I’m sitting here alone, reflecting on how funny things work sometimes. My life is so busy… Every day is a routine: Work (sometimes after gym), then get home tired, help Josh with his homework – and lately he’s a difficult child, straining my lacking energy and patience… Then go to bed, generally quite early, and repeat it all tomorrow. I’ve been complaining that I don’t get time for myself, longing for peace and quiet. Now I get some and I’m, like… What the fuck to do?
We had an unpleasant surprise earlier in the week. On Wednesday before work, I dropped my mother off for her routine checkup and the hospital. Then at around 11:30, she called me to tell me that they had picked up a problem. Her blood haemoglobin was at a level of 5, when it should be around 13. She needed a blood transfusion, but didn’t get one. Instead she was sent home with medication, and had to return on Friday.
So I returned her there at 6:30AM on Friday, and she was admitted. She seems to be doing fine now, after being given 350ml of blood, twice. But I was worried. I’m not sure when she will be released.
Also, my son is sleeping over at his aunt and having lunch there tomorrow. So I got that peace and quiet I wanted. Be careful what you wish for? It isn’t what I imagined. It got me thinking, wondering what I would do, how I would cope, if my mother died. And I don’t know.
I don’t have the energy to cook, when I get home from work, and I certainly can’t afford to eat out every day. I often take her for granted, call her a burden – and she is to some extent – she shouldn’t be here. But she also helps out quite a bit. Having to do little things like the washing this weekend, reminds me how much I have been leaving to her. If she were to die, besides having to deal with grief, it would be difficult for me to do all that I need to do. I’m not at all sure how I’d manage. As it is, I did the washing too late today, and both sets of my gym gear are wet. I’ll have to hang it up first thing in the morning, before anyone else takes up all the shared washing lines. And how would I manage that in the week? All washing must be taken off the lines by 6PM, and I’m not always home from work by then.
Anyway, I’m sure she will be fine, but this was a grim reminder that I’m not completely in control. I hate not being in control. It reminds me of the old days when I was ruled by and at the mercy of my addiction. It seems, so far this year, that nothing works out quite as I plan or hope. I feel like I’m being carried by some tide (not an intelligence like a god or higher power, but more like the random chaos of the universe) and I don’t like it at all.