Pet Interview 1: Just Jake

The rehab center gives 48 hour notice before discharging an individual. At this stage, dad can't go into assisted living - he can't loadbear any weight and he can't sit up.   'I used to be able to bench 170 lbs. I cain't believe this sh*t get this bad.' He shakes his head, his shoulders slumped.  I start tour

Today, I lobbied for a haircut, put in another request for a proper shower for him. His hair hangs in a beautiful 1930s bob, his skin translucent. F Scott Fitzgerald coudn't have written it better. He smells feral, a wild wounded animal, spooked. The insurance bills have started to come in and I'm beginning to worry something will slip through the cracks. 

In addition to the MGL, there is a large abdominal aortic aneurysm that would normally be removed. Of course, 'normal' isn't a word that either tree in family arboretum, so of course his is currently inoperable. So it sits, pulsating, radiating heat and near constant pain.  His blood pressure - traditionally high - now hovers at 86/54 mark, low enough that the weekend almost found him back in ICU.  I sigh, rub a hand across my eye. I wake up at 1 am, breathe deeply, try a sleep story, try a sleep meditation. The ensuing sleep is broken and gritty. I want to curl into myself, press myself into another's body, just for a moment. I sigh, sit up. 6:30am. 

My major difficulty in situations, juggling the stress of these - let's call them 'uniquely average" overlapping situations, navigating the summer holidays, and working even strippped back hours, and staying a hotel is the lack of control over my diet.  I  manage my auto-immune condition through my diet and a tip in the wrong direction, in negative stress eating patterns and consuming too much sugar, for instance, send me into a crash. And I definitely made poor choices, though in small doses.  The result was that I barely made it into the hotel room before I collapsed in a nauseous heap. A two hour nap enabled me to drag myself downstairs to the pool where I somehow ended up watching strangers' children, like an aged au pair.  I nipped that in the bud pretty quikcly, but still. Who just leaves their kid in a pool with a stranger they've never said two words two? What is this, 1983?

It is not. It is 2021 and a fiercely directed tractor beam 'mom scowl' is enough to cut it short. Just about. If only that scowl carried weight with the ne'redowells squatting on Frontenac Drive. I can be patient, bide my time. Everything will unfold as it will. I just have to breathe and not overthink the situation, especially not with hideously synthetic sugar cookies.