When I said over the weekend that my brothers were stepping up to the plate, I lied. Well, I thought they were, but it's the same old story of telling me what I want to hear, and not necessarily what was true. So if you read this post, disregard.
I fear that my month-long diatribe of woes concerning my mom, the flu and my lacking of Christmas spirit will cause folks to run the other way. I have nothing of perkiness to share. I cry a lot. And cough. And tend to the whole household that is sick. And Gary had to cancel his trip up to see his folks for his mom's 80th birthday this weekend. His youngest brother was treating him with a ticket, but Gary had to contact him this morning about it. Sick, sick. And supposedly an ice storm is coming, so really, the flight might be cancelled anyhow (prayers appreciated for it to be a big failure of a storm). Also I check my mom into the new rehab tomorrow because my brother won't respond to my email for help in the midst of our illness.
Gosh.
Crap, crap, crappity crap.
I'm hoping and praying that when we feel better---and it should be soon for a few of us who got sick first, that I can relax with the knowledge that my mom is in a good place for a bit. She should be there 'til after Christmas, I'm hoping. Will address that possibility tomorrow. I want to sink into a holiday mood of sorts. We all need that joyousness in the house.
It was odd. Yesterday I paid some of my mom's bills at her house and opened one in regards to a radiology bill. The date was November 7th, and I couldn't remember what had happened then. For a few brief moments was wondering if Mom had been to the hospital before her stroke. Silly me. That WAS the date of her stroke. The past 4 weeks have literally flown by---full of prickles and dark emotions.
I need a perk. A blessing. A feeling of God's hand over me even in the midst of these hard times. I get glimmers, but a clear (okay, big would be nice) indication of His touch would be such a joy. Actually a small thing happened yesterday. I was talking to oldest daughter about feeling jittery about telling Mom about her not coming here, but going to another rehab facility. Literally as we were talking, I had a rush and felt clearly that Mom would hear something about it, and not from me, and that it would be fine. Late yesterday afternoon, Gary and I went up there to tell her (the soc. worker had given her go-ahead), and turns out the nurse-of-the-day had already told her, and Mom was fine with it. She broke the ice. I guess that was a clear indication. Well, I know it was. Guess I'm just hungry for the pressures to be off and for life to feel happy again.
