This "making me stronger" business is kicking my butt

Monday, Dec 5--

9:00 am

D, who had been diagnosed with diverticulitis the week prior, went to the ER for a CT scan to determine if he had a blockage.  

Thankfully, no blockage.  But possible gastroenterologist referral in his near future.  

Tuesday, Dec 6--

Confirmation that my mom's niece has stage 4 aggressive cancer.  

Wednesday, Dec 7--

G has increasingly frequent meltdowns about tying his shoes.  I suspect he needs an increase in his medication since he has gained 10 lbs and grown 2.5 inches in a year.  

Thursday, Dec 8--

5:15 am

G pukes all over his bedroom floor.  Home sick all day with D (who has been working from home for 3 weeks due to sinus infection followed by diverticulitis) since I had a subbing gig.  Out both ends.

3:00 pm,

Take N to orthodontist where we get the good news that if we do expensive orthodontia now, we might be able to avoid her facing jaw surgery when she is 17.  To the tune of $4,000.

Friday, Dec 9--G still run-down so cancel OT but do take him to psychiatrist.  Increase medication as expected.  Feels like elephant sitting on my chest.  Also known as anxiety over having a child who has anxiety and freaks out about tying his shoes and whether his pillows are just so and whether a freckle is a tick.  

Occupational therapist emails me that G is still a year under where he should be developmentally.  Looking at continuing OT at $85 a week for our 4th year.  

Saturday, Dec 10--

Get the phone call that Papaw Chester has died.  He was found on Friday, but probably passed on Thursday, which is the exact anniversary of when D's dad died in 2004.  

Sunday, Dec 11--

My body says, "I fucking give up."  Honking, snorting, sneezing and generally feeling like I want to sleep for 6 weeks.  But carry on.....because what choice do you have?

Monday, Dec 12--

G eats fine all day but complains of stomach hurting at dinner.  Could be leftover from virus? Could it be medication side effects?  Anxiety through the roof again.  

I break the coffee pot trying to get the fucking cat out of the kitchen sink.  Same cat proceeds to Christmas tree where she knocks down her 276th ornament.   

D has the honking, snorting, congestion now, too.  

It is not Aleppo or Palmyra.

It is not the direst of straights.

But man, life just feels all kind of hard right now.