right now

Mitchell has been laying in his recliner for the last seven and a half hours.  He's been having trouble with his stomach.  Apparently the last combination of meds has been doing a real number on his digestion. 

He met with Dr. Brown last Tuesday.  I feel like there's nothing really new to share.  Although I thought this last appointment would let us know when Mitchell's next scheduled PET scan would happen, but it seems that's not going to play out the way I thought it would.  Something about tumor markers and whether or not they're elevated.  I have no idea what the state of said markers are because the doctor failed to call and Mitchell has yet to track him down. 

My hopes right now are that Mitchell gets back on infusion chemotherapy.  Sounds crazy, but at least he gets the medicine when they're mainlining it into his system.  This whole pill thing isn't really happening. 

Another item of note is that Mitchell's pain level seems to have increased.  Stomach.  Shoulder.  Back.  Hard to say what is causing it.  Glass half empty reads its from the disease and not the meds.  Who knows really?

don't stand so close to me

Recently I'm eating lunch at Taco Bell aka Toxic Belch aka I-Wanna-Get-Explosive-Diarrhea-Immediately. I am attempting to pay the dim-witted girl who has just half-heartedly taken my order when 2 teenage boys saunter/slouch into the place. One of whom proceeds to approach the counter and stands SHOULDER TO SHOULDER with me. First of all, a lot of times I don't want my own family to touch me. Second, why is this AXE-saturated degenerate feeling comfortable/confident enough to saunter over to a 35 year old stay at home mom and rub elbows with her? I immediately poke my unexfoliated elbows in his direction and make unfriendly old person noises. This doesn't make a dent and I am forced to verbalize my displeasure, "Hey, Kid! Watch where you're standing!" I've never sounded so old.

being neighborly

So it's 1:34 Tuesday afternoon when my cell rings as I'm talking to my brother. Glance at the display-see it's my neighbor & hit "Ignore". It rings twice more; I throw it under a cushion. I have no idea what possessed me, but I return her call. This is how I end up picking up her kid from school & watching him until she gets home "about 3". I don't have to tell you that everything about this kid drives me C-R-A-Z-Y. I know. I'm mean. I'm a bitch. Yeah. I get that. First, it takes him about 3 minutes to get into the car, not because he's worried about coming home with a virtual STRANGER...He's worried about whether or not I've got the dog in the car. After a lot of half-hearted cajoling, he finally gets in. Then it starts, WHY IS YOUR CAR SMALL? WHY DOES IT TAKE THE GIRLS SO LONG? WHY IS IT MESSY IN HERE? WHY AREN'T YOU AT WORK? YOU ALWAYS WEAR YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT. I sit in silence. I have no words. None that wouldn't come out brusque and cold. Mother always said, "If you don't have anything nice to say..." Did I mention that my neighbor promised to return by 3 pm? By 5 o'clock, I am losing it. Think sweating for no reason and that feeling that your head is going to rocket off your shoulders from the negative energy your thoughts are generating. Kids are running around, complaining about things they have no business complaining about and asking for dinner. By now, I'm convinced that this woman has run off and left her child with me to raise forever. I have visions of having to turn the space under the stairs into a spare bedroom for our new "son." There's no sign of the husband. It's beginning to turn dusk. WTF. I begin to think I should be looking up the number for CPS, so they can pick up this abandoned child. The thoughts that race through my head as I continue to furiously clean my kitchen are murderous to say the least. I envision exactly how I'm going to tell this woman off when and if she finally returns. You'd better believe I'm going to tell her all about herself and her audacity, leaving her kid with some crazy woman for hours on end. She has no idea who I am. I could be a lunatic. Her kid could be locked in a box right now for all she knows. On one of my many rant-filled calls to Mitchell, he gives me the old "That's-what-you-get-for-talking-to-people" speech. I vow to be cold and detached from this point on. I hang up on his laughter. It's almost 6 by the time my neighbor returns home to collect her child. I do not tell her off. I feign concern at her predicament and make the appropriate sympathetic noises as she retells her tale. Now I'm wishing we'd built someplace less populated.

mini-guests

Since moving to our new pad, there has been an advent of little, mini-visitors--I guess most would call them neighbor kids. Anywho. There have been a number of them. All wanting food, some throwing rocks and even a couple who have injured themselves in my semi-finished pool hole and then tracked mud and blood through the house on my new floors (did that sound unsympathetic?). It's not that I hate them. I really don't. I just don't want them in my house. At all. Ever. Is that wrong?

blech

My arms began tingling about an hour ago, That tight, full, just shy of some sort of attack feeling like a lump in my chest. My head is now spinning, The chaos in which I currently live silently encroaching, Stealithy creeping up, cutting off my oxygen Until I vomit packing peanuts and masking tape. From where I sit like a lump of defeated flesh I realize this will never be over. I will never be done. I'm feeling very much like screaming until my head bursts, Jettisoned into space like some sort of fuzzy rocket, circling the earth. The tingling in my arms has become a full-fledged ache That makes me want to rip them from their sockets. I want it to be over. The packing and the moving a distant memory. I want my spouse to be normal again. The sluggish, pouty caveman gone from our lives forever. I want my girls to have their own rooms again, that I can send them to when they are overstimulated and ridiculous from the craziness that has consumed our lives.