Good Lord, it feels good to be productive again.
I haven’t worked since July of 2012. I was a hospice nurse (still am in my heart), and I couldn’t drive the 100+ miles per day to see my patients out in rural Texas. I miss it..
I signed up for a contract job through a company that runs heath fairs and administers flu shots. I used to work in the immunization department of the local county health department, and I left because I was bored. But it is the perfect way to get my feet wet and get back to work.
So I sit in Walmart and watch the people go by. I talk with the old people and the curious. And I occasionally give shots. I did 15 today.
And finally, pay day.
First order of business? Give my dad some money.
I don’t know what happened, but the other day, he hugged me, said he was proud of me, and that he was happy I was living with them again.
I can’t tell you how wonderful that made me feel. And it felt great to be giving him something toward the household bills, since we are now one big hippie commune.
My first instinct is to scoop up my husband and go to the Melting Pot to celebrate. But I want to wait until we get a couple of paychecks under us first.
The day to day is a little rough. I’m still exhausted and in pain most of the time. But I’m getting through it. Administering flu shots for 5 hours a day isn’t strenuous. But having to get up at 5 am, running my husband to work, running Sunshine to school and then getting my own self to work is draining.
People take their energy and pain free lives for granted. Seriously.
The energy required to get out of bed, put on clothes, find and eat something, getting your shit together and out the door is mind boggling. Never mind having to get a first grader out the door.
But its working. So far. I’m just dead tired when I get home and vegetate till dinner. Sunday (my only days off until the end of September) found me near comatose for most of the day.
I really didn’t need any energy for that debacle that was the Pittsburgh Steeler game. When does hockey season start?
So now I’m in to week two. I just hurt. But its fibro hurt, not autoimmune hurt. I’m so glad my parents have a garden tub.
It’s amazing how much stress is relieved when you don’t have to worry about when the lights will be turned off or if you are going to be evicted. I’m living the high life with both cable tv (actually satellite), reliable internet access and food that doesn’t come from a Velveeta box.
And living with my parents at 31 isn’t that bad. Right now. They are sharing in the caretaking duties with Sunshine. There are five tvs, so theoretically we can all watch what we want to watch at the same time. I cook and I share those duties with my mom. My dad and husband take care of the dishes. My mom is helping with the backload of laundry.
The only “issue” is Miss Punkin (my cat) and her holier than thou attitude concerning my parent’s dogs.
Silvie is being amazing for a pit. Meaning she hasn’t had my little cat for lunch. Yet.
Silvie tries to be friends, goes up to Punkin and doesn’t get in her face or growl or anything. But the second Punkin catches sight of Silvie, her hackles go up and she hisses. And in the two plus years we have had her, I have seen her hiss exactly one time.
At least Punkin is emerging from under our bed. When we first got her, she lived in our pull out couch for over a week. I’d say that’s progress.
And Sunshine loves her new school. She likes her teachers and she has friends already. Of course. My little social butterfly.
So today, things are good.