At the risk of totally depressing all my 2 readers out there, I have yet another entry filled with daisies & puppies & little kittens hanging onto a knotted rope with “Hang in there!” printed in a girly typeface underneath.
Went for my 2nd blood draw today. No results or anything until at least Monday. But I can’t imagine it’ll be anything but bad news. I don’t see how I could lose this much blood and still have a living baby inside. But, in my own inimitable way, I can’t do anything without having some tragic story to tell. As I’m getting my blood drawn, Henry’s sitting on the exam room floor, playing with a toy. It’s all good. Then he sees the outlet and starts going for it. Unfortunately, only one outlet has a cover on it. So she’s taking out my blood and I’m telling him, “No, Henry….No!” and he stops. Then, as she’s removing the needle from my arm, he goes for the open outlet with an outstretched index finger. “NO! HENRY!” I shout as I start a little bit. And the needle pops out and my little personal blood fountain shoots blood all over me, the nurse, my shirt and the chair. Good LORD. “What did you go & do that for?” she asks. “Sorry,” I reply. “He was putting his finger in the outlet.” So, yay. There’s nothing like showering in your own blood to put a festive spin on the day.
I caught one of our mice last night. One of my newly placed glue boards caught him. PETA would hate me. I picked up the little board where the bottom half of his body was caught and carried him to the garage with the top half of him flailing wildly to get free. Then I laughed maniacally in his face (MWAHAHAHAHA!!!) and dumped the whole mess in the trash. I beat one of ’em.
Then, Steve got a phone call from his dad’s doctor. Things are looking bleak. From what I understand, it’s time for Steve to make the decision whether or not to take him off the machines. It doesn’t look like he’ll make it very long after they take him off the feeding tube and the ventilator, so basically we’re at the end of the line here. And, because Steve is his dad’s guardian, the decisions regarding his care fall on him. So he gets to call his siblings, tell his mom and make the final choices. Knowing his dad, it’s what he’d want. He always refused medical intervention, so he’d totally want to not be on all these machines. Doesn’t make it any easier, though. Impossible decisions that totally suck.
I’m really having a craving for a pet lately. Like BIG cravings. A cat that will catch our mice? Of course I want a dog. But what I really want is a fish tank. Back in the day, I worked in a pet shop. I learned all about aquariums and pets & all that & I loved it. At one point when we lived in DeKalb, I had 3 tanks going – a 55 gallon salt water, a 55 gallon with one Oscar that grew to about 10″ or so, and a 30 gallon with tropical fish. While I don’t think I have the time or energy (or $$$) for another marine tank, I’d love to get a 40-55 gallon tank & fill it with beautiful tropical fish. It’s so relaxing to look at and it’s just fun. I don’t know why I’m having such a deep need for a pet right now, but I sure do. I have to physically stop myself from going out & just buying a cat – though I wouldn’t because Steve has said he doesn’t want one & he’s mildly allergic. But fish would be good. I want fish.Tweet