You might remember that I've been living with my Dad since February of 2021 as his primary caregiver. We went to his doctor yesterday and got some information that's partly very bad and, in the strange logic of caregiving, very good as well, if only because it clarifies some things that were becoming more apparent to me and my sister over the past 12 months. To have his doctor confirm what we already knew might not seem like a big deal, but going forward it's important.
It's tough. We have good days and bad days together and, more often lately, a mixture of both.
You also might remember that I'm working part-time at the local Humane Society. It's been fantastic, mostly, with the usual bumps and lumps that come with learning a new job. The HR department offers some limited free counseling which I'm going to look into. I don't lack for people I can talk to, but a little professional help might go a long way.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that this is by far the hardest damn thing I've ever done. And on the one hand I'm proud of myself for having gotten this far, and on the other I'm still scared and stressed and terrified about what comes next.
Have I mentioned that when I do go in to work we're allowed to have pets in the office? That throughout the day some random shelter dog gives me hand licks and nuzzles, or tries to jump onto my lap while I'm taking calls from the public? And if that isn't enough in terms of what I need right now, it's certainly more than nothing?
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