Propping My Head Up

I slept strangely the last two nights, waking up every hour or so, and having creepy dreams that would continue when I went back to sleep. I'm pretty wiped out today, and my family is once again stressing me out. I shall recap.

Had a wonderful lunch out on Saturday, which I've already mentioned, but at some point the topic of who's smoking and who's not smoking came up, and somebody mentioned that the Hubs had stopped smoking. I had not mentioned this to my sister for any number of reasons. For one, if she had casually remarked to him (like if he answered the phone or something) "Oh, I hear you stopped smoking" he might freak out because he doesn't like people talking about him. (Or he could have had a sane moment and had a normal conversation with her about it.) Next, I would have had to tell her about his endless coughing fits and the temper outbursts that sometimes follow, and although I'm not embarrassed by this, per se, it meant I would have had to tell her that this stressed me out and made me sick, a little, for a week or so, and as you may recall, that's what I'm trying to avoid. Letting her know when I'm not feeling well because it causes an extreme reaction in her. (For a mini-relapse that I know will pass; I'll tell her when I'm really sick.)

Anyway, now she knows something is up and wants to know why I'm keeping it from her. Oy vey. I don't want to tell her on the phone unless I'm home alone (lest he overhear and be bothered by it) and I'm rarely home alone. She wants to know why I didn't tell her when we had dinner last week or whenever it was. I'm trying to explain to her, sotto voce, that when things are calm I need to keep them calm to keep my stress levels down; I don't want to think about it when I don't have to.

In the meantime, after coughing for literally two and a half hours Friday night, the Hubs did some yard work Saturday and yesterday, and took a nice long walk yesterday. This indicates to me that he is not as interested in killing himself as he said he was a month ago -- he was interested in saying it, not doing it -- and he is making plans for the future (he has tomato and other seedlings growing in the living room window), and he is thinking about his health in a positive way by taking the walk. So the weekend was not bad where he was concerned; he even coughed much, much less Saturday and Sunday. On the other hand,

the kid is sick. She has, I think, an upper respiratory infection on top of allergies, and I know she feels terrible and looks terrible but I'm sorry, she and her father are just freaking babies when they are sick. (And the Hubs was never like this before, only with this not-smoking sickness.) When K is not hiding out up in her room (which she doesn't do enough, as far as I'm concerned) she's sitting or lying somewhere near me moaning "Mommy, I'm sick!" Yes, folks, 24 years old in two weeks.

So this morning I was expecting quiet in the house. The Hubs was taking a day off for god knows what reason; he takes off one day every few years, and K couldn't work because she's sick. So I figured, Ah, no one else up in the morning, I'll have the whole house to myself. I thought I could sleep later, but of course no, I woke up at 5:30, ten minutes before my alarm. And I was rolling along, relaxing a bit on my morning routine, when what should I hear but K's door open. Yes, folks, she was too sick to sleep, and thought it would be a great idea to engage me in conversation, which meant she began to moan "Mommy, I'm sick! I can't breathe!" and so on. Let me tell you what would happen if I tried to engage her in conversation on any given morning. You would see the resultant explosion over New Jersey from every part of the globe. (I shall not yet again post a "Katie Kaboom!" video clip, but you could find it on Youtube and get the general idea.)

Anyway, I had time and she needed medicine, so I took her to the CVS and then dropped her off at home and went on to school, where I was like a zombie all day, but actually got lots and lots of stuff done. And all day I'm thinking "Oy, I'm so glad I'm here and not at home."

So that's the day. Unless there's been some kind of miracle cure, she's not going to class tonight. And it's been pouring all day, so I know he hasn't done any yardwork, although I suspect he stayed home to get some work-work done without the distractions of being in his office.

I think I shall sleep through this afternoon's mandatory faculty meeting.

P.S. Later, at home. I haven't seen the kid yet, but she went to the doctor this morning and got an antibiotic, and is now sleeping. (Of course, if she doesn't get up at a reasonable time, I shall have to go upstairs and make sure she's breathing. Yes, 24 in two weeks; she's not the only freak in the family.) And the Hubs, to show you how erratic he is, when I got home his car was gone but there was a message on the machine to call his cell phone. Seems he went somewhere and locked his keys in the car. I drove over and gave him a spare set, but he was laughing at himself and amused by the whole thing, something that could make anyone angry.

Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind a cigarette myself. Oh, just kidding.


WATCHING THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #1714

Call Me Crazy

But I think I should be wearing my winter clothes in the winter. No?

Here I have a lovely assortment of sweaters and sweatshirts and heavy-weight tops, and they are all just taking up space in my closet. Instead, when I go to work, I wear a tank-top or t-shirt with an open button-down shirt over it. Because on any given day, it is between 75 and 80 degrees at my desk in the library. The temperature varies all over the school, and actually, all over the library, but where I am, and anywhere else I could go, it's as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, and out of the lungs of anyone who comes near. Fun.

The Hubs, I have not mentioned -- to anyone, lest they good-naturedly ask him about it -- has stopped smoking. He stopped exactly one month ago, and used no drugs or aids of any kind (of course.) And he is suffering. I have seen plenty of people quit smoking, and heavy smokers, too, but I've never seen anyone go through what he's going through. His cough is almost constant, way worse than when he was smoking, and he feels sick all the time. Now of course, there's always the possibility that he actually is sick, as well as not smoking, but we'll never know that unless he loses consciousness. He is almost never sick, so the odds of him picking up, say, pneumonia at the same time he stopped smoking are pretty slim. Even so, he looks terrible and feels terrible and is, needless to say, pretty grouchy, which I figure he's allowed to be. He says (of course) that he's not sick; I'm sick and anything he's feeling is just foolish compared to what I'm going through. I say bullshit to that, because he's never sick and he feels like crap and that counts. There's always someone worse off than you are, but that doesn't negate the fact that for you, you're sick.

Anyway, he's been sleeping later in the mornings, a little bit, as have I, so our whole morning routine for the last 30 years is different -- I think I mentioned that the other day -- and now K is finally substituting again, so she's added to our morning mix, but so far, we're pulling it off like seamless choreography. Anyway, I made sure not to get into the shower this morning before I saw the Hubs off, because I wanted to see how sick he looked (not bad today), but he came to the doorway of the family room to say goodbye and had this very tense, tight-lipped look on his face. I said "Oh, you look so tense! And so early in the day!" He said nothing, but continued to look like that, and after a moment, passed his thumb over his upper lip. "OH! No mustache!" I said, and then he smiled and laughed. So he is without facial hair for the first time in maybe 22 years. I said "I remember that face!" and he laughed again (so I hope that was the harbinger of a better day for him today), but he said with all the coughing and everything, he just couldn't stand to keep the mustache anymore. And this after losing the full beard last spring. So now he looks something like a little kid, but with white hair.

Also, I would have to say that my condition is improving. I still think it will be a while here, which is okay, but I have longer periods in the day of feeling all right, and when it's bad, it's not as bad as it was. I still get up in the night, but hey, really, when didn't I?

No real plans for the weekend here, other than certainly not watching football because I could care less, but the weather is supposed to be beautiful -- near 50 degrees, I hear -- so maybe I'll get to go out in the world. I would love to just take the half hour ride and spend a little time at R's. I think I may also have to stop by the gym and try to cancel my membership in person. I called on Monday and they said they would send me the form, but I haven't gotten it yet. I do love that gym, but it's just not for me, especially now, and there's just no point in a membership that I can't use. We'll see how that goes.

So that's it, made it through another week at work. I can't believe that there's only two more weeks until winter break, but of course, I kind of zombied through the last break (at Christmas) so it feels to me like we've only been back at school for three weeks. Even though it's really just that I've been back at school for three weeks; everyone else has been there since New Year's. Anyway, today I re-scheduled a whole variety of medical appointments for other things that I had to cancel because I was so sick. More on that another time, perhaps. But I'll be plenty busy that week off.


WATCHING FRIENDS :: ENTRY #1669

Meet the New Member of My Family

When I was a kid, and I behaved in that erratic way that kids often do, I acquired the nickname "Schizoid Mary", for some reason, which we charmingly went on to apply to any among us -- Shirl, Jack, the Sibs, or me -- when our behavior warranted it. (Although I might point out that we were kind enough not to use it when Shirl was actually having a bipolar episode, because even the black humor family has its limits.)

So Schizoid Mary has made a comeback, and may be with us for a couple of weeks. When I got home from school this afternoon, K greeted me with an impossibly cheery "HI MOMMEEE!" Uh ... hi. Then we went out to do our errands. At the Gap, I held up a scarf I liked to my jacket and asked her what she thought, and she rolled her eyes and snarled "You can't wear a scarf with a red jacket unless there's red in the scarf!" Uh ... okay. She was also extremely put out by the way I swiped my card through the machine.

Back in the car. It's raining now, so I'm a little tense, because I hate driving in the rain in the dark. So I hesitantly ask what she'd like for dinner. I suggest that I would be willing to go to a sit-down restaurant, and she says "Great!" with a real brightness in her voice. Followed seconds later by a despondent "Let's just go home."

Have I mentioned that my darling daughter has stopped smoking? Today? Was that not clear?

We're looking at a pretty strange month or so coming up here. You know, I have always been surrounded by smokers, and have smoked myself on and off all my adult life (although I've been very good for some time now.) My father and grandfather both stopped smoking when I was still little, a miracle, since my father was the heaviest smoker in the American Army's European Theater of Operations during the war. My mother stopped smoking because, basically, she died, because there was probably no other way she was going to. My sister stopped a few years ago, and this is also a miracle of the parting-of-the-red-seas caliber. Older daughter R is a smoker like I used to be; she can take it or leave it, and these days mostly leaves it, and she is on the verge of quitting for good.

But starting now, K and her father are both quitting. The Hubs has cut down over the last couple of weeks to only three or four a day, and since the man has willpower, he will stop completely when he's ready. The kid is taking the not-smoking pills, as is Wonderful Niece. (Oh yeah, she's quitting too.)

This is all a wonderful turn of events, of course, and I am very happy and proud of them all. But we are a damn moody batch of people here.

Pray for me.

WATCHING LAW AND ORDER :: ENTRY #1634