So it's finally here. The week where W. goes into the hospital to have part of his lung removed. It's still kind of surreal - almost so that I find it hard to really believe that it's happening.
I'm somewhat of mixed emotions on this whole process. Obviously I'm worried out of my mind about the whole cancer/surgery/hospital part of it. That part of me is sympathetic and concerned and worried. But this other crazy part of me is almost resentful. Isn't he supposed to be the strong one, the healthy one?
I hate the whole business and I can't wait for it to be over so we can go back to our normal lives. I'm not good with being the care-taker, the nurturer. It goes against all my instincts and it makes me uncomfortable. It's really hard for me to deal with this.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
If this was a real fire, you'd be dead by now!
So we're sitting there after work, drinking a lovely, cold glass of wine (oh, how I love you wine....) when all of a sudden the fire alarm goes off. So we sit there for a minute, have another sip or two and look at each other. I ponder outloud, "I wonder if that's our fire alarm from the heat or if it's the building alarm?". Off the couch we get, W. checks the fire alarm, while I check the hallway (quick note: I did remember to touch the door to see if it was hot before I opened it - points for me!!! Yay!). Sure enough, it was the building alarm.
We jump into action, "Where's the cat?" I yell as I'm digging through the junk drawer looking for his (small dog size) harness. W. runs into the bedroom where the cat is hiding under the bed. First sign of strange noise, he immediately runs under the bed. I try and grab him from one side and he slithers away from me. W. tries from the other, succeeds for a minute, but the cat slithers out of his grip too and runs for the living room.
"Shut the door so he can't get back in there!", as I dash to the living room. The cat's hiding behind the chair. Then he makes the mad dash behind the couch. Finally I get him cornered behind the entertainment stand. I'm a little stressed by now and my hands are shaking, so I'm having a bit of trouble getting the harness done up, the fur keeps getting stuck and I can't get it done up.
"If this was a real fire, you'd be dead by now!" W. yells from the other side of the TV. Thanks, that's really lowering my stress level.
Finally, I get the harness on the cat and we head out the door. "Grab my purse and the keys". Why we need keys to get back into the building which may burn down, I don't know. Not to mention the fact that we didn't even lock the door.
We get into the hallway, and the cat freaks out from the louder noise. He's so scared that he has a little accident as we're walking down the stairs. Poor guy :(
Finally we get outside and onto the grass across from the building. We sit down and the cat lays there and moans his sad, pitiful little moans. Then the firetrucks pull up. And the fun starts anew. He leaps around a bit, tries to get off his harness and we end up at the bottom of the hill sitting on our neighbours back porch. The cat finally made himself comfy under my legs and we sat there waiting for the firemen to give the all clear.
By this point we figured that it wasn't anything real serious, as half the firemen stayed in the trucks and only a couple went inside. We sat there thinking of all the things inside that maybe we should have grabbed, like the wedding pictures and a few other things.
Then suddenly I remember my wine! "What if the firemen drink my wine????"
Once we got the all clear and got the cat back in the house, that was the first thing I checked. And no, the firemen didn't drink my wine. Thank goodness.
We jump into action, "Where's the cat?" I yell as I'm digging through the junk drawer looking for his (small dog size) harness. W. runs into the bedroom where the cat is hiding under the bed. First sign of strange noise, he immediately runs under the bed. I try and grab him from one side and he slithers away from me. W. tries from the other, succeeds for a minute, but the cat slithers out of his grip too and runs for the living room.
"Shut the door so he can't get back in there!", as I dash to the living room. The cat's hiding behind the chair. Then he makes the mad dash behind the couch. Finally I get him cornered behind the entertainment stand. I'm a little stressed by now and my hands are shaking, so I'm having a bit of trouble getting the harness done up, the fur keeps getting stuck and I can't get it done up.
"If this was a real fire, you'd be dead by now!" W. yells from the other side of the TV. Thanks, that's really lowering my stress level.
Finally, I get the harness on the cat and we head out the door. "Grab my purse and the keys". Why we need keys to get back into the building which may burn down, I don't know. Not to mention the fact that we didn't even lock the door.
We get into the hallway, and the cat freaks out from the louder noise. He's so scared that he has a little accident as we're walking down the stairs. Poor guy :(
Finally we get outside and onto the grass across from the building. We sit down and the cat lays there and moans his sad, pitiful little moans. Then the firetrucks pull up. And the fun starts anew. He leaps around a bit, tries to get off his harness and we end up at the bottom of the hill sitting on our neighbours back porch. The cat finally made himself comfy under my legs and we sat there waiting for the firemen to give the all clear.
By this point we figured that it wasn't anything real serious, as half the firemen stayed in the trucks and only a couple went inside. We sat there thinking of all the things inside that maybe we should have grabbed, like the wedding pictures and a few other things.
Then suddenly I remember my wine! "What if the firemen drink my wine????"
Once we got the all clear and got the cat back in the house, that was the first thing I checked. And no, the firemen didn't drink my wine. Thank goodness.
Friday, August 11, 2006
OMG Sucktastical blogging ahead!
Hey y'all.... here's a mix-mash ramble of a blog for the entertainment of no-one! Just me! I'm writing here to entertain myself and wooooo-baby is it ever fun!
Let talk about the Protron-Neutron-Electron dance! Do the Neutron dance. Anyone remember that song? Is it really a song? Who knows, somewhere from in the back of my brain which holds waaaay too much useless trivia bounced out this song yesterday. From there we took it just a few steps farther than necessary and made up some dances. Yep, two 30 year old grown adults doing the Proton-Neutron-Electron dances, which mostly consist of arm waving and wierd facial expressions.
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That was exciting. Wanna talk about the cat now? Come on, you know you want to! What's a good blog without some cat talk. The cat in question, we'll call him Mr. B. is a big fat black monster of a cat. He's a chicken walking around in fur though. Such a scaredy cat, but anyways. I guess that's all I have to say about the cat now. Again, super-sucktastical.
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What??? You're still here??? A sucker for punishment you are. I used to be a good writer and I used to be funny, but now.... well, this what you get. Obviously I need more practice, so I'm making it my goal, no, my MISSION, to make this website a little more fun, a little more fantastical and a little more current.
Shall we see how I do?
Let talk about the Protron-Neutron-Electron dance! Do the Neutron dance. Anyone remember that song? Is it really a song? Who knows, somewhere from in the back of my brain which holds waaaay too much useless trivia bounced out this song yesterday. From there we took it just a few steps farther than necessary and made up some dances. Yep, two 30 year old grown adults doing the Proton-Neutron-Electron dances, which mostly consist of arm waving and wierd facial expressions.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That was exciting. Wanna talk about the cat now? Come on, you know you want to! What's a good blog without some cat talk. The cat in question, we'll call him Mr. B. is a big fat black monster of a cat. He's a chicken walking around in fur though. Such a scaredy cat, but anyways. I guess that's all I have to say about the cat now. Again, super-sucktastical.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What??? You're still here??? A sucker for punishment you are. I used to be a good writer and I used to be funny, but now.... well, this what you get. Obviously I need more practice, so I'm making it my goal, no, my MISSION, to make this website a little more fun, a little more fantastical and a little more current.
Shall we see how I do?
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