Life just keeps getting in the way
The blog is earlier than usual because I cannot stay up late again tonight. I’m spent, and so are the others I am living with. I know; this is a Gilly update, but I’ve seen so little of him today that I haven’t much to report on his progress. I left the house at 8:40; a smoothie was left on the table next to his pills and a wrapped piece of bread for toast. I woke him just before stepping out to provide last minute instructions; I asked him to please call me when he takes his medication so that I keep track of the time. I reminded him that Jerry would pick him up for physio around 1:00, and that his lunch is prepared for him in the fridge (two choices, in fact).
Yaron was asleep, but I stopped in to check on him because he went to sleep with a fever and was up a few times during the night. I told him to call me as soon as he awakens, so I could hear how he’s doing, and perhaps give him Dr. Amdursky’s number to call. He’s not one to read written notes (the apple doesn’t fall far, I suppose). He has not seen the family doctor, since he just turned 18 and loved going to the pediatrician until now.
Did either one of them call me? Nothing came forth from their end, so I had to keep switching gears and remembering to call them.
I encountered snag after snag at work; the information I input into the data base last night refused to print out the way it was supposed to. The technician spent about 4 hours trying to solve the problem; needless to say this seriously delayed my progress.
In the meantime I kept calling Yaron to provide comfort over the phone, but it was not good enough; he was good and sick. I appealed to him to call the doctor, but he said he couldn’t get there himself (close by). I suggested taking a taxi, but he insisted he could not. I was worried, but didn’t feel it was a life and death situation, so I chose to remain with the task that had to be done (my responsibility as fieldwork coordinator) and told him to try calling grandma. He called me back to say he had made an appointment, and that Grandma (to the rescue) would accompany him. He came home with an antibiotic, much like my scenario last week; maybe it’s strep, or perhaps it’s a case of mono.
I finally completed all I could and left work for the pharmacy to order Gilly’s new medication. I called Yaron and asked what I could bring for him, but he was on the floor unable to stand due to constant vomiting. I decided to just come home and care for my men, as I should have been doing all day. How do you prioritize when your job requires you to perform, yet your family needs you? Where does it end? My family is always top in my books, but someone has to earn a living, pay the bills and keep the health plan active, so I have to make uncomfortable choices.
I found Gilly sprawled out on the couch downstairs, oblivious to his son’s physical state on the upper story of the house. I asked if he ate lunch, and told me that he and Jerry had eaten out. “Good,” I thought, “supper will consist of the lunch already packaged and waiting in the fridge. Now I have time to attend to my son.” I was shocked that he had no knowledge of Yaron’s plight; I told him last night and this morning that Yaron wasn’t well. He certainly cares, but is not on top of things outside of his own immediate needs, it seems. I suppose his needs are so great that he just cannot open up any wider to what is going on around him.
I managed to settle Yaron into a semi comfortable state (he is still aching everywhere), and put the house in order. I told Gilly that since he loves the couch downstairs so much, he may want to remain there for the night. Yaron has infected our bed with germs of who knows what sort, so I have to start fumigating before he comes upstairs. Frankly, I just need to put my feet up for a spell, and take a deep breath.
The country is out of the question now, so our summer has officially drawn to a close. We’ll stay close to home and provide warmth and comfort to one another for the next three days before the roller coaster takes us on next week’s ride.
Yaron was asleep, but I stopped in to check on him because he went to sleep with a fever and was up a few times during the night. I told him to call me as soon as he awakens, so I could hear how he’s doing, and perhaps give him Dr. Amdursky’s number to call. He’s not one to read written notes (the apple doesn’t fall far, I suppose). He has not seen the family doctor, since he just turned 18 and loved going to the pediatrician until now.
Did either one of them call me? Nothing came forth from their end, so I had to keep switching gears and remembering to call them.
I encountered snag after snag at work; the information I input into the data base last night refused to print out the way it was supposed to. The technician spent about 4 hours trying to solve the problem; needless to say this seriously delayed my progress.
In the meantime I kept calling Yaron to provide comfort over the phone, but it was not good enough; he was good and sick. I appealed to him to call the doctor, but he said he couldn’t get there himself (close by). I suggested taking a taxi, but he insisted he could not. I was worried, but didn’t feel it was a life and death situation, so I chose to remain with the task that had to be done (my responsibility as fieldwork coordinator) and told him to try calling grandma. He called me back to say he had made an appointment, and that Grandma (to the rescue) would accompany him. He came home with an antibiotic, much like my scenario last week; maybe it’s strep, or perhaps it’s a case of mono.
I finally completed all I could and left work for the pharmacy to order Gilly’s new medication. I called Yaron and asked what I could bring for him, but he was on the floor unable to stand due to constant vomiting. I decided to just come home and care for my men, as I should have been doing all day. How do you prioritize when your job requires you to perform, yet your family needs you? Where does it end? My family is always top in my books, but someone has to earn a living, pay the bills and keep the health plan active, so I have to make uncomfortable choices.
I found Gilly sprawled out on the couch downstairs, oblivious to his son’s physical state on the upper story of the house. I asked if he ate lunch, and told me that he and Jerry had eaten out. “Good,” I thought, “supper will consist of the lunch already packaged and waiting in the fridge. Now I have time to attend to my son.” I was shocked that he had no knowledge of Yaron’s plight; I told him last night and this morning that Yaron wasn’t well. He certainly cares, but is not on top of things outside of his own immediate needs, it seems. I suppose his needs are so great that he just cannot open up any wider to what is going on around him.
I managed to settle Yaron into a semi comfortable state (he is still aching everywhere), and put the house in order. I told Gilly that since he loves the couch downstairs so much, he may want to remain there for the night. Yaron has infected our bed with germs of who knows what sort, so I have to start fumigating before he comes upstairs. Frankly, I just need to put my feet up for a spell, and take a deep breath.
The country is out of the question now, so our summer has officially drawn to a close. We’ll stay close to home and provide warmth and comfort to one another for the next three days before the roller coaster takes us on next week’s ride.
posted by Gilly at 7:05 PM
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