Frustration

Wherever I go.
Whatever I write.
Wait that’s not how the song goes…but it is how my writing is going. I can take my thoughts and creativity wherever there’s a computer. Another excuse removed by my amazing little Traveldrive that I got for Christmas. I’m pretty excited about this.

I wrote some things here at work. Then I wrote some more at home. I made corrections and deletions and now I’m back at work typing in the same files I was typing at while I was home. This technology is so cool.

Wednesday after work Beth and I were supposed to go to M-town to pick up her bed and then go get a mattress set. Well, the guy with the mattresses needed to cancel. Beth was disappointed. She still went to get the bed. While she did that Nelson and I went for pizza at Pizza Hut’s buffet. He showed off a bit, walking in the parking lot without his crutch. He only took about 20 steps and was warn out and had to go back to the crutch. After dinner Beth was back with the bed so I manhandled the monstrosity and got it up to her bedroom.

Thursday after work Beth and I planned to go to get the mattress set. When we got to the place we were disappointed beyond belief. The set that we were told about on the phone was trash—but they would sell us this better version for only $350. That was more than we wanted to spend and I was so irritated that we just left. We went over to Big Lots. They had a set that was still more than we wanted to spend, but Beth liked it so we called Nelson to make sure we had enough on the card. I went back in and wrote a Capital One check against the balance on the card. The clerk had to call for approval and the check approving company denied the check. So we came home empty handed again. I was so bummed. Beth is so uncomfortable sleeping on the futon and it’s becoming more and more difficult for her to get out of bed.

Nelson had his last therapy session Wednesday evening. He needs more. He’s at the doctor right now.

I wrote my therapist a letter. I haven’t seen her since March. It was a good way to think back over the year and examine some of the ways I’ve grown, held ground, and used the things I learned about myself through the course of therapy. It was a good exercise and a good letter.

That said, I must confess that I have nearly fretted about something to the point that I have made myself physically ill. I’m beginning to think maybe I’m not cut out for this job. Ed came to me right before lunch and told me he was shutting down the production line right after they finished the next order. It won’t start up again until Tuesday. That means there won’t be enough work for the team. I need to tell them that they won’t need to come in until next Wednesday. My head assures me that I did everything I could. I know that fiscally it’s the responsible thing—but they just were off two weeks because there wasn’t any work and now at least two more days off next week (we’re closed on Monday).

This level of disappointment has to be the manifestation of all the disappointments of this week—including anticipating bad news from Nelson’s doctor visit. All my perkiness is buried under a thick scratchy wool blanket—like the one I had in jail: very little warmth and no comfort whatsoever.

I just got off the phone with Nelson. He got frustrated with me and hung up. The doctor has told him to stop wearing the walking boot, gave him some smaller ankle support and told him to wear a shoe. I am beginning to think that his man may work well with bones but he is not a healing specialist. A surgeon, yes—but he is so blatantly clueless. Well, he did one thing. He moved me out of disappointment to full blown anger.

He’s still concerned with the swelling, but his solution was to write some note to the therapist that he needs to squeeze the fluid out. Having worn a compression hose for 6 weeks after three months of ace wraps didn’t “squeeze” the fluid out. But what do I know?

The only good I can see that is coming out of this is that he wrote a script for 6 more weeks of therapy, Nelson doesn’t have to go back to work before his next appointment (Feb. 2), and supposedly he’s healing nicely.

And now I have to push away from my desk, go back out on the floor and make boxes and act like nothing is wrong. I don’t think I’m that good an actress. I’ll let you know how I did.