But I'll sleep good now.

Explain to me why it feels like you're present and aware of what's happening in your own life, but
suddenly you find yourself a teary mess because 1) things are all fucked up and 2) you're still being an asshole about it?


Let's review.

Monday: According to my weekday board, that was just errands and stress about the looming deadline for applying for a job that I wasn't sure I wanted or was qualified for.  I might do really well at the last minute, but the stress of procrastination makes me fraught with anxiety.

Tuesday: Well, I'll just walk Riley first.  Let me eat dinner.  Oh, I should start some laundry.  But I forced myself- turned on the timer and made myself apply!  Every half hour I got a ten minute break to do chores, then back to work.  Finally, at the last possible moment (accounting for Eastern Standard Time), I hit the submit button.

Wednesday: Somewhere around 7:30 am, I get the following text from Dad's girlfriend:

"Hi Jenny. I'm here with your dad at the hospital. He's having a back problem that is causing numbness all up and down his left leg and buttock. He's probably going to have surgery today but we'll know more in a little bit. Will you please let Tracy know as well? I will keep you updated as we have news."

WTF, right?  I won't make you read through the rest of this to find out that he has not had surgery and is supposedly going to be ok as of 9pm tonight.

They waited all damn day to see the neurologist and spine specialist, got lots of imaging that didn't show anything other than a possibly ruptured disc.  They say that is not enough to cause the extent of pain and numbness he is having.

People want to know if I'm going to San Diego.  I don't know enough to answer that question.  If he's having surgery, then probably yes.

I have to go meet my Craigslist appointment to sell the TV, have to find an address, drive like an idiot, have my Craigslist buddy in place (Tracy), but the guy is actually very nice, running a reasonably busy restaurant, and gives me free food.  I complain to Mom about the Dad situation and probably a lot of other things, too.  Oh, and whatever point in here where the dryer breaks... with my wet clothes in it.

Thursday: Dad has a lumbar puncture (UUUGGHHHHHHHH) to rule out any viral or bacterial infections.  Fluid is clear, results are clear, only slightly elevated proteins which as supposedly still within a totally normal range.  It's looking plain to me that this is what Dad keeps telling me he thinks it is- a pinched nerve.  I spend Thursday evening yelling at various loved ones about the doctors at this "fabulous" hospital and how they all think they're on House, solving some medical mystery.  Actually, that's how I spent part of Wednesday, most of Thursday, and a good portion of today.  Oh, and Thursday I went to Zumba.

Friday: Fasting lab at the VA.  I only remembered that around 9 last night, and I had only eaten cheese and crackers before Zumba, so suddenly I'm starving and already supposed to be fasting.  I eat a hearty, protein-laden snack and calculate carefully to make sure I don't crash.  I wake up teetering at 70- too low to make it without food.  I drink some apple juice and drive to get my blood drawn.  At the lab, they hand me a cup and I realize I have forgotten to hold onto some pee.  I do my best and get about a tablespoon.  Well, I can't turn that in.  And now I've already peed in it.  What do I do now?  Can you save the cup to pee in at a later date?  Is this thing recyclable?

Ok well, on to work and my deteriorating patience with my foot-in-the-door job.  I can't understand why I am so unable to play along these days.  I took this emotional intelligence assessment a while ago and was hurt and surprised to see that I didn't score very well.  I told Mom that I tend to rate myself low and there was a possibility that I had room for improvement.  (How DID she keep from laughing?)  Over the last few weeks, I have been realizing that my results are actually right on, and I am actually an asshole.

Ok, well maybe I'm just an asshole right now.  It makes sense, suddenly, that I have been in a terrible, intolerant, pissy mood.  Oh and somewhere in the middle of the mess of this week, I found out the the job I wanted, the one processing disability claims that was NOT at the hospital, the one I have been wishing for since I moved here, the one that would have immediately and permanently improved my financial situation, the one that would have provided me an all-expense-paid month-long visit to the East Coast, the one that I toured and found perfectly matched my poorly drawn view of where I wanted to be... is not being filled right now.  There's good news there- they didn't say no to me specifically, and they are going to have to fill those positions at some point, but I only just now realized that that chunk of seriously disheartening information might have put a little damper on things.  But no wonder I didn't figure that out right away, seeing as how my dad is in the hospital.

We talked tonight, and he told me that the neurologist seems mostly convinced that what he's dealing with is Guillain–Barré syndrome, which we will refer to from here on out as GBS.

Wait, what?

No, that's viral, and all that was ruled out yesterday, right?  Oh well, TODAY the specialist technician guy with the nerve mapping machine finally showed up and that's where this sort-of, we-suspect-so diagnosis came in, but they're trying to confirm it with some other test blah blah...

Well, now I'm mad.  Don't you think this nerve mapping (that's my term for it, you can imagine what it really is) would come BEFORE sticking a needle into somebody's spine?

Oh, well they have to rule out all the possibilities, blah blah...

Great, that's fine, but why didn't this test come first?

Oh, well the guy sees patients all over the hospital, blah blah...

Ok, so people with chronic, diagnosed conditions come before the guy with ascending paralysis?  This smells like utter bullshit to me, but this is when a nurse came in to test his blood sugar, and he started telling me about what wonderful doctors and nurses and state-of-the-art technology they have there.  I don't blame him- have you ever had a nurse do a finger stick?

And honestly, he swears that this place is awesome, so I guess I'll have to trust that.  I think that spinal tap was bullshit, though.  Wouldn't that have been the confirming diagnostic test?  Whatever.  The good news is that the numbness is not ascending any further and he's regaining feeling in his leg.  They think they might be able to let him go Monday or Tuesday, but he'll need physical therapy.  He should return to normal.

After I talked with Dad, I felt very upset and angry.  It's very good news- better than a pinched nerve, even, because this is solvable and they apparently put him on the intravenous immunoglobulins fast enough.  No back surgery, no epidurals, no years of incurable back pain.  I'm angry because yesterday we were out of the viral woods, and today we suddenly live there.  I'm also angry because I'm an asshole, and was convinced that this was something much different.  I guess there's still some chance of that, and I was operating on the information I had.  For example, neither of them told me what was going into that IV.  It seems to me that if the doctors really suspected GBS early on, they either didn't tell Dad or he didn't tell me.  But this is the flow of information in a situation like this, and he's trying to update several people while on morphine.

I'm glad I only ran my mouth to people who understood I was angry and let me vent.  One of those was Elaine.  I updated her tonight and as I talked, I realized why I have been feeling like such a grumpy asshole this week.  When I told her I needed to go write, she said:

"Ok, honey.  Don't get writer's cramp."

"That's ok," I said.  "I deserve it."

Soft Pretzel

So important that it made the list twice.

LAAAUUUGGGHHHHndry

The dryer in my building is busted AGAINAARRRRGGGHHHH.  Worked fine Tuesday night, when I was washing easy things to dry, like socks and underwear.  It was a test run.  So what gives, dryer, when I go to wash my jeans?  I called the outside maintenance company myself this time, and totally refrained from saying snotty things like, "How about you actually fix it this time?"  God, what an asshole.  Can you imagine?  I get all rage filled sometimes.  I had another test run, this time for the conversation when calling in the work order.  I got all my nastiness out and reminded myself that this is a minor inconvenience, and I regularly waste more money than I lost to the dryer.  I used my experience in my job to remind myself to keep it brief, relevant, and unaccusatory.  Snide-free.  I was mostly good, I'm happy to report.  Still need some practice, though.  You know how brief and relevant I can be, ha ha.  Also, people in call centers do not find your jokes about things not working to be funny.  I already know this, and was totally unable to help myself.  Jenny the Jerk.

I just applied for a job that would require me to be reasonably computer savvy, so I'm pretty sure I'll have to abandon my practice of slamming the mouse around and crying when the computer doesn't work.  I haven't actually cried over it in a while, but it has been known to happen.  Oh my.  My work computer slows down like crazy and thinks really hard around the same time every day.  What a great opportunity to practice reacting like a sane person, huh?  Such zen does not yet exist in my world.