I'm braving the torment of slow dial up connection again. I need to get back to work if for no other reason than slow-loading pages drive me insane. Thank you thank you to everyone who sent good wishes! I can't tell you how much it means to me. My Good Boy is eating a little more now, so I'm a tiny bit less worried. Last night the temperature was down into the 20's. I know that compared to other parts of the U.S. that's balmy weather, but for stick thin feral kitties, it makes for a very cold night.
I got out yesterday to go to therapy and, by the time I got back, I felt like someone had taken sandpaper and rubbed the insides of my stomach. After I took some pain medication, it felt like the sandpaper was a finer grit. The pain never goes away completely and, considering the enormity of the surgery, that's to be expected. I have a high threshold for pain, so I'm mindful of how lucky I am in that regard. I'm healing well, also. My surgeon was really pleased with my progress. (I say this like I have anything whatsoever to do with it.)
My husband has a performance tonight, so he's been rushing around all week. Rehearsals and work (yay for a job!) have kept him really busy. We haven't had time to talk much. My stepson will be in town later today. He and his girlfriend are staying at a hotel, so I probably won't see them today. I was going to try to go to the performance tonight, but that wouldn't be a good idea, I know.
My stepson is drinking far too much. When my husband talked to him on Wednesday, Stepson was at a bar for last call. He was with his girlfriend and a former band mate who's had some very serious addiction issues of his own. I know he had a heroin habit for a while and I think he abused some other types of drugs but I can't remember what they were. I'm very distressed about this situation.
I'm angry with my stepson. He doesn't have a job, but he's at a bar getting absolutely hammered. Hubby said Stepson kept saying the same things over and over. Hubby is a little annoyed, too, it seems. I'm just always terrified that Stepson is going to go home, pass out and aspirate his own vomit. He could die very easily. Even if that doesn't happen, he's killing himself slowly with the damage he's doing to his body. Stepson still thinks of himself as a "kid," but he's pushing 40 now. He needs to pull himself together and get on with things. Get a full time, steady job. Get some training so that he can actually support himself.
I'm so physically and emotionally vulnerable right now that I really have to work at not getting into a codependent relationship with him. I constantly remind myself that this, like so many other things in my life, is not within my control. Most likely he's just going to have to find his personal bottom in order to be motivated to quit.
His mom is going to move back to the same city sometime in the near future and I'm hoping she can keep an eye on him. Unfortunately, she has her own alcohol and drug issues. So there you are. I guess the lesson I'm learning now is the same one I've been learning ever since I was diagnosed--I'm not in control here. The other lesson is that sometimes I have to put myself first. Right now I have no choice. It's a hard lesson to learn, but I suppose I'm going to have to keep on learning it until I get it. I'm trying to stay open to whatever gifts may come from this ordeal. Sometimes that's a tall order.
