HalfAsstic.com

Hello, people.  Greetings to all!  I have had company today and they FINALLY left, not a moment too soon!  My SIL came and brought her son, his…girlfriend and their two children to see Henrietta.  Every time she brings these people they break something big.  The last time they were here the…girlfriend-in-law climbed up on the trampoline with her little boy when she was EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT, and the rusted out frame gave way and it is a thousand wonders little miss dumb ass didn’t give birth right there.  I was inside and didn’t witness the dumb ass wonders taking place in the backyard, otherwise she would have never gotten up there.  You just kinda of assume that not only is she old enough to watch her own children she can make responsible decisions for herself.  Or, at least I did.  Never again, though.

This time the 3 year old hellion that was on the trampoline with his mom last time was running all over the house and being an Unholy Terror.  He went outside with his dad to get something out of the car and ran back to the door ahead of his dad and struck the leaded glass panel with his hands and broke a good sized hole out of the bottom of it.

PLUS, I found out some things about their finances while they were here that really chapped me arse.  I know, I know, what business is it of mine?  Plenty, it turns out.  SIL is forever going on about how poor ____ and _______ are so broke and need money so bad and they need groceries and can we spare some money to help them out?  So I usually fork over a check for $35.00 or $40.00.  Well, SIL said something about how you can get online on her son’s TV set.  I looked at him and said, “Oh?  How do you do that?  Special kind of TV?”  No, it’s with his PlayStation 3.  “Oh, I didn’t know PlayStation 3’s could get online…”  No, not all of them, just a special kind.  “Oh, wow.  How much are they?”  Five hundred dollars.

The little shit can afford to buy the most expensive games out there, yet, apparently, has some difficultly providing for his ever increasing family.  No longer my worry.  The well has dried completely up.  Next time SIL tells me they are near death and starvation, I will tell her to suggest to them hocking the PS3.

Mark My Words inter-tubes, no more free rides for these jokers and I may even cut off my family…er, no, before I could finish this sentence Keelan called and wants to borrow $10.00 to go to the movie.  But, ya know what?  She’ll pay me back,  Without me having to ask for it!

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In…more upbeat news, I have a new blog award!  My brother, Cam, bestowed it on me and while the cute little hiney on the award doesn’t look anything like H’s little shriveled up butt, I appreciate it, none the less.  Actually, I appreciate the fact that it doesn’t look like her at all.  He pinched the pic from this post of Big Hair Envy’s.

In appreciation of this cute little hiney, and because of the many diapers changed while dealing with all other manner of shit, I would like for Angie to have the first Loaded Diaper Award.  Congratulations, Angie!

Hello intertubes!  I am back with a quick update!

Nothing too spectacular has happened since the last time I announced the goings on here at the Nut House.  How bouts a quickie update?  Too bad, here it is:

• John was off yesterday and we ran amuck.  The caregiver provider stayed here with H and we were muckyrunning aaaaall over the place.  For gasoline to be so freakin’ expensive, we were WILD!  heh heh.  We made it to Macy’s to see if there were any good deals to be had and sure enough, John’s ultra sensitive nose for economical spending steered us to a few new ties for him.  His butt cheeks made a squeaking noise as we walked over to where the tie sale rack sits.  He is always needing new neck-wear, as he isn’t that easy on his ties.  We got three $45.00 Donald Trump ties for just $5.63 a piece.  He wore one of them today, but here are the other two.

They look a little pink here.  Actually they are dark red.

Here is the proof!  With tax, $18.28 for three Donald Trump ties.

The trick at Macy’s is to find the stuff that’s on sale and take it over to the price checker thing and start scanning anything that you are remotely interested in because they are really good/bad about either mispricing or just not putting correct signage out for the sale products.  And the prices are SO good that I think they are probably just making mistakes when they are pricing, but it works out great for us almost every time we go.  My sweet little miser husband pulled out his dusty, cobweb covered wallet and paid $18.28 for all three.  Good deal!

• Hurricane Dolly made landfall sometime yesterday evening, I think, and we finally started getting some much needed rain from it.  It is still raining off and on.  Woo-Hoo!

• My brother in Italy isn’t.  In Italy, that is.  He arrived last night at my parents house in Decatur, Tx and I am hoping we will be able to meet up with all of them on Wednesday for a visit.

• Henrietta is still catheter-free and letting her hoo-hoo rest.   I asked her how it was getting on and she pulled a super serious face and replied, “Oh, it’s doing very well, thank you!”, and then burst out laughing.  Last nigh she asked me if I would close the blinds for her in her room and I said sure and was doing so and she said, “Now make sure they’re closed up tight…”.  and I said I thought they were and no one could see in that little slit, and she replied, ” I might be able to get out through there, tho…”.   I said, “You?” To which she looked sly and said, “Krissa, I don’t have any bag to hold me back, now!  You don’t know what I might do!”

• Be on the lookout for a catheter free little old lady in a nightgown.

• I just totally told off a lady who called here from Dell Computers asking me if the problem we were having last Sunday was resolved.  I told her no, we still haven’t been able to get it to recognize the disc drive.  She said something like, “Oh.”, and immediately changed the subject a bit by asking me how it was doing otherwise.  I told her, “Actually it’s running slow.  My husband and I were discussing it last night and he and I have both tried all the little tricks that used to make a difference in the past with no luck.”  (Keep in mind that it’s a year old next month.  In other words, THE WARRANTY IS ABOUT TO EXPIRE AND NO MORE “FREE” TECH SUPPORT)  She came back with, “Well, I see here you bought it with only 2GB of memory and that really isn’t enough to support Vista.”

This is where I got ticked off.

“No.  It supports Vista just fine and has for almost a year now.  It only started running slow just lately.”

She proceeded to tell me that if I ever wanted to get it to run well again I needed to purchase some RAM from her.  Now.  On the phone.  Or forever be delegated to computer hell.

“No one told me it was insufficient to support Vista when I bought it.”  She comes back with a snappy, “Oh, uh, well?”

I told her no thank you we’re not sinking any more money into it because we’re getting an Apple.

That got her off the line.  She was originally calling to sell me another warranty.

• I am taking this opportunity to apologize for the lack of substance in this post.  THAT is the state of my life, lately.  Substance free…and applesauce free.

Hello, people!  It’s been a while!  I am happy to report that I am still alive, only just barely it seems.  I am having a hard time shaking this funk I’m in and it really makes it hard to post.  Ideas that seem good to me late at night while watching Ferguson or trying to go to sleep, seem ridiculous the next day.  I am being a little depressed and my mind doesn’t want to work fast or freely anymore, just like the rest of me, I suppose!  Haha.

John was only off one day this week and it was yesterday.  We frantically ran around for three hours while the caregiver provider person was here and managed to take in lunch at a nearby Chinese restaurant, which I felt like was splurging because everything is so expensive now.  And I don’t just mean at the Chinese Restaurant, I mean everything.  At this point I am thinking the only way we can help pay for college is if we rent out the daughter in servitude.  I know what you’re thinking.  If she is in servitude, how will she go to school that is getting paid for?  Vicious circle.  I guess we could sell the younger daughter into servitude and she could support her sister’s need for knowledge, but I am thinking that would create a good deal of resentment and bitterness.  Just guessing.

That leaves us with Henrietta and I just can’t see anyone paying me for taking her off my hands.  Correct me if you know something I don’t.

I was soooo gonna do a post on Wednesday.  Things stewing around in my little head, fingers itching to type them out… whatev.  H. woke up that morning distressed that she was having stomach cramps, “all night”.

me: Why didn’t you ring the bell?

H: Oh, I didn’t want to bother you!

me: (teasing) Well, when you need to use the potty you have to tell me.  I can’t read your mind….!

H: (Smiling) Oh I don’t want to bother you at night, Krissa.

So all this happened BEFORE breakfast.  This is important because it is an UNSCHEDULED POOP, or a “U.P.”  This set the tone for the day.  She ate half her oatmeal very slowly and did the characteristic whiny and sing-song voice.  I knew she wouldn’t eat all of her food just because that is what she automatically does if anything is amiss in her life.  Unscheduled Poo, hangnail, cramp in her calf, cold chill while getting a bed-bath, coughing due to allergies/sinus drainage, whatever.  But, when I brought her the egg and little piece of sausage with a roll and jelly she, ate everything but about a bite and a half of the egg and a little tiny piece of the bread.  It’s like she was thinking, “I have to leave something on the plate, I’m sick!”

So when I picked up the tray and saw she hadn’t finished everything I knew it was going to be a day of pitifullness and staying in bed.  Which really does suit me fine.  She discovered other problems during the day and had a bout with indigestion and we did Malox and Sprite and a teaspoon of baking soda in water and everything we could think of, I don’t know how bad it really was, she was teary eyed all day and acting ready to cash in her chips cause he couldn’t burp.

Thursday she decided she needed to stay in bed because, “Maybe I had better just stay here… you know, to make sure.”  Make sure of what, I have no idea.  Make sure she can burp?  Make sure she only poops between the hours of 1:00 and 2:00PM?  Make sure I can still run up and down that long ass hall, (and getting longer all the time), 400 times a day?  Make sure the clapper on the cowbell she rings isn’t worn out from the day before?  These are questions I now wish I’d asked her.

So that’s it people.  That’s all I got.  Sorry I don’t feel the least bit like trying to produce anything remotely amusing.  I am hoping this will eventually pass.  I am sure it will.

Has anyone noticed anything new about my blog?  Anything missing, or not in place?  Aside from the moving of some buttons and the addition of MeMarieLane’s button?  Nothing?  Not like two missing posts?

I present to you exhibit A.  The younger child, (known for reasons soon to become obvious as “Positively Insistent Sarcastic Sister And Not Thoughtful”, or PISSANT), took it upon herself to rectify a situation that she disapproved of.  She, apparently read my post about her behavior and decided to delete it.  I have the computer set up so that when I open up any of the things that I need there are no passwords or locked doors, or secret handshakes to get in.  It’s my computer, (my loving husband would probably like for me to point out that it is also his and he can use it anytime he wants…well, when I’m not on it…), and I don’t see any reason to have to go through a gauntlet of crap to get to where I’m going.  So, really no secrets there.  She did not like me saying anything negative about her and I guess, in retrospect, I can see how it might be disturbing and if I had to do it over again I might not have left it where she could read it structured my sentences in such an unflattering light, HOWEVER, I am not talking to her friends, or anyone she is likely to ever even meet.  PISSANT, on the other hand, blasts me out of the water every time we have a fight verbal altercation to all her pals on her MySpace page who come over to the house.  I am face to face to these kids who, no doubt, believe I breathe fire.  On her.

The really weird thing is that when I found out she had done it, I wasn’t just mad.  I was devastated. I felt so totally betrayed and violated.  I’s so weird, I had no idea this meant so very much to me.  And she had left some comments on the posts before she erased them that I removed, (edit, edit, edit), that said things to the effect that I should not be “talking shit” about her and it’s stupid for me to be so worried about her giving money to her friends and at least she HAS friends and not just pretend friends on line.  Yes, she used those words.  Made me furious.

I calmed down a bit and told John who is a soft shoe with the kids, but was alarmed that she had done it and said he was going to talk to her about it.  I crossed her path in the living room when she came in and stopped her and told her “Do not ever read, comment, or touch my blog in any way, shape or form again.  I don’t go snooping around on your MySpace and have fits about what you write about me.”  PISSANT didn’t say anything and I think, for one brief moment we had a meeting of the minds.  She did look contrite, so maybe she got it.  I think she did.

I talked to Cam, (brother dearest), and he pointed out that friends are people you care about and talk to and get and give advice to, so if my blog buddies aren’t my friends, who is?  Good point, Cam.

Now, that is out of my system and she can go back to being My Darling Keelan.  However I am going to have a hard time making a good accronym out of MDK.

I can’t get the song Snowbird, by Anne Murray out of my head.  Been singing this in my little head for a couple of days.  WHY?

Yesterday Keelan spent nearly $300.00 of her hard earned(?) money on an iPod Touch, and an iTunes Music Card.  I think she slept with it last night, and she won’t let anyone else touch it.  Not even me.

Twitter is not working.  I don’t know what to do…What am I if not a Twit?

Wonder why those little frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches John buys are so much better than ones I make myself?  I told him that buying them was the stupidest thing in the world when you could just make them here, fresh, and it’s at least the same thing.  Then he made me try one of the store bought kind.  Yum!  Weird.

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Tonight I ran out with Kessa when she got home from work to shop for a few things that she’s been needing.  It was nice to get out and we usually have a nice time shopping together.  We do NOW…not always.  Anyway, I was standing in the space outside her cubicle in the dressing rooms and there was a mom and daughter a few doors down from us.  I couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but it was rather hushed, stressed tones.  In a few moments the mother came out of the dressing room and stalked past me looking at the floor with her hands balled into tight, white, little fists.  She proceeded out to the waiting area with the sofa and chairs.  she turned the corner and stopped.  I could hear almost all of the exchange with the husband/father:

Mother: “I spent $57.00 on shoes and all kinds of other crap for her last week!”

Dad: “mumble, mumble, well, yeah…..I know…Mumble…”

Mom: “I DON’T CARE!  I am sick and tired of her treating me like shit!”

Dad: “Mumble, mumble…voice down…”

Mom: “I AM TELLING YOU, I AM THROUGH BEING AN EFFING DOORMAT FOR HER!  She treats me like shit and I am nothing but someone for her to just use and abuse!”

This went on for a minute or so and I got the feeling the daughter was taking longer than necessary to come out of the dressing room.  She finally emerged and looked up at me as if all the world was her oyster and gave me a kind of polite little smile as she strolled by and I SWEAR IT WAS ALL I COULD DO NOT TO STICK OUT MY FOOT AND TRIP HER AS SHE WALKED BY AND THEN RUN OUT AND TELL HER POOR MOM WHAT I HAD DONE.

This time in their lives?  I remember it soooooo well….  Mine almost didn’t live through it, only they never knew how close to actual death they came.

Joan Crawford’s got nothing on me.  Just ask the wee small girl child that lives here with us.  Keelan is 17 and has some unusual ideas of good parenting.  She had a friend drop in to visit her last night about 9:30 and she and this other little girl sat in here, (the riff-raff room…where the teenagers hang out at my house) and visited and talked and giggled.  The usual.  Then at about 10:00 I came in here and talked to them.  Keelan popped up and  said that she was thinking about going camping.  Oh.  OK, with (insert friend’s name here)?  Well, yes.  With her.  “When?” I ask.  “Right now.”  After playing 20 questions like this to the tune of 136 questions I finally gathered that her friend had gone to the Texas City dike in a camper with another friend of theirs that I have never even met and said friend’s parents.  She had just left the camp site to “go home and catch a shower”.  So the thinking here is that she will swing by at 10:00pm and pick up Keelan and take her to spend the night with her and all these other people that I have never even met.  When I told Keelan that I would have to talk to them on the phone I got the response I was looking for, cause there was no way she was going.  She did all the requisite stomping, whining, and fuming, explaining that it was stupid to do that and totally embarrassing to her and “How COULD I?”  Etc. And then, per normal procedure, she said, “FINE!  I just won’t go!”  To which I said, “Fine.”, and was secretly very smug.

Now who’s a bad mom and who’s a clever mom?  OK, in the name of justice I guess I should add, who’s a bad, clever, mom?  I think I am a badass clever mom.

In other world shaking news, my dear brother of Squidspot fame has relocated an award I recieved a good while back from my good friend Trannyhead over at Law School Sucks, and so do lawyers.  It is now in the sidebar as it should be.  I really should stay on top of these things, but, alas, my housekeeping, er… “skills” are carried on over to my blogdom.  Such is life.  I am not going to complain cause hey, he got it done.  Yea, Cam!

Well, Crystal, the caregiver provider person, called this morning at 11:00 and talked to John. He made arrangements for her to come over at noon. So at12:45 when she hadn’t arrived yet, he called her and she told him that she was in her car and was “trying” to get there from another street and she was having a hard time. Well, she knows how to get here as she has already been here and the street that the subdivision is off of is a dead end. It is a very small, private subdivision and there are only two ways in and out. That dead end street is approximately a half mile long and comes straight off the freeway’s service road. He said that he heard the sound of a baby in the background and that she insisted she was in the car “looking for the house”. He explained where we were and she said she would be here in a minute. When she got here I chatted with her for a minute and found out that she lives here in Dickinson and isn’t that far away and she has a toddler. Well, I guess it’s easy to deduce that she was at home until he called her at 12:45 and asked where she was. I wish he wasn’t such a wuss. OK, I wish I wasn’t, too.

Conversation between John and me at the Mrs. Baird’s Thrift Store this afternoon about a 75 year old looking guy standing in the corner GLARING AT EVERYBODY:

Halfass: “Who is that really old guy standing over there just watching everyone? He’s never been here before.”

John: “He’s the new bouncer.”

H.A.: “I’m not sure you should call him “new” on any counts, and bouncer? In a Mrs. Baird’s Thrift Store?”

John: “Keep an eye on him… he’s watching everyone’s every move.”

And just then some kids came in and spread out and the guy practically lost it trying to frantically keep up with it all. I mean you could almost hear him thinking, NO! DON’T TOUCH THAT! It was kinda funny how weirded out he got cause the kids were just trying to see how far they could push the envelope and what they could get away with. I don’t think anyone stole anything and they left as soon as his eyes started to bulge, but when I turned to look him fully in the face he was sputtering and totally red. I am thinking he needs this job as much as my “provider care aide” needs hers….

People, I am telling you… this is exactly the kind of thing I would be taking pictures of if I would just go ahead and get the new camera already!

Witchy-Poo, over at Psychicgeek has linked me up and given me a mention for comments. I really appreciate it and can only say that she can always open my can of funny. She and AssBurgerBoy have got it going on.

The stupid “caregiver provider” never showed up today. She made it out here last Friday and did the requisite 3 hour stay, only I was here for most of it. She also gave H her bed-bath and dressed her and pottied her and whatnot. It was very nice. However she is supposed to be here every Tuesday and Friday at 1:00. I called the office at about 2:00 and they called her cell phone and left a voice mail message. About 3:00 she called me and said she had been at the emergency room. She said she is pregnant and had started bleeding. Then she said she is OK they gave her some medicine. She wants to come tomorrow morning and do the whole thing then. How should I feel about someone who supposed to be preggers and having bleeding problems showing up and horsing H around and picking her up and all the job entails? I am betting her employer doesn’t know she’s pregnant. If she really is.

I was looking at Twitter and noticed that Holly over at Anglophile Football Fanatic, commented that the UPS man rang the doorbell and she went into a meltdown of sorts trying to make sure “the boy” didn’t wake up. This got me to thinking about how determined I was that my kids could sleep through anything. I thought I had the perfect plan. I wanted them to be able to sleep through any kind of noise or silence, so, every other night, for a very long time, from day one at home I left the radio on or the tv or something noise making. Not very loud, but loud enough to be heard. And every other night it was off and there was silence. Wanna know how they turned out? Well, I have to say that when they were little it did work. Noise never bothered them, but, they didn’t have to have it to sleep, either. However, now? The older one needs quiet and the younger one, noise. I AM TELLING YOU I DON’T THINK THEY’RE MINE.

Well, I got up this morning and left with elder daughter to go to Walmart to get her a new battery. She wanted me to go with her as she is a pansy and scared to do anything like that by herself. I think she will be able to handle it now. TWO HOURS later they are finished putting it in. I mean “installation” is free, but, my gawd, she could have done it a fraction of the time, I know I could have.

Anyway we came home and I fed H and younger daughter left for work. I knew my SIL was coming today but she told me she had no idea what time when I talked to her on Friday. She usually only comes to visit her mom, once a week for a couple of hours and she only lives about 35 minutes away. So when H rang to get on the pot I put her there and was delighted when SIL showed up with her “significant other”. So it is written that she has to get her off the pot, clean her up, (that’s putting it delicately), dress her, put her in the wheelchair and roll her in. Actually it is not written but that is, by gawd, the understanding. And it’s one that I like. She does this on an average of once every 4 or 5 months because she manages to get here late enough in the day to miss out on all of this kind of activity. And this irks me no end. She is not good with money at all and used to ask for gas money when she was about to leave to go home because she didn’t “have enough to get home”. However when H first moved in with us she would come to see her at least 3 times a week and actually spend time with her. Now? She shows up last thing usually on Sunday night and stays about 2 hours, sometimes 3 and is on the computer almost the whole time.

Today she got here at 2:00, which is good for her, and stayed until 4:50 which is very unusual, but it’s because I put in a movie that I knew she would stay and watch until the end. I told her the computer was “down”. I swear I don’t mind her using it, but she will stay in there on it and not visit with her mom at all if she can. She hasn’t asked us for $ in a long time and she better not, either. She let it slip that she and her “boyfriend” were in Galveston this morning and none of the gift shops were open. (Well, I guess so. It’s SUNDAY!) I said, “Galveston? What did you have to do in Galveston?” She said that they just “…drove all over and then went aaaaaall the way up on the northeast side of Houston and circled around,” (wide arm gestures), “and then came over here.” She spent all day riding around in a car when she could have been here visiting her mom and relieving me from…”care duty”. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t know she is going to ask us for gas money sometime in the near future.

When H first started staying with us she would just show up unannounced and walk in like she owned the place and I remember one time she surprised me and I said “Oh, (SIL), I didn’t know you were coming today.” and she said, (I swear this is true), “That’s the whole idea.” She stuck her nose into every little aspect of her mom’s care and talked to her in Spanish right in front of me about what I was doing and if she was getting good care and what not. I could tell enough about what she was saying to know that. Well, as soon as she decided everything was going well and I knew what I was doing, she dropped us like a hot potato.

Well, I have gone on and on about it and it is not a Father’s Day subject at all. BUT IT JUST CHAPS ME ARSE!

I have virtually nothing to post about today. Background info, anyone? H’s poop stories? I gotta tell ya’ the poop stories wear a little thin with me pretty quick, depending on what’s been going on in that department. Sometimes I feel like I am bursting at the seams with valuable information about all things BM. And, hey, deep down inside I just KNOW I must share and keep you, my dear reader informed. But, really. After a while, isn’t it just a crutch? Yes? That’s what I thought, too.

Thankfully, (for you), H is a bit constipated right now. Too much info? Oh well.

How ’bout my situation. You may or may not remember when I first started posting me mentioning that I don’t drive. The reason for this is that I’m partially blind. Actually, half blind. Literally. Now you are thinking that I am blind in one eye because that is the obvious thing to think. But I’m not. I am exactly half blind in each eye. Weird, huh? It is due to a brain injury I had when I was two weeks shy of 15 years old. I was in a car accident while a friend of my cousin’s was driving my little boyfriend and me to a nearby town to go to Sonic. At least that might be the story, as is typical with brain injuries I don’t remember anything about what was happening that night or anytime around there, before or after, for a good while. Apparently he was going very fast and neglected to turn with the road, when he ran up in someones yard and hit a tree. I was reportedly turned around backwards talking to my boyfriend who I had stuck in the backseat. I hit my head against the window, windshield… something and had neurosurgery to remove an “acute subdural hematoma” in Lafayette-stinking-Louisiana. Now, I don’t want anyone living in Louisiana to be offended because of my feelings toward it. The fact is that in the body of the state of Louisiana we lived pretty much in the armpit. Or maybe somewhere between the asshole and balls, take your pick. It was an incredibly tiny little town called Vidrine, just outside of Ville Platte. There were a few very nice people there, but the majority of the population made hillbillies look cosmopolitan.

Anyway, putting aside all my feelings for the Neanderthals that lived there….Oops. I digress. Again.

OK, back on track. I got shipped to Lafayette via ambulance and a super smart guy dressed as a neurosurgeon saved my life in short order.(Yes, brain surgeon. Think Jethro Bodine’s wannabe occupation.) There are all kinds of dramatic things to say about the whole affair. My heart stopped a few times on the way there in the ambulance. Yes, paddles, “CLEAR!”. All that . I was paralyzed on my right side for a while afterwards and had to learn to walk, feed myself, brush teeth, write, control the weird muscle spasms that seemed to be working my body for me. Oh! and control my bladder. I wet the bed a few times after I got home before I regained the use of my right side, which was a long, painstaking process.

The emotional problems that just almost go hand in hand with head trauma were particularly hard for me to handle. I’m not saying harder than they were for anyone else who’s ever had a head injury, but it was, the hardest part of my experience. Well, that and being a bald 15 year old girl was particularly hard. Ya know they shave your head when they do that crap. Not a good look when your extremely skinny anyway. Can you say, “concentration camp prisoner”? That’s what I looked like.

My memory has never fully recovered, although I am able to get by without anyone noticing too much with the aid of lists, lists, lists of the things I need to remember.

But, without a doubt, the single hardest remaining thing that hangs over my head and will never let me forget about that part of my life is my vision loss. The injury wasn’t to my eyes, it was to my optic nerves so you can’t look at me and see that I’m partially blind.

And here is where my report, thesis, docudrama, long-ass boring…post was left after Wordpress deleted at least 2/3 of it.

Now. As I was saying… AGAIN. There is an optic nerve going from the right side of both your eyes to the left side of your brain and one going from the left side of both your eyes to the right side of your brain. Well, the swelling on the right side of my brain, (where they went in and removed the hematoma), caused damage to that optic nerve. And, as we all learned in biology class, nerves don’t regenerate. So, the really bizarre outcome is that from the middle of both eyes to the left, all the way, I have no vision. So in order to see something on my left I have to look directly at it. Well, actually, I have to look at the left side of it to get the entire thing in my view. It is a very precise thing. If I focus on the head of a pin I only see half of it. There is no leeway.

This whole fiasco happened in April of 1978. 30 years ago. That is so incredibly hard for me to believe. And after 30 years you would think that I would have stopped running into things and stumping my toes on door facings. Yeah, well you’d be wrong. God knows that I would certainly think that I should have by now. All the toes on my left foot have been broken, usually one at a time. Several of them more than once. My left shin is all dented up and has a good many scars. Yes. Dented. I mean not huge dents, but, in good light, in the summer, (when I’ve shaved), you can see little dents up and down that shin under the skin. I must have incredibility strong bones, cause I’ve never broken anything but my toes. (Knocking on wood right now…)

I had my license for years before I gave up driving. I was a fairly unsuccessful driver and that’s all I’m gonna say about that. I haven’t had it for about 20 years now and I DO miss it tremendously. Cabin fever can run high around here. There are times that I would just love to be able to get up and walk out and go somewhere. Just me. By myself. And take all the time I want and do what I want. I so took that for granted.

I think the very hardest part of all this was raising two little girls and not being able to do the regular mommy stuff with them that all moms do without getting somebody else to haul us around. I could never just pick up and take us to the park or shopping or anywhere unless we were asked to go by someone else. I have cried many, many tears about that. Wrangling rides for them to go to…things, was an occupation in itself.

It’s amazing to me that there is no peripheral vision test at the DMV. Apparently they don’t think it’s important. HA! Shows what they know.

I love shopping with John cause I just put him on my left and we hold hands. I don’t have to be super aware of my surroundings, watching out for displays and people. My friends never want to hold my hand when we go shopping. *sigh*. I gotta get a better group of friends.

I just clicked “save” and it did! It didn’t erase! It doesn’t hate me today! YES! Wordpress now validates my existence. This can’t be a good thing.