It was my last day of "work" at the U. hearing lab. I've known for a while. In fact, I thought it would end a few weeks ago, but they continued to "find holes" in my data, so they kept me coming in.
For my last day, I wanted to treat it extra special, so I made it a point -- a real point, taken seriously -- to come in as early as possible, not ten or even 30 minutes like recent sessions before. My sister and brother-in-law didn't take the car in the morning like I thought, so I could leave any time -- no excuse, not this time now that this may be the last time I "work" this experiment.
I was able to find parking even with the special restrictions made by the city due to the abnormally snowy winter we've had so far. And then I went to McDonald's with enough time that I wasn't totally panicking about how I had to chow my food down, even though I could've used a little more. I was five minutes late for "work" -- compared to how tardy I was to my days last week, I should be rewarded.
Anyway, I wanted to make sure that if this was my last day, I would complete all my runs. I had some PCA timesheets I needed to fill out and put in an envelope, but I thought I would have enough time to do that. Except that I didn't; just before I planned on taking my break and going to the bathroom for my regular 15-20-minute shit, I was done. With everything.
So as I got my things together, my supervisor, the one I've known all these years and administrated all my experiments before getting somebody else to do it in order to free up her workload, she, without me saying hi or anything, said she'll get back to me as soon as she knows which direction to take her work with me.
And it is at that point where I thought that there is no chance I will ever do hearing experiments at the U. lab again. No chance that I will ever see her again. That I will ever make money for this study ever again. And now with no $60 in petty cash to make every week, I am now very, very underemployed.
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Once again I failed to get home in time to see the beginning of the national nightly news, damn!! And I parked right outside the coffeeshop too -- I was willing to put my car in reverse just so I could get home faster!!!
Just as I turned on the TV and saw the anchors already going through their rundowns, Grandmother came out of her bedroom. She's always done that, coming out when she hears commotion in the common area of our house, like a moth attracted to a flame. But she had something sadly special for me tonight.
She went to the doctor's today. Didn't tell me till before I was about to leave; she wanted me to take her blood sugar level, and then she told me she wanted her blood pressure, then she was bringing to the doctor two bottles of the same pill -- has she been taking pills from both bottles?
She was saying that at the doctor's they shot her with a needle into her stomach. But then she showed me the papers. What she was describing wasn't an operation or a test done on her, like I thought; it was a prescription. One of these papers was a series of illustrations to show symptopms of hypoglycemia. Another one had instructions on how to use an insulin injector.
My Grandmother now needs to use insulin.
That realization became real to me when the nurse from Grandmother's clinic rang the doorbell. She actually was there to return the diabetes testing kit Grandmother left at the clinic. In retrospect I was lucky that she dropped by; I had questions I needed to ask her. Grandmother is diabetic; the insulin injection and warnings about hypoglycemia are there to appropriately administer the insulin and make sure the blood sugar that is normally too high in her doesn't get too low.
As for why this is all necessary, she put it succinctly: There comes a point where the body doesn't produce insulin anymore, and the pills Grandmother was taking is no longer useful.
She's dying. Grandmother is dying. The secret fear I have had all my life, that the people I know and (sometimes) love will leave me is coming true. I can't stand facing this fact.
But you know what? I have to admit something bad, and cruel, and selfish. When I finally put two and two together, all I could think of was how much more shit was piling up for me. This increased step in medication was something I know I will have to do, and this is so drastic that it will affect my life. For example, I saw the prescription. An insulin shot has to be taken before breakfast and dinner. Grandmother's 84, doesn't understand a fuckin' word of English and forgets easily -- no goddamn way can she do this for herself, so I will have to do it for her. From now till ... forever.
So now I see my Grandmother's mortality staring me right in the fact, but in the meantime I have to wake up at 8:30 the morning to stave off that fate. Her friend is coming over at that ungodly hour to teach both of us how to use and inject that thing. I can't help but think, I didn't sign up for this shit. That's why I'm blogging past 4:30 in the morning.
But I have no choice, do I? Leave Grandmother to her own devices and she will die.
So many changes ... too many changes. ...
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