Category Archives: #spoon

AShes to diamonds…

and guilt about future bad acts you aren’t even in the position to do.

Join me in my latest episode!

It's ok to not be ok, or so I'm told. SavvySpoons – Living a life of limited spell slots.

I'm not doing so hot on the keeping it together front. My German farmer ancestors are rolling over in their graves at my lack of stoicism but I decided to talk about it with you. The world. Or, you know, the 9-10 of you who listen to me. So join in, settle down, and share in some not okay action.¬† — Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/savvyspoons/support
  1. It's ok to not be ok, or so I'm told.
  2. Uncut and in pain
  3. Of birthdays and teenagers…
  4. Touchstone Tuesday and My Tummy Wombat
  5. Crafty Crap on a Sunday

Dr. Fallible…

you listened to me
and when my body’s tale changed
you tried something new

saying they were just
words put on symptoms for the
insurance company

and not the be all
end all final sentence of
my one existence.

you treated my whole
not just the sum of my parts
saying it’s an art

not only a science.
when we fail to find a fix
we should always ask

are we looking right
where we should be or do we
need to start anew?

I’ve never met a
single other doctor quite
as lovely as you.

— mmorehead 03-04-21

Managing life my lily white ass…

It’s on my blog header, it’s in my whole cheerful outlook. Let’s manage life with this chronic illness!

Look at all my coping tools!

See my shiny things!

Well right now my illness is managing me.

And let’s face it, I’m in my mid-forties. My ass isn’t all that lily-white either. I mean, we’re in the middle of a no-end-in-sight pandemic and I haven’t been outside in a bikini since the idea of meaningful political discourse was an actual thing but my ass is more of a sickly ghostly pale, not a lily white. It’s not some semi-romanticized flowerly white, it’s a “DEAR GOD WOMAN GET SOME SUN ON THAT THING WON’T YOU!!” pale white you can see deep down veins through.

I’m sick.

Really, really sick.

I hurt everywhere, I can’t sleep. My once soft and comfortable ergonomic pillow has developed claws or teeth or maybe someone broke into my room and stuffed it with broken glass or something.

My whole fucking bed is made of discomfort. There isn’t a single comfortable position I can sit, lie, stand, or lean in. Every single miserable muscle and bone in my body hurts. I swear to the Goddess the bed is subtly shifting at night, moving me around every time I get the slightest bit comfortable.

The nerves in my hands and feet are tingly and itchy and on fire and somehow cold and stabby. Oh, and throbbing, and pulsing.

The Topomax isn’t killing my ability to think like it did before but I still have a really sore throat every day and that vaguely feverish feeling, like deep bone-aches and an overall sense of doom and gloom.

I’m miserable.

There’s no shiny sticker for me to put on it.

Right now there’s no managing it either.

There’s just getting through it and hoping it feels better, or at least different, tomorrow.

Stay safe loves.