Drink deep from the fountain

It's been one hell of a week.

Tuesday was a unmitigated disaster. The kind of day that you end with five hours in the emergency room. The kind of day that burns and smolders before you can even fathom what is happening. That was Tuesday.

Wednesday was only the slightest of margins better.

Thursday, eh, we got through it.

Friday? Nope. It was definitely worse than Wednesday but not as bad as Tuesday. It's ending with a overcooked, half-frozen microwave meal where the dry chicken has somehow gotten mixed up in the apple dessert.

My husband left Tuesday morning for a trip that is scheduled to last two to three weeks. And after a fretful and irritating day waiting for my morning delivery that finally came at 3:50 p.m., I was late for work. A friend had agreed to take my kids and dogs to 4-H obedience class that evening and I was just finishing up my scramble to catch up to my first deadline when I got the call.  Becky was hurt.

It sounded bad. I dropped what I was doing and bee-lined for the dog training place.

It was bad. Her kneecap wasn't where it belonged. It was very far away from where it belonged.

It was decided that I should take her to the ER in another friend's van. So I did. My traumatized friend brought home Naomi and the dogs. Naomi would take care of the evening with her brother and I would take care of Becky in the ER.

After sedation and reduction of the injury (they drugged her and moved her kneecap back where it belonged), we came home and tucked Becky into my bed.

After three fretful hours of sleep, I got up to send Naomi off to school. The day started in earnest after that.

My friend let me know that my little truck wouldn't start and she couldn't bring it to town. So I spent well into the afternoon setting up Becky's doctor appointment, making phone calls and trying to figure out how to get the little truck home. I finally had help lined up when I set out to fetch the truck. Upon arrival it fired right up and I can only assume it was too cold to start in the morning since its temperamental that way.

Already exhausted, I made it to work.

Thursday, Naomi's sore throat got the better of her. By Friday morning she felt awful. So I let her stay home from school to recuperate.

So on Friday, both my teenagers are out due to illness and injury. My son is struggling with the sheer amount of responsibility. Normally, he only does a little work, a little school, and a lot of goofing around. Now he's doing a lot of chores, a little school and a lot of helping everyone else.

We're four days into a 14 or more day stint with my husband gone.

Changes at work meant that I should have been much more on my game and much better prepared. In fact, if any week deserved my undivided attention, it was this week. I ended Friday struggling to communicate with a person who just doesn't give a damn. I ended Friday frustrated and angry.

I still have one day left in this week, and I don't know if I can redeem any of it.

As someone who is used to having the little things taken care of so I can just focus on working and surviving, I realize I am not well-equipped for the challenges I'm facing. I don't know what to do about it.

This bitterness is not what I was hoping for while I get ready for surgery.