Do I Wear Swabbies To Get A COVID-19 Test?

 Entry 1     8:36 a.m.       Prompt

We are going to get COVID-19 tests in a few minutes.  I am looking forward to getting the PCR test.

Entry 2     9:42 a.m. 

Sweet mother of Christ, that wasn't even the brain-tickler, and I was so uncomfortable with the nasal swabbing, I thought I would scream. Glad it's done.  

Welcome to Disparate Treatment in the South End

When returning from the COVID-19 test site, we stopped by our friendly

neighborhood Bartell's to pick up a phoned in prescription for Jenny for oxycodone--percoset. the amount, 360 pills, for pain. They work.  She has a terminal illness, the doctor could, if he wanted, install a morphine pump for Chrissakes.  The pharmacist refused to fill it down here in the Southland.  The most he can prescribe, he said, is 120 pills, "per regulation."  If you are taking two of these 4 x a day for 30 days.  that is what, 240 pills?  She may need more as the pain increases.  She had as many as 240 prescribed at Bartell's in Roosevelt, and then another 120 less than a month later, no questions asked.  I looked up the law, there is no such restriction.

Entry 3    3:49 p.m.

I was on hold for 20 minutes with Kaiser this afternoon, before I had to hang up and go to a meeting.  I then had a 30 minute wait.  I then got an appt to see my doctor about my jacked-up knee at 2:15 p.m. tomorrow.  I asked Jenny if she could drive me, and she asked, without skipping a beat or irony, "Can't you drive yourself?"

My left knee locked this afternoon, about 1:45, and I couldn't unlock it for about 3 minutes.  It was excruciatingly painful when it was locked. It was excruciatingly painful to unlock it.  The Aleve I took this morning hasn't alleviated anything.

Entry 4    4:29 p.m.

Jenny went to pick up her new computer she purchased through school today.  She got home about 30 minutes after the kids got out, because, well, in the name of el pinché, of course she did.

Entry 5     5:16 p.m.

I drove with Abby following to drop her car off at the mechanic in Burien. Jenny was too exhausted to do it herself. No comment.

Entry 6    5:41 p.m.

Jenny lamenting that her sister is going to be gone for two months as of Friday asked, who will take me to chemo? She feigns, when I immediately tell her I will take her, that she doesn't want to burden me.  But, she doesn't suggest any one else take her.  This is Kabuki theater which recurs every 6 weeks or so.  

Entry 7    7:09 p.m.

Dinner was delivered via Mealtrain.  A friend of the family brought over homemade enchildas.  I cooked them around 5:30, they were ready about 6:10.  I called Abby up to eat, Jenny was on the couch playing with her new computer and said she wasn't yet hungry.  Abby and I dished up and I took a bite  Heaven. Restaurant quality.  I told Jenny, who was still playing with her new laptop, the food was amazing.  She asked if it was spicy. I said it was, and continued to eat.  After I was finished I sat on the couch, and Jenny said to me, :"I guess I'll have to find something to eat.  It's probably been less than 10 minutes since she told me she wasn't yet hungry. Clearly, knowing Jenny, this is her way of asking me to make her dinner.  She is capable. Also, I cooked meals for her Saturday and Sunday.  I am not Alice, this sure in the fuck isn't The Brady Bunch. I suggest she order delivery, given we have not done so for a while. She declined. I said nothing more, wasn't going to argue.  

She wanted to argue.  She already had laid the ground work.  I am learning, people. After 30 years, I am finally learning. "So," she says to me, "I guess I am going to have to get up early every day and drive Abby to school?"  "I guess so, I respond."  "We never talked about it," she says, voice full of righteous indignation.  I said, "You told Abby yesterday you would be driving her, when she asked who would be taking her." I sounded more than a bit piqued.  I admit it. The game is exasperating.  She repeats that we had never talked about it.  I explain that she decided that I needed to make the appointment, I did so, and told her the day I did it. I also reminded her that I do work every work day, and the morning is part of the workday. And then, so that I could end the ridiculousness, I gathered my shit, and came upstairs to the office, as she is yelling that she is leaving. "You have been mad since I told you that you could drive yourself tomorrow."  True, actually.  "I can't believe you would suggest I order delivery.  I don't get to have a day off. I have cancer every day."  The reality is, I don't get a day off. I should not have returned from my hiking trip.

The good news is, as I become recursive, sliding back into my shell, that I have this room with a television and a myriad of DVDs.  Tonight, "The Thing."  The John Carpenter version, my favorite.

Entry 8

I walked downstairs with Jenny whispering to Leiney about the things she was upset about as set forth above. Complaining about me. To my daughter, and then gaslighting me when I called her on it. Sigh.