Are We There Yet?

On Sunday, Chris realized he was sick, so stayed in bed for the better part of the day (after we went to the farmer's market to get fruit and veggies). Around 5 p.m., when I started making dinner, I noticed the refrigerator making a loud buzzing noise. I never heard it before, yet instinctively knew there was a serious problem. I checked inside the unit to see if anything appeared to be to thawing, and was correct; the refrigerator portion was not cold, and the stuff in the freezer was thawing. I hesitated to tell Chris, because he was sick and trying to get rest, but after an hour and a half of listening to that noise, I couldn't take it any more. When it was time for dinner, I went up to get Chris, and tell him the news: 1) it's time to eat, and 2) I think the fridge is broken.

After dinner, I cleaned off the top of the fridge, he pulled the unit away from the wall, and I got behind it to vacuum all the dust and scrub the floor. It was a real nasty mess back there, and afterwards, the compressor started to sound better, so we thought all it needed was a good cleaning. We went to bed, thinking we'd probably have to get a new fridge, because getting the compressor fixed on this one was going to cost about the same. He researched refrigerators before he fell asleep, and realized it would be about $500--money which we didn't have currently.

I woke up at 5:45 the next morning, because I needed to leave at 6:30 a.m. to drive to Middletown to get Jacquie's husband to work, and I wanted some hot tea before I left. When I entered the kitchen, I heard the loud, buzzing noise again, and thought: "Oh, crap, how long has that been going on?" I checked the unit, and everything in the freezer was more than partially thawed; our ice cream had leaked out all over the bottom of the freezer. Panicked, I cleaned off the large chest freezer (also in the kitchen), and started taking things from the small freezer and putting it in the big one. I wiped it out, so the ice cream wouldn't cause more problems, and then closed the door.

Or so I thought.

I opened the fridge door, bent down to get a gallon of milk and a couple of items to put in the chest freezer, and STOOD UP.

However, the door to the freezer was partially opened and the left side of my head slammed into it.

I dropped to the floor, seeing stars. I felt nauseous and panicked a little more: I couldn't throw up! I had to leave at 6:30 to go to Middletown. I started to cry, though, because the pain was so great, and after a few moments, found an ice pack and sat in the living room. I talked to my brother, who leaves for work at 6:30, and we discussed the abdication of the current Catholic Pope. He then left, and I did about 5 minutes later. My head hurt, but I chalked it up to stupid clumsiness; I'd hit my head before, and figured I'd be okay once I got back home, got some food and drink and took ibuprophen.

I realized I was greatly mistaken when I was almost to Jacquie's house. My head hurt so much, and my vision was getting slightly blurry, and it was hard to move my head, limbs, and eyes. I could barely speak, because it would hurt my head. I nearly fell asleep four times while driving, and could have killed people. As soon as I dropped Jacquie's husband off, I called Chris, crying. I told him what had happened. He was so sick and could barely breathe, the poor guy. He was in no shape to take the kids to school, so I did. I pulled up into the driveway, honked the horn, and they came out, and I whisked them off.

Yes, I put more people in danger. Not at all smart, but that "I have to do this, because people are expecting it" feeling took over.

I finally got home, around 9:00 a.m., and in so much pain and completely exhausted, peeled off my clothes, and climbed into bed next to Chris. Around 11:00 a.m., I woke again, this time with my head hurting so much more; my neck, left shoulder, and spine were throbbing with pain as well.

I stayed in my bedroom for as long as possible, because it was dark and quiet. Chris gave me ibuprophen and I thought that would do the trick. I still hadn't eaten, so went into the kitchen to make soup because Chris wasn't feeling well. I had to close my eyes to slits, because all the light was making my head hurt more, and the area where I hit my head was throbbing. Around 12:30, when it was apparent the ibuprophen wasn't working, and I was moaning in pain and stumbling around, Chris called our doctor; he was going to get an antibiotic for himself and we needed to know if I had a concussion. We couldn't be seen until 2:45, though, so I went back to sleep at 1 p.m.

At 2:00, I got up, got dressed, and went to the doctor's. Chris drove the van, because Billy would need my car to pick up Connor at 3:30 (Alex goes to Karate after school and wouldn't need picking up until 6 p.m.). I kept my head down and my hood over my face the whole time; sunlight was a terrible nuisance. Chris had to hold my arm and lead me like a blind person to the building and up to the doctor's office. I had to be examined with the lights out and the door open with the hall lights as the nurse's and doctor's only source of light.

My doctor was not happy that I didn't see him sooner, and that I drove my car after being injured. He discussed with Chris about taking me to one of three area hospitals, because he wanted me to get a CAT scan. Chris agreed to take me to Wilmington Hospital, as it was the closest.

That was *his* big mistake; we ended up sitting there for SEVEN HOURS so I could get a ten-minute CAT scan.

Chris was cross with me, only because I never told him I'd hit my head when it happened. My argument: I didn't want him to be mad that I woke him up when he wasn't feeling well. He, too, was mad at me for driving. I told him he should buy me a football helmet and bubble wrap. He replied: "Yes. I can see it now: 'This is my wife; she's special.' Well, at least I'd be able to take you anywhere!"

After all was said and done, I was diagnosed with having a concussion, was given a Percocet (1/2 last night and the other 1/2 to take today), and prescribed 600 mg of ibuprophen. I also need to get a lot of rest, I can't drive, do strenuous activity, read, watch TV, be on the computer (oops! I promise I'll get off of here when I'm finished writing), or make any important decisions. My injury can last from SEVEN TO TEN DAYS! I have to be seen by my doctor and get his approval before I can go back to doing any of my regular activities.

We didn't get home until nearly 11:00 p.m. I had something to eat, and started to go to bed, but Alex woke up, crying/screaming. He has an ear infection, and needs to see the doctor. Chris gave him ear drops, i gave him ibuprophen, and sat on the floor next to the bathtub while he let warm water cascade over him in the shower.

Billy has to get a filling done today and told me (last night) that he didn't know how to get to the dentist's office, so I wrote the directions down for him. Chris was trying to sort out stuff in the fridge, and figure out what to keep and what to toss. We both had some hot tea and a discussion about what to do; we have no money, we don't know what the hospital bill's going to look like, and we need a new fridge, and our son is ill. We are so screwed this year. I didn't get to bed until 1 a.m. I'm tired, sore, and just really unhappy.

Chris is here today, because he's still unwell, but also because someone has to be with me for 24 hours to make sure I don't have convulsions, get a bloody nose, become confused, or stop breathing. If any of those things happen, I have to go back to the hospital--probably for another seven hours. :/

WARNING: There is some personal financial stuff here. If reading/talking about someone else's finances makes you uncomfortable, please stop reading now. I won't be offended!

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Talked to Chris last night. I relayed to him exactly what I wrote in the last post. He seemed very sad when he realized how he was treating me. He didn't apologize (he never, ever says he's sorry), but offered an explanation as to why he's been on edge: We are in some serious debt, and he doesn't know what to do to fix it. He's ashamed to be in debt again, and it's frustrating him to the point of lashing out at everyone.

He knows he's getting a raise, but doesn't know how much of one--and it won't take effect until July. He's getting less in paycheck, thanks to the new payroll taxes, plus medical insurance went up.

We have three 401k loans that require paying off (totaling $11,000), plus the money for the new windows (about $3000), and various credit cards ($3000). Our electric bill is more than $100 more per month since my brother moved in (it was at $150; it's now at $265), and now we pay for Alex's Karate class ($300 per month). This doesn't include our mortgage, the timeshare, the auto insurance, other utilities, and food.

I know it's not cool to talk about money, but there it is. We are struggling, and not going to deny it.

Gas prices are going up (it's $3.60/gal right now), and it's costing $60 to fill up my vehicle's gas tank, and $150 to fill up Chris' van. Fuel for the van lasts two weeks, while my car's fuel only lasts four days (I have to fill it 7xs per month, because I do a lot of driving). So in a month, we're paying $420 for my fuel, and $300 for his. We can't afford that, so he may start taking the bus.

We are cutting off our television, but keeping the internet; Chris needs that for work, when he *does* work from home. We are not getting rid of the timeshare; we will work around that somehow. It's the three loans, the windows, and the credit cards we have to pay off to give us some relief.

I asked him what I can do to cut costs, and while the answer was: "Stop driving so much," we both know that's not possible right now. Chris asked me to try to use the dryer less, which I can do, but there's no way around some of the other bills. We refuse to take Alex out of Karate; it's good for him. We will use our tax refund to pay one of the 401k loans and all the credit card bills.

He warned me that money is going to be severely tight until April. I understand that, I said, but definitely don't appreciate being grouched at regularly when a huge problem like this sits on him. Sure, he is the sole bread-winner, but as his wife and partner, I expect he would talk to me when the pressure becomes too much. Some times, I have good ideas--if only he'd speak about the problems.

I am guessing that once this enormous problem is resolved, we can focus on other things, like trying to repair our relationship. I just have to be patient... and I have a difficult time with that. But this is *CHRIS*, a man I love more than anyone I have ever loved, even my own kids (... I know! For shame!), so he's worth it.