Forgot to fix my alarm to include Monday after the holiday last week.
Because Alex is back home from the hospital (as of yesterday) and he went back to school today.
But the doctor told me it’s probably a good idea to feed him more slowly, because it’s possible the issue with his respiratory system could be bronchitis. And that could be due to coughing up little bits of formula when he’s sleeping through his morning tube feed.
So I have to get up early now. Five am instead of 5:30.
Let’s play “What happened to Linda? This morning’s edition,” shall we?
I started writing this post–read: that first sentence–before I had a nap. When it took me a full minute to decide whether the word should be “edition” or “addition,” I knew finishing the post wasn’t worth risking my career as an editor.
Even after a three-hour nap, it’s an iffy prospect. I sincerely hope I’m making sense.
Where was I? Oh, yeah.
I put my darling son Alex to bed at just after 10 last night. He fell asleep after begging me to take him to the hospital. Now, you have to realize that the hospital is one of his favourite places in the world, so I take most of his pleas with a grain of salt. Last night, though, his breathing started sounding more horrible than it has all week.
At midnight, I finally said yes. By 1am, the decision had been made by the doctor to admit him for a couple of days. He has pneumonia again.
But, of course, it couldn’t possibly be that easy. Alex’s ultimate goal was to get out of emergency and up onto the floor, where he could hang out with the nurses. For the next thirteen hours he sat in anticipation of being admitted, asking me every fifteen seconds, When are we going upstairs?
I got home at 3pm.
So that’s “What happened to Linda,” and why I was thinking I should be posting the SoCS prompt at 9:30 this morning, too far away from my laptop to do it. And, backing up, why I was thinking I should be posting my illegal-A-Z-Challenge for the letter “V” at midnight last night as I drove to my local hospital.
Where Alex is now, happily wandering the halls, chasing nurses, because his obsession with the hospital far surpasses the actual science that tells the doctors he’s too sick to stay home.
Thank you to the bloggers who volunteered their “V” suggestions for yesterday’s post that’s not going to happen. I need sleep. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
I’m totally twitchy today. Alex was home–he’s really sick. I hope it’s just a cold since he doesn’t have a fever, but he can’t stop coughing. He’s in bed trying to sleep now and he’s still at it. I won’t bother even trying to get him up to catch the school troika … I mean the school bus tomorrow.
So, why am I twitchy? There were SO many awesome things I was going to accomplish this week! I have a deal going on on Kobo … here’s a screen shot:
I was planning to advertise this every which way ’til Sunday. Literally–the deal’s on until Sunday. But I have Alex at home.
Oh, and that appointment I had to get my mother’s staples out of her head this morning? Dragged her all the way to the doctor’s office and found out the retirement home had taken them out a week ago. So we went there for nothing.
Why, oh why can’t anything go smoothly this year?
Because seriously, if they would, I’d stop complaining in your ears.
I’m writing this off the top of my head tonight because (surprise!) I’m once again very tired. I’ll call this Stream of Consciousness Smonday. Totally a word.
I’ve swept a couple of things under the rug in the past couple of days, one of which was my promise to ask for “S” words. Sorry about that. My intentions were good, but my body was weak. And still is.
The good news? I’m caught up with my work to where I hoped to be by this time today. The bad news? I think I might be coming down with a cold. Alex has one. I hope he’ll go to school tomorrow, but it’s not looking good. And I have to take my mother to an appointment in the morning to get the staples out of her head from where she fell two weeks ago and split it open.
So back to real life it is. No more sweeping stuff under the rug.
In real life, I don’t even have a rug, so there you go. 😛
I need suggestions for “T” words for tomorrow’s illegal A-Z post. There’s actually a method to my madness: if anyone asks, it’s you guys’ fault for encouraging me! HaHa! One word per person, please, and keep it clean. Note that the oldest comments are at the bottom. Thanks!
First, thank you to Ritu for helping me find the title of this post. I don’t think I could have done it without you.
That said, what want to talk about has nothing to do with the title. Which is nothing new, so let’s carry on, shall we?
The day Notre Dame burned, Alex came home from school and asked me why I was sad. Having no way, with my limited vocabulary in sign language, to tell him what had happened, my first thought was of Disney’s “Hunchback of Notre Dame.” So I showed him a picture of the movie, and of Quasimodo at the top of the spire. When he saw it fall in the videos online, he understood.
I’ve been in so many grand cathedrals over the years–Canterbury, St. Pauls and Westminster Abbey in London, Notre Dame Basilica in Montreal, and yes, Notre Dame in Paris, among others–that it’s difficult to remember many specific details of any of them. But the sense of awe when stepping into such a church, of being surrounded by its history, leaves an indelible mark on the soul. When I saw Notre Dame burning, I went quickly from shock to denial and then to grief.
Notre Dame Basilica, Montreal, Quebec, Canada
When all is said and done, Notre Dame is an object. No lives were lost–not even the bees on the roof–which is a miracle all by itself. Still, one can’t help but think we’ve lost so much more than a material thing. Places like that are alive with the spirits of everyone who has walked through their doors.
On a lighter note …
My middle son, Christopher, who is autistic, didn’t start talking until he was four years old. In order to help him out, we bought him computer games to play. There was one, featuring Elmo, that had a mini-game in it to aid kids in learning the alphabet. And it worked! Chris began mimicking Elmo’s voice. For a long while he refused to put sentences together himself–everything he spoke was a line out of a game or a movie. But I distinctly remember one of the first questions he answered independently was, “What is the alphabet?”
Chris quickly answered, “Q W E R T Y U I O P A …” all the way to M. Because he learned the alphabet at the keyboard.
Fascinating how the autistic mind works.
Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “Q” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “Quasimodo,” “quick,” and “QWERTY.”
I don’t need any suggestions for “R” words for tomorrow’s post, because I’ll use SoCS to fulfill my non-duty of writing a non-A-Z post. Watch out for my request for “S” suggestions tomorrow!
It’s been a while since I’ve gone into armchair-psychiatry mode so how’s about a little sit down, eh? While we’re here, why don’t we talk about the theoretical link between the pandemic of depression and social media?
Is there even a link? Let’s imagine for a moment there is.
I don’t want to write an entire dissertation here–I lack both the time and the energy to do research, thus, the armchair. But just grazing on the surface, it’s easy (I think) to see a few different realities that exist in social media that could, quite easily be the cause of depression.
The first and most obvious is the common troll. There are no lengths to which many will not go to attain their goal of making their target miserable. To the point of depression? Perhaps.
Second, the “keeping-up-with-the-Joneses” factor. Being inundated by how good everyone else’s meals look/kids are thriving/vacations turn out/book sales are going (that last one might be personal) can be enough to point out how much yours is/are not. It’s like being a rock in the way of the tide–it’s gonna wear you down eventually. To the point of depression? Maybe.
Third, and possibly least likely–your name isn’t Paula. Because who doesn’t want a name like Paula? (Be nice, Paula is reading your comments.) Could not being called Paula cause depression? Well, you can always change your name, so probably not.
What do you think?
NOTE: I am, in no way trying to make light of the very serious disease that is depression. I’ve suffered it myself, and I understand the debilitating nature of it.
Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “P” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “psychiatry,” “pandemic,” and “Paula.”
I need suggestions for “Q” words for tomorrow’s not the A-Z Challenge post! I’ll take the first three. Note, the comments on my blog are newest on top. One word per person, and please keep ’em clean.