Believe it or not, there are other things happening in my life that have little to do with the goings-on inside my uterus. I never did write about our anniversary, but Hubby and I celebrated lucky number 7 a couple of weeks ago. Nothing big, just dinner and speculating about the future.
At the time, we thought he had a decent shot at a one-year visiting professor position in upstate New York. He was officially rejected from that position last week. It seems he’s come in second place again. He won’t say it, but this is a super-stressful time for him. Three migraines in three days is proof enough of that.
He has one more last-chance academic position that he’s in the midst of applying for. But he’s also been applying for plenty of non-academic jobs (for, like, a year), and hasn’t had any luck with those either. The hiring at the company in his home country has been put on hold indefinitely, so the options are slim. I’d have migraines, too.
My dad also remains unemployed (no surprise, at the age of 76) but insists on looking for work and collecting unemployment. It turned out to be a good thing he was available last week because he had to accompany my sister to her tilt table test on Friday.
She’s seen a neurologist who suspects she has Chronic Fatigue Syndrome based on her symptoms. Super fun. This test was either supposed to help confirm that diagnosis or rule out something else. I’m not quite sure. Neither was she. She just said the test itself was panic attack-inducing, especially after they gave her something to increase her heart rate. According to the medical professionals administering the test, her results were normal. So I have no idea what that means. She doesn’t go back to the neurologist until the 16th.
Meanwhile, I work with a woman who has Chronic Fatigue who has been telling me horror stories for years about how badly most people cope with the illness. My sister intends to pursue non-Western treatment for whatever she has, so when I told her the lady I work with is on all kinds of shit for it, she was not pleased. I just hate that this isn’t something that goes away. There’s no cure. You just have to manage it the best you can for the rest of your life. I wish there was a simpler solution for my sister.
Hubby’s dad is out of the hospital, although he did have a brief stay recently when one of his nephrostomy tubes (which drain his kidneys) fell out and had to be replaced. He has a male home health aide with him nearly 24 hours a day, and his lifestyle has changed dramatically. I worry about what effects this loss of independence will have on his mental faculties. (It was moving to a nursing home that took my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s from bad to worse.) But for now, he seems to be in stable, if not great, health. And Hubby’s brother says having another person to talk to all day has helped some with his memory issues.
I wish there was better news to report. I continue to hope that, one day, there will be.