No one looks hotter than I do with inflamed sinuses. There’s just something about a girl who looks like she has two black eyes that really drives the guys wild.
You know, I didn’t know until recently that the black eye thing was an actual phenomenon. They call them “allergic shiners.” I thought I was just weird.
I ate nothing but carbs for lunch. Seriously, I walked into a restaurant and ordered a big-ass bowl of carbs and I sat there and just plowed through them.
I’ve avoided writing because I’m really busy pressuring myself to come up with something light and witty and coherent, but the problem is that I don’t have any life experiences to draw on right now. There’s nothing going on. I don’t go out anymore. I’m not seeing anyone. I spend a lot of time by myself. I work a lot. I drive a lot. I read sometimes. I think too much. I don’t sleep enough.
We’re all holding our breath for tomorrow, when Ginny has her next doctor’s appointment. They will tell us then if her restrictions are lifted, and if so, what happens next. I really wish someone would just sit us down and say “Okay, this happens and then this happens and then this happens.” But that’s not what we’re getting. Instead we know NOTHING until we move to the next phase of her recovery. Then we’re told only what happens during that phase, but not what happens after that. Since we have no experience with people healing from multiple broken bones, we don’t have any damn clue how long it’s going to take for her to be walking, or even to be able to take a shower or go to the bathroom by herself. And when I say “we don’t have any damn clue,” I mean it. Will it be two weeks? Four weeks? Will she be walking in July? August? Sooner? Later? Will she go back to the rehab center? Will she get a different wheelchair? Will she get a modified seat for the toilet and shower? Will she get a walker? Will anyone tell us anything about anything?
And if she continues to need full-time care after this week, my mom is about to run out of paid leave. And she’s the breadwinner, so she can’t afford to stay at home without pay. None of us can. So if Ginny still needs someone with her at all times, it’ll be my turn to do it.
I don’t know. I’m worried. I’m hopeful. I’m tired of talking about it and I wish people would quit asking me about it. It’s so much more complicated than anyone realizes, between health issues and insurance issues and bills and work schedules and I don’t even have to deal with the brunt of it.
Too much has happened in the last few months and I’m running out of room for it all.