Tag Archives: pain

Misery

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Since Tuesday I have been under the weather!  It started with general flu like systoms while I was at work.  I had the shivers very badly despite having on a blazer, my coat on top of that, my default sweater, and one of my student’s jackets was draped across my legs!  The kids kept telling me that I looked terrible and that Imust have the swine flu!

Afterschool I went to my doctor’s appointment scheduled a few weeks in advance for a follow-up. I had a temperature of 102 degrees.  I assumed it was a problem with my tonsils because they have often flaired up over the years. She did a strep test and it was negative.  So she decided that it was just a virus and that I should stay home for a day.

Wednesday morning I felt TERRIBLE!  I had a fever, my throat was KILLING me, and I could not even swallow my own saliva! I couldn’t eat or drink a thing either.  My voice was totally distorted, my left ear was full of pressure, nor could I not stop drooling!  And sleep, forget about it! 

Thursday it was worse so I called and asked for an antibiotic.  She responded with a high powered pain reliver and another day off of work.  She also said if my throat didn’t get better she would have to run a test for mono.

I don’t know what possessed me, but I tried to go to work Friday!  The kids kept telling me how terrible I looked!  I ended up  leaving two periods early because I was in so much pain.

Saturday morning I had a doctor’s appointment with another doctor on weekend duty.  It was obvious that I was suffering greatly and he immediatedly went to work, especially after he saw my cup of salivia. I was tested for mono with a finger prick and it came back negative. Then he returned saying that I had a really bad infection in my tonsils (this I knew all along.).  Therefore I received an antibiotic shot in the butt that hurt like mad, and prescriptions for Lidocaine, liquid Vicodin, and Augmentin.  Why was it so hard for my own doctor to do this?

Things started turning around for the better after the shot.  My throat started to loosen up for starters.  Later in the day I was even able to eat a banana, which almost bought tears to my eyes!  I haven’t been able to eat all week!  Then I was able to drink a few ounces of tea.

Around ten tonight I woke up out of my sleep because I had a foul taste in my mouth.  I went to the bathroom and started spitting up bile.  I actually knew what it was because I’ve been down this road before.  The abscess on my tonsil somehow had burst.  Usually they drain them with a needle, so I’ve never had one do it on its own.

After it drained, I was able to swallow without pain!  This is something I have to relearn after using a cup to spit in for close to a week.  I can even eat a little food now! But I do wonder why my doctor didn’t investigate more considering that I told her of my history?  I resent being miserable for so long when she could have simply given me a prescription for an antibiotic!

I learned through this experience to be thankful for the little things–the ability to swallow, chew, drink, and to sleep through the night without waking up in wretched pain.

Cutter

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Hurting people hurt people.  They do this to focus their attention elsewhere so that they don’t have to deal with the real pain of their situation.  It’s like people who physically cut themselves.  While these “cutters” don’t actually draw blood, their “cuts” come in the form of attacking others. 

However, knowing this information beforehand only makes it slightly easier to tolerate their toxic behavior.  I still wonder:

  •   Why can’t they get themselves together? 
  •   How do they feel once the temporary high of cutting subsides?

It is hard not to respond in a similar fashion, yet I know that doing so won’t get me very far.  Plus cuts do leave scars!  I can’t begin to count the number of times I have wanted to slice and dice Eliza right back  with a machete the length of Texas.  I have envisioned myself filleting her like a piece of meat at Benihana’s!   And she’s not the only one in queue for those knife tricks!

Fantasies aside, I have to remind myself that I don’t want to do anything to add to her already troubled state.  I breathe easier that way!

Left Behind

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I feel like we have been abandoned, me, Nicholas, and Jazmine that is. 

The very same day of my husband’s death from a heart attack, Eliza’s brother came knocking.  I saw him approaching the walkway and became anxious.  His arrival portended evil.   He was his usual pompus, surly self.  Luckily my aunt and cousin were home with us so I didn’t have to face him alone. 

When my aunt answered the door he demanded to speak with me.  She informed him that I was not feeling up to seeing any visitors so he asked to speak to my husband.  She told him that my husband was not available.  He then asked if he had passed–not your logical follow-up question.  My aunt acknowledged that he did in which he replied, “When he die, a month ago? Did he committ suicide?” 

I was stung by his indecency and began screaming and crying for him to leave.   He yelled that Ethan was his blood and that he carried his last name (he doesn’t).  My cousin ushered him away from the door.  I grabbed the phone and called the police.  I wanted him away from our house ASAP.

When the police arrived he stood outside attempting to manipulate them into believing that he was only there to console his nephew.  He claimed he had no idea that my husband had died.  Two big, burly guys joined his side.  The police  didn’t buy his story especially after eyeing his bouncers and wrote up a trespassing report.  They also put extra patrol in our neighborhood.  The rest of the night him and his sister called without ceasing.  She left many ridiculous messages stating that she only wanted her nephew because I was not “family.”  Wow and ouch was all I could think.  Just a stepmom…

I also received calls from Eliza’s aunt and cousin, who both said that they felt the boys rightfully belonged with me as did the rest of their family.  I asked why the aunt and uncle were behaving like vultures.  Her cousin replied that they probably wanted the money that the boys would draw from his death.  This thought never occurred to me.  The aunt also felt that they were probably carrying out Eliza’s wishes–another troubling thought.  How could Eliza not know how well I cared for the boys?

Monday morning I called the court and informed them of our situation.  The clerk expressed her sympathy and told me that she would do all she could to help keep the kids with me.  She felt that the judge would not want to move them anyhow.  The clerk also told  me to quickly file a document with my intentions.  I had an appointment with the funeral home so I figured I had time to go on Tuesday.  How wrong was I!

Later that evening I got a call from the residential facility saying that  Evan’s aunt and uncle were on their way to discharge him from the hospital.  According to the director, they had valid court papers.  They had went to a probate court judge and was issued an emergency order.  I was dumbfounded, especially considering that our particular case was only to be heard by one judge because he was so familiar with it.  When I broke the news to Evan on Sunday, he was so broken that it was obvious that he was in no condition to leave at such a crucial time.  Evan had asked me to take him home immediatedly, but I was able to convince him to wait until they adjusted his medicine.  I promised that I would pick him up in two weeks.

I called their uncle and pleaded with him not to take him out because he was not at all stable.  He finally relented.  A few hours later he called so that Evan could speak to Ethan.  He lied and had discharged him despite my pleadings!  He then demanded that I hand over his other nephew at almost 12am.  Again, I begged him to wait for a decent hour.  He hung up on me.  A few hours later I heard a lot of banging on the door and saw bright lights  shining into the house.  I became very afraid and called the police.  The operator checked to see if it was the police and determined that it was.

When I opened the door I recognized one of the officers who had been to our house frequently for runs regarding Eliza.  He greeted me and showed me the paperwork.  He seemed bothered that he had to do this particular task.  I had Ethan come out of his bedroom and he looked very scared.  They walked  him down to his new guardians.

I considered fighting them in court, but decided against it.  The probate judge who issued the order died two days after signing the paperwork.  I have been threatened so much that my family and I determined that for our safety I should not.   Their uncle told my SIL that bad things would happen to me if I tried to fight for the kids.   And I know that my husband would not want me living under such fear and pressure. 

It was and still is a difficult decision that I have yet to come to terms with.  I really wanted them here with us.

Two days after the funeral their uncle had the nerve to call and offer his condolences because he said he “liked me!” Once again I became undone as I heatedly inquired why the boys were not allowed to attend their father’s service.  He offered a few lame excuses and I hung up midway through his glib speech.

I have not heard from the boys or  Eliza.  I suspect that they may be in another state with their aunt.   

It’s been a long, hard, mournful month.  Jazmine constantly asks about my husband.  Nicholas has kept pretty quiet.  I don’t think any of us understand, but I do know that we sorely and surely miss all three.