I drove back from Danville today. It's been raining for two days; it seems to always rain for funerals, although of course they happen on sunny days, too, but it still seems to, at least in our family. I did alright on the trip down until I reached the Danville city limits, and everything suddenly seemed very real. I met my aunts and uncles at the funeral home at 9 am (the family usually arrives an hour before visitation for a private visitation). My step-father came up. I must say, the staff of the funeral home (Preston-Pruitt-Spurlin) were very attentive and good at striking that difficult balance of being available when needed and generally in the background so the focus is on celebrating the deceased life. I would highly recommend them.
I have trouble with visitations usually, and in my own funeral plans, there isn't one. There seems to be something a little strange about chatting around a dead body, at least as far as I am concerned. However, I realise it often helps some with the grieving process. But at the very first visitation I attended, my great-grandfather's corpse looked very life-like, and my great-grandmother, who had Alzheimer's, stood up from her wheelchair and begged him to wake up. It made a lasting impression.
They did a good job with Momma, but in the end, the body is still just a shell, and it wasn't really my mother there in the casket. Still, it was hard seeing her there. There were quite a few people who came by, about half her family and about half people John knew. My workplace sent a giant peace-lily for the funeral, and the flowers were in various shades of pink and red, which went well with the lighting and Momma's pure white casket.
The intention had been to have photos on a loop on a screen during the visitation, but they could only do that using a CD rather than the jump drive they were on. Still, people connected and shared memories.
The service went well. I'm not Christian, but my mother was a member, like her parents before her, of Gethsemane Baptist Church, and the pastor there did the service, which did involve preaching and payer, but at least he had met my mom and talked with her more than once. When my great-grandmother, the one with Alzheimer's, died, the preacher had apparently not seen her, as he declared her to have been infirm in body but sharp in mind, which was complete lie.
John requested two songs to be played, 'In the Garden' and 'Amazing Grace', the latter on the bagpipes. That brought some tears to my eyes when it played. I remember my mom being so upset at my grandfather's funeral that they played the song on some sort of recorded bell, rather than on the pipes, when my grandfather had wanted it in full Scottish fashion. That was another funeral home, of course. My mom was a stickler for details in funerals. At my grandmother's my mom was annoyed that the casket had pink carnations on it instead of pink roses, my grandmother's choice. So I'm glad hers went well. Instead of flowers on the casket, John had brought in a quilt she had loved and they laid that on it, and the colours worked well with the flowers that people sent.
After the service, we drove as part of the funeral cortege a few blocks to the cemetery. I've never actually driven in one, before. The Danville police escorted us and did an excellent job. At the cemetery entrance, one blocked the oncoming lane and stood at attention. It was very respectful and I appreciated it.
After the graveside service, we went back and got the flowers, and then met up at Cheddar's to eat and visit. I went back to the hotel my family was staying at and changed clothes and got out of the pantyhose (which I had found at Meijer's actually, along with some underwear.) We went and visited with my cousin Buddy for awhile and then ate dinner at Cracker Barrel, and I had a good meal despite the fact that I don't eat meat, except for fish. It's a little bit of a challenge with 'country-style' cooking, but I had lemon pepper rainbow trout with a baked sweet potato, fried apples, and macaroni and cheese. Buddy picked up the entire tab; my aunt and uncle had picked up lunch for John and me, and then I stayed in their hotel room on a pull-out sofa bed, so my trip there cost nothing but the gas, for which I was very grateful. I am so glad my family was there for so many reasons; they were a great comfort.
I'm doing pretty well emotionally. I've never been particularly demonstrative upon the death of a loved one; it usually comes in short bouts of emotion for a few days, and I've been very fortunate in that my relatives' deaths have not be untimely, for the most part. Momma had been in pain for some time, a constant string of bouncing back between hospital, nursing home, and home, and apparently the last few days were nearly unbearable.
I must give a special thanks to John, her husband, who saw her through all that and helped her bear it all.
So while there is an empty place in my life where my mother had been, I can't say I am sad to the point of devastation at her death. It was time. It was kinder to let her go. None of us wanted to see her continue to suffer, although it was hard to let go. I think I came to terms with it before my step-father did; he saw her every day. I saw her every few weeks and could see just how quickly the toll her illness was having on her. My mom was only 69. She looked much older, and had wasted away to almost nothing. It's sad to see her go; I will miss her, of course, but I am glad her suffering is at an end. I keep feeling like I should be grieving more demonstrably; this was my mother, after all, and we were very close once upon a time. But I guess grief comes in many forms. I keep finding myself thinking of talking to her or showing her something, and it's like I suddenly remember she isn't there, and that's when I'm sad.
I'm writing this on the laptop while lying in bed, which isn't the best, of course. I think it's time to close. I think I'll take one more day off (I have three days of bereavement leave) alone to sort out my emotions. Yesterday and today were about family and friends. Tomorrow I want to take some time to myself and, as they say, decompress. Good night.
Tuesday, March 07, 2017
Saturday, March 04, 2017
Earlier today
I shuttled my friends to their appointment, to the store, and got A to work, helped YKWIA a bit at home, and then came home, tired (I couldn't sleep last night after cooking till late at YKWIA's--I think I was finally able to get to sleep at about 3:30 am, so my insomnia is continuing somewhat). It was a bright, sunny afternoon and had warmed up quite a bit, so I opened the bedroom window, got into some comfy clothes, and took a nap. I'm thinking that was about 4 or so. Now I'm awake and it's 7:40. That might cause an issue later tonight, but at least I slept well for a bit.
My aunts and uncles are going to be able to come in for the visitation and funeral, which is Monday. The ones in Georgia are driving up tomorrow, and the ones in Texas, bless their hearts, were working overtime to find a flight in, and the closest they could get was Nashville, and then drive three hours. So they're travelling tomorrow, too. I'm not sure about my cousins--one is on the West Coast for work and can't come, another is in meetings in Georgia, but I'm glad my mom's sister and brother and their spouses will be able to.
I need to pick my friend up from work tonight and tomorrow night, so I'll drive down on Monday morning. It's about 35 miles away, so not too bad, and I'll be going against morning traffic. I have a dress picked out (thanks to YKWIA, who informed me that the dress I wore to my grandmother's funeral would need more than Spanx to fit correctly). It's a dress I bought for a vow renewal a few years ago, a deep purple covered in black lace--not exactly ideal, but it's nice, respectful (well, if I wear a camisole under that neckline, and I think my mom would approve.) I do need to find some hose to go with it, which can be a challenge at my size (there's a reason I wear summer skirts and otherwise pants). I may actually have to break down and go to the Evil Empire (aka Walmart), where I do not usually shop. We'll see.
Tomorrow we are not playing the game. I could probably have used the distraction, but on the other hand, will have a little extra time to do some things. I also desperately need to do laundry tomorrow. I actually went out to Gabriel Brothers the other night looking for underwear (they usually have my size, unlike most other places in town that aren't a 'plus-sized women's' store, and much cheaper, because with YKWIA sick, I haven't done my laundry. But I had no luck. Fortunately I dug around and found some to get me through tomorrow. So I'll go over there and do that and help him out if needed, or maybe we'll watch something on streaming video.
I also realised today that I missed renewing some books that were due the day she died, which I rectified, so I have some fines. I've paused my tracking, to-do items on Habitica so that by not doing them I will not affect the members of my party. Funny how little things slip and then come to mind later in times like this. I've e-mailed my family back and forth, and texted with my step-father, who sounds exhausted. I've texted that I won't be to work to my bosses (well, I know I got through to one; the other may be an old number, so I'll leave a message at work as well). I'll get some gas tomorrow for the trip. I had thought about staying down in a hotel Monday night. I'll keep it as an option, but for now, the plan is to just go down, go to the visitation and service, go the the graveside and know where she is to be buried, and maybe out to eat and spend some time with my family, then come back that evening. I may take Tuesday off , though, as I have three days' bereavement leave, and I'm not sure it's really hit yet, and may not until the actual funeral.
I debated contacting my estranged father to let him know she had died. We haven't spoken since 1993. but I know where he is on Facebook and could get a hold of him if I wanted to. But I quickly discarded that idea. He basically abandoned us in the 80s to pursue other women and a freer life without us, and I suspect he always felt rather trapped by my mother, who got pregnant before they broke up, then found out, and within a month his mom had pressured him to marry her. My mom's parents, I will say, were very good, and even though it was the 60s, offered to let her live at home and not go the marriage route. It's amazing the marriage lasted as long as it did, really.
My dad and I went our separate ways after my grandmother's funeral, when he lied to me and told me the insurance money was part of the estate and instead of asking me to help with expenses, demanded the money ($5,000, at a time when I was a student eating every other day, and he was an engineer who moved to Minnesota for an extra $30,000 a year and who had a policy in his name, as well, for twice that). When I told him I wouldn't give it to him on the advice of my grandfather and YKWIA, he hung up on me, and that was that.
This is a man who moved us to another state, after they sold the house at a loss and my mom lost seniority at work, just so he could then tell her while we were in the motel that he was seeing someone else and wanted a divorce. It was devastating, and it took her years to get over the financial and other repercussions. He doesn't deserve to know.
Besides, while she had four husbands total (one of whom she was widowed by), her current husband and she were together longer than any of them (my dad was about 16 years; John has that surpassed). John has been incredibly good to my mom, and has been a great companion, who took care of her in her illness day in and day out, and I can't thank him enough for being there. I couldn't have done it, even without working.
When I was growing up, my mom and I were inseparable, even enmeshed to a great degree by the time I reached adulthood. As an only child, there'd just been the two of us, especially while my father was overseas and then when he left. As I got older, though, we drifted apart, and we were not as close as many moms and daughters that I know. We each had our own lives, and checked in with each other every few weeks, and then I'd go visit about every three months or so, and at the holidays. Momma tended to reach out to me more when she wasn't married, as she didn't have as much going on. As years went on and I did a lot of examination, I realised a lot of my issues came from our relationship rather than just my issues with my dad. And we talked about them a little, and we worked some of that out, but generally, we just lived our own lives and then came together every now and then. But we never cut ties like my dad and I did.
Despite that, I have found myself constantly thinking things over the last few days that bring my mom to mind. 'Oh, I should tell Momma that. Wait, I can't.' or 'Momma would love this blouse I found. But she'll never see it.' That sort of thing. I guess that's to be expected, but it hurts. The finality is starting to sink in.
Finally, let me just say that having watched the effects of end-stage liver disease, and even though she was never able to get a liver or even be placed on the list for one, she held out hope for that, and it would have changed her life around for the better. Please consider being an organ donor. There are thousands of people living, barely, who would benefit from that call that says, come in, we have a (insert organ here), that will have their lives transformed for the better. You won't need them any more. Why not donate life in your passing?
Okay, I'm going to sign off for now. I've been typing for an hour. Funny, I usually listen to music to relax, even more than anything else, and I've had trouble doing that since she died, because certain lyrics cause me to cry, etc. The only song I've sought out has been Rob Thomas' 'Now Comes the Night', a song I'd like played at my own funeral. I find it comforting. Here it is:
My aunts and uncles are going to be able to come in for the visitation and funeral, which is Monday. The ones in Georgia are driving up tomorrow, and the ones in Texas, bless their hearts, were working overtime to find a flight in, and the closest they could get was Nashville, and then drive three hours. So they're travelling tomorrow, too. I'm not sure about my cousins--one is on the West Coast for work and can't come, another is in meetings in Georgia, but I'm glad my mom's sister and brother and their spouses will be able to.
I need to pick my friend up from work tonight and tomorrow night, so I'll drive down on Monday morning. It's about 35 miles away, so not too bad, and I'll be going against morning traffic. I have a dress picked out (thanks to YKWIA, who informed me that the dress I wore to my grandmother's funeral would need more than Spanx to fit correctly). It's a dress I bought for a vow renewal a few years ago, a deep purple covered in black lace--not exactly ideal, but it's nice, respectful (well, if I wear a camisole under that neckline, and I think my mom would approve.) I do need to find some hose to go with it, which can be a challenge at my size (there's a reason I wear summer skirts and otherwise pants). I may actually have to break down and go to the Evil Empire (aka Walmart), where I do not usually shop. We'll see.
Tomorrow we are not playing the game. I could probably have used the distraction, but on the other hand, will have a little extra time to do some things. I also desperately need to do laundry tomorrow. I actually went out to Gabriel Brothers the other night looking for underwear (they usually have my size, unlike most other places in town that aren't a 'plus-sized women's' store, and much cheaper, because with YKWIA sick, I haven't done my laundry. But I had no luck. Fortunately I dug around and found some to get me through tomorrow. So I'll go over there and do that and help him out if needed, or maybe we'll watch something on streaming video.
I also realised today that I missed renewing some books that were due the day she died, which I rectified, so I have some fines. I've paused my tracking, to-do items on Habitica so that by not doing them I will not affect the members of my party. Funny how little things slip and then come to mind later in times like this. I've e-mailed my family back and forth, and texted with my step-father, who sounds exhausted. I've texted that I won't be to work to my bosses (well, I know I got through to one; the other may be an old number, so I'll leave a message at work as well). I'll get some gas tomorrow for the trip. I had thought about staying down in a hotel Monday night. I'll keep it as an option, but for now, the plan is to just go down, go to the visitation and service, go the the graveside and know where she is to be buried, and maybe out to eat and spend some time with my family, then come back that evening. I may take Tuesday off , though, as I have three days' bereavement leave, and I'm not sure it's really hit yet, and may not until the actual funeral.
I debated contacting my estranged father to let him know she had died. We haven't spoken since 1993. but I know where he is on Facebook and could get a hold of him if I wanted to. But I quickly discarded that idea. He basically abandoned us in the 80s to pursue other women and a freer life without us, and I suspect he always felt rather trapped by my mother, who got pregnant before they broke up, then found out, and within a month his mom had pressured him to marry her. My mom's parents, I will say, were very good, and even though it was the 60s, offered to let her live at home and not go the marriage route. It's amazing the marriage lasted as long as it did, really.
My dad and I went our separate ways after my grandmother's funeral, when he lied to me and told me the insurance money was part of the estate and instead of asking me to help with expenses, demanded the money ($5,000, at a time when I was a student eating every other day, and he was an engineer who moved to Minnesota for an extra $30,000 a year and who had a policy in his name, as well, for twice that). When I told him I wouldn't give it to him on the advice of my grandfather and YKWIA, he hung up on me, and that was that.
This is a man who moved us to another state, after they sold the house at a loss and my mom lost seniority at work, just so he could then tell her while we were in the motel that he was seeing someone else and wanted a divorce. It was devastating, and it took her years to get over the financial and other repercussions. He doesn't deserve to know.
When I was growing up, my mom and I were inseparable, even enmeshed to a great degree by the time I reached adulthood. As an only child, there'd just been the two of us, especially while my father was overseas and then when he left. As I got older, though, we drifted apart, and we were not as close as many moms and daughters that I know. We each had our own lives, and checked in with each other every few weeks, and then I'd go visit about every three months or so, and at the holidays. Momma tended to reach out to me more when she wasn't married, as she didn't have as much going on. As years went on and I did a lot of examination, I realised a lot of my issues came from our relationship rather than just my issues with my dad. And we talked about them a little, and we worked some of that out, but generally, we just lived our own lives and then came together every now and then. But we never cut ties like my dad and I did.
Despite that, I have found myself constantly thinking things over the last few days that bring my mom to mind. 'Oh, I should tell Momma that. Wait, I can't.' or 'Momma would love this blouse I found. But she'll never see it.' That sort of thing. I guess that's to be expected, but it hurts. The finality is starting to sink in.
Finally, let me just say that having watched the effects of end-stage liver disease, and even though she was never able to get a liver or even be placed on the list for one, she held out hope for that, and it would have changed her life around for the better. Please consider being an organ donor. There are thousands of people living, barely, who would benefit from that call that says, come in, we have a (insert organ here), that will have their lives transformed for the better. You won't need them any more. Why not donate life in your passing?
Okay, I'm going to sign off for now. I've been typing for an hour. Funny, I usually listen to music to relax, even more than anything else, and I've had trouble doing that since she died, because certain lyrics cause me to cry, etc. The only song I've sought out has been Rob Thomas' 'Now Comes the Night', a song I'd like played at my own funeral. I find it comforting. Here it is:
*facepalm*
I spent the majority of today with my shirt on backwards. And it has sparkles on the front.
A timely quote from my inbox, from Thoughtful Mind
“Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have - life itself.”― Walter Anderson
Friday, March 03, 2017
Sad
My mom was my first friend. She is at peace now. She died this afternoon. Requiescat in pace, Phyllis Montgomery, August 3, 1947-March 2, 2017.
Wednesday, March 01, 2017
I rested for a bit this afternoon
because I'd gotten so bad that while driving over by Time Warner Cable, I ran up on a kerb, and then when I went to hang up my keys, I missed the hook twice and had to fish them out from behind a table. I wasn't doing well. Right after I blogged, I got a text from my step-father that my mother is doing very badly...she hasn't eaten in two days, and just stares ahead and isn't responsive. He doesn't think she has very long at all. I mentioned the other day why I don't plan to visit her in the house, but even if I was going to go--I couldn't have driven safely at all. I let him know this and let my other aunt know (he texted both me and my mom's sister).
Sigh. I feel awful. I want to be with her. On the other hand, it doesn't sound like she recognises anything at this point. I just hope it's peaceful and without pain or suffering. My step-father's taken very good care of her, and I know he'll be devastated. I'm oddly...detached. I don't know if it's some sort of coping mechanism, or what. I don't know how I'll react when she passes, and I am occasionally crying tonight, but mostly it's like my brain is trying to curl up in a ball and pretend it's not really happening. I hate that feeling.
My libations were moved, due to my perimenopause, to dark of the moon, rather than during my period, a traditional time of worship for Her (Hekate). However, since the beginning of the year, I've been poor to the point of a dollar or less in my account at the time, and I never think to get the wine ahead of time, so I promised a full bottle and honey as soon as my tax refund came in, even though it is now a waxing crescent. So I ventured out to Liquor Barn just a little while ago and got a bottle of wine and then some things at Kroger. Now I'm tired again, but my head's not hurting like it was and I can think reasonably straight. But I'm going to take the opportunity to pray tonight, as Hekate also accompanies the souls of the dead.
I know that death is a natural consequence of life, but this sucks. I know my mom doesn't want to die (who does, usually?) and I'm not sure she'd come to terms with it. I think they always thought she'd somehow be put on the liver transplant list even with her other issues and her smoking. My mom and I share a dangerous trait, that we keep doing what we want when we want it, without giving much thought to long-term consequences. While her actual condition is genetic and secondary to her diabetes (fatty liver, turning into non-alcoholic cirrhosis, and even hepatic tumours), there were things she should have done a long time ago that would have helped. It's not lost on me that I have some of the same issues, and my liver enzymes are slightly elevated most of the time when they take them. Just like hers were for years. Oh, it may be a medicine you're on. Oh, don't worry, it's just a bit elevated. That's how it was until so suddenly it wasn't.
I'm not trying to be mean about my mom. I'm just saying there were warning signs, and I should heed them, too, so I don't wind up in the same condition. Oh, of course, something will get you in the end. But maybe if I make better choices now, I'll live longer and better. Momma's only 69. Her mother, despite diabetes, was 90. In my family, with the exception of my mom's grandmother, who had a diabetic stroke in her 60s, if you smoke, you live to your 60s or maybe early 70s; if you don't, it's more 80s and even into the 90s. I've never smoked. I have a lot of issues that 'age' me beyond my years, in a way, but if I make changes in my diet and exercise, it can only help. But I've got to do it. Of course, one big change I have no control over that should help is very soon I won't be eating 2-3 meals per day in our cafeteria, which isn't the most nutritious of food (it's mostly fried stuff, pre-packaged, and processed, with an occasional green vegetable, I hate to say). It's been better in the past, especially for vegetarians, but still, it's not the best route I could do.
I've already come up with a schedule for the time I'm off (however long that will be) so I'll keep normal business hours. Today I got an Indeed alert to two more jobs (that's a total of five), one at the university, in the health sciences library. It's closing date is April 25th, but all I have to do is a cover letter and have some friends and colleagues look over my curriculum vitae. Keep your fingers crossed for me. One is with the state, one with a local public library, and three with the university. So things are looking up, which is good, as we're thirty days for closing down.
Okay, I think I will definitely take the trazodone and start making preparations for bed. Good night.
Sigh. I feel awful. I want to be with her. On the other hand, it doesn't sound like she recognises anything at this point. I just hope it's peaceful and without pain or suffering. My step-father's taken very good care of her, and I know he'll be devastated. I'm oddly...detached. I don't know if it's some sort of coping mechanism, or what. I don't know how I'll react when she passes, and I am occasionally crying tonight, but mostly it's like my brain is trying to curl up in a ball and pretend it's not really happening. I hate that feeling.
My libations were moved, due to my perimenopause, to dark of the moon, rather than during my period, a traditional time of worship for Her (Hekate). However, since the beginning of the year, I've been poor to the point of a dollar or less in my account at the time, and I never think to get the wine ahead of time, so I promised a full bottle and honey as soon as my tax refund came in, even though it is now a waxing crescent. So I ventured out to Liquor Barn just a little while ago and got a bottle of wine and then some things at Kroger. Now I'm tired again, but my head's not hurting like it was and I can think reasonably straight. But I'm going to take the opportunity to pray tonight, as Hekate also accompanies the souls of the dead.
I know that death is a natural consequence of life, but this sucks. I know my mom doesn't want to die (who does, usually?) and I'm not sure she'd come to terms with it. I think they always thought she'd somehow be put on the liver transplant list even with her other issues and her smoking. My mom and I share a dangerous trait, that we keep doing what we want when we want it, without giving much thought to long-term consequences. While her actual condition is genetic and secondary to her diabetes (fatty liver, turning into non-alcoholic cirrhosis, and even hepatic tumours), there were things she should have done a long time ago that would have helped. It's not lost on me that I have some of the same issues, and my liver enzymes are slightly elevated most of the time when they take them. Just like hers were for years. Oh, it may be a medicine you're on. Oh, don't worry, it's just a bit elevated. That's how it was until so suddenly it wasn't.
I'm not trying to be mean about my mom. I'm just saying there were warning signs, and I should heed them, too, so I don't wind up in the same condition. Oh, of course, something will get you in the end. But maybe if I make better choices now, I'll live longer and better. Momma's only 69. Her mother, despite diabetes, was 90. In my family, with the exception of my mom's grandmother, who had a diabetic stroke in her 60s, if you smoke, you live to your 60s or maybe early 70s; if you don't, it's more 80s and even into the 90s. I've never smoked. I have a lot of issues that 'age' me beyond my years, in a way, but if I make changes in my diet and exercise, it can only help. But I've got to do it. Of course, one big change I have no control over that should help is very soon I won't be eating 2-3 meals per day in our cafeteria, which isn't the most nutritious of food (it's mostly fried stuff, pre-packaged, and processed, with an occasional green vegetable, I hate to say). It's been better in the past, especially for vegetarians, but still, it's not the best route I could do.
I've already come up with a schedule for the time I'm off (however long that will be) so I'll keep normal business hours. Today I got an Indeed alert to two more jobs (that's a total of five), one at the university, in the health sciences library. It's closing date is April 25th, but all I have to do is a cover letter and have some friends and colleagues look over my curriculum vitae. Keep your fingers crossed for me. One is with the state, one with a local public library, and three with the university. So things are looking up, which is good, as we're thirty days for closing down.
Okay, I think I will definitely take the trazodone and start making preparations for bed. Good night.
Oh, one last thing before I do that
Years ago we had a 50s Day at work, and I had a couple of interesting pictures to share. The first is of me with a Clinical Symposia journal with an exploding nuclear bomb on the cover, which is really from the early 60s, but I tried:
The second I waited to share until I was sure it was okay per company policy, as someone else is in the picture, but since the face isn't shown, it was okay. We had a hula hoop contest. I didn't win--but I did have fun. Those were the days:
The second I waited to share until I was sure it was okay per company policy, as someone else is in the picture, but since the face isn't shown, it was okay. We had a hula hoop contest. I didn't win--but I did have fun. Those were the days:
I am so freaking tired
I have been up for fifteen hours, since 1:30 this morning. I tossed and turned until 3:30, got up, got ready, went to IHOP by 4:30, Kroger by 5:15, and work by 6 am. I got off early as a result and went to TWC/Spectrum and got my Internet connexion back on for less than I thought it would be (yay!) and got my allergy shots. I am going to forage for food here and then get some rest. There's not much here, of course, being right before payday, and I need gas, too, but I can barely drive at this point. I did get my federal refund (not a lot, but enough to get the Internet back on and pay a very overdue bill, at least partly). I've been hot all day, I feel gunky despite the shower this morning. I don't feel like going out, and I can't go hog wild and do something like order pizza (although I do have a coupon from T-Mobile for 25% off or a free one-topping pizza. Hmmm...no, bad for the blood sugar. I'll figure something out. I think I still have some bread and cheese. I don't think I could wait for pizza. My head is pounding from lack of sleep. So for now, I'll head to bed. But at least I can stream Pandora, Netflix, or Amazon on the TVs and print without using my phone now (and more importantly, look and apply for jobs for both A and myself). And I got a deal so it's cheaper than it was. Okay, taking off the shoes, letting down the hair, taking off the jewelry, getting into something comfy, and eating a cheese sandwich soon. :)
So my doctor prescribed
A medicine called trazodone for my midnight insomnia. It's an antidepressant, not a barbituate, and seems fairly mild. But the only trouble is since I'm perfectly sleepy when I head to bed--sometimes overwhelmingly so, I don't think to take it. Which does no good, of course. So here I am, three hours in, awake in the middle of the night for the second night in a row, and it's too late to take and not be groggy on the morning. I have got to start doing better.
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