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Good grief.

Wednesday night was SO fun...and yesterday was awful. I was on the verge of tears all day. I had to go to my hubby's work Christmas party, and asked him to come and pick us up (which is what he usually does). It's very difficult and exhausting to take Jacob anywhere on my own. Besides the fact that I can't tighten the straps on his carseat as tight as they should be. I just don't have the grip or arm strength. It gets pretty snug, but not as tight as it probably should be.

So he is super-stressed at work. They are nearing the end of a 10+ million dollar expansion, and doing start-ups this week. It's just a pain in the butt. (Not to mention that something started on fire as he was leaving).

At supper last night I said to him, "So work is really stressing you out, huh?" And he's like, "It's not so much work as it is stuff like today...having to come and get you and Jacob. I should have just asked you to take the car." OUCH. (I ended up taking Jacob home by myself because when he came home to get us, he took the truck). I just lost it. He was like, "What's up?"

I told him I haven't been telling him how I feel because I know he's stressed and I didn't want to add to the mix...but that I feel like I'm sick when it's convenient for him...like when he doesn't want me to go anywhere, or do anything. But when it INconveniences him (messy house, having to pick me up, etc.) then I'm fine to do whatever. I FINALLY got it out. I've been feeling that way for MONTHS.

PLUS, even though I felt lik sh!#, I tried really hard to look nice, wore a new necklace and earrings, a pretty black and purple shirt (no, not my new one, Joanna!). I put on some black shoes. They looked really cute. However, I KNEW I wouldn't be able to walk well enough because of my balance, so I got my cane. THAT'S when Doug called to say I would have to drive home. So...I changed my shoes so I could walk better. Stupid clunky sh!#-kicking shoes. Nice.

Did Doug tell me I looked good? Nope. Did he even notice? Nope.

I know part of that is just a man thing, but I feel like I'm so alone in this house with this disease, and I told him as much. (For any of you who know or see my husband and read this blog, please don't say anything to him...) He's (and to some extent I have) fallen into the trap of "Oh, we're married now, I don't need to be as nice and sweet as I did when we were dating or first married. And when I have a couple of good days, it's like he forgets my limitations.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade my husband for anyone in the world. This man slept on the couch for SIX MONTHS while I was in a hospital bed in our living room when I first got out of the hospital. He had to suction my trach several times a night. He still worked full time, took care of me full time (someone came to stay with me during the day while he was at work). He is a hard worker and wonderful provider. He is super smart and ingenious and clever. I know he loves me and I trust him with my very life. He is faithful and a Christian...He is my earthly ROCK. (But as you know, rocks aren't very sensitive!) Sorry, couldn't resist.

It felt good to get it all out, and we'll just see what happens from now on. Probably the same thingf that always happens. Things change for 10 minutes until something else comes along. {Sigh}

It's been a crappy couple of weeks with the trach. I'm going to have to make an appointment to see the ENT in January...I may just need a new trach. The one I have is a year old. Maybe that's the problem. I keep tripping over the stupid dogs, and wrenching my hips. It just gets old being able to name what's RIGHT about you more quickly than what's wrong.

Oh, and to top it all off I took the Dr. Oz "Real Age" test. I'm 52. Nice. Well, sometimes I feel like 90, so I guess that's not TOO bad!!