A quick update to say I'm still alive and stuff. The kids are alive, too, which sometimes does not go without saying. I feel like I've been unconscious for most of the past week, but I'm certain I remember doing something lately, mostly trying to stop the kids from killing themselves and each other.
I've been worrying, too, but not as much as I'd expected-- probably because of the aforementioned lack of consciousness, which was induced by some meds my doc gave me to lower my blood pressure. You know, that wasn't on my list of ailments, doc. You really didn't have to. He says, "This stuff will probably make you tired." Oh, yeah, add that to the Percocet, the anti-anxiety pills, and the pain. How will I be able to tell? I wondered. Well, not waking up, ever-- that's a sign. That and not being able to move or even talk for the first hour after I wake up.
So here's the score: 3 rowdy boys, 1 comatose mom who's supposed to be watching them, 1 frantic man who has to somehow go to school, fix dinner, do homework, see to evening baths, clean the house, and run errands-- oh, and maybe get his homework and stuff done-- but who decides that we absolutely need to bake 3 dozen loaves of banana bread during the middle of the hottest days of the year... a mortgage and half a dozen other bills that need paying and a nice notice from our bank gently nudging us to please put some money into our account, and that nice fat check I was supposed to be getting has turned into vaporware...
So unconscious is a nice place to be, but I'd rather be capable of independent movement and rational thought about now. How about you?