Admittedly Bitchy

I'm cranky.  The people at the hospital confused the King today, so I had to rush up here from work, which means that I had to tell my boss information that is none of his fucking business.

It's fine now.  Hopefully the King will be back in the castle tomorrow.

But right now he's getting a blood transfusion.  And I'm working from the hospital.

And his nurse is sitting in the room watching us.  And interjecting her opinion in anything we say.

I realize that she probably has to stay in here for some reason. 

But I don't really care. 

She's annoying me.  And I'm not in a sociable mood.

Square One

At this point in the whole "The King is Sick" saga it's a whole lot of one step forward and two steps back. 

We're back again.

In the hospital, that is.

I hate the hospital.

I hate the sick people.

Often I hate the staff.

Like the one today that tried to move a bed attached to an IV that was attached to the King's vein.  Repeatedly.

Or the one last time who lectured me every time she came in on how to wife my husband.
She wasn't married.

Fortunately we finally have a set of Doctors for him who actually do rounds that we like.

His GP is awesome and funny and usually very nice.  And his GI is succinct and doesn't mind explaining to me, and totally understands that the King is NOT in the castle.

But oh my giddy aunt, I hate the smells.

The Out-Laws

I'm pretty angry with the King's mother right now.

I opened the door for it by being very honest with her, but still, I'm angry.  And more than a little hurt.

She told me that she thought it sounded like I was "punishing" the King  for being sick.

Excuse me?

She says that expecting him to help around the house, and the very possibility that I might have to cut off his smart phone said that I was punishing him for being sick.

And that I knew he was sick when I married him.

I'm sorry...

Bitch say what?!?!?!?!

First of all, I recognize and admit that I've been pretty waspish lately.  I'm tired, worried, stressed and sick.  So I'm prepared to believe that something I said came across wrong.  But seriously?!?!

Second, I didn't know this was coming before our second anniversary when I married the King.  True, I knew he had cancer, and I was starting to understand the mobility issues that would be later revealed as osteonecrosis.  But this?!?!  I had no fucking clue.  I didn't even know you could have cirrhosis of the liver at the ripe old age of 36 fucking years old.

Thirdly, I'm punishing him because I think he should fold the laundry and pick up the house a little while I'm at my two jobs?
Maybe you're Superwoman and able to:
get up, work-out, dress and feed children and husband, get ready for work, go to work, take husband to the dr., come home, help with homework, feed and bathe children and husband, work job number two, clean the house, do the laundry, check the backpacks, refill the pill box, go to the grocery store, unload and put away the groceries, then maybe get some sleep. 
But I'm not. 
I'm not Superwoman, and I need some help.  I'm not asking him to clean the floors with a toothbrush every day.  I just think that he's capable of picking up the house a little, maybe do some laundry and hopefully cook a bit. 
And believe me, he's capable.

And Lastly and Most Importantly,  I realize you're his mother.  But I'm his WIFE.  God chose you for him and you've done a fantastic job, thank you.  But the King chose me.  He chose me to be his partner because he loves me, respects me and trusts me.  He values my opinion and agrees with my choices.  We are a team.  And there is nothing that I would say or do that he would not agree with me on (at least in public).  So take your nose back to Colorado where it belongs.

Almost Human

I hate being sick.

I don't have time for it and besides all that, it's unpleasant.

It's too bad I don't lose weight when I'm sick, that might make it worth the pain in my ass, but no.

I never lose weight.

Anyway.

I almost feel human again. I even put my nose ring back in. And let me tell you, that hurt like a bitch after a week without it.

But surprise, surprise, the asthmatic smoker has a lingering cough.

Today I have not so big plans. The White King is having a good day and the girl has a sleepover. So I'm hoping that me and the King can have a movie night with the boy child.

See how exciting our lives have gotten.

But I do like popcorn.

Topsy Turvy

It's 2:00 AM and I have to be bright eyed and bushy tailed at church in 5 hours, but I can't sleep.

 

In the last 3 weeks, my life has flipped upside down and I feel like I have to try standing on my head to make sense of any of it.

 

3 weeks ago:

 

• The White King was a relatively healthy guy considering his medical history. Which is to say he was fine. I had no reason to believe he was not fine, but I also wouldn't have been terribly surprised if he had a heart attack and died at any minute.

• Both The White King and I had jobs. Not great jobs, but jobs that we were capable of doing and that were secure.

• I was looking into going back to school as soon as a certain someone provided me with a certain paper that I need.

• We were planning out our payments on our debt so that we could possibly move far, far away from my family in the near future.

 

Now:

 

• I'm not even sure about The White King's health. He says he feels fine, he's just tired, but then he walks around like a zombie, and acts like an asshole zombie.

• The White King will be quitting his job on Monday. He will not be released to return to work for at least a year. We applied for disability on Friday.

• I'm looking for a second job. And I know from experience living with my husband and mother that they will not step up. So I will be working 80 hours a week, taking care of my children, husband and house.

• Forget school. There aren't enough hours in the day.

• I'm lying awake staring at the ceiling sleeping on the couch. The White King is vomiting every few hours and I don't do vomit.

I would say that I'm losing my mind, but we all know that I lost that a long time ago.

This is not promising to be a perky blog-scene for the next few months.

Labor Day AKA Dire Hospital Situation Day

For some reason The White King likes to try to die on me on/around Labor Day.

He's tried it twice. The first time was the week after Labor Day and this time it was the week before. (And since he's only tried to die on me twice that makes it every time he's tried to die on me).

I just read that last sentence: He's only tried to die on me twice. How sad is that. How many times do most women's 36 year old husbands try to die on them.. Jeez.

Anyway.

If I didn't get to have a paid day off, I might start boycotting this Holiday.

The Bitch Won't Always Bitch

I promise.

I'm just getting a whole lot of venting off of my chest at the moment.

Because it's hard.

When you have to put a happy face on for overly sensitive children.

And for your mother, who lives with you.

And for your niece, who lives with you.

And for most of your friends and all of your family.


See, I learned a very valueable lesson from being married to Jack.

You and your spouse are a team.  You are a united front against the children and the rest of the world.  And there are very few people who need to know that your marriage isn't perfect.
Really it would be better if no one knew.

And it's not because you need this perfect image for everyone to see.

It's because there are not many people who can hear you tell all of your husband's deepest secrets and annoying habits, who can know about all of his weaknesses and still respect him.  No one is pretty under a microscope.

And even though today I would like to kick the living shit out of The White King and possibly bury him in the backyard, he is still my husband, and I need for everyone in my world to respect him.  And they won't if they know his every flaw.

Which is why Analogy Land is so fantabulous.

Because you guys don't know The White King, or Jack, or anyone else in my world.  Or at least if you do, you don't know that you do, and neither do I.  So I can get my venting out and off of my chest without ruining a reputation or a dozen.

And I need a weight lifted.  But once the load is a little lighter, I promise the bitch won't always bitch.

What Queens Do

I don't need another adventure.  I really don't.

The White King had a double hip replacement in May at the ripe old age of 36.  Before that we've done testicular cancer, ICU, breathing machines, kidney failure, pneumonia and a collapsed lung.  And that's only the King's health issues. (Mine are much more mild, but still baffling, and really just involve a dozen doctors telling me that I'm depressed and am gaining weight because I'm lazy - they are also an entirely different story).

But whether I want it, need it or not, I am getting another adventure.

The White King has slept almost continually for 2 weeks.  So I made him an appointment with the doctor for Thursday.  Then he went to work Monday and came home early sick.  And wanted to stay home Tuesday too.  I made him go to the doctor early. 

I have to admit that my motives for making and insisting upon the doctor's appointments were not entirely pure.  I'm tired.  The King has been sick almost continually for the last 3 years.  And I have been taking care of him that entire time, and I'm tired.  I have two actual children, a needy mother and an incompetent ex-husband to take care of as well, I deserve to be tired.  I deserve a break.

So I insisted on the doctor.  And honestly, I expected him to come home with directions to quit smoking and drinking and with a prescription for an anti-depressant. 

The White King has a depressed kind of nature. 

But nothing is ever simple where the White King's health is concerned.

Instead of a prescription, I got a phone call telling me to collect my husband and take him the the ER or an ambulance would.

Lovely.

Turns out he's jaundiced.

Probably due to alcoholic hepatitis.

Perfect.

Also, his potassium levels are non-existent.  Which makes him at risk for a heart attack.

Awesome.

And his blood pressure is very low when normally it's very high.

Fantastic.

So The White King is in ICU as I type and The White Queen is freaking the fuck out.

I've been here and done this, and its not pretty and I don't like it.  The last time was so bad that everytime I enter a hospital now I have flashbacks to my husband dying several times.

Plus, I've been up for 24 hours now.

Because even when the White King is in the hospital being taken care of by a team of nurses, I have to take care of my children and double check my ex-husband.

Because that's apparantly what Queens do.

Queens Like Flowers Too

Seriously.  Why?

If someone can answer this question for me, I might give you my first born child in payment (of course if he’s behaving anything like he was last night, I would be getting the good deal).

I don’t really like to bitch about my husband all over the intranets, but seriously??

This is why we moved to Analogy Land.

In my first marriage, my then husband, Jack, refused to ever give me flowers.  And he knew that flowers were very important to me.  I want flowers growing all over my yard and in vases on every flat surface of my house at all times.  It makes me happy.

By the time we got divorced, I hadn’t had flowers in months.  And the last time I had flowers I got them because I handed him $20 and said, “Jack, go buy me flowers.  Now.” .

Enter the White King.  We were friends during the demise of my first marriage.  Very good friends.  The kind of friends who talk about flowers and irritating husbands and loud children and flowers.

He knew that I was not getting flowers from my husband and that it irritated the fuck out of me.  He consoled me on the lack of flowers in my marriage and tried to help me understand why my husband refused to give me flowers even when I begged.

Then we started dating.  And flowers were everywhere.  He planted them in my yard and his (so that I could be surrounded no matter where I was), and even when he was very sick, he still brought me flowers.  And if he couldn’t get out of the house and flowers weren’t blooming in the yard, he drew me pictures of flowers or made them out of napkins and paper.

But here we are 20 months or so into our marriage, and the flowers in the yard have all died in the cursed drought and he hasn’t brought any new ones home in 9 fucking months. 

There are no paper flowers, or napkin flowers, or drawings of flowers.  My house is completely flower-less.

And we’ve talked.  And I have looked at him, handed him $20 and said, “White King, get me some fucking flowers.  Now.”

There are still no flowers. 

What. The. Fuck??

Am I not worthy of flowers?  Is there something about me that screams, “Do not buy this woman flowers.”?

No idea. 

All I know is that I’m the fucking Queen and I’m getting flowers.  And if a certain White King knows what’s good for him, he will start buying some flowers.  Soon.