Beck and her bad, bad, bad anxiety, a---gain!

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I’ve had a coupla weeks folks.
So…I need to talk. I know. I know. You’ve heard it all before. Beck and her oversharing. :smack:

The lil’wrekker is sent home from university. My Mid-daughter is still at my house. With her entourage of kids and dogs. DIL and kids are in and out.
My anxiety: Is my house still standing?:eek:

Mr.Wrekker has been panic shopping. And dragging stuff in the house. He’s generally not a hoarder. But this COVID has unleashed his power shopping gene.
My anxiety: Is my house cluttered up with endless cartons and packages of stuff?:eek:

My 6 siblings, goofy may they be, are in an endless email loop. Discussing me and my illness. I know because my baby sister gets a perverse pleasure in telling me what everyone’s saying. She elaborates and puts her spin on it. Pretending she’s oh, so innocent. I know her games.
My anxiety: someone may believe her butt-load of crap. :eek:

My pets. At home with people who love me but not necessarily loving them. The lack of details of their daily activities worries me. I’ve been assured they are fine. Almost over assured.
My anxiety: My animals are dead and no one wants to tell me.:eek:

It’s cathartic to say these things. Before my surgery I would’ve argued whether I’d get here. But, here I sit…erm…lay in my uncomfortable hospital bed with the horrible food. Hateful Hilda and her henchmen. Nurses who are condescending. Barely showering.
Locked down in a smelly, plague infested, freezing instution. And, I’m happy.

My staples are out. My pain is minimal. I’m up and about as much as they’ll let me.
My glucose is acting nice again. Alot to be thankful for.

Now how to get food I can actually eat?
Any ideas?
A flyover drop? A hand-off to a willing nurses aide? Paint “Help bring corndogs” on a bed sheet and hang it out the window?

Sonic is right across the interstate. So close yet so far away. (:))

Anyway:
So HAPPY.
I really, really, really am.

My anxiety: I’ll turn into a beck who is no longer bad, bad, bad!

Nah!! Never happen.

2

I’m SO happy you’re happy! It’s the happiest news I’ve had all day! I love that you’re counting your blessings.

Let the worries about the house float away. Before you get sprung, tell your family to put away all survival hoardings. DIL can make that her last mission.

Can you appoint someone to play with/pet/bow down before the meezers–or at the very least, converse with them?

3

The oldest Grand-wrek texts me everytime she gets the cat’s down and plays with them.
It seems she’s the only one who’s actually engaged with them.
She’s a cat wrangler.
She’s had much success with her own cat.
I really do think the cat’s are ok-ish.

I’m trying not worry too much.

4

Ask them to send you pictures, of the areas and items and critters you’re worried about, so you have some visual reassurance.

Former roommate used a dog walking/sitting app, so I piggybacked to have the guy feed my cat while he was at it. (We were both gonna be out of town at the same time.) As part of the service, the dog-cat sitter would snap a quick shot - of the dog while he was out for walkies, of the cat’s food bowl having been refilled, of the dog snoozing post-walk - and I can tell you, we both found enormous reassurance in the daily pictures.

We were paying the guy to do these things, and obviously his ability to attract repeat & future customers depends on a stellar review record, so logically, of course he will feed and walk the dog.

But anxiety is not rational and cares nothing for logic. Seeing the damn proof, looking at the animal’s happy eyes there on your phone, is what reassures anxiety.

So ask Mr. Wrekker and your lovely DIL to send you quick snapshots of the things listed in the O.P. to your phone. Nothing fancy, doesn’t have to be perfect lighting or whatever. They just need to whip out their smartphone and click some candid pictures, then mssg. em over.

5

My new anxiety: listening to the news. I see hospitals are gonna need beds. I need to be out of here.
Hilda came over and ran me through my paces. She claims I’m doing fine. I questioned her about steps. I have a bunch of steps to climb at my house.
She told me how to prepare for it and to trust my legs. And, to have a spotter behind me.
Hilda turns out to not be SO bad, afterall.

Purps, My family are always sending me pix. I look around in the background see things. :eek:
Yep. My anxiety and fear are most likely irrational. It’s kinda who I am. :smiley:

Grand-wrek takes pic of the pets and sends them.

6

hugs the Beck

It sounds like you’re improving quickly, which is awesome!

If things start getting hairy, and your hospital decides they’re going to need the bed, that may well lead to you getting sprung earlier rather than later.

7

Beck, you sound like our old self. You must be getting better.

Don’t know if this will work for you, but my wife had a spiral faction in her leg last Nov. They had to put a pin (If that’s a pin, it’s the longest I’ve seen running from her ankle to her knee.) in.

They said she couldn’t go home from the hospital for about a week until she could get up this set of stairs on her own. The morning of her third day she did it with hands and one good leg going up step by step on her butt, one stair at a time. They let her go.

8

My vote is for hanging the sheet out the window begging for corndogs. If you can get something edible, everything else will be tolerable.

Concentrate on the stair-climbing-exercises. You seem to be pretty much on the honor system for doing these exercises now, so motivate yourself by doing the reps to a chant “I’m going home.”

Let Mr Wrekker do his volume buying. He’s been under LOTS of stress lately, and if hoarding can give him comfort, let him hoard. You’ve got outbuildings that he can fill with toilet paper, right?

He may be envisioning all your Wrekkers coming home to roost for the duration, and he wants to take care of his family. TPTB are saying shelter-in-place has changed from two weeks to “at least a month.” That means you NEED all the Wrekkers around you.

Quit watching the news. Watch the channels with the most reruns, preferably of programs in black and white. Smother yourself in “the good old days.”

Oh, wait, “the good old days” were in the Cold War era, where bomb shelters were en vogue, and kids did duck-and-cover, instead of sneeze-in-your-elbow.
~VOW

9

Beck needs an escape plan

~VOW, lunch was offal Liver/onions. Gah!!! Nasty.
Boiled potato and greenbeans that tasted like the liver. Even the roll tasted bad.

Protein bar and shake. Lunch.

Mr.Wrekker is in town but he can’t get in. So, I guess he’ll go shopping again :smack:

OldGuy, I’ll happily climb stairs on my hands and knees if that’ll get me outta here.

I’m gonna take a walk in awhile. I’m on a mission to find a vending machine or a coffee shop/cafeteria.

b. surviving on my wits.

10

Face it Beck, your greatest fear is the BigWrek lugging in boxes of cattoys the meezers ordered on the internet in your absence.

11

Don’t forget to stick loose change and a few one-dollar bills in your pocket before you go on your reconnaissance, I mean, walk. You said there is a goodies vending machine in the nurses’ lounge, right?

Be prepared to SHARE any snacks with anyone who catches you on your raid, I mean, walk.
~VOW
(One of my faves are those little powdered sugar donuts which are really made with crack cocaine. Make sure you brush away all the evidence!)

12

What floor are you on? Can you tear the sheets into strips and make a rope?

Still no luck finding a stealth helicopter.

dammit.

13

Becks - Physically, do you feel better without Pancho? Can you tell a difference?

StG

14

StG, I felt really good at the recuperation/rehab facility. Til I didn’t. They shipped me back to the hospital.
I caught an infection. Sent my blood glucose into a funk.
I’m convinced it’s a ‘light’ case of plague. They won’t tell me that, OF course.
My back no longer pains me, other that the surgical site and my shingles and starving to death, I think I’ll be okay.
TMI, but I’m pee-ing like a Russian race horse.
So, the water works are working.

As far as telling Pancho is gone, I can’t.
I can tell my rib is missing and it bugs me to no end. I like things to be even and I’m permanently uneven :smack:

15

Don’t worry about the meezers. They have their paws full, with a lot of humans needing training all at once, but they’ll divide and conquer. It sounds like they have already separated a Grandwrek from the herd for one-on one tutoring.

Ask the doctor to give you daily vitamin supplements. They always think the hospital cafeteria is doing an amazing job giving you perfect nutrition, but it doesn’t turn out that way. It’s amazing how much faster you heal with some vitamin “D” coming in, among others.

As for the shopping, well, it can’t hurt. Come August you may be very glad he did it. Worst case scenario you can send it all to the deer camp and expect to find a roll where you need it next time. :wink:

Hang in there girl, we’re all pulling for 'ya!

16

SUCCESS!!

I found the coffee shop.
Through my face mask (the Nurse insisted) I ordered a BLT and Iced Tea (no sugar).

I get back on the elevator. Two people, obviously together, huddle in a back corner. Keeping a respectful social distance. I punched up my floor number. The door opens. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, but before I walked out, I sneezed. I have on a mask, remember. I look back over my shoulder and see 2 people cowering in fright in their corner. I hope they live through this. I wanted to chase after and tell them I’m COVID free. But, alas the door shuts.

My sammich was tasty.
:slight_smile:
b. carefully keeping 6ft away from you.

17

Hooray for some decent food!

18

BLTs are good medicine.

Report to the nurses you seem to have developed an allery to Betadine, and you must go home ASAP.

Then boogie to your room, close the door and laff yer butt off at the two people you terrorized in the elevator! They will never be the same!
~VOW
(PS–request Mr Wrekker put in a supply of your protein drinks along with his other hoarding)

19

Beckdawrek? More like Beck da Intrepid! Good on you tracking down decent food!

I think you need a loooong rope. Have someone below tie a bucket to it so you can haul corn dogs up and down. I’d suggest using it for a Meezer visit, but not worth the inevitable bloodshed.

You have shingles now? Oo-lawd, you poor woman!

20

Independent hunting/gathering is one of the ways they know you’re ready to leave. If you carry a spear and nibble on the plants in the lobby, I’m sure they’ll push you out even faster.

StG