We survived week one and are into week two of "surrogate mama" Roni. This "sh*t happens" situation hasn't been easy for any of us, but we're making it work.
My niece and I have fallen into a routine: I get up at 5 a.m. (UGH!) to get ready for work; at 6 I wake her up, wake her up, wake her up until she finally rolls out of bed, gets dressed, and slurps down some cereal while watching TV; then I get her to school by 7:30 so I can get myself to work by 8. She walks to her house after school and I pick her up there after I finish work at 4 p.m., she gathers clothes for the next day, then I drop her off at the hospital for a visit with her mom until 6:30. The rest of the evening we do our own thing -- she watches "The Voice" or some other teenager-type program in the sitting room and munches "her food" (how she can exist on baloney, cottage cheese, pickles, and Reese's Puffs cereal, I do not know!) while I sip wine (for purely medicinal purposes, it's much cheaper than Prozac!) in the living room and veg out on "Big Bang Theory" or read. DMan has been a gem through all of this, cooking us hot dogs and home fries one night when he was off work so we could eat as a "family," even picking up my niece one day after school when I had a doctor's appointment.
My family has also stepped up to help out. This weekend my sister K kept my niece so DMan and I could take a road trip to some wineries that we had planned a long time ago. Man, did we need a break! And I'm sure my niece enjoyed the break from me. Sister K has three boys, so she knows a lot more about kids than I do. They made jewelry together, watched scary movies and had pizza night, so my niece really enjoyed her weekend too. Even though my parents and Sister S (with the broken leg) still aren't speaking, they have provided a walker and commode chair for when Sister S can go home.
Speaking of going home, we had a major scare last week. Mercy Hospital was going to send her home with NO corrective surgery and that evil looking rod-and-screw contraption on her leg. Their thinking was the swelling needed to go down before the trauma team could operate. What a nightmare that would have been, her trying to take care of herself and my niece when she couldn't even move around. Mercy eventually came to their senses and kept her in the hospital (I'm guessing they feared the liability of sending someone home with no insurance or job or means to get follow-up care, but regardless, I'm thankful they didn't make a bad situation even worse), but days went by and nothing happened. Then she was supposed to have surgery last Friday, but the trauma team had emergencies come in overnight and she got bumped. Finally, she had the corrective surgery yesterday, which entailed putting a plate on her tibia and repairing the knee cap as best as they could. Now her leg is bandage-wrapped and in a brace that's even heavier than the rod contraption, complete with drainage tube and measuring container (EEW!). Someone from the trauma team is "supposed" to come by tomorrow (so far nothing the trauma team said they would do has happened when they said it would) to take off the bandages and check her progress. Then we'll know more about when Sister S can go home, my niece can get back to her normal teenage life, and I can get back to my hopefully-less-crazy one.
My niece and I have fallen into a routine: I get up at 5 a.m. (UGH!) to get ready for work; at 6 I wake her up, wake her up, wake her up until she finally rolls out of bed, gets dressed, and slurps down some cereal while watching TV; then I get her to school by 7:30 so I can get myself to work by 8. She walks to her house after school and I pick her up there after I finish work at 4 p.m., she gathers clothes for the next day, then I drop her off at the hospital for a visit with her mom until 6:30. The rest of the evening we do our own thing -- she watches "The Voice" or some other teenager-type program in the sitting room and munches "her food" (how she can exist on baloney, cottage cheese, pickles, and Reese's Puffs cereal, I do not know!) while I sip wine (for purely medicinal purposes, it's much cheaper than Prozac!) in the living room and veg out on "Big Bang Theory" or read. DMan has been a gem through all of this, cooking us hot dogs and home fries one night when he was off work so we could eat as a "family," even picking up my niece one day after school when I had a doctor's appointment.
My family has also stepped up to help out. This weekend my sister K kept my niece so DMan and I could take a road trip to some wineries that we had planned a long time ago. Man, did we need a break! And I'm sure my niece enjoyed the break from me. Sister K has three boys, so she knows a lot more about kids than I do. They made jewelry together, watched scary movies and had pizza night, so my niece really enjoyed her weekend too. Even though my parents and Sister S (with the broken leg) still aren't speaking, they have provided a walker and commode chair for when Sister S can go home.
Speaking of going home, we had a major scare last week. Mercy Hospital was going to send her home with NO corrective surgery and that evil looking rod-and-screw contraption on her leg. Their thinking was the swelling needed to go down before the trauma team could operate. What a nightmare that would have been, her trying to take care of herself and my niece when she couldn't even move around. Mercy eventually came to their senses and kept her in the hospital (I'm guessing they feared the liability of sending someone home with no insurance or job or means to get follow-up care, but regardless, I'm thankful they didn't make a bad situation even worse), but days went by and nothing happened. Then she was supposed to have surgery last Friday, but the trauma team had emergencies come in overnight and she got bumped. Finally, she had the corrective surgery yesterday, which entailed putting a plate on her tibia and repairing the knee cap as best as they could. Now her leg is bandage-wrapped and in a brace that's even heavier than the rod contraption, complete with drainage tube and measuring container (EEW!). Someone from the trauma team is "supposed" to come by tomorrow (so far nothing the trauma team said they would do has happened when they said it would) to take off the bandages and check her progress. Then we'll know more about when Sister S can go home, my niece can get back to her normal teenage life, and I can get back to my hopefully-less-crazy one.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Feel free to post your comment anonymously. All comments are appreciated!