Life ... Interrupted

Today started not too badly … it’s the day to scatter mum’s ashes, so I’m maybe a bit off kilter, but it’s also the day I’m supposed to be going to try out an electric powered tricycle … my version of a mobility scooter … that will give me the ability to get out of the house without having to rely on limited and circuitous bus routes (or, more often, expensive taxis), which will let me take the kids to the park, do some of the grocery shopping, maybe join an adult ed class at the local community centre, possibly even eventually access a small part time job.

Then the kids woke up … all three running blazing temperatures and looking decidedly ill.

I called Dad to say I couldn’t make it today, and could hear the hurt in his voice.  And the bike test ride is off too of course.

But this is my life.

It’s why it’s taken me more than the entire lifetime of my youngest child to get a much needed eye test and new lenses (and far more than the lifetime of my oldest child to get new frames).

It’s why, even though I do, on second or third try, generally make it to my annual dental check-ups, I’ve yet to get back for the urgent treatment I’m always told is needed (I’m amazed the dentist is even willing to keep me on his books still, the number of wasted x-rays and moulds he’s taken over the years).  I can now literally feel my teeth disintegrating in my mouth (the joy of poor genetics when it comes to bones and teeth, or so one dentist once told me).

It’s why it’s literally taken me decades to get my health looked at seriously and a diagnosis made.

It's why I missed both my grandparents funerals in the past 18 months, and only just made it to my mum's.

It’s why I’m just about to cancel, for the third time in a month, my ‘starting life over’ hairdressers appointment … not having made it to the salon more than twice in the last 6 years, and then only for quick dry trims.

And don’t talk to me about the pedicure I’ve been trying to get.  And it's not a luxury - my health means I very often can't bend to sort my own feet and nails out.  Sandals are not an option right now.  

And much as I’d love to, I honestly can’t see how I could take on a job, when I can’t even guarantee attending a one hour appointment with weeks worth of notice.

If it’s not my health, it’s the kids’ health.  If it’s not health, it’s finances.  If it’s not finances, it’s outside influence.  And it’s grinding me down.