mini vent

Mom continues to improve, slowly. Her stay in extended care was brief -- the room was shared by another patient, and it ended up causing both of them more stress, having various family members here and there at all hours. So she's back in a private room, still trying to eat solid food successfully. Sigh. I have a horrible fear that she's never going to leave the hospital ... and it's weighing me down a lot more than I'd care to admit.

Something is "off" at home, too. Tony and I are growing less and less tolerant of each other. It's mostly my fault, I'm sure, because I tend to shut down sexually when over-stressed. He's just the opposite -- it's the ultimate stress buster for him, so he's really going insane. This causes him to make rough comments, which then causes me to get pissed and shut down even more. It's a hell of a cycle that I've got to figure out how to break. We had a rather ugly row Friday morning, but as the day progressed, decided it best to clear the slate and face the evening as if the morning hadn't happened. It worked, for the most part. There was a snide remark here and there (mostly by my ass, I'm ashamed to admit), but it was a decent night. The rest of the weekend was fine, too. Nothing to write home about ... but that underlying current of tension was there. I felt it this morning, too, but didn't say anything. I was very hung over yesterday and had a small sore throat, so I wasn't really in the mood for much. I was in bed with a book by 10:30, and I'm sure that wasn't the most popular choice with Tony. He didn't say anything, and neither did I, but on the way to work this morning I just felt tense. I hate it.

During Friday's row, he suggested I find a therapist to help me deal with my internalized anger and how I let my health issues interfere with what should be a normal, healthy sex life. I think he's right. I'm asking my co-worker today (a psychologist) for a referral. I hate feeling this helpless. And I have plenty to talk to a therapist about, that's for sure.

Whirlwind...

WHEW! It's been a hell of a couple weeks...
My Mom went into the hospital way back on October 3 for pneumonia. She's 83, so I wasn't surprised -- she just wasn't able to kick it, and her breathing had gotten so shallow that her oxygen levels were totally wonky. We figured "No problem - they'll get her back on track." Not so fast...

She's had a chronic bellyache for a year or so, but has always had a less than stellar digestive tract, so she chalked it up to simple indigestion or irritable bowel syndrome. While in the hospital for the pneumonia, her vitals jumped all over the place and she began running a 102 degree fever. After numerous tests, it was determined she had a very infected gall bladder and needed to have it removed ASAP. My oldests sister, Nancy, a retired nurse living in Arizona, was dead-set against it and did her best to talk us out of letting it happen. But after talking to Mom's doctors extensively, it seemed inevitable. She was in danger of it bursting, which would have caused her to go septic, which would have been the writing on the wall. So ... she had it removed via laparascopic surgery, and it went very well. For a couple days.

The Saturday after her Tuesday surgery, her hemoglobin levels dropped drastically, and she had an excessive amount of blood in her bowels .. and it just got worse. The doctors weren't able to pinpoint exactly where the blood was coming from, and Mom was moved the the ICU. Tony and I rushed to Anderson to spend the evening with her, and in all honesty, things looked really, really grim. After an upper-GI and a colonoscopy, it was discovered she had numerous bleeding ulcers in her large intestine. Much consultation ensued and everyone tried not to panic. The surgeon assured us it would be necessary to remove part of her colon in order to prevent her from bleeding out. The doctors in our family (all spread across the country, naturally) conferred with Mom's doctors in Anderson, and the surgery was given the green light.

I could go on and on about all this ... and I have, pretty much ... but I'll sum it up by saying she had 1/3 of her colon removed, came through the surgery amazingly well, and is still recovering. She was moved to continuing/extended care yesterday, and the doctors anticipate she'll be released next week. I'm worried about that, because I can't fathom how she and Dad are going to manage when she gets home. He's not incapable by any means, but it's going to be a challenge for them both. I suppose I'll have to make more frequent visits. I should do that, anyway, all things considered.

I just got off the phone with Mom, and she's still doing well. She misses her bed and her chair, but said she's handling the transition to extended care just fine. Thankfully she's still able to get some morphine for the pain. I have to say, she's a tough ol' bird. I hope I have her gumption and fight if and when I reach her age.

Here's what I learned the other night, waiting over three hours for celebrated DJ Paul Oakenfold to take the mic at Talbott Street:

• I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
• When a hot guy seems to be checking you out in the bathroom, he's really just waiting to ask you if you have any pot.
• The metrosexual is alive and well and shaking his groove thing at Talbott Street, surrounded by girls full of wishful thinking and boys full of libido waiting to spray all over him.
• Some queens even pose while taking a photograph.
• I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
• Glow sticks are fucking retarded...
• ...yet people are fascinated by them, and will stare at people wielding them for hours.
• Most dance music is dull and soulless, yet twentysomethings of questionable sexuality will shake, rattle, and roll to it for hours. Non-stop.
• I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
• Paul Oakenfold is full of himself and thinks it's okay to show up for a 9PM show at Midnight.
• The drinks at Talbott Street aren't very strong ... two of them did absolutely nothing for me, and if I'd have had two drinks at the 501, I'd have enjoyed my Talbott experience much more. Especially since I'd have been somewhere else.
• Eating spicy Chinese food before going to a gay bar isn't the smartest idea in the world.
• And ... I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.