On Labor Day, a close friend of mine died of pulmonary embolism. They were often the first person I interacted with every morning, a person I shared a lot of the same mental health issues with and that I could talk with. I’m managing, but it always seems to hit me in the mornings when I pick up my phone and they’re not there. (I discussed this more in my last post…it’s hard to talk about.)
Weekend before last? Well, that was the hurry to get ready for Irma, the dread of Irma, the 12 hours of listening to the wind howling around my house and fighting the water from the sideways rain coming in through the chimney. And then two more days of no electricity after that. We were lucky, there was no significant damage (I am missing two shutters and my mom lost a pecan tree, and the laminate in front of the fireplace is mildly damaged), but it was first terrifying and then annoying. And I still haven’t managed to clean up the sticks in the yard or put my yard furniture back out.
….then last Sunday my mom fell and broke her hip. There were several days spent in the hospital with my mother in severe pain and there being nothing I, the doctors, or the nurses could do to help her. Due to other health problems, there was little that medication could do and she mostly had to bear it. Then finally the surgery (a total hip replacement) and she’s already feeling better but . . . the nurses would say “this thing is to keep you from getting blood clots” and . . . that would keep bringing my mind full circle to the blood clots that took my friend.
Needless to say, I haven’t gotten any writing done. I’ve barely managed to get any living done. It’s just been a progression from catastrophe to catastrophe with barely a break between and I’m exhausted. But I can’t help dreading, now, what this next weekend will bring.
Is it really still only September?