Checking In...

 I wish I could say I've been on some lavish vacation, surrounded by warm breezes and palm trees, but no.

About three months ago Youngest came off all of his mental health meds.  While I didn't like the decision, or that he did it cold turkey, it was his decision to make. While adjusting to this, there were numerous ups and downs, eventually landing him employed by a plumbing company. During his first few weeks he complained about not feeling well and losing weight.  

I rolled my eyes and figured it was just him adjusting to everything. Fast forward another week, he spikes a 103 fever and lands in the ER.  Turns out, mono is making a huge resurgence.  Unaware of how or from whom he got it, we leave with virtually no medical advice, and his demeanor spiraled. Mono spurs depression in 40% of patients, and having just come off all his meds, he was already predispositioned to it. 

It. Was. Difficult.

I almost killed him with my bare hands.

Once his throat swelled to where only air could get through, we returned to the doctor for steroids.  And then again 3days later for antibiotics, which did the trick, ending our three-week ordeal in two days.

Finally on the mend, the husband starts to feel icky. 

COVID.

Yay.

And it's not the 2 day strain, it's the 3 week hybrid-version that causes extreme symptoms and your wife to go insane.

So, as Youngest finished his recouperation, I'm now following the Hubs around with Lysol wipes as he spreads his germs faster than a toddler, testing myself every morning before heading off to work. Thankfully, Monday was coming and Youngest would be back to work. Right?

Wrong.

Finally enjoying being healthy and able to eat again, he took his electric long board to the beach to meet friends on Sunday afternoon. Five hundred feet from the cliff stairs, he hits a pothole going 20mph, hitting the ground in a less than graceful way. Significant road rash on his hand, knee, upper left side, the entire top of his left butt cheek and the majority of his arm, paled in comparison to his inability to walk. Turns out he broke a toe in the right foot and has a midline sprain in the left.

Since he has a basement bedroom, that left me dragging a mattress up the basement stairs so that I can put some distance between him and the Hubs until he tests negative.  Still following the husband around with Lysol, I'm now watching the boy for a ruptured spleen (because of course he fell on his left side) and doing nearly everything in the house because one is contaminated and the other is gimpy.

I'm holding it all together with duct tape.

And not even the good kind.  It's like dollar store duct tape.

After two weeks Hubs finally tested negative and headed back to work. He still has issues breathing and still has some weird effects from the virus. Six weeks after the accident, Youngest is still not back to work. His doctor needs him to see an orthopedist to ensure nothing else is going on. They won't call us back and he can't start PT without it. 

He's. Making. Me. Crazy.

Last week I was on vacation, in which I stayed home and cleaned. I reorganized the entire garage while Hubs demolished the old shelves and cabinets that weren't working for us. I organized the new shed (more on that later), scrubbed the kitchen cabinets and touched up all the paint, scrubbed the bathroom walls and ceiling, and generally purged years worth of stuff. We did a few things with family, I saw a few friends, ate my share of Oreos, and binge watched some shows. By Thursday I wasn't feeling great, by Monday, I knew...

I had yet another diverticulitis flare. Having not finished paying for the last CT scan, they opted to give me the antibiotics, and see how it goes. I'm on day six and it's not working. I called for an appointment and the soonest they can get me in is tomorrow. 

Meanwhile, Oldest has to be moved into temporary housing at school for two weeks until his Fall dorm is ready. He still has no internship, so we don't know if he'll even need to live at school or not. He needs to be picked up tonight though, as he has family obligations here tomorrow. He was supposed to know where he was moving his stuff to at 8am. It's 3pm. Still no word. No idea when he'll be picked up, but at this point it's looking like the Hubs may go after work.

And I may check into the ER for some peace and quiet.