Today was a crap day.
I woke up at 8:00 this morning, having dreamed that I slept until noon and was late getting my dad to his appointment at 1:00.
Naturally, I had a hard time falling back asleep. Then, when I did, I couldn't wake up in time. Finally rolled out of bed at 10:00 a.m., ready to hit the gym. Only my gym clothes weren't clean. Couldn't just go in my street clothes because Planet Fitness has a rule against jeans.
So okay. Screw it. Got up, took my pills, took my insulin, noticed a text message from the pharmacy saying my Lantus might be delayed. Lovely. Whatever. Had a small bowl of cereal because we were waiting for Dad to get up to make him a bowl of oatmeal, so I figured I might as well have some at the same time. Only he didn't want to get up. It's his birthday, so he wanted the day off.
I finally convinced him it's better for his digestive health if he has regular meals like a human being, so he got up. He had his breakfast, we gave him his birthday presents, which he loved, and he basically sat around watching the news until it was time for me to drive him to his appointment. I, meanwhile, was having a hard time finding the sugar-free cake mix I had hidden from him. Couldn't find it anywhere.
Trying to distract myself, I got ready to leave. I put on a shirt, that happens to me one of my favorites, and it refused to stay down. I was already frustrated as hell about the cake, so when I found it didn't cover my torso properly, I very reasonably tore it in half as I was taking it off. Then the same thing happened with my other favorite shirt. Third time's the charm, after ruining two perfectly good shirts, and I was ready to go.
I pulled into Providence Newberg right at 1:00, and I was so proud of myself. Until I found out we were supposed to be at the heart valve clinic at Providence St Vincent, an hour away from Newberg in Beaverton. Fortunately, the staff were able to change it at the last second to a telemed appointment, since it was just a follow-up on his ECG last week. So Dad and I sat in an exam room, hunched over my phone talking to the PA.
I had put my brand new glasses in my hoodie pocket when I went inside, because I don't care for the world swirling and spinning around me when I don't need it. They were still in my pocket as I got in my car, being crushed against the car door. Sure enough, when I pulled them out, both arms were off. I pulled around to the front of the hospital to pick Dad up, and showed him. We went to Eye Health Northwest, which was only about a mile away, and the lady was able to snap the arms back into place.
Back home again. Dad went to bed while Mom and I worked on locating the cake mix. I finally found it, hidden behind my computer monitor of all places. I must have thought dad would go hunting for it. The recipe on the box called for two 9-inch cake pans, but all we had were 8 inch and 10-inch. Foolishly, I chose 10-inch, so Dad gets the world's shortest birthday cake.
So how was your day?
Naturally, I had a hard time falling back asleep. Then, when I did, I couldn't wake up in time. Finally rolled out of bed at 10:00 a.m., ready to hit the gym. Only my gym clothes weren't clean. Couldn't just go in my street clothes because Planet Fitness has a rule against jeans.
So okay. Screw it. Got up, took my pills, took my insulin, noticed a text message from the pharmacy saying my Lantus might be delayed. Lovely. Whatever. Had a small bowl of cereal because we were waiting for Dad to get up to make him a bowl of oatmeal, so I figured I might as well have some at the same time. Only he didn't want to get up. It's his birthday, so he wanted the day off.
I finally convinced him it's better for his digestive health if he has regular meals like a human being, so he got up. He had his breakfast, we gave him his birthday presents, which he loved, and he basically sat around watching the news until it was time for me to drive him to his appointment. I, meanwhile, was having a hard time finding the sugar-free cake mix I had hidden from him. Couldn't find it anywhere.
Trying to distract myself, I got ready to leave. I put on a shirt, that happens to me one of my favorites, and it refused to stay down. I was already frustrated as hell about the cake, so when I found it didn't cover my torso properly, I very reasonably tore it in half as I was taking it off. Then the same thing happened with my other favorite shirt. Third time's the charm, after ruining two perfectly good shirts, and I was ready to go.
I pulled into Providence Newberg right at 1:00, and I was so proud of myself. Until I found out we were supposed to be at the heart valve clinic at Providence St Vincent, an hour away from Newberg in Beaverton. Fortunately, the staff were able to change it at the last second to a telemed appointment, since it was just a follow-up on his ECG last week. So Dad and I sat in an exam room, hunched over my phone talking to the PA.
I had put my brand new glasses in my hoodie pocket when I went inside, because I don't care for the world swirling and spinning around me when I don't need it. They were still in my pocket as I got in my car, being crushed against the car door. Sure enough, when I pulled them out, both arms were off. I pulled around to the front of the hospital to pick Dad up, and showed him. We went to Eye Health Northwest, which was only about a mile away, and the lady was able to snap the arms back into place.
Back home again. Dad went to bed while Mom and I worked on locating the cake mix. I finally found it, hidden behind my computer monitor of all places. I must have thought dad would go hunting for it. The recipe on the box called for two 9-inch cake pans, but all we had were 8 inch and 10-inch. Foolishly, I chose 10-inch, so Dad gets the world's shortest birthday cake.
So how was your day?
46-50, M
