Wednesday, July 24, 2013
From Feast to Famine
We survived Huntsville and the diabetes and the surgeries and then more surgeries. The girls and Gary were ready to go. As much as a loved being 'home' I concur.
Events seem to be on the right path once we arrived in North Texas. We bought a small house with a big yard.
Gary was hit with another diabetic ulcer(wound) on his foot. The same damn foot with a toe and a quarter-less than he had originally. After three weeks of struggling, worrying and fighting with each other, we found out that there was no bone infection. THAT is always good when it comes to diabetic wounds. But he's not clear for take-off yet and no road crossings for a while either, in case you were wondering. After close to $300 in changing antibiotics, he is down to one inexpensive one and no cigarettes. After over 40 years of smoking, he quit cold turkey.
He quit because smoking cuts off all oxygen to his blood and no blood flow is a no-go when it comes to diabetes. He likes to make a big show of it and blame me and, yes, I am partly to blame. I did threaten that he would have to live with his mother and sister if he didn't. Hey, logic and statistics hadn't worked in 24 years so I needed a new tact. And I would rather see him overweight from too many hard candies(to attempt to conquer his nicotine fits) than I would see him with that nicotine dripping down his throat!
So here we sit with Daddy being bored and constantly shadowing me which only means one thing. I can't work! I can't stitch, I can't bead, I can't create jack people. If I don't create, I don't make an income and this isn't exactly the place of streets flowing with ample employment.And instead of becoming like my friend the great angst ridden chicken at the top of the page, I'm going to end up....
Part Three How she hated being the odd man out; the who one who always knew they were talking about her yet but their eyes, their man...