Emotional Day 4

There was almost a breakfast dish served that consisted of a 96 year old Alzheimer's patient/child today.

I'm going to do my best to hide in my dungeon, lest she push me over the edge and I turn her into stew.

I didn't need to have a baby of my own.

I've got the G'ma.

Not the best person in the house to have while someone is healing from surgery.

There is no chance of recovering with the old fart up there.

Papi's sleeping because his body is used to being that way until about 3.  You know.  The Graveyard Coma.

I did my best to support the old bird, but as I stood before her with the ice packs, the chin strap, the swollen face and inability to speak, the old poop upstairs still managed to make everything about her.

Her little old lady feet shuffled in the absolute wrong direction I wanted her to go.  She was actually trying to bully me out of the way because I was weak!

"Gramma!  The HandyDart driver is waiting!"  I squeaked in my very best ventriloquist voice.

Her retort almost made me choke.  "But he's not supposed to be here until 11!"

It was 11:15.

She thought her only worry in the world was getting her make up on to visit her sister.

WRONG!

Do you see this person standing in front of you with chipmunk cheeks, a permanent ice pack and face sling in front of you?

You say you can't hear me.

You know why?!?!

Because I had mother fucking jaw surgery you crazy old bat!

I was forced to literally rip her lipstick out of her hand, almost as if she was experiencing her terrible two's once more.

I was more than ready for the toddler temper tantrum to follow.

I walked her to the door while she struggled with all her might to get back to the bedroom to put make-up on.

The dear HandyDart driver at the door didn't recognize me, his co-worker.

Hell.

I don't even recognize myself.

But you could see it in his eyes that I was going to lose it on this old lady if she just didn't get out of my swollen face space.

He helped out.

"C'mon, Betty, let's get you to the bus."

He gave me a side glance and reassuring smirk of, "I've got it from here."

I closed the door and cried a couple of tears.

Not because of the pain, but because I was frustrated and couldn't yell loud enough to communicate with the craziest lady on the block.

... that would be the old bird ... my day will come on some other 24 hour period ...

Not to mention, I still hadn't taken care of my own broken jawed self today.

All I wanted to do is get back to my cozy hole in the couch that I've created.

My water, my facecloth to wipe up the food from my face, the remote control, my bib, my pills, pain killers and phone.

The phone is really only so I can play Angry Birds.  I can't talk right now anyway.

Well, she's gone now.

Time to drizzle ice cream down my chin and wait for the pain killers to kick in to relieve me of physical pain, even if there's not a damn thing I can do right now for the emotional turmoil of having to deal with a 96 year old while I'm recovering from surgery.

this too shall pass