Hi ho and hello.
The following is a daily run through life, as honest as possible, with blips, trips, the confusion and mix ups throughout. Given the MS and the ADHD, I hope it’s not a concussed hodgepodge of nonsense. Enjoi!
3:23 a.m. – a tossing of my legs trapped in between the sheets, the Sherpa on top, and the legs are sticky with sweat. I readjust, plump the pillow and test either side placing my face on the cold portion, I move my legs as far apart without bumping her, I drift off.
4:35 a.m. – My body maintains a steady sweating, leaving me shedding the blankets down to the sheet, another readjust, I can feel the tightness of my groin, the fullness of my bladder and lay my head a moment before sliding over to the bathroom. I hear the little one snoring, the dogs sleeping in their kennels shifting, and I sit on the porcelain. The floor is cold, stiffening my feet, following to my ankles, to the knees and I give myself a shake, dab with a square of toilet paper, flush, wash hands and drift back to the bed. The electric, standing heater beside my darlings side kicks on its groaning chatter and my body meets the cold and clammy bed. I shake the phone on the nightstand, it’s 4:40 a.m. I beg for sleep to quickly grace my eyes and squeeze them closed til I drift.
5:30 a.m. – the alarm doesn’t chitter, chatter, it’s a buzzing that wakes and the brightness that gleams from the screen. I stir, but slowly, feeling the air around me, trying to figure out if there’s a thermal shirt nearby. I’m up now, feet bare, standing in my underwear, and slowly rummaging through the basket of clean clothes till I pull a shirt, long socks, and the jeans from the night before. I coat the bottom of my feet with Lumé, Old Spice to the armpits and a soft padded walk to the bathroom again.
6:00 a.m. – an alarm can be heard, it’s my wife’s, it’s stopped. Fully clothed and now with a hoodie on, I wake the little boy, pat his behind and whisper a call to check on his mom, nearly in a stupor he smiles meekly and runs to the bedroom and immediately slips onto the running into his mom as though it was rehearsed. I go to the kitchen, make a smoothie, fill up the 40oz Owala, and pack the little ones lunch. Two protein bars, some cereal, chocolate Belvitas bag, a gorp mix, and a soft peppermint.
6:30 a.m. – I run back to the master bedroom, ask if there’s anything I can get while I ready our son, this is usually when the annoyance builds as I’m talky, our son is ready for the bus and it’s 25 minutes too early.
7:00 a.m. – I help the Mrs, loading the Jeep with her bags, give her a kissa and sign loveydovey things while she backs up and heads out. Shortly after Our son’s bus is cutting up the curb and we bolt to that bus together, one giddy and excited, me irritated the working mundane is veering on in an hour.
7:22 a.m. – the little one is gone, I breathe a heavy sigh, troy on over to the doggos and let them out, at times I’ll have a small puff and a long drag at my coffee while i get them their water and eats.
7:40 a.m – nearing clock-in time for work, I ready my coffee, turn on the mug warmer next to the screens meant for work and solely used for work. I groan and get my UE speakers belting out a track or two while I watch the dogs and count down my time.
7:50 a.m. – Clock-in, get the Citrix hub up and running while I wait idly for 8:00 am. The groaning clock teases me and I punch in for VTO as I’m getting sick and tired of the monotonous rhetoric and I take that first hard gulp of my dark elixir.
8:00 a.m – work starts off with silence, the Microsoft Teams feed that has grown to be a larger annoyance than the calls of irritated Pts needing cancellations, reschedules, and the broad…Calabrio once again fails addressing human need for break times coinciding with appropriate times. Break in an hour, I doodle, scroll through Memento Mori and the popular doom scrolling I believe most of us are familiar with. I grab one of my carts with paints and the brushes needed, an empty canvas and stare off grasping the ideas in my head, with the occasional call interrupting my focus, they’re mundane calls that usually are requesting confirmation for appointment times and the likes.
9:15 a.m – break time, music, a Puff built bar, and bringing the dogs back in for a small nap before lunch. My mind wrestles with worries, needs, and a call for a breath. I close my eyes, enjoy the music until the alarm blares out three minutes before heading back to the grind a room away.
10:55 a.m. – I’m tired now, lunch is coming up, the boy will be arriving within 20 minutes, if that, and I find myself doodling again, sketching, well something, what it may be is an eye, maybe a small smile within the eye, but the phone rings again right before lunch and I grit the teeth and play the role, “Thank you for calling Blah blah blah my name is Matthew, may I have your first and last name as well as date of birth?”
11:10 a.m – Lunch time, the bus pulls up, leaving me little time to rip the headset from my mop and bolt to the door. I may have forgotten to clock out, doesn’t matter. My son and I have gained a tradition since starting school ,
Sorry mates, readers, I’m exhausted, the tests blood work, and the exhaustion from the fretting has left me near stupefaction.
To be continued.
Good night, good morning. Good morning and goodnight.
Nosce Te Ipsum
Dream Dark Stories 