Grandmommie's supposed to be seeing a hematologist, but every time I bring it up to her, she says no, she only needs to have the bone marrow biopsy and she can't do that until she has the angiogram. (She needs shots to keep her hemoglobin up, so she doesn't have to have to have transfusions AGAIN.)

When she went to see her rheumatologist, I asked the receptionist to pass on to the doctor to "remind" her to see the hematologist. (Because she actually listens to doctors. Well, more often than she does to me, anyway.) But when he tested her hemoglobin, it was still high from the transfusion she had to prepare for the angiogram that was canceled.

So yeah.

Grandmommie's hemoglobin was really low today; she's going to have to have a transfusion tomorrow. (It would have been done today, except they have some extra cross-matching to do because of the antibodies in her blood.) I'm going to donate blood even though it's not directly to her; the Lexapro won't be a problem.

I'm going to have to miss two days of work due to this. It's finally starting to sink in; I'm not sure how much longer I can keep working full time, and going to school.

Missed (see also, slept through) the call from the doctor's office wanting to reschedule. Friday morning. In Mission Viejo.

By my calculations, if the doc can see me at 9, I get out of there by 9:30, fight traffic and get to work by 11. Fun. And that's the best case scenario. I called back -- twice -- and haven't heard back from there.

Bleargh.

A customer told me that today is the anniversary of Jackie Robinson's getting into the majors. (It's incredible the amount of trivia you pick up working at a bookstore.)

When I left for work, Hobbes was lounging on the couch, and when I got back, she was still lounging. The only evidence that she bothered to move her lazy tail at all was the lowered level of her food bowl (a situation she immediately -- and loudly -- brought to my attention).

Cat is fed, fish are fed, I am fed. And Grandmommie has an early appointment at Wound Care tomorrow.

Now I just have to wait for my brain to slow down.

Over the past couple weeks, I've been working on (slowly) getting my room cleaned up. It's not great (I need to hang up the clothes I've got piled on the other bed and do some deep cleaning and eventually a lot of de-cluttering) but I've got floor instead of just trails.

So today, she had the termite guy come in. He did a quick walk-through, found nothing, and headed out to check the rest of the house.

But when I came downstairs, I got an earful. We have termites underground and in the eaves and we'll need to get the house tented and he said that my apartment is a fire hazard!!!eleventyone! (Which he said nothing about to me, during the time he was up here.) Then she gave me this line about how she knew I hadn't been feeling well so she hadn't had my mom and sister come down to clean it, but that I had to get it done and it would only take a little while, and I tried to point out that I had boxes and boxes of stuff to go through. She changed the subject; how long had it been since I vacuumed (too long, I'll admit; I hate wrestling with her PITA vacuum cleaner that jams every five minutes) and she can only imagine the state my kitchen is in, and you can't walk through it and it's a fire hazard ...

And I said (completely wide-eyed innocent) "well, the termite guy had no problem walking through my apartment."

And her only response was "oh".

So yeah, Grandmommie. You've been caught, and we both know it. I wish I could expect some STFU out of this, but I know that's too much to ask.

So Grandmommie might not have a bone marrow biopsy after all. Long story short: when I explained what the test was (something her doctor hadn't bothered to do) she decided she wanted a second opinion. My mom (who does have legal standing) is going to call and ask him why he thinks she needs it; another thing he neglected to explain.

Caregiving: literally a dead-end job.

It's been a long time -- probably since I got out of the Navy -- that I wore pajamas on a regular basis. Sure, I'd wear them if I was bunking with someone or camping or it was cold, but in general I prefer to wear, at most, a camisole and panties.

A few nights ago, that changed. I'd just fallen asleep when Grandmommie called me, frantic because her "ears" (the headphones she uses to watch TV) weren't working. Half asleep, I scrambled into the clothes I'd gotten out of an hour ago and stumbled downstairs to deal with the "emergency."

It was only when I was climbing back up to bed that I realized -- if it had been a real emergency, the time I spent getting dressed could have made a big difference. And the last thing I want is some paramedic seeing me in the altogether. (Which is definitely beyond the call of duty, lemme tell ya.)

So no more sleeping in the raw for me.

Today, I bought myself some new PJs -- just for fun. I've got bright pink pants and an oversized black shirt with Grumpy on it. Because if this is going to be my new nighttime uniform, I'm gonna have something I like.

Well, I got the application in; I only have to get the recommendation thingies filled out. Which was the only thing that went the way it should today. I managed to tweak my ankle somehow. You'd think I would have noticed.

Talking with one of my friends, I stumbled into a heck of a lot of resentment with regards to the current Grandmommie situation.

Caregiving's a bitch, sometimes.

So the phone rang a grand total of TWICE and then hung up, and I figured, ehhhh ... telemarkters. So then I got another call saying that the paramedics were on the way cuz Grandmommie's Life Alert went on, so I frantically searched the house but she wasn't there, but then I remembered that today's Bridge. So I told the dispatcher that, and started to look for the number to the Oasis center, where she plays bridge, but then my mom called, frantic, and then the paramedics showed up ANYHOW, and when I finally got ahold of Oasis, they said that Grandmommie was there, and that she didn't even have her bracelet on.

*headdesk*

The headache that was just starting to back off? Is now back in full force.

And I still have to edit that fucking Freshman Comp essay.

It's so hard, sometimes, to deal with Grandmommie. She's starting to slip, though of course she'd deny it if I brought it up. But she left the burner on (it's electric, so it's not that big a deal, but still).

It's sad, seeing the undeniable evidence that she's losing it. Sometimes she'll seem as sharp as ever, and other times it's like dealing with a six-year-old.

In better news, I did 3 1/2 miles alternately jogging and walking. I've got just under a month until the triathlon, and though the distance is good, I'd like be doing more jogging and less walking (I'm currently walking 50 steps and jogging 10).

In annoying news, my little 128 MP3 player seems to have bitten the dust. Oh, well. I had it for over 2 years and it cost about 30 bucks, so I can't say I didn't get my money's worth. :p I just wish it had held out until after the triathlon.

I was thinking of doing some more work on the Jecine outline, but I'm wiped. Gee, I wonder why? ;)

It's been a busy couple days ...

( TCS )

( Unlocked )

( Fighting Chance )

( Ceramics )

( Grandmommie (TMI) )

Okay, so Grandmommie's been feeling low-energy for the past month or so. Her blood pressure's been low, but the cardiollogist has said that that's a good thing. And she's 90. So, low energy is probably not too shocking, even when she's always been fairly active. And she's got a heart condition.

It's been getting worse, but the damn stupid cardiologist hasn't done anything about it. Now, I finally got pissed and vented to a nurse at her rheumatologist's office (not the right person to vent to, but I'm not the one who takes her to her cardiologinst) about how she has no energy, she always complains that she gets nothing done, etc. And now she's feeling dizzy, and her foot is still hurting and red.

Finally, the nurses at the rheumatologist's office took her blood pressure, called up her cardiologist's, and told them that this was not okay to have her bp this low (70/50) and that she needs to be seen NOW! But the cardiologist? Is on vacation. His office claimed to have no one there that was taking over his cases, until her rheumatologist himself got involved and said that she needed to be seen by somebody.

So I'm taking her in at 2:30 to see another cardiologist, and possibly after that to see a vascular surgeon about her toe, which still hasn't cleared up, probably as a result of the fact that her circulation's been so poor. (She's way too light-headed a cab, no matter how much she protests that she doesn't want to make me miss class.) And I'm pissed at her cardiologist, and pretty much pissed at all the doctors who've not noticed this and not taken her the fuck seriously when she'd complained about it, but I'm also pissed at myself, because I should have taken it the fuck seriously, too, stormed the gates of the Bastille her doctor's office, instead I thought she shouldn't worry about getting stuff done, because I could pick up some of the slack, when the point wasn't the stuff not getting done, but the fact that she wasn't feeling well enough to do it!