8/31/21

We have this residual issue in our house where dishes pile in the sink. The dishwasher completes it’s cycle. The dishes are clean but not unloaded and put away. More dishes pile in the sink it becomes unsanitary, no one wants to help and it snowballs from there. There is finger pointing and tattling on each other. Blaming “you didn’t rinse your dish”. The whole 9 yards. It’s exhausting. I hate doing the dishes. So I cook and let everyone else do the dishes and eat the food I make. That the the deal I came up with. Yes it benefits me greatly. But I don’t ask for a lot.

Avery has been unloading the dishwasher for several months now. Ethan isn’t and hasn’t for obvious reasons but now that he is starting to feel better it will become more normal much to his dismay.

I know everyone that has teens goes through their little life struggle with basic human decency whether it’s the dishes, vacuuming or clothes on the floor. Nothing parents can do or say to help them realize what little hurricanes they still are (although Avery doesn’t scatter herself throughout the house nearly as much as Ethan does). It will only be when they get a place of their own, they will keep it in a more sterile environment.

Avery was ready to help with the dishes but I had her help with something else. Ethan was out because he had dialysis.

Ethan has car parts on my chair, remote control car parts on the couch, lap top here, food wrappers there….. he’s a scattered kid with many projects and a busy mind.

 I reached my aggravation point. I did the dishes myself even though I worked longer hours than anyone else today. It’s hard not to get bitter about working long hours, then coming home and sitting in a room doing dialysis for several hours. Then doing the exact thing you LOATHE…..the dishes…..said with a snarky tone and disgusted face.

My aggravation also could be because my leporasy has come back and I am not truly ridden of my poison hog weed. It is so itchy. I understand why some animals gnaw their legs off in the wild. I thought about gnawing My arm off enough to have picked a spot lower than my elbow as my chewing, start point due to the ease of getting it to my mouth as well as prosthetic options. I have decided to weather my roid rage storm…..with both, itchy arms.

I slept like crap last night and had some more roid rage going on. I woke up at 4:30 am….for the day…..and several other times throughout the night because steroids make you have to go to the bathroom more frequently and they make you hungry. What a hot mess.  

I then began thinking about one of the mom’s in one of my transplant groups. I have thought of her nonstop this past week. Her son received his heart within the past month. His recovery was rocky just like Ethan’s. Very, very quite similar. He was unresponsive, on the vent for a few weeks. His parents were desperate as the days passed on, that their son would try to communicate with them in some small way, like a hand squeeze. They had their front row seats to their own hell. I think about how much hope they had that he would be one of the lucky ones that will eventually grow stronger. As I read that their son passed away, I cried for them. Their son was 25 years old. This is the life of a heart warrior’s mom. You keep them going until you can’t.

I think about how that mom would give anything to crab at her son about him not unloading the dishwasher or to get after him for wrappers on the couch. He son passed away about 4 weeks after his heart transplant. Her son was into fixing up cars, particularly Volvo’s. 

We were about 4 weeks out when Ethan had his second cardiac arrest. We were so very close to losing him. It makes the thought of having him scatter his car parts throughout the house more of a delight than anything.

It’s funny how your mood can change when you change your perspective. My bright spot was finding my way back to gratefulness. Grateful for our outcome. Grateful for our plan for kidney transplant. My heart breaks for this other family as I can not imagine nor do I want to, the torture of losing your child. The next time your kids are driving you bonkers, just know another family is grieving the loss of their child.  Hug them and just know that someone can’t hug their kid.