Taken November 15, 2007 with Canon PowerShot A550

I’m feeling a little raw, lately. There are a lot of changes being thrust upon me, and, as you all well know, I don’t deal with change ummm… much.

I’m not having any luck becoming accustomed to the schedule at the new J.O.B., which kind of throws everything else out of whack as far as my family life is concerned. As well, my kid is about to graduate from… what should I call it…? Pre-high-school…? Grade 8, anyway. And another “landmark of Motherhood” being reached is difficult for me.

It’s an exciting time for her, though, because the graduation process is filled with trips, and camping, and dinners, and formal gowns, and what-all and what-not and God help me if any more gets added, because it all costs a frightening amount.

That makes it the “wrong” kind of excitement for me, because the J.O.B. wage is crap, and the schedule does not allow for a supplemental part-time J.O.B. (I never know from one week to the next what my shifts are). My small and hard-fought-for nest egg has been punctured in several places long before I’ve built it back up to where it should be, and the funds are leaking out in an alarming manner.

Other, scarier things loom ahead. The building I live in, which has been for sale for well over a decade, has finally got a serious offer. Good for Ruby – she’ll finally be quit of the huge headache the maintenance on the place has become for her.

Not so good news for me and the kid, as, rumour has it, the new owner wants to gut the interior and remodel, and plans on giving all the tenants notice. I don’t have a move built into the budget anymore, unfortunately, so I’m torn between hoping Ruby gets it sold, for her sake, and praying the guy changes his mind, for mine. Time will tell, I guess, and I’m trying to take my mother’s old saying to heart: “It’ll all work out.”

And I’m about to add another bill to the mess with the acquisition of The FlyMobile, which has now become a necessity if I ever want to see my parents.

They have moved back to Teeny-Tiny Town, where I was born and raised, the place they spent the first 50 years of their married life, to a facility that offers my father the 24-hour care he now requires, and allows them to stay together.

This was a good move for my mom and dad: they know everybody there already, having worked with them, and lived near them, and socialized with them since 1947. It’s also good because my sister,”Tootie”, is a nurse in the hospital that is housed in the same structure. She can see them everyday, without having to drive an hour each way and still manage the swing shift.

It kind of sucks for me and Ky, though, unless I can handle the payments on the minivan, which start in July. Money’s easy to get, though, right? It’ll all work out. Somehow. I hope.

Having a vehicle will allow us to visit once a week, like we’re used to doing. I’ll just have to spend more time on the stepper, which is currently gathering dust in my closet, to make up for the lack of weekly Walk-About to the other side of town and back. Now that I have an ass, I don’t want it to get flabby, do I?

We’ve driven down twice now, thanks to the generosity of The Fly-Girl, who has me drop her off across “the ditch” in Michigan and hands me the keys. “I’ve filled up the tank,” says she. “Go visit your mom and dad.” What would I do without her?

The Fly-Mobile is fair on gas, thankfully, and if the prices ever drop, I should be okay, assuming there are no more surprise grad fees dropped on me that I’ll have to suck out of the “transportation” category of the budget.

But, we’re carrying on with the carrying on… getting ready for Ky’s grad…. arguing over which photo to pick from the proofs…. pretending there’s nothing but happy, happy on the horizon, because what else can we do, really?

When, really, graduation for Ky may be a bust… Dad had a heart attack on Friday, and another on Sunday morning. He’s wiped on morphine and often confused, but for the most part, he’s holding his own. We’ve been down this road before….

Un-Brother Ken has come home from Alberta, and Big Sis will come up from Southern Ontario after her own graduation on Wednesday. We keep our fingers crossed, but our hearts are in our throats. There’s that “no resuscitation” order as per Dad’s wishes, after all. Again, good for him – it’s the way he wants it to play out – but I can’t help but feel selfish and wish they’d ignore/forget about/pretend they don’t see the yellow wristband on his arm, and just fix him, dammit!

I think he’s winding down, though.

Random Song for the Day: “Push It” – Garbage

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9 Replies to “Bleed…”

  1. Wow. As usual, you do have a LOT going on, and as usual, your mom is right when she tells you it’ll all work out. It will. It always does. I hope your dad is comfortable and happy, and that he sticks around a little while longer.

    Les Says: He may stick around for a bit, yet… as long there’s a chance at pie. Off limits, pie is, you know.

  2. Geez Les, that sucks it big time. Nothing much to say from this shet bag, except I’m sending you hope and courage from across the ditch.

    Les Says: Well, Betch, those things are exactly what I need about now, so thank you.

    A pot plant would be nice, too, if you have one kickin’ around… ๐Ÿ˜€

  3. Congrats to your daughter. And somehow, though it might seem impossible, your mom is right, it will all work out.

    Les Says: Thanks, Aimee. And, yes, it will all work out. We’re okay with everything – just a few “hiccup-y” moments now and then, but we’re taking it a day (sometimes an hour) at a time.

  4. Les-Baby. It sounds like you need a BIG hug. (Consider yourself hugged!) I’m thinking of you. Congrats on your daughter. xox

    Les Says: Aw, thanks, Deni! I felt that from here – ๐Ÿ™‚

    I shall relay congrats to Ky upon her return from camping in a provincial park – she gets to sleep in a teepee and everything. It will probably take three park rangers to drag her out…

  5. Lots o stuff going on, as noted, sending the very best white light to you from this quadrant. Your suite still awaits. Ky’s a better man than I am camping-wise.

    Les Says: White light received – thank you – it’s very warm here online. ๐Ÿ™‚

    Yes, Ky is quite the tom-boy: footballer, tree-climber, and wrestler extraordinaire. And when you clean her up, and throw on a little eyeliner, she breaks all the boys’ hearts.

  6. In keeping with the title, my heart bleeds for you my dear. My thoughts and prayers are with your dad, and with your overall situation.

    Les Says: Thank you, Mushy. I don’t like posting “sorry for myself” stuff too often, but the truth is, the people that make me feel so much better are all out here in the Intertubes. I always know that when I’m overwhelmed, friends like you will jump in and boost my spirits again.

    Dad’s hanging on – how, I have no idea. Maybe it’s all the good wishes from the ethers…?

    Sincere thanks for prayers. ๐Ÿ™‚

  7. Aw hon, I’m sending on an emergency care package – beer, fags, and loads and loads of huggles – (it always works for me, ‘cept I substitute wine). Things do have a way of working out in the end, hang on in there, tightly! x

    Les Says: Thanks, Shrink… The beer magicked itself into rum somehow – s’okay, though – rum lasts me longer anyway. The fags materialized and I, *gulp*, smoked them. Sorry to those that supported my most recent quit – my mom’s pissed at me, too.

    The hugs I’m storing for gradual use. Thankfully, they have no expiration date attached. Thanks for everything… ๐Ÿ˜‰

  8. Oh I so feel for you. It is so hard to cope with other people’s decisions that will break your heart, whilst you honour and respect their right to do that.

    What a time you are having. I hope it does all work out for you and Ky. Tomorrow WILL be better.

    Over from David’s.

    Les Says: Thanks, Crazycath. Nice to see you.

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