We adopted a new dog last night. His name is Charlie, so I guess I'll have to come up with a new pseudonym for my two year old grandson. Charlie is a sweet, gentle dog who appears to be at least part Rhodesian Ridgeback. He gave us all a lot of kisses last night. I personally don't like dogs kissing my face, because they lick their asses, but I did manage to avoid being kissed on the lips by him:) He and Heidi had fun playing together last night and he seems to like what was Lucy's chair.
We had a guardians meeting this past week and it went well. Lori, Gracie's mom, seems to understand that Gracie is mentally ill. Gracie's younger sister, Kayla, still holds out hope for Gracie. Right now though, things will stay the same. Gracie visits Jack at her sister's house and Jack does not stay with Gracie in her apartment; Jack seems good with this too. Jack loves his mom but doesn't want to live with her. She can't take care of him; she can't even take care of herself. We have a year to sort things out about where he'll live when he starts school. Kayla is not healthy and finds Jack tiring to care for, but she loves him too and wants to do what's best for him. She's starting to realize how messed up her sister is. Kayla is young, just turning thirty this month, and doesn't have any experience with children. She also has a hard time with me telling Jack the truth about things like the fact that his dad is in jail, or not, and that his mama is sick (mental illness is an illness). Not my probelm though. I'm not going to lie to my grandson to make Kayla feel more comfortable about the trauma that Jack has lived through in his short life.
Yesterday I had a forty-eight year old patient who came in for an MRI, with his mother. He had severe back pain from a fall but it was compression fractures, not pathological fractures (caused by cancer tumors) in his spine. The patient has a very rare form of cancer, angiosarcoma. He stayed with us for awhile, until his pain killers kicked in and his oncologist also came and talked to him. He's palliative now he told me (no further treatment, just comfort measures until he dies). As I walked the patient and his mother to the door of the building, I asked the mother how she was doing. She teared up and told me that she had lost another son to this same form of cancer and that her husband had just died in March. I gave her a hug. It's heartbreaking how much grief people carry around with them.
Life goes on, as it does. I've been reading blogs but not leaving many comments. I still find I'm very tired from being back to work but it's getting better. A new dog will get me out and walking more which will help with the fatigue and improve my overall fitness. Staying home for almost seven months and just getting older has really deconditioned me and I want to improve my fitness level. I used to racewalk and I lifted weights for almost twenty-five years. Now I just need to get back at some kind of fitness regime that fits into my life. The exercises that the physio gave me to do for my sore knee worked wonders thankfully and also made me realize how out of shape I am. I want to be able to keep up with Jack as I age and he grows up.
My swearing is getting worse. We've been watching "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel" and Susie swears like a motherfucker, which I quite like.