"Listening to you talk about your life makes me anxious". Those are the words I am paying my therapist $60 an hour to tell me. Wow, I really am hopeless. No, not really, but sometimes I wonder. Maybe "helpless" is a better word.
For those of you who haven't really heard from me lately here is a little update. My mom has recovered enough to come home, no to her home though, to mine. She was discharged from the hospital 5 weeks ago with a J-tube, or otherwise known, a feeding tube. Which, I get to manage since I am a nurse and all. She is doing well though, a slew of nurses, and therapists are in and out of my house like white trash in Wal Mart on a half of sale day. They have all seen me breastfeed my daughter and my mom swears that the physical therapist likes watching.
Let me tell you all, this has not been easy. We have had more uphill battles than down. She has fallen 4 times, one ending her back in the hospital for 2 days. She has also had her tube fall out, another ER trip to get it replaced. We have had to have a roll reversal, me taking care of her instead of her taking care of my kids. She doesn't take to it well.
I started school two weeks ago, one of the classes being A and P which is the hardest class I will take in my lifetime. I thought that I was ahead in it last week, getting a whole bunch of my histology drawings done neatly in my lab notebook. I was so stoked to go to lab and be "prepared". Little did I know what was in store for me.. .... A headache and a distraction.
I got to lab, the cadaver was out. The smell wasn't horrible, but it was there,. My lab partner had been stolen by some chick, so I had to sit somewhere else, and the girl next to me must have spent 6 months on her drawings and lab notebook, because it was perfect.
The smell of pickled human started to give me a headache and the kid that was observing was starting to look a little pale. Then the smell of someones lunch in the near by office stated to fill the air. Before I knew it, the pale kid was on the floor and one of the instructors was trying to give him some juice. So much for getting caught up on lab day.
Never did I ever guess that my life would be this chaotic. I long for the days of quiet evenings at home with nothing to get ready for except work the next day.
As Bill Rutherford, my therapist would say. " Ashley, are you sure 25mg of Zoloft is enough for you"? Oh, wait, he also said that the way I am living is unhealthy, except that I do have a lot of short term goals, which are healthy. WTF????
