Labor Day Weekend

Well, it’s another week at work. One that I didn’t want to do, but have to in order to make ends meet. Well, I guess. We could sell the house and then I could stay at home and loaf around, but where’s the fairness in that?
This weekend we went to my parent’s place. My husband put up a fan, put in a light over the sink, and fixed another light fixture in the kitchen. We also tried to fix their desktop, which is apparently not cooperating, so it came back home with us for a complete rewrite. Well if I can find a disk in order to rewrite it.
We also went over to my grandfather’s Saturday evening to have dinner. Steaks, fried okra, and potato salad. Just what every 90 year old needs. Apparently he is feeling better, but hadn’t been doing so well lately. He was almost bed-ridden because of weakness. The doctors stopped two of his THREE (yes, 3) diuretics, he’s been getting extra calcium and potassium (which also were very low) and seems to be getting stronger. He was telling us about it, saying he wasn’t sure he was going to live through that time. I’m glad that he did, and he’s still with us today. He made a point to tell me and my sister what wonderful grandchildren we are.
When I was down at my parent’s house also brought back a lot of stuff from my old room. Clothes- like what was going to be my senior prom dress, and my class day dress. And a couple other dresses I’m not sure why I didn’t have up here with me. Also came across my senior class photos, invitations, and my memory book. My husband was jealous, I think, he never got any of that kind of stuff.
Last I heard that stupid doctor I went to on Monday still hasn’t called in my medicine she said she was going to, so I must call during business hours to talk to someone I really don’t want to talk to, so that I can remind them that they are slacking on their job. They also ended up overcharging me for my copay. For some reason that new card that BCBS sent had wrong information on it as far as copay. The card was not even one month old.
I have a counseling appointment tomorrow, so I must ask my boss for time off again. I’m not really looking forward to it since she doesn’t seem to be able to answer to emails as to whether or not it is ok for me to go. If I tell her out loud she will forget. So, I chose to have the evidence in writing. Yes, I know, I’m still waiting and hoping and praying for that other job.
So, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. What to talk about? Well, if talking about the doctor’s visit doesn’t take up the whole hour. I’m not looking forward to it, but at the same time, need to talk to someone. I’m still extremely depressed. It’s hard for me to concentrate at work, even at home. It’s hard for me to care about what happens to me. Oh, you say I’m going to die… so what?! Little things like that are hard. How many people take for granted just wanting to live? Most people, from what I can tell, automatically figure on living. But what happens when a person has to make a concerted effort to know that they can’t die, that they must stay alive? What happens when the default goes from wanting to live, to wanting to die? How does a person get through this, how do I get through it? How do I have enough energy to tackle the littler things in life?

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