I’m tired, which isn’t interesting, but it’s the truth.
The past week has been crazy, most stores have their most hellish week (or month) in December for Christmas, but the farm I work on has Thanksgiving. And it makes sense, it’s an apple for so obviously everyone wants apples and pies and all other bakery and farm goods for Thanksgiving. And it’s not like we don’t get busy at Christmas time, we do, it’s just a different kind of busy. A slower kind of build rather than the sudden hit of Thanksgiving. People know when Christmas is, but people seem to forget about Thanksgiving until right before it happens, and then it’s a rush of shopping for the food that will make their meals perfect.
So it was busy, but luckily my co-worker and I managed to do an awesome job grading apples and were done a bit earlier than planned. It turned out to be serendipitous, because right when I left I got a text from my sister that my dad was taking her to the ER again. That morning she’d had a fever of 102.8, and though it had lowered to 101 she had also almost passed out earlier in the day, so the hospital was the best option.
I rushed home and then just as quickly went to the hospital with my sister and dad. It was a long wait, longer than the past two times in the past few weeks but they seemed to be more thorough, seemed to actually listen to her. But maybe that was just because of the fever, her elevated heart rate (130), and high blood pressure. It all depends on the symptoms you have.
So we waited some more, and then my sister’s boyfriend came, and then I went home. This isn’t something I usually do. Having had family members in and out of the ER and hospital rooms, we are a family that stays until we have answers or until the sick person is discharged. But my sister and dad saw how tired I was (I had woken up at 5:30 a.m. that morning so I could be ready to drive my sister in for work, only to learn just before driving her of her fever. C’est la vie!) and I tried to convince them and myself that I could stay but I knew I couldn’t. I was exhausted, and I knew that going home was the best option, even though it was hard. It made me feel guilty for leaving, it still does. But everyone says self-care is important, I guess I just have to accept that it is and doing so doesn’t make me selfish.
So I went home, had dinner, and just passed out. It was a complete and total blackness without dreams or thought, and though it helped I was still tired when I woke up. I knew I had to though (it was 9:00 p.m., how was I going to sleep that night otherwise?) so I lazed around in bed, and got a text from my sister that my dad and her were coming home. The doctors thought she had pneumonia (not uncommon for her) and gave her antibiotics to take care of it. After a couple days on the pills she seems better. Her voice is coming back and she almost sounds like herself. I hope we’ve finally figured it out.
And it’s just been a lot, physically and emotionally. I don’t feel as anxious as I did a few weeks back, but just a steady tiredness. Like I could sleep for a whole day and feel rejuvenated. Thank goodness for long weekends!
So not I’m in bed, finishing this post, nearly falling asleep as I do. I have a blanket wrapped around me, pajamas on, and then all I need is to edit this post.
And I am ready for bed.
(Picture of my sleepy kitty Tamsin who I miss dearly. ❤ BUT LOOK AT WHAT A CUTIE CAT SHE WAS!!! <3)