I’ve been typing and retyping and going back to the drawing board as I’ve tried to mentally sort out this past month. I feel like the creator of that one Green Day song, “Wake me up when September ends”, but replace ‘September’ with ‘January.’

I thought the tragedies might evade us this year after the many we faced last year in my family… But God had a different plan.. (Go figure?)

Let me go back.

Hi, my name is Dani for all y’all who are new here to the Precarious Aquarius. I’ve been writing and creating this site curated as a “mental health blog” for the last, close to, six years. I always write saying I need to write more and then never do. But lots have been happening even though I am still not currently working a normal 9-5.

So, what qualifies me to write a mental health blog? Absolutely not a goddamn thing qualifies me if I am so frankly honest. I just am a schizoaffective gal who advocates for those with mental health needs and writes about my own life as I sort through the “crazy”. I love that society now has become more accepting and knowledgeable about mental health and its issues, but we still have a long uphill climb between where we were, where we are now, and what I would like to see in the future.

Why was 2025 a complete shit show? Well, the husband had a cancer scare in February and then went septic and almost died in my arms in April from an out of the blue bowel obstruction that caused his body to shut down at 33 years old. It came totally out of left field and had no prior health history or conditions to support why this happened to begin with (Even knowing what we know now). Our septic tank in our basement apartment of my husband’s grandparents’ house overfilled because no one apparently knew the last time the tank had been pumped and we were forced to move into a hotel only TWO DAYS after Kyle (my hubs) got home from the hospital. He couldn’t move or lift anything since he had major abdominal surgery so I somehow herniated discs in my neck, so I had to take time off work for his stuff and my own and then I lost my job once my leave was up. Isn’t that illegal? Apparently not when you work for a “church” or a business that identifies as a church organization; I didn’t get a single dime from unemployment because of this simple fact; it’s like I had never worked at all for the last year and a half.

Then.. Kyle had two more bowel obstructions in October right after our first married anniversary. No rhyme or reason. Things settled down enough that we had a decent Christmas and Thanksgiving. But then…. Kyle had bowel obstruction number 5 on January 1; new year, same me, anyone?

On January 7th, it was finally decided and agreed upon that Kyle would have another emergency surgery. We prayed to God Almighty that he wouldn’t end up having a colostomy bag afterwards depending on the extent of the damage. Apparently, Kyle’s previous surgery scar tissue grew and was pressing into his intestines which explained all the sequential bowel obstructions. Now there is. a chance that none of this is really over with yet, but it depends totally on how Kyle heals from this second surgery. His scar tissue could grow back and be even more damaging than before. However, being in the hospital 14 days in the month of January is rough and if we didn’t do surgery, we’d still be in the hospital in attempt to fix a 6h or 7th bowel obstruction.

The day before Kyle’s surgery, his grandfather was admitted to the hospital, the same hospital, for blood in his urine for over a month. This wasn’t his first hospitalization for this issue but the first time they kept him more than a day or so or that they took seriously. The man’s 87, now has only one kidney that is barely functioning is put on dialysis for two weeks all while Kyle is there, just on a different floor.

Kyle’s pain was nearly unmanageble in the hospital post-operation. He had a dilaudid and morphine pain pump so he got nearly round the clock narcotics from the 7th to the 13th. He was high and out of it which really bothered me and my sobriety to be around. I talked, well, more so complained and vented that I don’t want drugs like that in my house. Not that anything would happen to them, I just don’t like being put into potentially compromising situations when there was no need for me to be in a precarious situation. When he was less high, we had a mediation with the nurse on my drug problem and my point of view. I see totally that Kyle is in real pain and that requires big time medication to combat. HOWEVER: MY SOBRIETY COMES FIRST. Something makes me uncomfortable? I do not partake or I leave the situation. This was going to be the hill that we died on. Make or break. I offered to stay at my parents’ house while he was taking meds at home so he could still get pain relief and I wouldn’t have to deal with him loopy. He said we’re going home together and he wouldn’t be refilling any narcotics once he was released from the hospital. And he’s stuck to that even in the hard moments of pain. He used other things for pain relief, excederin, cannabis, among other things. I’m proud of him for choosing the right thing for us and not necessarily the right thing for himself.

Grandpa was given two days to live as of the 20th. Now, well it’s February 3rd and he’s still kicking. The hospital is so short staffed that they’re running out of available hospital beds to meet the needs of our area and so they kicked grandpa out of the hospital today even though his kidneys both are now failing and his body is starting to shut down. They strong armed Kyle’s grandma into getting a loan to pay an assisted living facility to do hospice care for grandpa. She and grandpa always said they wanted to live and die in this house that we all live at. And now grandma all the sudden says grandpa can’t come home even if Dani and Kyle take care of him along with hospice home care nursing staff. They’re too rich to qualify for medicaid to cover the costs but also too poor to pay $15,000 / month for a bed not to mention the $550 / day room rate. The only thing that is refundable is if he were to pass in there halfway through the month, he’d get about half of that 15 grand back. But if he dies on the last day of the month or billing cycle, 15 grand + (550 x 30) = 31,500 $ and then you Gotta pay another $31,500 for the next month. Even though we were told he was eligible for hospital hospice but they ran out of beds and patience so they kicked him out today; fucking bananas.

What’s new with Dani?

Nothing. Still jobless and looking. Still broke. Still depressed. Still alive. And healthy. And I am grateful for my health and what little sanity I have left.

I turn 28 on Friday February 6 and on the 10th, we have Precarious Aquarius’ birthday! Happy birthday Dani and the blog. the myth. the legend “Precarious Aquarius”!

Nothing else is new. Same shit, different day.

I think I originally named this piece Eulogy is because I was thinking about what I would say at Kyle’s grandpa’s service if they had one or even wanted me to speak. I don’t normally feel like an “in-law” with them but when the family is discussing personal matters like end of life stuff, I don’t feel like I belong at the table. They ask me what I’d do and they’re not following the will that was written and updated less than 1.5 years ago and I’m trying to save everyone the most money because we don’t know how much longer Grandma will live for since she’s also 87. But why ask for my advice if you aren’t going to use it. Let go, Let God. Inhale. Exhale. Namaste.

I think all I do is ramble and I’m not sure if anyone cares if I write on here anymore or not. But for that one person who wants me to be alive and kicking booty, I see you too, friend.

Don’t be a stranger to each other y’all.

Dani