On retirement, health…and cats.

It’s been a busy year since I last posted. My garden failed last year. I had a diabetic ‘episode’, fell backwards from our back stoop and hit my head on the driveway. I knew my bg was low but mistakenly thought I had enough time to take out the recycling before it got to critical. Turns out fuzzy thinking is a clue that things are about to go lights out. I seized and the next thing I knew I was on the asphalt with a bump about the size of a baseball on the back of my head. All of Larry’s joking over the years about my ‘Titanium Cranium’ apparently held an amusing seed of truth. I ended up with a nasty concussion but didn’t even get a skull fracture. This event was preceded by a similar incident two weeks earlier which was triggered in the middle of the night. I woke up on the floor, surrounded by books and with Larry lying in front of me commando-style shoving sugar into my mouth. I had seized in my sleep and tossed myself floorward, hitting the bookcase closest to me on my way down. EMTs were called. Very embarrassing.
Anyway, it took me a couple of weeks to get my shit together and by then my plants had all died. Bummer. I was hoping to plant another one this summer, but weather and other things came up and we still haven’t done it. I figure it’s probably best to put it on hold until next summer, when hopefully we will have adjusted to all the changes in our lives and have established some sort of routine.
In addition to the two incidents I’ve already described, there were many others. Less severe but still alarming. I’ve had some success at losing weight and my body processes sugar differently and relies on (injected) insulin less. I thought I was helping things along by taking firmer control. Actually, I became obsessive about it. My three month test this time last year was the lowest it has ever been and I felt as though I was finally on the right track, hypoglycemic issues and all. I was trying to keep my daily readings and three-month A1C checks at non-diabetic levels. According to my doctor, diabetics kill themselves doing that. I came pretty close last August to taking myself out. Since then I’ve been working to keep things even rather than low and my test results, though higher than I am comfortable with, are in the normal range. No more spiking and no more seizures. My weight loss has hit a plateau, which is frustrating as hell, but I’m not gaining it back, so there’s really nothing to do but ride it out and wait. This happens to everyone. Things are going great and then *SCREECH!* it all comes to a halt for awhile. Eventually it picks back up again. Patience, body…patience.
Larry retired last December. No, that’s not completely accurate. His screaming psycho bitch supervisor set up her own little personal program of harassment and forced him into early retirement. By the time he left his antidepressant dosage was about three times what it is now and I could barely approach him without him getting aggressively snippy, hateful or lecturing me at length regarding my failures as a wife, mother and human. He’s been that way for a long time due to issues at his job, but this latest supervisor is a real piece of work. In this case ‘piece of work’ is code for ‘mean-spirited uber-cunt I’d like to beat the fuck out of’. She made it her mission to make his life as miserable as possible. He was so anxious and depressed all the time that living with him became next to impossible. If I didn’t love him as much as I do, there’s no way I could have stuck around. Things are difficult enough with the children, especially dealing with Zoe’s aggressive behaviors. She’s still digging chunks of skin out of my arms every morning. They’re looking pretty cut-up and bruised right now, which embarrassed the hell out of me yesterday when I went to the first job interview I’ve had in about 18 years. Obviously things are challenging enough without adding an angry, morbidly depressed, verbally nasty spouse into the mix. I don’t know how litigious this woman might be, so I won’t post her name here, but if anyone happens to pass through here that has applied for a position with the FDA, email me. We should talk before you accept any position with this bitch as your supervisor. Not even kidding. The problems she caused for my husband at work had a serious impact on our already turbulent family life. She is absolutely miserable to work with.
There is a silver lining, however. After his post-employment hangover lifted, his entire personality changed. Over the course of the first three months he went from being an antagonistic asshole to the lovable, amazing man I first fell in love with. A cliche, perhaps, but true just the same. The change in him has been so profound that his doctor has begun the process of tapering him down from the antidepressants. He’s so much easier to live with now, which has helped my own anxiety and depression tremendously. The only real issue we have now is financial. Retiring early means he isn’t getting the full benefits he would have gotten if he had stayed another three years, but given that he is more like himself I figure this is still a pretty damned good trade. Less money, more happy. Works for me.
However, part of the trade is that I go from being full-time mommy to finding a job of my own. I’m happy to do it – I’ve wanted to go back to work for years! Turns out looking for work is like having a job in itself. I’ve been at it for weeks but have only had one interview. It went well, though, so I’m thinking it may actually lead to something. It’s only part-time, but you never know what might open up. In the meantime I have a guaranteed spot on another job as soon as something opens up, which I have been assured won’t take long because someone is about to quit (to care for a sick relative, I think). That position is full-time, so I’ll actually be able to work both. The one I just interviewed for is security, Fridays & Saturdays 11pm-7am. I still have to pass the background check, get fingerprinted, etc. but it’s looking pretty good. The supervisor seemed to like me.
We’ll see how it goes.
Last summer we also added a new member to our family. This little guy:

His name is Angus McCool and we adore him. He wandered into our yard one afternoon last August. Hungry, sad and making the most mournful sound Larry said he’d ever heard. It took about two weeks of feeding and speaking softly to earn his trust and he’s been our baby ever since. According to the vet, he was five months old then. He’s a sweet, lovable little guy, and very playful. I have been deathly allergic to cats my entire life but Angus doesn’t trigger any reactions in me or the children. That in itself is amazing – they’re allergic to everything. I knew very little about caring for cats and my Facebook friends and groups have been an enormous help. Other Witches in particular. There’s one stereotype with a basis in truth: wanna know about cats – go to the Witches.

Update: I just heard back about the security job. Didn’t get it. My interview went so well I seriously don’t understand why. I am qualified and able to work the hours they want. I also have reliable transportation and flexible child care so I can work weekends and holidays.
It makes no sense. I guess that interview sort of lulled me into a false sense of security. I was so sure I was going to be hired.
Oh well. The search continues.


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