Lost Weekends

Well, this weekend was a total wash.  I spent both days in the ER getting hopped up on zofran and morphine.  I did not get to spend time with the kiddos.  I did not get to work on the things around the house I wanted to work on.  No projects were completed, my house is messier than it was before, and not a single plan was followed through with.

I walked into my office to find the lamp on the floor, papers everywhere, and my desk drawers open.  It looks like I’ve been robbed.  I know that at one point L asked if he could take home a computer game and I told him it didn’t work.  I wondered briefly where he had found it.  Now I know.

However, someone found a photo of me and Mark and taped it to my computer.  So that’s adorable.  But why…WHY is the lamp on the floor??

Having gastroparesis downright sucks, but what I find to be the worst part (after the pain and vomiting, that is) has to be how it saps your life of time.  I planned on taking the kids to the zoo this weekend.  That clearly did not happen.  I just got bunk beds for the girls and was going to help Mark set them up.  We couldn’t, obviously.  I was going to make a nice dinner on Saturday.  They had Little Caesars, I had a lemon ice.  All our plans got delayed or cancelled, and I feel like I am ruining everyone’s weekend, not just my own.  My poor father, who sat with me both days at the ER!  I’m sure that’s not how he intended to spend his time.

Next week is my sisters 22nd birthday.  I missed her 21st as I was in the hospital, and I really do not want a repeat of last year.  We’ve made plans for the weekend, to go see our cousins band play.  Bernie was born on Halloween and there’s going to be a costume competition, so that’s appropriate.  On Saturday, I intend to go to Pumpkinville with Jaime, to buy cider and feed goats.  And on Sunday either we will go to my parents for dinner or I will make some chili and watch the game with Mark but either way I will have a lovely Fall weekend and I will NOT GET SICK.

Or so I tell myself.

I woke up this morning, and as I was laying in bed I thought to myself, Am I ok?  How’s my stomach?  These were my first thoughts.  They are always my first thoughts.  When I felt confident that I was not going to puke, I got up and made my way through the house, past the bunk beds waiting in the dining room, passed every single board game we own stacked on the coffee table for some reason, into the office with the lamp on the floor.  I have so much to do today and I don’t want to do any of it.  I probably won’t; I just don’t have the energy.  However, I am glad to sit at my chair among the mess, and type on my keyboard, and update my blog, because it means that time is not being stolen from me.  It means that I am here.

poof

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