General musings on why life must sometimes suck sweaty donkey balls...

Well, it's 2015.

In fact, it's well on it's way to being 2016, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.  I have enough guilt about all the shit I haven't accomplished this year.

So here's the thing.  I am going about my business, trying to be my usual, somewhat upbeat, mostly positive, glass-half-full-about-things self.

Note - I'm never one of those "OMG, how ARE you?  I LOVE your outfit!  You are such a WONDERFUL person!  Isn't life just WONDERFUL!  Oh yes, I am doing FANTASTIC, thanks for asking, and I sure do golly geez hope you are, too!" kinda people.  I wish to punch those people in the face.  Not all of the time.  Just some of the time.

It's just that I'm getting a bit worn down, and that's sayin' something.  And no, this is more than the usual "crap, I've got gum stuck on my shoe" kinda thing.

Too many bad things are happening to too many good people, and not enough bad things are happening to not-so-great people (read: assholes).  And I feel there may have been some crazy, cosmic shift in the space-time continuum of goodness and badness and that karma is all out of whack in the universe.

But basically shitty things are happening to my peoples and I don't like it.

Things like separations after decades of marriage and kids.  Like cancer in people who take decent care of themselves (way better care than most folks).  Like sick kids and kids with issues that are no matter how hard you try you cannot help them.  People who are excellent at their jobs being laid off with no hopes of finding anything soon and bills to pay.

And then there's all the crap on the news.  Don't even get me STARTED on that.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???

Seriously.  WTF?

Is it that I'm getting older?  Is the world finally going to hell?  Is society about to crumble? Or is it just a mass confluence of crappy things, which statistically should be followed by a period of really good things?  I hope it's that last one, because my unflappable resolve is starting to flap like the jowls of someone in front of an extremely large fan...

Sorry about that mental image (probably something like this):

https://www.google.ca/url=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAUQjhxqFQoTCKuKsqz3g8cCFQYxiAodB_UPkA&url=http%3A%2F%2Flatidocreativo.es%2Fblog%2Ftadao-cern-fotografias-viento-graciosas%2F&ei=Bam6VevzD4bioASH6r-ACQ&bvm=bv.99261572,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNFkP8_H9UzpdWt6-k18wXwL8EpVNQ&ust=1438382706853561

Anyways...

I was hoping that my first post of 2015 would be a bit more positive.  Mostly because that would mean that shitty things weren't happening to people I care about.  I am trying, desperately scratching, at what possible silver lining there is in all of this.  For once, however, I'm pretty much at a loss to find one.

The only one I have, which is pretty self-centered, is that I am doing okay.  I am tired all the time now from my MS (like, epically tired, but that is another blog post for another day) but I am able to walk, I don't have cancer, and so far so good with my treatments.  My marriage and kid are great; healthy and happy.  I have a great family, and while parts of it are struggling at the moment, I guess I'm lucky to be the support-er and not the support-ee.  I have a good job and it seems relatively safe for the moment (but who really knows).  I have fantastic friends.  And I can afford to buy booze for the long weekend.

I guess the silver lining, sad as it may be, is to appreciate what you've got when you've got it. 

I'm not super enamored of it, but I think my not-overly-ambitious personal mantra for 2015 may have turned out to be "enjoy the moment, it could be WAY worse".

Which is much harder than it sounds.

I'm going to aim for something loftier for 2016... :)

She left to go to the store, and she never came back...

Whew!  It's been awhile since I've been here.  Long enough I couldn't remember my password.

Let's see, what is new, what is new...

Not a whole hell of a lot, really.  I wish I had something more dramatic, exciting and interesting for you, but alas, I do not.

I wish I could tell you I've run a marathon, travelled to an exotic location, lost 20 pounds, learned a new language, solved world hunger, brokered world peace.  But I have done none of those things.  Sorry.

I do, however, need to broker house peace in my household.  Or move out, one of the two.  It may be easier to move out, now that I think about it.  Even easier still if I don't take anyone with me!  Sorry if this ends up being a bit of a self-serving rant.  You can stop reading now if you like, I won't be offended.


It all started with a shed.


Well, it actually started much before that, but there's a limit on what I can type, so let's just go with it started with the shed.

At first, living with my dad was going reasonably well.  Except for all of his stuff (which is more than any one human being should have) plus all of our stuff meant that things were a bit <ahem> crowded.  This was only a problem if someone (and by someone I mean my husband) was looking for something in particular and couldn't find it.  Then I would have to listen to an endless tirade about how there is too much $hit in the house, why does he (dad) have to have so much $hit, etc, etc.  This would inevitably evolve into the "jesus-christ-we-cannot-live-here" rant, which I would pretend to listen to while drinking.  That's one of the reasons I have not lost 20 pounds, but I digress...

I'm not going to go into the details about WHY we are living with dad (that's a whole other series of posts I have not drunk enough yet to begin writing) but for the time being we are staying put.  At least until I lose my mind.

Ok, where was I?  Oh yeah, the shed...

So we decided that we needed to build a shed.  There was no room in the garage for our stuff.  I was worried that the wee man would have trouble getting his bike in and out, there was no place for our tools, the wee man now has soccer balls and hockey equipment and other boy-related paraphenalia... so a shed was the answer.  The husband and I looked up shed plans, talked in detail about what we wanted, measured out widths and heights and locations... it was a great idea.

 

Until we mentioned it to dad.

Monumentally monstrously epic mistake.

We should have waited until he went out of town and just had someone build it, but nooooooo.....

Dad is a retired construction project manager with way too much time on his hands.  Plus, unfortunately, he's bossy just like me.  Within the course of two days, it was no longer "our" shed, it was HIS shed.  It was no longer a corner shed that was 10 x 10 with a playhouse on top for Ryan, it became an 8 x 8 eyesore of a box.  It no longer had poured concrete pilings, it was built on patio blocks set on the ground "in case it ever needs to be moved"  WHAT?  It was no longer going to be the lovely colours of hardie siding I had picked out, it has horrendous 70's cedar siding.  It became the shed HE always wanted.

The problem is, it is OUR stuff that is going in the shed, not his.  He is designing the insides (with no knowledge of what we are putting in there), he is putting in a window (that we didn't ask for, and that impedes our ability to stack stuff on that wall), he is insulating it (which leaves less room between the studs to store things like hockey sticks and ski poles).

How did he manage to take it over, you ask?  He decided he would pay for it.  That way, he got to make all the decisions.

Why does it look like an eyesore?  Well just because you can MANAGE a construction project DOES NOT mean you can actually build $hit.

What am I going to do about it?

Nothing.  Not a damn thing.

I know my husband and my dad are about to kill each other, I know I am now going to have to go and buy some sort of playhouse for my son, I know the thing is butt ugly but quite honestly, I DON'T CARE. I just want a place to store my $hit.

I am tired of being stressed about how much stuff there is in the house, that we cannot find things we need when we need them, that dad is deafer than a doornail and inconsiderate of others from living alone for too long, of dad being bossy, of my husband being way too sensitive about $hit.  I'm sorrry they communicate poorly with one another and it leads to arguments.  But seriously, I'm not doing anything about it.  Sort it out yourselves, please.  I just can't be bothered.

The solution is quite simple, really.  I'm just not going to be the problem solver this time.  Husband needs to get a job and get away from the house and be less of a baby.  Dad needs a hearing aid, some manners lessons, to shut the hell up on occasion, and a hobby.

Me?  I'd just like to be left alone to drink my wine and play Skylanders with my son.  That's all I really want.

Otherwise, if they insist on pestering me to solve their problems, I am going to excuse myself and go to the store.  With my son (and his Skylanders) of course.

And I may never come back... :)

 

Time flies when you're having fun.

APOLOGIES - I THOUGHT I HAD ACTUALLY POSTED THIS AT THE BEGINNING OF JUNE...

Holy crap, it's been a month since I got around to posting anything!

To be perfectly honest, the month has just whizzed by.  I'm not sure I have anything particularly insightful to offer you for stopping by, but I'll give you a run through of what we've been up to.

We went to May Long Weekend this year; the first time I've gone in a long time.  I should explain that this "event" has been going on for years, and involves a group of friends who get together every year on the May Long Weekend to partake in ridiculousness, debauchery and other activities.

And drinking.  Lots and lots of drinking.  And other stuff, but we don't need to go into all the details here.  There is generally some sitting around, playing a life-size game of Jenga, horseshoes, frisbee golf, card games, neggling (pounding a nail into a stump with the skinny side of a hammer - much more fun than it sounds), drunken sing songs but most importantly, the GAMES.  Every Saturday afternoon consists of games.  So the 40-odd of us split up into two teams (this year was Batman vs. Spiderman, complete with masks) and participate in whatever evilness Mike and Dan manage to come up with for that particular year.

I would like to point out that my team has never lost.  Just sayin'...

Anyway, this year the games were definitely up to par.  There was the team "dress your blow up doll" competition (your team had to blow up and dress a doll with the clothes they currently had on between them; yes, including underwear and bras), the team "let's all get joined together by a rope and run around and drink" game (can't remember the purpose or outcome of that one, but it was fun), the mystery food eat-off (face off against a member of the opposite team - first one to open and eat whatever was in front of them wins; folks that got the habanero pepper were in world of hurt and WHY wouldn't you just not eat that?), the human beer pong competition (see below) and I think there were other games after that but I seriously can't remember.

But I do know we won again!

Mystery Food Face-Off

Human Beer Pong

Life-Sized Jenga

So that was a great time.  Except as soon as we got home Husband ended up in the hospital with Pancreatitis due to too much fun.

He is fine now, though.

Then I promptly put my back out doing gardening.  Still in pain from that one.  It sucks getting old, but it is really my own fault.  And man, physio is EXPENSIVE.

I don't really have anything too insightful to post this time around.  I'm too f'n tired from having fun.  It's a sad truth, but I have to pace myself now.

Too much fun can have serious repercussions.

To all of my May Long Weekend friends - thanks for the good times and hospitality.  It was much appreciated.  And also for making up stupid games where I have to drink too much.  Great way to justify my ridiculousness.

I promise I will post something sooner and  more "cerebral" next time.  Just too hung over at the moment.

Time flies when you're having fun. :)

Be careful what you wish for...

Firstly, sorry.  It's been awhile.  Many things going on over the summer that sucked up all my time.  New job, house renos (no, not done, still a loooooooong way to go on that front), small man on summer vacation, planning dad's retirement/birthday party, camping and some days of generally feeling shitty.  I have to say, I have noticed my MS a lot more this summer.  I can't tolerate heat much at all anymore - it causes me to feel like I have the flu and get really run down.  So the heat and humidity as of late are killing me.  I am lucky, though, as I get to spend most of my days in an air conditioned office building.  Which is a luxury some people in my medical situation don't have.

Ok, so on to the subject of this post...

"Covet not what others have, for it may be a curse in disguise".  I have no idea where I first heard that.  But for some reason it has always been stuck in my brain.  I also have a vague recollection of a Star Trek episode, the moral of which was the same I think.  Anyway, for a lot of my life but especially since my son was born I have had a rule of never wanting to be someone else or have what someone else has or to have made different choices in my life that would have resulted in things being different now.  Sounds like I'm being morally superior?  Nope.  Completely selfish, really.  Read on...

The reason this all came up was awhile back someone mentioned in a conversation that they'd really like to trade places with someone else.  I couldn't help myself - I butted in and asked if that was really true.  Did they REALLY want to be that person?  "Sure," they said, "that guy has it all - good looking, great job, well paid, nice house, nice cabin, boat, hot wife, vacations twice a year, etc etc.  Why wouldn't you want to trade places?"

"Do you love your kids?" I asked.

"Of course!" they replied.

I pointed out that if they traded places with that person, then their kids wouldn't be their kids anymore.  In fact, if they traded places with that person, they wouldn't even know their kids existed.  Nor their spouse or their friends or their family.

They looked at me like I was crazy.

"No, I only want to have what they have, not actually BE them" they replied (still looking at me like I'm nuts).

"It doesn't work that way"  I said.  "They have what they have because of all the circumstances that got them to this point."

Again the crazy look...

I went on to point out that people are where they are, who they are, have what they have because of a combination of a billion things that lead up to where they are now.  Wishing for only part of that is just stupid.

We agreed to disagree on the subject.  Eventually.  But the one thing they still bring up every time I see them is that they are absolutely astounded that I really, truly do not want to be anyone else, have what others have, or change anything about my life.

Now don't get me wrong - I do covet things.  Like shoes.  And handbags.  And beaches.  But only because I like them, not because others have them.  On occasion, I do get jealous that others have advantages that I do not, and it irritates the hell out of me when stupid, lazy people get away with shit.  But I never want to trade places with others.  Ever.

So this had got me thinking - how many people actually DO wish they were someone else or had what others have?  Do they not understand how insane that is?  Maybe it's the scientist in me, but perhaps I can rid some folks of this ridiculousness by explaining why I feel the way I do.  And also point out why it's not some moral high ground I'm occupying by thinking this way; I'm just keeping the paranoia at bay...

A small part of it is that I am secretly afraid that if I wish something was different, one morning I will wake up and it will be.  And I will be powerless to change it back.  Yup, I'm a wee bit nuts.

But the other, larger part of it is that fundamentally I believe that you cannot wish for PART of something.  The guy who wanted what his colleague had... the colleague has what he has and is where he is in his life because of all the circumstances that got him there.  Sure, some people are "lucky" but really, it's an entire pathway that ended them up where they are.  Unless you want the entire pathway, you shouldn't wish for what they have.  Because you may not like some of the other things that go along with being that guy and having what he has...  some people go through a lot of crap in their lives that isn't visible from the outside.  I'll take the crap I know, thanks very much.  And some people aren't who they appear to be.  What if you wished to trade places with someone and they were secretly a psycho?

"The grass isn't always greener on the other side."  Seriously.  It's not.  They don't just say this shit for no reason.

I will admit there are times that I flop down in a quiet corner somewhere (usually the bathroom - the only place I get any privacy) and ponder how it is my life got itself into whatever state it is that I am bemoaning at the time.  But I never wish for it to be different.  Honestly.

I thought about wishing that I had made different career choices because if I had, there is a good chance I would be making a TON more money right now.  But what if I had made different choices?  What if I had taken something different in school?  Would I have made the friends I made?  Went travelling the world?

If I had a different job, I never would have met the wonderful friends I have made where I have worked.  I would have never moved to Kelowna - and I truly believe I would not have had my son.

If I had taken something different in school, would I have had to work at Costco to put myself through my second degree?

If I hadn't worked at Costco, I never would have met Christa.  We would never have been roommates.  And she never would have invited my future husband over to crash on our couch.

If I never met my husband, I would never have had my son.

There are a million other scenarios I have come up.  But the underlying theme is that if one teeny, tiny detail of my life had changed along the way, things might be completely different.

I have had the argument with people on occasion that take the counter-position of "well, you'd probably be perfectly happy with the life you ended up with because you wouldn't know any better."  Likely true.

But I DO know what I have now.  Would I gamble on having something better with the possibility (however slight) of ending up with something worse?  Not a chance.

To me, it's never about that.

If I had changed one thing about my life, there is a very real possibility that I would never of had my son.  The thought of that makes me want to rip my heart out because it hurts too badly to even THINK about that.

So I don't.

It's not just about my son, though.  It's about everything I do have.  Even MS.  What if I didn't get MS?  Sure, I'd like it very much if I didn't have this disease.  But if I didn't, would I have slowed down?  Taken better care of myself?  Paid more attention to my health and stress levels?  What if I didn't do that and it ended up causing me to be more sick - the kind of sick that cannot be managed with medication?  The "you end up dead" kind of sick.  Thanks, but I'll stick with the evil I know.  And yes, that is a righteous position to take considering I have a relatively lesser form of the disease as compared to some.  I see your "wow, what a sanctimonious bitch" card and raise you an "I'm not perfect so fuck off" card.

Where was I?

Oh, yes.  Ok, so I will admit the one thing I do wish for on occasion is NOT having eaten that extra cookie at work or skipping my workout.  Or buying shoes.  And I do wish sometimes that I had the willpower of certain people to do the things I regret not doing.  But then I go through the cycle of "what if I did have the willpower?  It would be something that would have affected who I am and where I'm at, etc...."

And down the rabbit hole you go...

So, the next time you're looking at someone and catch yourself wishing you had what they had, were who they were or that things in your life were different, remember that you are where you are because of a billion little things that got you to this point.  If you changed just one, you might not be who you are.  Would you risk that and potentially end up being some asshole?  Because I wouldn't be friends with you if you were an asshole.  Even if you had a boat.

Be careful what you wish for... :)

Two steps forward, one step back…

Or, “Random Acts of Kindness and Bomb Threats”
Or, “One Woman’s Quest to Deal with Anxiety”(It was hard to pick a title for this post…)

Revelation:  I have determined that most people are NOT stupid assholes.

I know, I know, those who know me personally are likely shocked by this statement.  Believe me, it has thrown my universe into turmoil, as you see now I have to re-think my base assumptions.  It would seem I’ve had an epiphany of sorts.  And this is the random, twisty, pot-holed road I took to get there (you may want to grab a beverage and a snack – it rambles a bit).

Go on, pour yourself a glass.  I’ll wait.

Ok, so until very recently it would appear that I hadn’t come into contact with very many different people.  Mostly the same, relatively small number of people on a fairly regular basis.  Why?  Well, after some thought I believe it was a complicated math-y-type function of the following variables:

Where I worked.  Including the company, the physical location (booneys), the relatively small number of people in my office, and the fact that we didn’t get out much and didn’t have a lot of visitors (to the office, I mean).

Having lived “abroad” for 6 years (and by “abroad” I mean Kelowna).  We moved there and promptly got pregnant; having a baby right after moving there hampered the meeting people part (post-partum issues, especially anxiety, didn’t help that much either).  The work situation was similar (except for location, it was stellar, and so were the folks there though few in number).

Excellent friends.  Both The Husband and I have super awesome friends.  It’s difficult for me to start new “serious” friendships because I already have several of the best ones you could ask for.  I mean, I’m friendly, I’m not a total bitch, but it was hard to make new friends in Kelowna because of the good ones I had back home.  No one really measured up - except LP, who is equally as bat shit crazy, sarcastic and smartypants as I am.  Plus, I barely have time to see my most excellent friends, so how the hell can I fit new ones in? (I know, I know, terrible problem to have – but this is not a grateful, introspective post so fuck off and don’t judge me).

My shitty, shitty memory.  I have a crappy memory for most things except random, useless fucking information.  And it has gotten worse, likely because of the MS.  Don’t get me wrong, though,  it was always bad.  I can’t remember people’s names (or their faces, or most things about them) unless I’ve met them several times.  So I end up looking like a complete twat or a self-centered arse.  Which I am not, but can totally see how people would think that.  Again, not great for meeting people.

My general distrust of all things.  You were waiting for me to say “… of all things lime green” or “… of all things with peppers in them”.  Nope.  ALL things.  I am paranoid and have anxiety.  I distrust everything, ESPECIALLY since my son was born.  I’m working on it when I’m not trying to figure out who in the elevator is a serial killer…

So how did this tiny little world develop around me? Me, world traveller, adventurer and general “I’ll try anything once” girl?  I came to dislike change.  It’s not that I can’t cope with change – I very much can.  It’s not that I don’t like new adventures or things of that sort – I definitely do.  I don’t hate change - I just dislike it for the most part.  It throws me for a bit of a loop and in my time-crunched, maxed-out, anxiety-ridden everyday world, I don’t have time for that.  It fucks with my chi, if you will. 

That, and because of my anxiety and busyness, it would seem that I subconsciously made my world smaller.

*****Feel free to use this space to refill your booze and replace your snack.  Go on.*****

Where was I?  Oh yeah.  So, when my world has developed a nice, easy routine what do I do?

I blow it up.  (That’s a reference for you, Trish)

Now I work at a very large company (literally thousands of people around me everyday) in a building on the 32^nd floor (which bothers me in all sorts of ways – planes crashing into it, being on fire, the windows don’t open so recirculating germs, people going postal, getting trapped in an elevator, etc, etc) going to meetings where I have to remember peoples’ names (yikes) and people here are from all over the world.  And I have to take the train everyday.

And most (like, 99%) of these new people I’ve encountered have been nice.  Really quite lovely.  Helpful.  Genuine.  Plus, I’ve been witness to, and occasionally the recipient of, random acts of kindness.

And thus the astounding revelation popped into my head (and was the impetus for this particularly long post, sorry) – most people are not stupid assholes, as I had previously presumed.

Hmmm.  Imagine that!

This was GREAT!  It was doing wonders for my anxiety.  I actually let my kid go play at someone’s house down the road – someone I didn’t really know (ok, so she was like about 70 years old and it was her grandchildren, but it was progress for me).  I stopped thinking about serial killers and kidnappers at least 60% of the time.  I stopped worrying that at any moment anarchy was going to break out on the train and I was going to be attacked and it would be all “Mad Max” and everyone for themselves...AND I ACTUALLY WENT TO BED WITHOUT CHECKING THE DOORS AND WINDOWS MYSELF (seriously, it’s been years).  We stopped to rescue a dog on the road, cars actually stopped, we found the owner and she was so incredibly happy and grateful.  I met a bunch of really nice people at a course and we went for drinks and it was fun and none of them were serial killers or kidnappers or rapists.  The world was all butterflies and flowers and designer handbags 80% off (that was a metaphor, not an actual sale, so don’t email me asking where the sale is).  Things were going so well…

And then there was a bomb threat at the building next door which shut down half of downtown and we were on notice to evacuate (we didn’t, though) – fucked a little with the progress I had made with working in a tall building I cannot easily get out of.  And then The Husband left the big, main window in the house open all night long (with fans going upstairs so I wouldn’t have heard anyone breaking in).  And then they found those three kidnapped women in Cleveland…

Though I still stand by my revelation that most folks are not stupid assholes, I will be going home to have a big swig of wine anxiety medication tonight.

But I will be checking the windows and doors...

Two steps forward, one step back.

Good days and bad days...

"I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several attack me at once."
Jennifer Yane

I do love the Kaiser Chiefs…

So, sorry, no blogging for awhile.  And right after I promised myself I would, too.  Oh well, if you can’t break promises to yourself… - wait, that’s probably not the best way to look at that…

Let’s start again.

In my defense, the following events have occurred since I last wrote anything (in somewhat of a chronological order):

• I started a new job at a new company after leaving my old company (of 13 years)

I was “the boss” at my old company and now I am new and don’t know anything.  Which is okay, as it is my job over the next two years to learn what I need to and get up to speed.  The problem isn’t with the job, it’s with me and my impatience - it’s really frustrating at times not knowing things especially having come from a position where I pretty much knew everything.  Is it ego?  Maybe a little.  Plus I have an extra hour of commute everyday and have to get up really early which I HATE, but am adjusting to.

• I started my MS drug trial.

I’m pretty sure I didn’t get the study drug since I am having horrendous reactions to the injection drug, which I have to inject three times a week.  And YES it hurts.  And NO, in typical me fashion I didn’t really think about the whole injecting myself with a needle thing on a regular basis in any great detail until I actually went home and had to stick myself the first time and sat there in the bathroom thinking “hmmm, well, how did I get here, exactly, and geez this is gonna kinda suck I think”.  And did I mention it hurts?  It does.  I wasn’t counting on that.  I mean, I used to watch my Grampa inject himself with insulin and I asked him if it hurt and he said no.  But this stuff I’m injecting (Interferon) is acidic and it stings like a sonofabitch.  Now I look like someone with tiny fists has been pummelling my legs and stomach (with the blotches) but let’s face it, I wasn’t going to be wearing a bikini anytime soon anyway…

• My kid gets pink eye and shares.

So my kid gets pink eye.  A normal kid thing to get.  But mommy has a compromised immune system thanks to her disease and current medication, so mommy also gets pink eye.  EPIC pink eye, for her second week at work, which is comprised entirely of meetings and meeting new people.  Remember in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off where Mooney gets hit in the face and his eye is all swollen shut?  Like that.  Fantastic.

• Easter Sunday was a fucking catasptrophe.

So my mom came to stay over so she could watch the wee child hunt for easter eggs on Sunday morning.  Which she did.  Afterwards, though, she proceeded to have a stroke (at least that’s what we thought at the time, and without going into too much detail on past experience, we were pretty justified in thinking so) in the living room.  The men in my family just stood there looking dumbstruck… This is kinda how it went:

Me:  “Mom, mom, are you okay?”  Then, out loud to myself “nope, don’t think she’s okay”…

Me, turning to my son:  “Hey buddy, you can go downstairs and watch channel 20 if you like” which he is normally not allowed to do.  Son runs downstairs at the speed of light – he knows a golden opportunity when he sees ones.

Me, turning to my husband and my dad, who are just standing there:  “Dad, you need to call an ambulance.  Husband, you need to help me get her lying down on the floor.”

Dad:  “Are you sure, I mean, she might be alright in a few minutes?”

Me:  “Yup, or she might be dead in a few minutes.  Worth a call in my opinion so PICK UP THE GODDAMN PHONE AND DIAL IT NOW” (getting a bit agitated).

Husband, muttering to himself: “oh my god oh my god…”.

Dad, on the phone, giving me the instructions from the 911 operator.  Husband, still muttering to himself.  Son, downstairs, singing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song at the top of his lungs (remember, he’s seen gramma pass out many times and then come to fairly quickly so he doesn’t really get that anything major is going on, plus he gets to watch channel 20…).

Ambulance and Fire Truck arrive.  Happy Easter morning cul-de-sac neighbours, hope you were awake.  Son was very happy as fire fighters allowed him to play on the truck while paramedics helped gramma - best Easter morning ever in his books.  Paramedics spill coffee all over newly steamed cleaned carpets while moving furniture in order to get gurney in that is now covered in mud from the front lawn (not that it was important at the time, but afterwards it was a bit of a pisser).  Loaded mom up and off she went to the hospital; was doing much better when she left.  Sent dad with her as he was not being useful anyway and told him to update me when they sorted things out.  Phoned sister, had her head up there to supervise dad. 

Did I mention that there were 20 people on their way over for early dinner?  Did I mention that part?  So in between trying to find out what was going on with mom at the hospital, actually going up there myself to make sure things were okay, and cooking dinner for 20 people (well, 18 because my sister and mom were now at the hospital), it was a bit stressful.

Yup, Easter was AWESOME.

The only thing that made it even better was a nastygram from husband’s father the next day basically writing us off for not calling them to wish them happy Easter.  Funny, I remember that he has a phone, too…  Then when husband emails to tell them what happened, do we get an apology?  Nope.  Somehow still our fault.  Icing on the cake, really.  Fuck him.

• The week after Easter Sunday sucked, too (aka Mom in the hospital for a week).

Super fun.  Life schedule was modified to include going straight from work to the hospital each day to relieve my sister, then home to put kid to bed, then to bed myself.  Had to drive to work so paid $32 in parking each day, then another $8 at the hospital.  Someone had to be there with her because the doctors won’t come at a specific time and trusting my mother to remember what they’ve told her is pointless.  She is still convinced they took x-rays of her feet – which they did not.  Fun times.

Sometimes you just have to let the basement go to hell and your son eat his dinner in his racecar...

• Mom out of hospital, me in.  Barftastic.

The day my mom was released, I promptly got either food poisoning or the stomach flu.  To the point that I couldn’t even keep water down.  Given the drugs I am on, it is very important that I don’t get dehydrated, so it was off to the hospital for me to get an IV.  And then laying in bed.  Happy weekend!

But really, whaddya gonna do?  I did have some really good days, too.

The funny thing is, for a lot of these things that happened, that stupid Kaiser Chiefs song kept running through my head like a melodic mantra.  I think it kept me sane.  Because there’s nothing you can do in those situations.  I mean, I guess you can just crumple up in a ball on the floor and cry and rock back and forth, but in the end it’s still going to be waiting for you when you are done having your meltdown and you’ll still have to deal with it all.  Only then you’ll be tired from the crying and won’t be able to cope as well.  At least that’s how I look at it.

Plus, I have a wee man I have to be there for no matter what.

I think that since I have been sick and have days where I literally can’t walk or get out of bed, it makes me grateful for the days I can.  Even when those days are not great for other reasons.  I look at it like “it could be worse – I could be having to deal with this AND have to drag myself around like Quasimodo”.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m still not going to the gym everyday! I’m grateful but I’m still a lazy ass…

The end of an era...

Well that's it, that's all folks!

My last day at work at, let's call it RLS, was Thursday, February 28th.

While you may be sitting there thinking, "that's nice" I'm being a bit more contamplative about it and because you are reading this (unless you've stopped by this point) then you get to be, too.

I worked there for just shy of 13 years.  And as I wrote in my goodbye email to everyone, that's a long time in the sense of one's life in general.

During the time I worked there:

I turned 30.
I turned 40.
My dad had a heart attack.
My mom went from being independent to being in a nursing home.
I lost several family members.
I bought a house.
I sold that house (for some not so great reasons).
I moved back home.
I moved out again.
I got married.
We moved to Kelowna.
We bought another house.
We had a wee child.
We sold that house.
We moved back from Kelowna.
I worked in three RLS offices, the favourite being in Kelowna (I love those guys).
Plus a whole bunch of other things...

It was the backdrop to my life for a very significant period.

btw - I didn't get fired, I left.  In case you were wondering.  If they'd fired me after all of that I probably would be writing this from jail...

Leaving wasn't a decision I made lightly.  It was a great job.  I was the manager, so I pretty much had free reign to do whatever.  And I do mean that.  I came in when I wanted, I left when I wanted, I took people for lunch when I wanted, I took days off when I wanted, I worked on what I wanted (and foisted the stuff I didn't), when I didn't like something I called the CEO and while he didn't necessarily agree with me all the time, he listened and actually gave a shit.  Either that or he's really good at pretending.  But he's a British engineer, so I doubt he's a good pretender.  They are pretty straight up.

anyway, where was I?...

Oh yeah.  So I decided to leave.  EVERYONE I've told has immediately responded with "WHY??!!  Are you CRAZY?  You have MS, you are likely to get worse as time goes on, your employer has said do whatever you need to, take whatever time you need, your job will always be here and we will support you.  You have the dream job for someone living with MS!".  Even my doctor.

And that was what made me leave.

I don't want a dream job for someone with MS.  I want a job for ME, without the MS.  Am I separable from the MS as this point?  YES.  Regardless of what my body thinks.

I've been thinking about a change for awhile.  It's not that I wasn't good at my job - I was.  Really good.  I'm not tootin my own horn, I'm stating a fact.  I was really good at what I did.  But like many things in my life, just because I'm really good at them doesn't mean I want to do them.  I mean, yes, I do a fantastic job of cleaning the bathroom, I just don't want to do it all the time.

It was a tough decision.  But in the end, my desire to not be limited by my disease won.  That and I cannot be bored.  Nothing good comes of it for anyone.

And I should be honest, making a change now while I have the energy and few limitations was a big factor.

I do stuggle with the decision on a daily basis, especially considering it will impact my family.  The new job means a much longer commute (at least an hour a day) which is less time I have to spend with my wee man (and my not so wee man).  I will miss my snuggles with the wee man in the morning and will try to figure out how to make that up to him <guilt>.  But in the end I think a happier mommy will make a better mommy.  And wife.  And did I mention it's more $$$?  Ahhhh, the not-so-altuistic factor.  I'm okay with that :)

Don't get me wrong, if I won the lottery tomorrow I wouldn't work.  At a paying job.  But I am one of those people who have to get up in the morning with something to do.  A charity for sure.  And travelling.  But something to do.

So off I go on Monday to the large towers downtown.  I'm not sure how I will enjoy my walk to the train station and the *ahem* colourful characters one finds on the train.  I am not sure how I will do working in a highrise, considering I don't like them and am a tiny bit claustrophobic (thanks, Bin Laden, I didn't have enough anxiety before Sept. 11).  I'm not sure if or when or how my MS is going to affect me.  I'm not sure how I will do at the new job considering I have absolutely no experience doing it which will be quite a change from the one I just had that I could do in my sleep...

I'm not nervous, I'm so friggin excited I can't stand it!!!!  I'm going shopping for new clothes and a commuter bag!!!!  I already bought new pants.

And right now I'm looking at my shiny new bus pass tacked to the bulletin board - wish me luck :)