tears. "you know...i was thinking about that oxycodone, and i don't think you should be taking it. isn't there something else you can take?" i told her that i wasn't discussing it anymore. she told me i was going to get addicted. i told her i was going, and she put my father on the phone. apparently i don't know anyone who was addicted to drugs. his sister was addicted to morphine and had a hard time getting off of it. i had no idea that percocet and morphine had the same addictive qualities. then he told me to take asprin. i told him to buy a baby coffin for when matilda bleeds to death.
on monday, i got a message from my mother as if nothing had happened the day before. "i just wanted to wish you a happy labor day." i guess she missed the screaming the previous day.
yesterday, i picked up when she called because i figured someone died. i was short with her because i'm still really mad about this whole thing. apparently she was able to get through without any medication. even if that wasn't complete bullshit, her gaping wound was half the size of mine because she didn't have an emergency c-section. they had time for an epidural, so they had time to get me out the right way. in any case, when she asked why i was "grouchy," she pretended that the intervention never happened. no...she didn't know that my grandmother called me 10 minutes before she called me. that must mean that i should listen to both of them. i finally told her that it wasn't oxycodone when she insisted that i was going to become addicted. "what is it?" "none of your business." "it is my business, i'm your mother." and that's when i told her i had to go and i was hanging up the phone. i told her goodbye twice and got no response; so i finally hung up. a minute later, she called back. (i figured it was my father calling to tell me how to act after only hearing her side.) "i hope you never need me for anything. and i hope, one day. matilda hurts you the way you just hurt me by hanging up on me."
oh, a grandmother's wish!
i hope there's a nursing home out there that only csts $100 a year. she may end up like an old eskimo woman...on her own floating piece of ice.