Life in progress


What happened to Linda?

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.


#SoCS – Hoping it’ll be fine

My eldest son, who lives in the basement, is my constant source of support when his brother acts up. Which is a wonderful thing, or will be until–as he pointed out yesterday–it isn’t. I can’t and don’t expect him to live here forever.  Yesterday as I was battling with Alex over one of his regular behavioral issues, my son said point blank that if I don’t stop giving in to Alex, he’s going to walk all over me when my support moves out.

So this morning I decided to battle it out alone. I got yelled at and punched (he’s seventeen, but only the size of a ten year old; his little knuckles are bony, damn it!), but I managed to get him to calm down and behave himself. I have to do this. Otherwise, I won’t be fine.

This short and far from sweet post is brought to you by a frazzled Linda, in conjunction with Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Join in the fun and read all the other posts! You can find everything you need here: