I am shaking my pompoms like a madman on too much coffee. (think of Renfield after an 8 shot espresso with a double shot of simple syrup) at my dad, mom, sister, brother-in-law, nieces (the 11-year-old that kidnaps me for archery) and the 15-year-old that is in the middle of the teenage angst.
Meanwhile I am the fun uncle that shoots so that he shaves the feathers off his arrows. (That downside? I did not bring fletching equipment! Ack! … Oh well, shooting a bare stick is better than not shooting at all.)
I also sit down with the 15-year-old and tell her about dads who seem to have withdrawn. Meanwhile that dad is on my list to chat with. HIM I can pour a bourbon with. (Me, rum, or vodka with a splash of tabasco)
My question, how much longer can I do this without weeping in the corner? My teeth feel sore. I am grinding them.
I stand out in the back yard and stick my finger up into the sky. (you guess which one from a defiant gesture. Anger at the butthead that allows such illnesses.
But alas. I focus here.
Mama Dash. Ill, possible multiple myeloma (bone cancer)
Papa Dash: Recovering from surgery, but he “DFO”d in the hospital the first night and the pregnant nurse did the CPR thing for a moment. Now he has a bruise that is impressive, something i am watching for spread or swelling that might indicate internal bleeding.
Sister Dash (Tough enough for me to call her Sister Sledge-hammer)
3 years after an accident, plates removed from her ribs, S. Aureus found causing an infection, she has no ETA of release. Multiple, strong antinbiotics going in. Does this mean MRSA? I have not asked, I should….ugh. *face palm*
Keep you posted.
Will go to writing a fiction thing in the morning.
I’m tired, again.
The Fave author …