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lizblackdog Jan. 17th, 2010 01:19 am)
lizblackdog Jan. 17th, 2010 01:19 am)*I'm fretting myself stupid over Spike with no real reasons for it except he's seven and he won't stop hurting himself. None of this is new. Spike's always had a ridiculous pain threshold - I've heard him yelp maybe twice in the entire time I've known him and both those times were due as much to the startle factor as any actual pain. This week he's bitten his own tongue twice and bashed his face on a door which gave him a swollen lip for a day. He never even notices this stuff. I should probably just call it his way of keeping my mind off the other shit, for which I suppose I'm grateful.
*Mum's out of hospital, shaky and querulous and driving my sisters batshit. The counsellor in hospital talked her into going to AA meetings but she's planning to take two of her pisshead friends with her, so I know how that'll go. She insists she isn't going to drink again but since she's in complete denial that what she has is, in fact an addiction problem, I am not very optimistic. Unfortunately I'm the one who gets on best with her and the one she responds best to, but I can't talk to her without either wanting to shake her till she gets it or bursting into tears. Fortunately she's a bit too spaced and self-centred right now to notice me crying at her on the phone.
*With Mum out of action I'm screwed for a lift to both the doctor's appointment on Tuesday and the tribunal, and also for anyone to come and hold my hand at the tribunal. I'm already having anxiety attacks about the doctor's since I'm going to have to take a bus to bloody Lansdowne. I haven't even started on the tribunal. Please someone make me phone the Citizen's Advice Bureau on Monday. I have very bad memories of them being as useful as a chocolate teapot years ago when John and I had to deal with British Rail and an industrial tribunal (which we lost, painfully and disastrously) and I really, really don't want to talk to them, much less leave the house and go there. I just think I'm going to have to.
*Mum's out of hospital, shaky and querulous and driving my sisters batshit. The counsellor in hospital talked her into going to AA meetings but she's planning to take two of her pisshead friends with her, so I know how that'll go. She insists she isn't going to drink again but since she's in complete denial that what she has is, in fact an addiction problem, I am not very optimistic. Unfortunately I'm the one who gets on best with her and the one she responds best to, but I can't talk to her without either wanting to shake her till she gets it or bursting into tears. Fortunately she's a bit too spaced and self-centred right now to notice me crying at her on the phone.
*With Mum out of action I'm screwed for a lift to both the doctor's appointment on Tuesday and the tribunal, and also for anyone to come and hold my hand at the tribunal. I'm already having anxiety attacks about the doctor's since I'm going to have to take a bus to bloody Lansdowne. I haven't even started on the tribunal. Please someone make me phone the Citizen's Advice Bureau on Monday. I have very bad memories of them being as useful as a chocolate teapot years ago when John and I had to deal with British Rail and an industrial tribunal (which we lost, painfully and disastrously) and I really, really don't want to talk to them, much less leave the house and go there. I just think I'm going to have to.
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