Still no phone call. I hate coming to work when all I feel like doing is sitting in the floor and crying. I feel like I should be there, with Nana, helping Momma, but I can't see my way clear to do that with all these other obligations. Heather has to be delivered to summer school each day by 7:45, so I can't sleep late and I can't go traipsing off to Henry County Medical Center. Miranda has to have her daily chat, and Stephen has to beg for money to stave off starvation while he's in Atlanta. I have bills to pay with money I don't have. I'm so frustrated and so tired...I guess I'm feeling guilty with a side order of feeling sorry for myself because my sister did take off work yesterday and did go sit with Momma and Nana. She tells me they think Nana had a stroke, but it's hard to tell and they won't put her through a CAT scan to see if there's any blockage. We just have to wait. And so we wait.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Got a late start today, so apparently Karma says I have to make up for it by being incredibly busy. I've been in the office for three hours, and I've spent at least one hour answering e-mail, one hour acting as counselor, and one hour on the phone. It's 2:00 and I'm finally getting my first cup of coffee for the day - what does that tell you. So far I've learned that most doctors are quacks - they all just guess at the problem, and sometimes they get lucky and guess right. I've learned that if you subscribe to Ifit.com, eventually you'll catch an ear-worm - I've listened to essentially the same music over and over for so many months now that I often catch myself humming it. I've learned that my sister is a nutcase and sends me way too much funny stuff. At least it's Friday.
Read more
On the ride into work this morning I let myself be lost in the foggy mist and enjoyed the last of the snow from this past weekend. It will no doubt be gone soon, soaked into the ground as if it never existed. Snow for me has always held a deeper meaning. I am happiest when it snows, yet I couldn't begin to explain why. So I looked out the window, imagining romantic characters striding across the pure white expanses, and just breathed in the beauty. Snow wraps around the seemingly dead landscape, and whispers promises of rebirth and renewal as it gently cradles the world in its soft, white blanket.
Read more
Here I stand again, speaking to an empty room. My thoughts aren't worth the cyberspace they would take up if I cared to tweet or post to Facebook, but here I stand anyway. I had no idea how long it had been since my muse had forced me to write. I used to write almost daily, poetry mostly, when I was younger and believed that someone cared what I had to say. I wanted to be e.e. cummings or T.S. Eliot or anyone who seemed to be so comfortable in his own skin to pour out his emotions onto a blank page. It took me a few years to realize that the writers who filled my pantheon of literary deities were not that comfortable after all, but wrote because not writing was more painful than the spilling of emotion. So I think I will take up my keyboard once more, wade out into the battle, and write.
Read more