What Kind of Black Cloud...

...do I live under?

It seems that of late I have had too much drama of the bad kind in my life. (I wonder if that is proper English usage... is all drama inherently bad or is it just serious, but can be good? I don't know. Stuff like this prays on my mind.) Anyhoo... too much bad drama. It isn't necessarily my own drama, it is a lot of things:

1. One parent has had a second hip replacement (ultimately a good thing, but still worrying and stressful while in progress)

2. One parent has had multiple strokes and is in the acute-care facility still (and not happy about it)

3. One parent has had to put one of his two cats to sleep and is wrecked by it (keep in mind I've two fathers)

4. I had to put my second cat to sleep exactly three and a half months after putting the first one to sleep

5. I'm a little on the broke side

6. Now I've been sick (I will live; something I've ingested pissed off my stomach enough that I have vomited and the diarrhea has been appalling. I tried not vomiting - I hate it that much - but my body reached a point where it wasn't putting up with my not dealing appropriately with the issue and took matters into its own hands. Yikes)

7. I am still having ongoing back problems. It gets a little better but then laying about all day today has not helped

So my big cosmic question is what else can go wrong? How much have I pissed off the gods to get this in the space of one month? Is Mercury in retrograde? Isn't that the dumbest thing... I never believe that stuff. Mercury doesn't go backwards, it only appears that way. Astronomy is science. Retrograde is a scientific term, an astronomical term. Anyway... off topic now. But it is like asking if Fate (all three aspects, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos) are out to get me; is it Satan (a nod to the stupidity of Catholism's belief in a figure of entropy), or is there really a black cloud that hangs about five feet over my head and is raining, thundering and spitting out little bolts of lightning?

The real-life answer is that there are tons of other things that can go wrong. There absolutely are a million things that could be screwed up, whether by my own hand or others. Unwittingly or unintentionally, things could be worse. But do you want to think that way? Of course not - but it is hard not to, especially with all this stuff dumped on me now. Someone wrote to me and said that she was told that God never gives us more than we can handle... but she wondered if there were times when he sure pushed the limit.

Me being the mostly godless creature that I am, I know that this is a line of bullshit. People say that stuff, but no one thinks about the patients in Greystone, who clearly got way more than they could handle. Some of them, anyway. Some started out nuts. But you get my meaning. I don't think I'm going to permanently lose my marbles. On a temporary basis I might already have lost it. I cry all the time. I'm more brainless and forgetful than normal. I hate feeling this way.

And let's talk about physically. Ye gods. Yesterday - sorry, Saturday - in this moment it is 0144 and therefore Monday. So Saturday was our wetdown. Squad wetdowns are a big deal and a lot of fun... I got to be there for most of it, but by 2115 my back was so bad that my squadmates were telling me to go. I hated leaving it early but I clearly pushed my slowly healing back beyond its capabilities! And no, I did not lift anything. Nothing. I did a lot of things, but nothing physically straining or harmful. It was a combination of standing and sitting on an uncomfortable chair, I think. Maybe just too much anything. I was on my feet since 1130 until 1700 for the most part and then on them for 70% of the time from 1700 to 2115. Wahoo.

So that was not easy. It was worth it, but not easy. This mornin-- sorry, yesterday morning - I awoke around 0600, took more medicine for my back and fell asleep around 0720. I woke up at 1230 (that is terribly late for me) and felt a little off, a little nauseous. It was not a good feeling. I thought maybe I just needed to eat, and had a bowl of cereal. Big mistake... I was nauseous all day. Around 1900 I went to bed but laying flat did not help - it made it worse. At around 2000 I knew what was coming. Well... let me rephrase that... I knew something was coming, and it would be coming up, never a good direction when talking of one's digestive system. Sure enough. Sitting on the toilet with one issue, I grabbed the (fortuitously lined) garbage container and brought up... whatever did not pass. Nothing was recognisable.

I did do one wise thing. I put Vick's Vapo-Rub under my nose before heading into the bathroom. As bad as the whole vomiting experience is (and I loathe and despise vomiting), taking the smell out of the equation made it a lot easier, if you can believe it. I was a little surprised over that. Still, anything that helps...

Those who know me know I love the CSI shows, and will appreciate this... I found myself thinking about the coroners and what they do, and checking stomach contents is one of them. I'm supposed to see an autopsy in November and I'm suddenly thinking that this is one thing I could live without - seeing a dead person's undigested food. Yuck. I will be taking the Vicks with me for that, I assure you. I find taking the unpleasant smell away from any situation makes it considerably easier. I'll go on a full stomach and be fine. But I still couldn't help but think of those scenes where Doc Robbins is holding a glass container with mush and liquids and smelling it and commenting on this or that in the stomach contents. (I doubt that flies in real life; my sumation of the smell of vomit is the same - mostly chemicals and bile that break the food and liquids down are what smell... Granted, if you eat something really vile smelling, however, and bring that back up, it smells worse!)

Too descriptive? Maybe. But real life... it's messy. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either not paying attention or lying outright. Like when parents tell you that their kids were all wonderful and never misbehaved. It is unrealistic to say that. Your kids may not have held up convenience stores, did drugs or drove wrecklessly, but they absolutely did all sorts of normal kid-things that make any parent crazy and want to pull their hair out by the roots. So don't tell me that they were perfect angels when they were little.

My life right now is messy. I want it to clean up, but a lot of it is mess that I have little or no control over. That makes it harder since there is really nothing for me to do but ride out the tide and survive it all. I suppose the few things I had control over turned out... as they should. Making the decision to euthanise my kitties was the right thing to do. It was hard as hell but I am not one to torture my animals. I would not torture my family either. I wonder that euthanising people who are suffering is illegal. But doing it for animals isn't. I hated doing it but I did the right thing. My two cats lived really great lives up until the last hours if that long of their time. Eighteen years, too. That made them in their 70s (cats years are 1 = 4; dogs are 1 = 7). Not exactly a raw deal.

We have friends who did all kinds of crazy things to keep their dogs or cats alive and it was terrible. I could not have done it. I could not have lived with myself for doing that. Their lives were prolonged but at what cost? (I don't mean monetary, although for many of us, it is a consideration at some point.)

My stomach - well, lower than that - is making sounds that would be considered rude by any culture. I am drinking water (gingerly, mind you, to make sure it can handle it), but I have no crackers to eat. Luis ate them all. Pig. I shouldn't say that. But he did eat them all. I need to keep a little on hand so that if this happens again there is something gentle around the house to eat. I'll have to wait for tomo-- later this morning to get some. Driving to the Pathmark (the one 24-hour foodstore in Parsippany) to get some is not wise. Not to mention that I haven't the energy to do so anyway.

In this regard, Luis is useless. If he is sick I try to take of him. If I am sick, he wants nothing to do with me. He is unhelpful for the most part. He has his flaws and this is one of them. He won't go out and get things for me. I hate that.

Oooooh. You know what? I have sherbet in the freezer! Yes! Something I can eat! YAHOO! Maybe I will have some of that. It should be okay. If it is not... well, I have a fresh liner in the trash basket from the other bathroom...

Prepared. That's me.