2020 has come with a lot of bad weeks. This past week or so was one of the worst.
Last Tuesday, my husband and I should have been spending Taco Tuesday at the local Mexican restaurant. Instead, my husband had to get emergency surgery to remove his horribly inflamed appendix. This has been his second surgery this year–about four months ago he had surgery to remove his horribly inflamed gall bladder.
A few days later, my friend, who I reconnected with this year, had to go to the hospital because her leg suddenly went numb and she could barely walk. They couldn’t find anything physically wrong so she had to have an MRI done on her leg. That came back with nothing so they think it’s something neurological and she has to have another MRI done on her brain.
This Tuesday, my husband and I should have been spending Taco Tuesday at the local Mexican restaurant. Instead, we took a drive with our friend to Texas Roadhouse as he found out that day his mom might have blood cancer and has to get more testing done to make sure.
Somewhere in all this, I’m not doing that great.
It started with another Covid case at work, which would have been fine except management had royally fucked up by forgetting to tell our area that there was a positive test until the following afternoon. Naturally, my anxiety put me into panic mode. I had already intended to leave work early on the account of my husband recovering from surgery, but headed to the hospital to schedule a Covid test for the following day. Getting the test was one of the most painful things I ever had done. My nose felt like I snorted glass shards as they shoved a Q-tip so far into my back of my nostrils that I thought they were trying to pick my brain like an Egyptian corpse. It was recommended I quarantine until test results came back, which were thankfully negative.
Then there was the whole fiasco with getting a pre-order for a PS5. My husband managed to snag one in the first wave by the stroke of luck, but a friend and I still need to get one. When we found out Game Stop was doing a second wave of pre-orders, we drove an hour to wait at a Game Stop only to find they had SIX consoles available. During the last wave this Game Stop had gotten 14 pre-order consoles and it seemed ridiculous than they would get less than half in the second wave. It didn’t help that my husband found out later that there are accounts of Game Stop employees hoarding console pre-orders for themselves to scalp on eBay. Whether these accounts are true remains to be seen. One thing is for certain is we may have had a better chance of getting our hands on one if our friend that also needed a pre-order didn’t take fucking forever to get ready, insisted that he drive there and took the long way there while taking his sweet time about it, and then we got stuck behind a slow AF farming vehicle. Thankfully all the games I want to play aren’t being released on launch so I technically don’t need a PS5 right away, but this experience was still frustrating.
The charity I donate to every Christmas season put an announcement in the paper that they changed their rules due to Covid and are not accepting food donations this year. Instead they’re giving vouchers to their participants. As the vouchers will cost quite a bit, they’re accepting monetary donations through mail or PayPal. I usually spend at least $100 in food donations and will likely give a cash donation for that amount. It’s just that with my discount I could buy about $110 worth of non-perishables for $100. Maybe that extra $10 doesn’t sound like a whole lot, but it goes a long way depending on what you buy. It’s 20 or more cans of vegetables, 16 1lb of rice, 10 boxes of hot chocolate, or about 60 packages of ramen (if you buy them in the 12 packs). I’m not mad at the charity for making this call. Just disappointed at the situation and not being able to stretch out my spending amount so that people in need can get more food. Curse you. Covid!
Oh yeah…I got my period and its ravaging my freaking ovaries a little more than usual.
Of course there’s the usual depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, meds that make me nauseous and vomit, and just trying to get through the fucking day as smoothly as I am able to.
The added cherry on top was my brain and body basically betraying me due to the extra stress. Did you know that anxiety, depression, and stress can lead to bed wetting? It happens to me maybe once every year or so and it’s always accompanied by the worst nightmare that I cannot wake up from.
This past week it happened twice. FML.
I realize it happens to the best of us and shouldn’t be ashamed about it, but at the same time I feel like a toddler who has no control over their bodily function. This should not be happening at age 33.
Having my period turned out to be a blessing in this case thanks to wearing pads and the sheets were spared. My husband prefers to sleep on the couch (personal preference; not marriage troubles) so he wasn’t there and is unaware it even happened since I haven’t told him.
As far as anyone is aware, “I’m fine”. Years of emotional abuse from a parent refined my acting abilities. Negative emotions would result in retaliation that often made me feel suicidal afterwards so pretending I was fine became a survival tactic. Despite no longer being in a place where I don’t have to pretend anymore, I still put on a show to some extent. My mother had made me believe that my pain didn’t matter because there were people who were worse off than I was. My problems feel so insignificant and petty compared to a husband that’s recovering from surgery and friends who are dealing with medical issues in their own families. Even though I am feeling like my head will explode from the thoughts wishing a car would hit me and I’m fucking pissing myself in my sleep, I default to “I’m fine” because I don’t want to be a nuisance to anyone.