Whew. Crack the whip. Remember that game? I feel like we've been on the outside of the running line and have been flung off; we are sailing in the air out there somewhere. What planet are we on? Mr. Tay-man still has oxygen feeding into his trach. His has a feeding tube (which actually just came out accidentally). Darn it all.......another procedure to put that dang thing back in. Oh, how we wish he could swallow and have his food/drink go down the right way---and not go into his lungs. I am surprised that Joe and I are still speaking. Divorced though we already are, we still function like friends----as we should. But this situation taps into every stress button imaginable. Is it human nature to need somebody else to blame? I love that bumper sticker that reads, "I am NOT saying it's your fault; I am just saying I blame you." That pretty much sums up a lot of how I am feeling. Ok, saying it out loud and "owning it" is the first giant step towards changing it. (I could probably use a good weekend retreat along about now----maybe Outward Bound or something that would involve tight-rope walking across a huge gorge---you know...."to build character". )
So, here is how I am handling the stress today: I am going to go to State Street in Chicago, find a Nordstrom's and buy some new Mac lipstick. Is that called lipstick therapy or just denial therapy? Either way, it's about $20.00 worth of good self-care. AND! I have found a hair salon in Lincoln Park from one of the ICU nurses. So, Monday, I am going to have my hair cut. Let me just say that this feels mighty frivolous given the gravity of what is really going on in this room, but I MUST balance this out somehow. You get me, don't you?
That's it from the 12th floor of Rush Hospital. I am typing and Taylor is watching Homeward Bound for the 100th time. I am mother of son who had a trach in his neck so he can breathe.
Where is that lipstick I think I so desperately need???
