Grandma Gin is getting her bad old knee replaced with a shiny, new, bionic apparatus on Thursday.
She's fought the good fight for years. She tried acupuncture, exercise of various types, shots of various types and anything else she could think of, including actively practicing denial for a looooong time, which was derailed by chronic pain that led to moderate depression that outed her.
Anyway, it's happening.
And the histrionics part? Not Grandma Gin, her dysfunctional, self-centered offspring whose meds are absolutely never in balance. Ever.
And me, who's the offspring of the offspring that moved away as fast as she could possibly manage it. Like to Oregon, which followed a decade in Washington State, which followed a brief few months here at home, which followed three years in Brazil, which followed seven years in Germany. See, I'm not exaggerating this time. When my Mom decided to get out of Dodge? She went ahead and went.
Which leaves me holding the bag again. Or maybe still. The bag of doing what's right, and responsibility and buoying spirits and all that. Which I don't mind at all because I love my Grandma Gin. I'm just tired of being on point all.the.time.
See, Mom will be here several weeks after Grandma's surgery, when she's already back at her apartment after rehab. And after her youngest sister has been here a week or so. So the ugly stuff will have already occurred and be nicely resolved.
I'm expressing more bitter here than I intended. Perhaps it's time to can the vitriole and just get on with things.
The rest of this week is going to be hairy, and will include but certainly not be limited to:
Getting a much needed h/c. Seriously shaggy here, and can't decide if I want to commit to this stupid grow out when I love the Halle Berry thing so very much. I'm on the fence, but by 2 p.m. tomorrow I need to get off it.
Working. When I'm actually at the office. And accomplishing tons of really important stuff that determines how other cascading projects do and so on and so forth.
Prepping for a weekend of not being home since I'll be at the hospital for most of it. So doing laundry in off hours and sneaking in chores in off hours and so on.
Working out. If I don't go for a few runs over the next few days to dissipate stress? Bad things will certainly happen (bad being me saying somethingunkind honest to my aunt when she starts to whine about something which she most certainly will and then her spawn will chime in and OMG..must work out).
Being there for Grandma Gin. Whenever she needs it. With flowers and a smile and good cheer and hand holding and general support.
Cross your fingers ok? And if for some reason I do end up in jail for assaulting my aunt or her spawn? Please, someone, bake me a cake with a file in in it, ok?
I'd do it for you. You know this.
She's fought the good fight for years. She tried acupuncture, exercise of various types, shots of various types and anything else she could think of, including actively practicing denial for a looooong time, which was derailed by chronic pain that led to moderate depression that outed her.
Anyway, it's happening.
And the histrionics part? Not Grandma Gin, her dysfunctional, self-centered offspring whose meds are absolutely never in balance. Ever.
And me, who's the offspring of the offspring that moved away as fast as she could possibly manage it. Like to Oregon, which followed a decade in Washington State, which followed a brief few months here at home, which followed three years in Brazil, which followed seven years in Germany. See, I'm not exaggerating this time. When my Mom decided to get out of Dodge? She went ahead and went.
Which leaves me holding the bag again. Or maybe still. The bag of doing what's right, and responsibility and buoying spirits and all that. Which I don't mind at all because I love my Grandma Gin. I'm just tired of being on point all.the.time.
See, Mom will be here several weeks after Grandma's surgery, when she's already back at her apartment after rehab. And after her youngest sister has been here a week or so. So the ugly stuff will have already occurred and be nicely resolved.
I'm expressing more bitter here than I intended. Perhaps it's time to can the vitriole and just get on with things.
The rest of this week is going to be hairy, and will include but certainly not be limited to:
Getting a much needed h/c. Seriously shaggy here, and can't decide if I want to commit to this stupid grow out when I love the Halle Berry thing so very much. I'm on the fence, but by 2 p.m. tomorrow I need to get off it.
Working. When I'm actually at the office. And accomplishing tons of really important stuff that determines how other cascading projects do and so on and so forth.
Prepping for a weekend of not being home since I'll be at the hospital for most of it. So doing laundry in off hours and sneaking in chores in off hours and so on.
Working out. If I don't go for a few runs over the next few days to dissipate stress? Bad things will certainly happen (bad being me saying something
Being there for Grandma Gin. Whenever she needs it. With flowers and a smile and good cheer and hand holding and general support.
Cross your fingers ok? And if for some reason I do end up in jail for assaulting my aunt or her spawn? Please, someone, bake me a cake with a file in in it, ok?
I'd do it for you. You know this.
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