Well Evan has been out of school all this week due to rejection. His stomach has rejected everything in one direction or the other. Yesterday (Wednesday) he actually began keeping food for more than a few minutes, but he was still draggy overall. Today, though he could have gone back to school, will be a day of hydration, nutrition, and recuperation.
Translation: more screaming, romping, whining, arguing, rowdiness, confusion, annoyance, and, um, fun(?) than any parent could ask for, AGAIN! ;-)
I had an interview yesterday at the "other hospital" for the supplemental ICU pool. I'm beginning to wonder how many hoops they have for me to jump through before I meet their obviously desperate needs. She "threatened" with a telemetry test to check my knowledge of heart rhythms. Apparently, they have hired enough people who were weak in these skills that they feel a standard must be met. I was stonefaced about it, because my skills are more moderate than meager, but I'll brush up before they give me the test, probably at the next interview! Whew! I know the "really bad" heart rhythms and when to call for help, but I have room for improvement.
My weight is hanging in the 20 pounds down department. This is proof that I can conserve energy (read: be lazy) better than the average hibernating bear. I am going to start walking again when it gets just a touch warmer than arctic blast around here, and I am also going to strength train here at home (starting...?). The latter will interfere somewhat with my actual "weight loss" progress, but I have plenty of fat to exchange for muscle. Besides, though I have a lot of weight I need to lose, it is more about how I feel and look to myself than it is about "the loss." I'd rather be a strong, healthy 200 pounds, than a weak, unhealthy 170. The work continues.
I still haven't lost the overall general feeling of a downward spiral, but the descension has slowed somewhat. Hrm, maybe if I got off my sorry ...., did something useful, went to church... you know the regular top five off the "aspiring" list. Sigh.
I have a really good work schedule, one of the best I could have, I think. But, I still have that phantastical dream, nearly buried, of making a real living doing a job I actually love! Wouldn't that be grand? My life certainly isn't what I imagined it would be when I was Evan's age. In fact, I had absolutely no clue what my life would be like when I was nine. It was an important aspect of my childhood my parents overlooked in my development. Direction. Like, "What do you want to be when you grow up, son?" What kind of job do you want? Where do you want to live? How many kids do you want? Not that I would have been able to foresee, clearly, what my future was going to be. But, at least I would have been looking in the direction of my future, you know? Instead, life smacked me in the back of the head, the big breaking wave, as I looked ignorantly shoreward, knee deep in confusion. I've been stumbling about ever since. I have been very fortunate to have stumbled upon the life I have; I certainly don't feel like I deserved it, or earned it or anything. Now, with my sons growing older every day, I have this dread feeling like when I was a kid bringing home a bad report card. You know that feeling? Like, it's too late now to repair my lack of effort the last nine weeks, but I would if I could. Only, it is nine years and counting every day. Spilt milk, I guess. But I digress.
Aspiring here. Aspiring. Deep breath, hit enter, get up and move away.