Can you believe that Ulysses has had a wound vac for nearly SIX weeks? And he still has it? Time is such a fuzzy, meaningless thing when you’re measuring days by nurse visits. Every three days the sweetest nurse ever comes to our house to change his dressing. We totally lucked out on the home health nurse front, and were assigned someone wonderful who lives -surprisingly!- just a few blocks from us. Isn’t it funny how you can live in a small town for so many years and never have met someone before? Uly is not at all happy about being held down on the dining room table twice a week, but his wound is finally shallow enough that his hollering is certainly more about protesting than pain. We used to give him a mL of oxycodone before changes, and he doesn’t need that anymore. Progress!
You know that saying, “the days are long, but the years are short”? I have been thinking about that quite a bit. We’ve been thrown into some kind of exaggerated slow motion parallel universe wherein time CREEPS by in the day to day, but then whammo! Another month is nearly over again and where did it even go? It disappeared in antibiotics and drainage tubes and appointments and laundry and meals and so much stir craziness.
But I do know that we’ll look back and barely remember. I do think that we’ll have better days soon.
And maybe that is why I’m listening to the new Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros song on repeat. I can’t wait until the whole album is released in July; they’re one of my favorite feel-good bands to listen to when I need a boost.
And! while I’m talking feel-good boosts, I have to share something that came to my attention just yesterday. I almost couldn’t believe it when I saw it because I truly thought interpretive dancing to Landslide was my own unique thing. I don’t think there exists any video of me, but if someone in my house is mildly down in the dumps and needs a quick rescue: I sing Landslide seriously while earnestly dancing or doing something unrelated and ridiculous, like, say, juggling a heap of invisible melons. It a perfect mix of silliness and poignancy and will generally even snap the teenager out of a funk. Or maybe she pretends so I’ll stop sooner. I imagine this man’s mother would implore him to put on some pants, but I am still amused enough to share.
(quick pic of Uly and I in our natural habitat, which is the bedroom rocking chair where I attempt at least once a day to weasel a nap out of him. next time I should brush my hair and do it on purpose! I am not photogenic but I am honest. And, what if I accidentally tapped into some kind of a cultural meme in which exaggerated dancing to Landslide is a thing and I didn’t even know? Is it a thing? do you do it, too? no? it’s just me and this guy, huh?)