12005.28 NPD, Captain’s Log, District 7 of CalCascadia

The stress of the tightly-controlled life in the District may have gotten to us slightly last week, as we lost our shit, as they sometimes still say in the quaint old vernacular. It perhaps started a Saturday ago, when the Matriarch woke up with a red eye and soreness. Likely pinkeye, one would think. We called her doctor’s office and waited for a call back from the doctor on call, hoping that we could get a prescription for eye drops.  Finally, the call came.

Random On-Call Person: Blah blah questions about the eye.

Me: Blah blah answers.

ROCP: You should take her to the ER.

Me: (silence)

Me: For pinkeye?

ROCP: Yes.

Me: ……yeah, that’s not going to happen.

That was Saturday. Sunday, the rash came along, on the Matriarch’s neck. Of course, our first thought was the hellscape that is shingles.

Me: Does it hurt? At all?

Matriarch: No, it just itches a little bit.

Me: Okay, good. Don’t touch it! It’s probably another allergic reaction.

 

Monday morning we are attempting to get some work done. The home healthcare person is there, and I overhear her talking to the Matriarch.

HHCP: Oh this rash! Does it itch or hurt?

Matriarch: It hurts! Not very itchy.

Wait, what?

Me: Wait, what? You said it was itchy! Not painful!

Matriarch: No, it hurts!

Me: Why didn’t you tell me that?

Matriarch: Ow, it’s painful.

The HHCP is glaring me as if I’m a horrible person.  I set up a telecall with the doctor’s office, and wind up talking to a PA who’s extremely thorough and helpful. Really. Given the pattern of the rash, we assume it’s shingles, and she also gets a referral to an ophthalmologist to check out the eye, because that too could be shingles-related.

So to recap. Me, attempting to work on something with a deadline. On hold with annoying music for going on 30 minutes with ophthalmologist’s office. Normalish Brother is talking VERY LOUDLY on the phone, with pressing questions:

“Did Sniffles do terrible?”

“For some reason they didn’t like Cactus and Walrus – it was too adult. I thought it was perfect for kids.”

The Matriarch needs lunch. Kingsly is bored. The doctor’s office is calling with a question. The pharmacy is texting. 

WE HAVE REACHED OUR LIMIT. THIS IS IT.

But because we can’t really do that, we just….keep on. Take the Matriarch to the eye doctor. Pick up her prescriptions. Stay up late working, in blissful quiet. Have a cocktail or six.

We have figured out though how to “help” Normalish Brother with his budgeting issues. He leaves his computer at the Matriarch’s residence overnight, and we will be logging on to fix the cash flow so that it is properly allocated. Every Nickelodeon cent will be going – as it should  - to additional episodes of The Oblongs, with Helga as the star power. This will right the ship forthwith, we are quite sure.

With the meds, the Matriarch is improving and her shingles never got to the extreme “shoot me now” stage, which we know about from personal agonizing experience. In fact, her recovery is proceeding apace to the point that she is now looking at her computer and going through her emails. Which likely means that looking at Facebook isn’t far behind.

We are dead.