First, the child:
Voxkid hurt her ankle over the weekend. I thought "not a huge deal" -- we've been through this before and I have ankle braces for both ankles from my own mishaps... nothing discolored or swollen. Just pain when weight's put on the ankle. So we send her to school with her crutches (from the last time she did something like this) and the school won't let her travel w/o a doctor's note, because of liability issues. Forget the fact that the injury happened after hours AT THE HIGH SCHOOL during a school event. Whatever.
The school nurse then proceeds to terrify me with stories of fractures that don't result in any bruising or outward signs. Of course, my COBRA has run out as of last month, and the new job's insurance wont' kick in until June 1. So we're "flying without a net" for this, and I figure a trip to the orthopedist with x-rays is going to run probably 1000 dollars. Which we Do. Not. Have. (I'm already getting sued by the oil company for the winter's heating bill). I am going to bite the bullet and run up the credit cards even further, I suppose, and spend the 1000 dollars to find out there's nothing wrong with the child (like every other booboo she's ever had). It's vaguely ironic, because that's what the monthly cost of the insurance was when I had it.
Next, the parent:
I get a call from my dad's residence today. It seems like they have noticed his increased "confusion" and have also noticed that he's not taking care of himself anymore (like not showering, not changing or washing his clothes "after an episode of incontinence" ... meaning his room and himself smells strongly of pee), and they want to up his care level. However, my dad, being who he is, is refusing the help and won't let them.
His latest delusion is that they've moved him into an identical apartment and changed the room number to the room number he's had for the past 3 1/2 years. He spoke to me about that yesterday, and I had just gotten myself to a place where it doesn't freak me out every time I hear him like this.
So they're calling me, like I can do anything about this. Argh. And now I have to bring my dad to HIS doctor for a "re-evaluation" whatever that means.
I haven't had a chance to hem his new pants so he can wear them.
and man, they ain't kidding when they talk about the "sandwich generation"
(for those that don't know, my dad is 92, and has been declining slowly ever since Mom passed away) I have a brother, who is supportive when it's convenient for him. (like we speak on the phone occasionally, yet, he won't respond to an email even to say "I got your email" even when I specifically requested an ACK for the last one. He did tell me, when mom died, that when dad gets to be too much for me to deal with, we can move him out to where he lives, and he'll deal with him. I'm about ready to test that theory.
And finally, me:
I'm earning money, barely. However, I seem to be the only one in the family able to pull in a steady paycheck, and by working 2 part time jobs, at 48 hours/week, I can almost cover all our immediate expenses (like mortgages, van payment, auto insurance, current utility bills, and slightly more than minimum payments on the many credit cards we've been living on "until the house sells"). If I'm sitting in doctor's offices, I'm not working, and I don't get paid for hours I can't bill. If Voxspouse's work doesn't pick up significantly, and soon, we're going to be in big frelling trouble.
So, how's YOUR day? |
