Witness Stage 2 of the grieving process: ANGER

So, clerk at the convenience store, you want to know how I'm doing today?

Let's briefly review the last 14 days:

Dead baby with the defunct due date looming, broken central air, car in shop, can't bear weight on left leg, dog peeing in basement daily, grandma in hospital, another brain surgery for my dad with (surprise) an abscess and a partial damn lobotomy and oh, by the way it's stage three cancer with a bad prognosis (death) and he can't really talk or move his right side.

I'm having knee surgery on Monday with no family to help me take care of my son while I can't walk. My dear husband doesn't want to ask his Mom who would be the most helpful because we've already dumped our kid on her for a couple days almost every week for the last month. And dear husband only has a couple more days off FOR THE YEAR because he took a week off when his uncle died in February and more time off when Ally died. So now he is saving the rest,

"In case, uh, something bad happens." (that's a direct quote from him) So he can't really be there for my outpatient surgery. How I'm getting home I have no idea.

Have I thought about seeing a therapist, you ask? No that hasn't ever occurred to me in the last few years after my mother killed herself, after 3 out of 4 babies died, and after my dad was diagnosed with cancer, etc. etc. I swear I called her, I did. I'm just not sure how exactly I'm going to go and see her when I haven't even gone to physical therapy or scheduled my son's 15 month checkup yet, or had my damn hair cut since January. January.

But hey, nobody died today so I guess I have to say that today has been a great fucking day, thanks for asking.

And sorry, I didn't mean to emotionally vomit on you. Let me get cleaned up and I'll talk to you again later.