Crazy Easter

I'm almost too tired to blog today. Maybe I am too tired. Maybe this will just be a short one today.

It was a quiet week, at least the first part of it. I did some of the cleaning I'd planned, not all of it. Teen B stayed home sick the first three days, and I made him help a little. We got covid tests on Tuesday, and they were both negative, so that was good. The reason I got a test was that I woke up nauseated on Monday and started the day throwing up. That was also the reason we didn't get covid tests on Monday -- I slept most of the rest of the day.

But other than that I didn't get sick. I never caught Teen B's cold. So I can be thankful for that.

I was feeling really happy as the weekend approached. Rocket Boy was flying in Saturday, we were going to celebrate Easter together, the house was at least somewhat clean, I wasn't sick -- everything was coming up roses, in other words. And then Friday he called to tell me that he had cellulitis again. He wasn't sure how bad it was -- maybe he'd be OK if he got some sleep -- but with cellulitis you can never be sure. He needed to be on antibiotics, but there wasn't time to get any. He'd play it by ear the next morning, whether to cancel his flight or not. I went into panic mode. I did manage to sleep that night, but probably not enough.

Saturday morning he felt better. He drove himself to the airport and flew to Colorado. But I knew we weren't done. I had a zoom call that morning, and then I did some more cleaning. Teen B and I drove to the airport and met his plane, and he didn't look great. He admitted, on the way home, that he should probably go to Urgent Care. We got home too late to do that (they close at 5 pm on Saturdays), so around 5:30 pm, after bringing his suitcases into the house and greeting Teen A and the cats, we headed for the Emergency Room.

There's something very sweet about being in the ER waiting room together. It's nice to know that someone will be taking care of you soon, but it's also very sweet to go through adversity as a team. I always think about how one of these days -- years, whatever -- we'll do this and then it will be the end. Many people's lives end in the ER, or maybe they make it to the ICU and things end there. I'm always very grateful when it isn't the end and we get to go home.

Rocket Boy's leg looked absolutely terrible -- red and swollen and hot. The foot hardly looked like a foot, just like a big red blob with little white toes sticking out. They insisted on doing an ultrasound to look for blood clots, even though Rocket Boy explained carefully that he didn't have a blood clot, he had cellulitis. "Have you had lymphedema for a while?" various people asked him. "Thirty years," I answered for him, over and over. 

They gave him IV antibiotics and then we got to go home, with four pills to take today, and a prescription to get filled on Monday, since all the pharmacies are closed today except for one in east Longmont, where I didn't want to drive. I realized when we got home that I was exhausted. But Rocket Boy and the twins (who had been home alone, worrying) were hungry, so I fixed a can of soup and made scrambled eggs. I ate some leftover pasta that was in the fridge. The whole time I was fixing dinner, though, I still felt really happy. I kept thinking about how much I loved my family and what a wonderful thing it was to have a family to love.

Then I walked back to the desk room to do something on the computer and I somehow banged my foot into a chair leg. I still don't know how I did that! The pain was instantaneous -- aaah! And just like that, all my joy evaporated. I thought, oh my god, I've broken a toe. I wanted that moment back! How could I have broken a toe on the leg of my chair?!?! I wasn't even walking fast. I was so tired, I was just kind of shuffling along. I think that was the problem -- I kind of lost my balance right at the end and careened into the chair leg.

Hurting my toe reminded me that I'm the patient too -- I was spending the day looking after Rocket Boy (and the kids), not myself, but I needed not to forget about myself too. This is what my doctor was fussing at me about back in February, women paying attention to their family members' needs and ignoring their own. I actually think that I devote a great deal of attention to my own needs -- certainly this blog is all about me and my supposed problems -- but in real life, I probably spend more time on my family's needs than my own. Certainly yesterday that was true.

We wrapped my toe with the one next to it -- I knew to do that from having broken a toe on the other foot three years ago. There isn't much else you can do. We got the kids to bed, finally, quite late. But then we still had to do Easter! I pulled out all the candy I'd bought. It seemed excessive. Rocket Boy had also brought a lot of candy from St. Louis. I realized this was probably going to be the biggest Easter in our family's history. I filled all the old baskets. Some of the candy didn't fit and I had to set it aside for later. Rocket Boy handled the jelly beans (we fill our collection of plastic eggs with jelly beans). I stumbled out to the living room, back and forth, hiding baskets in various places. Rocket Boy hid all the plastic eggs. It was a little bit fun, but mostly we were just so tired.

Bedtime was a relief. Rocket Boy took a shower, I iced my toe, and then we turned in. We both slept like zombies, not waking up until around 8 am. (I could hear Sillers meowing somewhere and I didn't care at all.) The kids were good, waited until we were fully up before starting their hunt. And then it turned out to be a lot of fun, because despite being 14, they were still very competitive, desperately needing to find every hidden thing, and especially MORE than their brother. 

After breakfast we decided to go to Urgent Care and have my toe looked at, but the PA I saw didn't think it was a serious break (if it's a break at all). She suggested I deal with all my heart stuff first, rest my foot as much as possible, and then go see my podiatrist in a few weeks if things don't get better. I thought that was an excellent idea, and since the toe already doesn't hurt as much as it did yesterday, I think I'm going to be OK. 

The best news is that Rocket Boy's leg looks 100% better today. What a difference an antibiotic makes. The redness is gone, the swelling is greatly reduced, and his foot looks like a foot. 

So now it's 4:30 pm, Rocket Boy is taking a nap, and I'm trying to get interested in making Easter dinner. If it were up to me, we would go to Mcdonald's. Seriously. I don't want to cook anything. I'm absolutely wiped out, despite that good night's sleep. My energy level is approximately zero (when we went to Urgent Care my oxygen level was only 91, and that's about how I feel). But we bought salmon, and I said I'd make a vegetable tart (sigh -- why do I come up with these ideas?) and a salad. Easter dinner is important to Rocket Boy, and to the kids too, even though they're full of candy.

The kitchen needs cleaning and the dishwasher needs emptying before I can do all this cooking that I don't want to do. I'm in the middle of the kids' laundry, which I always do on Sundays. They go back to school tomorrow, Rocket Boy is supposed to see his regular doctor, and I have to start my prep for Tuesday's procedure. It looks like that's going to happen, and Rocket Boy should be able to drive me.

Why is everything always so complicated? 

It's OK. It's life. Which we get to spend another day enjoying, and with any luck a whole lot more days too.