I have no photograph for tonight's post. Tonight's post is all about how people deal with stress. For example, my eighty-eight year old mother repeats phrases over and over and over when she is under stress. The repetiveness goes on and on until it flat drives me crazy. Then I have to shout, "Mom, please!"
People have asked me how I deal with my stress. Well, for one thing, it's not by repetition. It's with a quiver in my voice and tears running down my cheeks. But I can't help it. It just happens even though I think I'm in charge of my emotions. . . but clearly, I'm not. Bruce, our shop foreman for Advent Glass Works, Inc. appeared at my door two nights ago with a crock pot full of chili. And I broke down, crying. I don't know how to accept help.
Today Mom and I got flu shots at the Winn-Dixie in High Springs. Because I am such a whimpy baby, I decided we would go to Conestoga's in Alachua, Florida for steaks afterward to celebrate our flu shots. Today, I found out I'm a bleeder when stuck with a needle. The nurse said, "Do you know, we were at a nursing home yesterday and out of twenty patients, there was only one bleeder." Well, guess what, folks. I am a bleeder as well.
Mama went on to tell this needle shooting nurse that when she took me, my twin, and my brother to get our vaccinations as children, I was always last because I cried the loudest. And the only way to get all of us to get our shots was to have me go last. Ah, ha! That was news to me and maybe explains why I hate needles to this day.
Nevertheless, after a wonderful steak meal, Mom and I came home and settled into our lives: "Judge Judy",
Two and a Half Men", and our favorite, "NCIS". God, we love that show!
But in the meantime, during breaks, I hear my mama repeating things like: "Holier than thou", or "Cats on a Roof", or "Piddle puddle!"
"Mom!" I shout. "Stop it! You're driving me crazy!"
Because I need sanity . . . not craziness.
Anyway, we've made it through the day and night.
But wait. The night has only just begun.
I just received a phone call from Truett and he wants to make sure I bring him a credit card, keys, and money to Shands Rehabilitation Hospital. Unfortunately, because of his pain medications, Truett is not with it. He is delusional. But, Merry Jennifer told him I will bring $5.00 for him to buy stuff. (When, in essence, there is nothing to buy.)
So.
Tomorrow is a new day.
The same fears.
The same repetitions.
Poor baby.
I don't know which is worse: "cat's claws...cat's claws...cat's claws" . . . or "Bring me keys to the car, money and a credit card!"
I visited Truett and he is so delusional because of his pain meds that I finally told Greg, Truett's sitter, "You get paid for this. I'm going home!"
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