Well, at the very least, I was wrong.
I can't take care of myself.
I can't work,
I've turned into a fat useless blob of a person.
Thank you for not saying so. For letting me have my illusions and delusions for a little while longer.
Guess I should have been clued in when you had to regularly tie my shoes for me, and then help with putting on my socks.
That should have told us all a lot, but I know now that we weren't listening.
I couldn't do the job, Rex.
I couldn't do the hours, or the floors, or the repetitive motions of the job. I ended up back in the ER all twisted up. Not like the proverbial pretzel or question mark, but somewhere between the two. I got up to go to work Saturday morning and couldn't stand straight, and it really really hurt to propel myself.
So much for that.
More frightening, to me, was the getting lost while driving thing. The first night I was coming home through Mt Washington. Well, Beechmont.
The second morning I was late because I 'lost' the road to work. Was 5 minutes late that day.
The second evening I found 32 to come home, but I found it via Taylor Rd, where the airport is, and I have no idea how I got on Taylor Rd. I turned left after Amelia High School.
Friday morning, the snow covered morning, I rode up and down the road for an hour trying to find the plant entrance. Once it started getting daylight, I found it, but I was an hour late.
No problems getting to where I needed to be afterward, though. Thank God.
Rex, I have driven those roads all my driving life. I would have thought I could not possibly get lost on c Clough and Shayler and McMann. How did that happen? How is it even possible? Throw in GlenEste Withamsville, and 125, and I should have been home in half the time, not twice the time.
I could see myself on the news as one of the crazy old people who just drive off and no one knows where they end up until they find them starved and dehydrated in their cars, That's if they are even still alive. (Of course, I'm not really old enough to qualify as an old person.)
I don't want to drive forever, running around in circles on roads that I should be able to drive in my sleep.
It didn't help when Phyllis Walls was killed driving roads she probably knows -- knew -- like the back of her hand.
Maybe it's the car. I just haven't trained it on my drivinhood roads.
It has all scared me. Not shook me up; it's really scared me. Terrified.
So, I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll figure it out. I have to.
But I'm so, so sorry I lied to you, even if it was more a being wrong than a big fat lie.
I can't take care of myself.
I can't work,
I've turned into a fat useless blob of a person.
Thank you for not saying so. For letting me have my illusions and delusions for a little while longer.
Guess I should have been clued in when you had to regularly tie my shoes for me, and then help with putting on my socks.
That should have told us all a lot, but I know now that we weren't listening.
I couldn't do the job, Rex.
I couldn't do the hours, or the floors, or the repetitive motions of the job. I ended up back in the ER all twisted up. Not like the proverbial pretzel or question mark, but somewhere between the two. I got up to go to work Saturday morning and couldn't stand straight, and it really really hurt to propel myself.
So much for that.
More frightening, to me, was the getting lost while driving thing. The first night I was coming home through Mt Washington. Well, Beechmont.
The second morning I was late because I 'lost' the road to work. Was 5 minutes late that day.
The second evening I found 32 to come home, but I found it via Taylor Rd, where the airport is, and I have no idea how I got on Taylor Rd. I turned left after Amelia High School.
Friday morning, the snow covered morning, I rode up and down the road for an hour trying to find the plant entrance. Once it started getting daylight, I found it, but I was an hour late.
No problems getting to where I needed to be afterward, though. Thank God.
Rex, I have driven those roads all my driving life. I would have thought I could not possibly get lost on c Clough and Shayler and McMann. How did that happen? How is it even possible? Throw in GlenEste Withamsville, and 125, and I should have been home in half the time, not twice the time.
I could see myself on the news as one of the crazy old people who just drive off and no one knows where they end up until they find them starved and dehydrated in their cars, That's if they are even still alive. (Of course, I'm not really old enough to qualify as an old person.)
I don't want to drive forever, running around in circles on roads that I should be able to drive in my sleep.
It didn't help when Phyllis Walls was killed driving roads she probably knows -- knew -- like the back of her hand.
Maybe it's the car. I just haven't trained it on my drivinhood roads.
It has all scared me. Not shook me up; it's really scared me. Terrified.
So, I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll figure it out. I have to.
But I'm so, so sorry I lied to you, even if it was more a being wrong than a big fat lie.
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