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About Deb / Being Aunt Debbie

Single, disabled mother of 2 adult children and grandmother to 7 beautiful grandchildren! I love Medieval History, castles, all things Celtic. I love animals, rock music, Mexican food, writing, learning, and good movies. I love to crochet!

Realization

It just occurred to me last night that the reason I am so exhausted and in more pain is that I’m doing everything. I mean, I knew I was doing everything, but I hadn’t really thought about all the little things (and bigger things) Dad used to do to help. Have you considered that I’m just an idiot? I guess I just didn’t realize how much he really helped.

Before Dad’s bout with pneumonia, he was helping. (And helping even more before his fall and heat stroke.) Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect him to help. I’m just saying that he isn’t helping like he used to. Maybe he can in the future, but not now. He used to wash dishes at least once a day. He would transfer laundry from the washer to the dryer, and then put most everything away. He used to scoop the litter box when he got up in the morning and again when he went to bed. (I’d do it about 1,500 times in between.) He also gave the cats fresh water daily, knowing that since I walk with crutches, I can’t carry the water bowls. He swept the bathroom floor every time one of the cats (mostly BobCat!) kicked litter all over the place. Dad did a lot of things to help, some little, some big. Now he’s not helping at all. It’s all on me now. 

I have to pace myself and do a little, then take a break. Meals have become a major pain in my ass. Oftentimes before, Dad would just make himself a sandwich for dinner, and he was fine with that. He got his own snacks and breakfast. I would prepare lunch, sometimes something quick, and other times, I’d actually cook. Now, I wait on Dad hand and foot. I don’t mind that so much because he is my Dad and my best friend. I’m taking care of him the best I can. Anyone who thinks otherwise can kiss my ever-lovin’ ass.

Until next time,

Good Days Are Few And Far Between

Yesterday was rough. I hadn’t slept well the night before, so my legs didn’t benefit from restorative sleep. That’s important because without restorative sleep, my pain level never goes down, and I’m unable to function properly the next day.

Most days, with or without restorative sleep, I don’t even brush my damn hair. I just use my fingers to pull up my hair into a ponytail. I need to take care of myself as well as Dad, but sometimes I just don’t have the energy.

Taking care of Dad is very important to me, and I need to be able to do what needs to be done. He is doing better now that he’s walking a little. He’s using his walker to get around and doesn’t need me to be right there by his side, as I was for the first week or so after he came home from the hospital. Even though he’s doing better, I still need to be able to fix meals, do dishes, laundry, etc. I’m hoping that soon, I will be able to get him in the shower. I’ve not been too confident about that because I can’t do much to prevent him from falling in the shower! God forbid anyone offer to help.

Yesterday, I was exhausted when I got up, and my pain level was sky high. Performing even the simplest tasks was a painful experience. I was in tears at one point, and Dad felt bad that he was putting me through this. I reassured him that none of this was his fault. It must be difficult for him not to be self-reliant like he used to be. It sucks to get old. He will be 89 next month.

When Dad was in bed for the night, I watched a little TV and got ready for bed. I hoped for a good night’s sleep, and that’s what I got! Almost 8 hours of sleep did my legs some good! I feel much better this morning, and I even made breakfast quesadillas. I hope tonight is a good one, too.

Wish me luck. I need all I can get!

10 Things…

10 Things About Me You Probably Don’t Know

  1. When I was in the 5th grade, my class had a pet guinea pig that had 5 babies. Our class had a drawing to see which 5 kids got to take one home. I was one of those kids. I named my guinea pig Snorky.
  2. I am an introvert. I do well in one-on-one situations, but put me in a room with more than one person, and I am a social misfit.
  3. I never liked coffee until I was 40 years old.
  4. I bitch and complain a lot. If you had chronic pain and mobility issues, you’d bitch and complain, too. It’s a struggle to do anything, so when things aren’t going like they should, I bitch and swear like a sailor, and it actually releases a lot of frustration!
  5. When I was little, I wanted to be a nurse when I grew up. I admired Nurse Nancy at the pediatrician’s office. She was pretty and very nice.
  6. I also wanted to be like “Angelique” from the old TV show Dark Shadows. She was beautiful and wicked.
  7. I used to collect music boxes. My kids moved in and out of the house with their kids so many times, I’ve lost track of where I stashed them.
  8. I despise games that require more than one person. My mom used to throw temper tantrums because she always thought the other players were cheating. So, she basically ruined games for me.
  9. I sometimes wish I were still 16 years old and first discovering backpacking with my Dad.
  10. I started watching soaps when I was a little girl. I would play while my mom watched General Hospital. I still watch it today!

Did you know any of those things about me? Well, now you do. I hope this beautiful Monday is being kind to you.

Until next time,

Goodbye 2025!!

2025 was the worst year of my life. Worse than when my mom passed away. Worse than when my Granny passed away. Worse than when I made the decision to leave my ex. Worse than when my daughter found herself mixed up with the wrong man, drugs, and ended up in court, and in jail for 2 weeks. This year has been one I’d like to erase from history. 

In July, Dad fell outside, and I had to call 911 for assistance in getting him off the ground. That didn’t go as planned. The ambulance took over an hour to arrive, and during that hour, in the hottest part of the day, my dad had a heat stroke. Three of our volunteer firefighters showed up to help me keep Dad cool with wet towels. When the ambulance finally came, I thought I was going to have a heat stroke, too. It was 90-something that day! Upon arrival to the hospital, I could barely breathe. I thought we were going to lose Dad. The grief was all-consuming, and if it weren’t for my sisters, brother-in-law, “other daughter,” granddaughter, and grandson, I’d have been a much worse mess than I was. They were there for me. They comforted me when I slipped into deeper depression and when all I could do was cry. 

Dad recovered from that horrific incident. My son and his wife helped. My sister stayed to help, too. She was here for over 2 months. Dad got stronger and stronger, and I was finally able to care for him on my own. During that recovery time, there was some family drama that I won’t go into here, but because of that drama, things will never be the same with certain family members, and they will never get the same version of me as before. 

In October, my stubborn Dad decided he needed to do a chore outside. It was something that Contractor #2 could have done, but Dad wanted to do it. Well, I wasn’t going to let him go out and do it without my help. In the process of doing this chore, Dad fell and not just onto the ground. He fell into the barbed wire fence and ripped his forearm open. When I say ripped, I mean ripped big time! Dad is on a blood thinner, so this was a problem. I called 911 because I couldn’t stop the bleeding, no matter what I did. The ambulance arrived in 25 minutes, much improved from the last time. He ended up with stitches that night. He healed nicely, and I told him flat out, “No more outside chores for you!” 

In December, Dad started feeling poorly. He was weak and short of breath. He was panting and struggling to walk. I kept telling him that he needed to go to the doctor. He said he knew, but he kept putting it off. He didn’t want to go. After several days, he decided he’d better do something. He knew he wouldn’t be able to walk to the ER entrance, even if I pulled up front. He said, “You’d better call 911.” I did just that, and 30 minutes later, the ambulance pulled up. Before the ambulance came, our volunteer firefighters came to help again. They immediately checked his pulse rate and oxygen level and gave him oxygen while we waited for the ambulance. Poor Dad had been suffering from a case of pneumonia! It wasn’t full-blown pneumonia, but it could have been had he not gone to the hospital! He was on O2 the entire time. He was in the hospital for 9 days and came home the day after Christmas with home O2 equipment. We skipped Christmas altogether. 

It’s been difficult taking care of him by myself. My pain level has skyrocketed, and my mobility issues are worse than ever before. Since they didn’t walk Dad in the hospital, he became unable to do anything unassisted. So, I have been helping him with everything. A few days ago, I told him he has to start walking a little at a time so he can get stronger. He’s been doing that, and I think within a week or so, I may not have to work as hard to take care of him. He’ll be a little more independent, and I’ll still be right here to help. 

So, there’s 2025. The first 6 months weren’t too bad, but July brought us pain and uncertainty. I’m happy that I still have Dad here with me to bring in the New Year. He will be 89 in February. I hope to have many more years with him, but I accept the fact that my time with him may be coming to an end. He has been my best friend for so many years. He helped me raise my children when their father couldn’t be bothered. We designed and started building our new house together, the house we have yet to move into. I hope Dad sees the house finished and can actually live in it and be proud of what he has done. 

I know I’m rambling, so I’ll finish this post with my best wishes to you and yours in the New Year! May we all have a great year!

Until next time,

The Outhouse and Update

Funny, not funny… More like embarrassing, disgusting, depressing, and irritating!

Several months ago, our toilet decided it was going to spring a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty, slooow water leak. Contractor #1 tried to fix it, thought he had fixed it, in fact. It was not fixed. We were going to have Contractor #1 look at it again, but we never saw him after that. That was in May, I believe.

In June, we were hopeful that Contractor #1 would be coming to work on the house and that we would ask him to look at the toilet leak again. We didn’t know at the time that he had no intention of coming back, so we just waited and put up with the water leak. It was very slow, after all. Then the freakin’ toilet decided it wasn’t going to flush anymore. I turned off the water to the toilet at this point. We used a pitcher of water to flush the damn toilet after that.

Dad fell and had a heat stroke in July. Up until then, I expected Dad to find another contractor to finish the house. It’s his money so it’s his responsibility, right? He should be making the decisions and hiring people because I know nothing about building a house and hiring people. I don’t know what’s a fair price to pay for this or for that. But now, it was up to me. Dad was in the hospital and didn’t come home until the beginning of August. By then, I had made arrangements to get the car fixed: alignment, new tires, and a/c. It was in serious bad shape! With the help of Other Daughter, I even found Contractor #2, who has finished up the house nicely! (Update at the end of this post.) I decided that, as big a pain in the huge royal ass it is, we can suffer with the toilet having to be flushed with a pitcher of water, because why spend the money on a new toilet or whatever would need to be done when we would be in the new house soon? That would be money better spent on the new house!

So, here we are, mid-November. We are still flushing with a pitcher of water. The bathroom always stinks like an outhouse. It’s like having an inside outhouse! I hate it! I hate it when someone comes over! Even close friends and family. I light candles (good candles) when I think someone is coming. When we move to the new house, it’s going to be weird having a flushable toilet! There are many things we’ll have to get used to. That might make an interesting post later on!

Anyway, the house is nearly ready for move-in. The HVAC is the last big thing left to do. The HVAC guy is always busy, but he said we are on his schedule for next week. Fingers crossed. Hmm… Maybe kitchen cabinets are actually the last big thing we’ll have to do. IF IF IF we have any money left over, that is. Even if we can’t get all the cabinets we want, we’ll make the kitchen usable. I can deal with it, being that it is a much better situation than this old dump of a house we are in now. We also need to go pick out a stove and a stove hood. I have some new furniture that needs to be put together, too. My new medicine cabinet needs to be hung in the bathroom. There are a few little things to be done that may or may not wait until we move in.

Of course, there’s still the flooring and trim that have to be done later. If we had done it after painting the interior, as most people do, it would have taken at least $6,000 for vinyl planking, plus labor! That would have taken a lot out of our funds, and we definitely wouldn’t be as far along as we are now. Nothing wrong with plywood floors for now

When the day comes that we will be moving into the new house, we can finally say goodbye to the inside outhouse! I can’t wait! (It gets old after a while!)

It’s a busy time of the year, friends. Pay attention and wear your seatbelt!

Until next time,