Week Twelve...

 Are you nervous?

No.

What if I bleed out on the table?

He did not in fact bleed out on the table. He did not even end up with a surgery, rather a procedure that will allow the prostate to shrink on its own that didn't even require full anesthesia. Currently he's home complaining about the bruising and his man cold. 

I am feeling much better, still slower than I'd like for recovery, but at least I feel like myself. I've been to the grocery store nearly every day, walking the dog, cleaning, and finishing up odds and ends before I go back to work in two weeks. 

Oldest came home this weekend so that we could go to the local casino to see Nick Offerman and celebrate Youngest's birthday. A good weekend was had exploring the outlet mall, indulging at Guy Fieri's, and throwing axes. The boys had a decent time together, as Oldest can see tiny bits of the old youngest coming back into the fold. He didn't realize that Youngest had gone nearly pot free, and now that we're through the detox period, he can see the changes.

Youngest has decided to give up nicotine smoking this week as well, so the mornings have been a bit bumpy.  He's offsetting the cravings with nicotine gum and so far he's doing well with it, using less than recommended.  He starts not one but two jobs this week. Not sure what his plan is with them, but work is key in getting him out of this house and where he wants to be. His hand is healing slowly, but he no longer needs the brace, and he can lift small amounts of weight with it.

Spring has sprung for the most part here.  My daffodils and tulips are well on their way of coming out of hibernation. We've had many 50–60-degree days, and while today is not one of them, I'll take the rain, as it helps slow things down a bit.

And with that, I'm off to the grocery store again....

Twenty One...

 Last week you complained you hated my sappy music in the car. Today, as I sit in the living room, I can hear your latest playlist while you're getting ready in the shower., it's all the same genres, and it is killer. You're singing along while the water runs. I've missed your singing. You stopped singing three years ago.

You stopped a lot of things three years ago.

Twenty-one years ago this week, I was being wheeled into the OR for a c-section because the midwives couldn't find your vitals. As soon as I was prepped, you rebounded and appeared fine. I was wheeled out, only to be wheeled back in when they couldn't find a heartbeat, and back out again as you rallied. They broke my water, you floated down onto your cord.  I had to have synthetic fluid put back in so you could float back up and "breathe". I was rolled in and out of the OR a total of 4 times before you were finally born naturally, of your own volition. Little did I know that this would be the dance we would do for the rest of our lives together. 

You've always been all in in everything you do. You have never been able to do anything a little bit.  It's all or nothing. You couldn't just read, you had to read until you were the number one reader in the entire middle school. Karate had to be done 6 days a week. Road races were run every weekend. You couldn't just do a Spartan race, you had to achieve the Trifecta. You weren't just a boy scout, you became an Eagle. You couldn't just wrestle.  You had to make it to states. And as much as you are all in, you're all out when you're done.  

You put down the books.

You stopped running.

You stopped going to Karate.

When season was over, you stopped wrestling.

And so, when you picked up a vape, you were all in. The bong, same. And any other distraction from becoming an adult, and assuming responsibility for your actions, you were all in. The last three years have been hell. For as much as we fought, and you pushed us away, cutting everyone off, you were all in. In my heart I knew no one would be able to stop you. Not me. Not your friends. Not being homeless. Not almost being stabbed. Not a gun fired at your head. The truth is, I have been dreading this week for years, because a small part of me thought neither of us would survive it.

But two months ago you decided you were done. You saw your friends for who they were and walked away.  You sold off your social media accounts, as well as everything that could drag you back into that life. You're looking for a job that will ensure you don't have to see any of your old contacts. The first month was hard, the detox, the paranoia, the anxiety, the depression. Magnified by the surgery and complete inability to move your right hand, then your car breaking down, and the abandonment of the few friends you had left, I thought for sure it would not last. We fought a lot. I snapped, showed you the door, you came home anyway. You loaded your dishes in the dishwasher.

Because YOU had decided, you were done.

On your birthday, you chose to go to lunch with your grandparents and me.  You had one drink, and a huge steak. You even had dessert. Eating has been such a struggle for you the last three years. You could have gone anywhere afterwards, you came home.  You stayed in that night. Tonight, St. Patty's Day, you had thoughts of going out, but when it started to sprinkle you chose to stay home. Saturday you're going to the MMA match to cheer on your friend, currently 3 and 0, and I fully expect a phone call if you need a ride home. I never expected you to be completely sober, but you've only hit the bong twice this week, world's away from where you were. 

I've danced the dance with you for a twenty one years now. I know better than to think we will never step on each other's toes, trip up on a missed beat, or even dance ourselves off the dance floor into a pile of chairs. But tonight, when you excitedly said you'd finally gained back ten pounds that'd you'd lost, I could see around the corner.  And, when you asked me to help you fix the holes in your walls for good, because you didn't want to have to remember the you that put them there, I had a tiny bit of hope. 

This can be your year Youngest. 

You just have to be all in.

Happy 21st.

Week Ten...Elevenish

 My social battery at an all-time low, week ten was spent hiding away in the house between airport runs for Hubs and Oldest. Spring break went as fast as it came, with Oldest only being home for a few days of it.  Gormet ice cream sundaes were had, groceries were bought, TV shows were binged. While they were in Florida, Youngest and I were left to fend for ourselves. Attitude was thrown, glances were exchanged, words flew. By the end of the week, he was at least cleaning up his dirty dishes. Despite the weather being decent, walking the dog fell squarely on me while they were gone, and I developed a small hiccup in my recovery.  The doctor says it's nothing to worry about, but I'm back on some medications and taking my temperature every day to ensure it's not an underlying infection. 

The dog returned to the vet for a recheck of her liver enzymes.  She's gained weight even though we've reduced her food, and her liver numbers got worse.  They want her back in for a thyroid panel to see if that's the underlying cause of everything. In the meantime, her arthritis is getting better.

The cat is still a tiny ball of mayhem.

Today is Youngest's 21st Birthday.

More on that later.

Week Nine....

 Day fifteen post-surgery and I am finally getting a day to myself, to sit and smell the roses that my dear friend Janie sent me from across the country. She also anonymously sent chocolates from England, the good stuff, but I totally knew it was her.  She's the best-est!!!

The rollercoaster that is Youngest's life right now that has had me on the go every day, has come to an end, as he purchased a new car yesterday. Never an ideal situation when you have to have a car towed into the dealership, the salesman and finance guy did an amazing job getting him into a comfortable payment and solid car.  He has a 36-month payment commitment, and a 3-year warrantee for his new to him Toyota. Now if he can find a job, he could finally move forward with his plans...

I've been in and out of the vet four times in two weeks for the dog.  She needs to lose about 30 pounds.  Turns out her high-quality dry dog food is calorie packed and her normal serving size is half of what she's been getting for the last 4 years. In an effort to her lose the weight I've taken to making my own dog food, which she's a HUGE fan of. I'm a huge fan of the price tag, which, if I can also get her off the arthritis meds, will save us $300 a month. 

Oldest comes home tonight for Spring break.  He'll be home for three days before heading down to Florida with the Hubs. While spending it with Hubs wasn't exactly the Spring Break he wanted, the two of them will have a blast and they both could use to be away from home for a bit. I miss him and wish he was home for longer, but he's doing well and that's all I can really ask for, right?

As for me, I'm taking a lot of deep breaths, naps, and enjoying my current status of sitting on the couch with this girl...