Blog. The fancy schmancy one just plain broke. So until it gets back from the repair shop, or I get a loan to buy a new fancy one, I will be driving this one. I couldn’t believe the emails I got, from people I never even knew about, looking for the blog and being unable to see it. First, I was so flattered that people were looking for it, and second, I felt terrible that they had to go to such trouble. So here we are. I hope no one has trouble seeing this one.
WTF. The symptoms, which have been described here in various posts, are really flaring. And I’m even having nightmares about them, in which they’re worse, but I actually wake up feeling the choking, the pain, etc., worse than when I went to sleep. This is truly a revoltin’ development, because all these months, sleep has been a welcome escape. Now, not so much. Please hurry up with a plan, Toxicdoc.
Sammiched. This week I am acutely aware of my position as a hunk o’ baloney in the so-called “sandwich generation.” I am struggling to plan a fifth-grade graduation pool party for my child, having just learned that my mother (84) is now incapable of living in her own home and will need to move some place where she can have help. And I, with WTF and a graduate-to-be, am trying to be of some assistance to my mother, from 500 miles away.
Work. I continue to work a few hours a week, supervising graduate student interns. Today, my boss buzzed me to tell me that my clients were there. I said something like, “I don’t have any clients…” Then I went downstairs to see these alleged clients. Never saw them before in my life, except that I’d walked past them maybe five times in the preceding half hour as I visited with other staffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff (OK, here’s a “EFFING” aside: my F key gets stuck, because I don’t have ENOUGH EFFING troubles without THAT SHIT.) Ahem, where was I? Yea, so I introduce myself, and the mother (family of four, mom, dad, two little girls) tells me her name and that she’s there to see Susan. Duuuhh… “I’m sorry, I don’t know you.” Geez, Louise, these people were clients of another supervisor’s intern, who was graduating. They were in no shape to be “terminated,” so I agreed to see them for her. That was like 6 weeks ago, and I had COMPLETELY forgotten. Of course I apologized like Brenda Lee. And then, as I told Jif later, I gave them 45 minutes of the best damned family therapy anybody’s ever had because they went in thinking I was a freakin’ nutcase, and I knew I’d better show them something. I therapized them all together, in pairs and individually. I don’t have words to convey how mortified I was. My forte (back when I had one, that is), is putting people at ease immediately. And here I could not have made these poor folks more ill-at-ease if I’d walked up and slapped them on sight. SIGH. I think I got them hooked enough to continue as long as they need to.
So that’s my sorry
tale tail. What’s up with you?