I think I needed to process it out loud with a few friends before I jumped on here to blob/blab about it.
There's so much emotion around it all, that I don't even know where to begin.
Let's start with G'ma. She's been accepted into a nursing home August 1st.
This brings up so much for Papi. My love feels immense guilt about us not being able to care for the old bird on our own.
I have to be honest, I feel a lot of guilt too. Even though, as a couple, we've taken care of the old fart for 4 years while we lived in this dark basement, I still feel bad that it's time for us to start our adventure of married life together.
Most people, when they get married, embark on their lives together and start making memories. We haven't been able to do this, because our lives have not been our own. Our lives have been about taking care of poopy pants upstairs.
G'ma is really needing this though. She's not able to be alone at all and really needs so much more than we can give her.
We have to watch everything she does, lock away the cookies, booze, pills and hearing aid batteries, not to mention monitor her eating. We have to remind her to eat her meals.
Occasionally, she'll ask for her sherry at 10 a.m. and I have to be the parent and remind her that it's not the right time of day for her to take a nip at the bottle.
It really is a full time job, and I'm not capable of too much when my bitch of a back starts her fucking whining.
G'ma doesn't quite get that when I'm in a state of pure ouch, I'm not able bodied during that time.
Point is, the month after she's in her home, the house goes up for sale.
When the house sells, Papi and I will go home shopping in the DR!
Then I may have to come back and waste away my dream life, awaiting trial for my court case with a bunch of folks who don't realize that I've paid my insurance for years to be protected in the case of an accident.
They feel the need to say, "Nope. You don't get to be taken care of after being hit on your motorcycle, donned with brain injury and lifelong pain, even though you paid for the security of it. Nope. We don't want to give you the support you paid for."
In any other business, this would be called false advertising.
However, that's a different story I don't need to get into, because I'd rather think about the good things in my life and getting better. All that stuff is up to my lawyer.
My job is to keep working at getting better. No money in the world will take away what Papi and I have had to go through with this accident.
Anyway, this means that the process of The Great DR Purge has switched into high gear, and I started my Spanish lessons last night.
I can't be going there with broken Spanish, especially when I try to say, "I'm hungry," but it comes out as, "I have man."
It was soooooo cool to be able to put all my vocabulary into sentences last night.
I know I won't remember most of it, because I need a lot of repetition with this residual post-concussive trauma, but at least getting started will help me learn my grammar for when we get there.
Anyway, back to the purge.
What the hell are we going to do with all this stuff?!?!?! Massive Garage Sale Gala is what.
Yet the whole point of this blob/blab of the day is, it's heart pounding excitement mixed with debilitating fear!
The unknown is coming closer!
The adventure of a lifetime is walking up our driveway, and she's got a basket of thrills to share with us, complete with a saucy smile from ear to ear that says, "Ooooh, Nelly are you in for a blast!!"
She kinda looks a little psychotic to me, but that's cool. I can handle psychotic.
... and now i know how to shoot a gun in case she gets outta hand ...
Still, it's hard to decide which emotion to feel at which time.
Guilt? Joy? Fear? Trepidation?
Yes. All of the above.
life is a thrilling amusement park ride