Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

I promise you I couldn’t make this shit up. April 27, 2010

Monday: Baby girl has fever. Daycare calls. Leave work at 3:30. Pick up baby girl.

Tuesday: Baby girl still has fever, but she is at Grandma’s house so it doesn’t matter. Business as usual.

Wednesday: Business as usual.

Thursday: Hubby stays home sick. By 11:30 rushing home from work to take hubby to doctor. Get home, realize hubby needs to go to ER since he CAN’T WALK! ER Trip #1: 2 IVs, blood tests and some drugs later, sent home. Cancel massage that was going to get me through the next couple of weeks. Take nap, wake up, hubby feels hot–103.5 temperature and hasn’t peed the two litres of IV fluid they gave him in the ER. ER Trip #2: fast heartbeat, low blood pressure leads to chest X-Ray, CT Scan and more IVs. Benign sinus tumor found but no explanation for fever etc. etc. Overnight stay “sleeping” in a bedside chair in hospital.

Friday:  wake up, eat hospital food, watch daytime TV, discharged at 3:30

Saturday: husband doing better except for a RASH in his mouth and on his hands. Call Advice nurse, told to take him in where we find out he has “Hand Foot and Mouth Disease” (not to be confused with Hoof and Mouth). HFM Disease is something usually only children get–and my husband. Lucky!

Sunday: back my car into utility truck getting an emergency coping beer with a friend. No damage to the truck. Hit and run. Look at damage to my car after beer.

Monday: Humans seem on the mend. Gave dog a bone-literally. Fall asleep. Wake up because dog needs a drink. Take away dog bone and put it in the hallway. Step in something icky. Turn on light. Dog poop on my toe. What’s that smell? Dog diarrhea all in my fucking hallway. Cleaning 32 piles of diarrhea dog shit at 9:30 in my hallway. Take dog outside to shit more. Dog comes in with shit baggage hanging out of his asshole. Wash dogs ass. Blow dry dog’s ass.


And this is all why I feel absolutely no guilt that I signed up for the “wellness” package at the local massage place: 12 months of massages may be the only thing that keeps me sane and my loved ones safe. That and my trip to Mexico in exactly 11 days…


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