I had an *interesting* weekend and yeah, I mean that in a bad way.
Stop now if you don't want to wade into my mental guck.
The good news is that Zachary had a great 10 th birthday even though some people didn't show. One of the kids Zach was hoping would come showed up and that seemed to make everything right as rain. So Friday night was a good night except for the fact that my stomach decided to have a complete meltdown - tummy cramps and all the fun stuff that comes with it.
Saturday dawns and Bob's family is coming for a visit. Now, I'm expecting that maybe his parents won't come because they are 85 and 87 and neither of them have great health. I mean, most times we get the call that Mom and Dad aren't coming even though the brothers (that travel) are. So I was very surprised when both showed up. Luckily Bob had built ramps to get them into the house because Mom is in a wheelchair and Dad is on a rolling walker.
Great, we get them in and I sit with Mom in the house while everyone is outside because Lord have mercy it's hot and I know Mom can't take the heat! After a while I have to start getting the food ready so I tell Mom I'm right in the kitchen if she needs anything and off I go.
Turns out Mom has a dizzy spell (which she has been having now daily for months but the docs don't know the cause - we kids think it's the pacemaker but we're waiting) while I'm in the kitchen and says she thinks she's going to throw up.
I don't know if I have mentioned but I am completely useless with sick people. Horribly useless and let's just say that by the time they left I was ready to throw myself under the first moving vehicle because I am such a friggin' disappointment.
I ran to get Paul (Bob's youngest brother who lives with them and takes care of Mom and Dad) and he sits with her but literally there is nothing that can be done. So now my gag reflex is on high alert and I'm avoiding the room she's in because I can't deal.
I finally escape outside and head for the farthest area of the yard figuring I'll be out of reach there and won't embarrass Mom.
Paul calls me from the back door. Mom needs me.
I get up dreading what is to come and Mom needs me to wheel her to the washroom. Okay, no problem except we get there and Mom says, 'I know the minute I try to get up I'm going to pee'. I said, 'Don't worry about it (thinking Depends)' Nope.
I bailed and I am so embarrassed that I couldn't help. I ran for Bob who has no problem at all dealing with anything and he took over. I was horrified that I couldn't stay in the house and keep her from having to ask her sons for help. Obviously she needed my discretion and instead I completely let her down.
When she was leaving I told her I was sorry that I couldn't help but she said it was fine.
I don't care, I don't think it was fine.
So that has definitely messed with me and why I'm even here on the planet and now getting old scares the crap out of me because, good Lord, Bob and I don't have kids so perfect strangers are going to have to help me and ...
I'm trying to block it.
To cap off the weekend I discover that the blood I have been finding on the floor is not from Rocky's mouth (he broke a tooth years ago and sometimes it starts bleeding from chewing bones and such) but, from Cody.
He's peeing blood.
I called the emergency vet but they said I could wait until tomorrow to take him to the vet and we have to 'catch' his pee. Bob did that tonight and it's bloody. We're hoping just a urinary tract infection but things are starting to add up. Cody has been breathing heavy (panting incessantly) since Christmas and Bob had him in at the vets but they said they couldn't find anything wrong with him.
Cody is twelve.
Add to that, we no longer have a fenced yard so we are walking the dogs around the yard and holy crap, when did Rocky become so old! His back legs aren't working right so he sometimes trips or his back end just drops. With the fenced yard he would happily trot along and I guess we weren't observant but now with the move we have been watching them to make sure they are getting everything they need and wowza, these dogs are old!
Rocky is thirteen and a half.
Bob thinks Rocky will last another year. I don't think he'll see Christmas. Which is so weird because these dogs were pups for like 11 years easy. Just tonight when I went to walk them they practically dragged me down the street when they saw another dog coming their way. Add to that, Paul's dog Aspen (retriever) is only 8 and looks like the walking dead! Our new neighbours have a retriever puppy and I took the dogs over to meet him and the owner was shocked that our dogs were so old. Our vet has also told us they are extremely healthy for their age.
I just feel like everything is coming to a head all at once.
Amber is 12 and Emma is 10. Bob says cats can live to 20. I'm thinking the man is in denial. Both are cats are fine now but realizing that they are not kittens any more is weird.
I think having an up close and personal look at getting old has thrown me into quite a funk. I now worry about my parents because there is only Billy and I and we were both born with the weakest stomachs. We got them from our dad. To this day, he can't watch anything with a surgery and forget about hearing someone in pain. Now, my parents are only in their sixties and are active so hopefully this won't be an issue but, yikes.
I'm also wondering about how I'm going to be able to pay someone *if* I'm like Bob's parents and need help.
Yep, too much real life was thrown at me this weekend and I decided to share my shame - I was going to write about it last night but I was so very ashamed. All the same, I felt the need to fess up.
I'm just no good for helping.
With that, I have to escape my brain so I am going to find a book to read. Bob is back to work tomorrow which means we really live here. (Bob woke up at 4:30am last night and I was in that funk and I said that I wanted to go home. Poor Bob, he said, this is home. Yeah, I know, but, it's not home and I don't know where to start because *everything* needs to get done! The room I'm in now has paneling from the 1970's and I think it's going to be a while before any of that changes!) Cody and I will be off to the vets first thing.
Poor incontinent pooch.