Monthly Archives: January 2014

health

Swimming through concrete.

1 Comment

That’s what is feels like.  I wake up and getting moving is like swimming through concrete.  Everything hurts.  Especially today.  Today the body that withstood my car being hit by a tow truck with relative aplomb is screaming.  My right shoulder aches whether I move or not, my head pounds and throbs with my heartbeat. My fingers and hands ache. My freaking eyes ache.

Today is a day when I wish I could just give up and sleep forever.

But no. For some unknown reason my family is made up of people who can’t seem to give up, regardless of how tempted they are to do so.  Today I wish I could give up.  Crawl into bed, take too many drugs, sleep forever, pain gone.  It sounds easy.

I can’t do it.

It’s not the children, it’s not my family, it’s not my friends.  When every cell in my body seems to be out to punish me for something I am not thinking thoughts like “everyone will be so sad”.  I can’t give up because something within me tells me to get the hell up.  It’s this inner cheerleader/dominatrix that encourages/beats my spirits into a state where I can get moving about my day.

Some days this inner me is cheerful:  “Get moving! You will feel better! Get out into the sunshine!”  Other days she is just mean: “Get your lazy ass out of bed. So you hurt, boo hoo, you don’t have cancer, you aren’t dying in child birth, you have modern plumbing. Get up or you will pay.” Then she cracks a whip and scares me out of bed.

I suppose this genetic tendency towards survival is a positive thing.  It’s probably why I am writing this post instead of sobbing like a maniac right now.  I am trying to get into the doctor to get more medication for the shoulder and they are booked until tomorrow.  I love how cheerful receptionists are when they basically tell you “I am so sorry your arm feels as though it is on fire, you take care for another 24 hours now ok?” Ugh.

So now I can breathe my way through a day of shoulder fire and headache madness.  I will watch Pride and Prejudice, lose myself in the relatively simply yet desperate life of the Bennett sisters, and pray that time passes quickly.

 

Uncategorized

A positive spin.

Leave a comment

 

1497789_607283442660837_186095778_n

I mourned. I cried. I freaked out.

I wrote about mourning, crying, and freaking out.

Now it’s time for me to shift my focus.  I have a chronic condition, it might never go away, but I need to develop a battle plan for living a happy life with it.  I can’t promise I will be positive every day, but I am going to focus on one wonderful thing every day.   It is my hope that the load I carry will seem lighter if I draw my attention to the blessings in my life and away from the hardships.  So that is my battle plan.  Focus on the positive.

Today, my focus is on a tiny creature who has been a constant source of joy in my life.  She came to me through chance and has been the best furry friend I have ever known.  Hazel.

IMG_0175Hazel came into my life one day in New Jersey when I was dropping Marlena off at school.  I came out and there was this little tortoiseshell kitty sitting on the sidewalk between me and the car.  She was looking right at me and seemed to say “I am cold, wet, and hungry, and this is your problem now.”

I walked to the car, opened the door, and stood back.  She walked over, hopped up in the car, walked a circuit around the interior and then settled into the passenger seat.

I took her home.

Since then she has been my daily companion, curling up in my arms at night when I sleep, on my legs when I read, in my lap when I work.  She is with me whenever I am home and during the long illness of the past three years she made me laugh, smile, and feel loved. She gave me the tactile support I so desperately needed without demanding anything in return. (Other than kitty treats and catnip, of course.)

My life has been greatly improved by the providence of finding this little furry creature.  The manner in which I found her, the way she instantly accepted me, it has seemed as though we were meant to meet.  Even now, as I write this post, she waits patiently at my side purring her little squeaky purr into my ear, waiting for me to finish.

I am blessed to have such a connection with such an amazing animal.