Good morning. Do you have a minute to sit down to coffee with me?
Today my coffee is black, as per usual, and lukewarm because I spent time researching online before drinking it.
If we were having coffee this morning I would smile at you and tell you I played games last night with Dan and Scott and we had a great time. I made a lamb curry for dinner, we drank Angry Orchard, and we played Quarriors and 7 Wonders. Scott repaired my KitchenAid mixer and brought it back to me, and showed off the new backpack he made from pickle buckets. We brainstormed creating appropriate webbing for the back of it. It was a lovely time.
I would tell you that the attacks are getting a lot more frequent. Sometimes I have them every ten minutes. It’s exhausting. I find it hard to do much of anything with so much of my energy being pulled out of my by pain. The sensitivity has gotten worse too. Now eating and drinking cause attacks, as well as breathing sometimes. I am struggling. It sucks. I am holding on.
I get up in the morning after a full night’s sleep and I make the bed. I dress. I eat something, even if it’s only a protein shake. Then I see how many doctors appointments I have that day. If I don’t have any, I will work on something or if I am especially tired I will read or play a game. I try to exercise every day.
I would tell you I am getting hopeful about pain camp. One more week and I should be in a hospital in Michigan, finding some solution to all of this. I should come out of the hospital with a working medicine regimen that manages all of this so I can get back to a full life.
Then I would ask you how you are. I would ask you to please tell me about your life. All of it. Every detail. Being here is so isolating. People are busy living their full lives, something I am so happy they are able to do. I watch them, and I count myself lucky when they take the time to make me a part of them. Sometimes they express guilt for complaining. Please complain! I want to hear it! So much!
So, complain below, please. Tell me something. Anything. 🙂
My coffee this morning is hot and black. I finally have a settled enough stomach to enjoy it the way I prefer it so the creamer is once again left on the shelf.
If we were having coffee today I would tell you I am scared. I would tell you I am starting to worry about never getting better and wondering what I will do to provide for my family if I can’t work consistently.
While we sipped our steaming drinks and nibbled on something delicious I would share my happiness at my relationship. My giddiness at having someone in my life who tries every day to make me laugh. I would share stories of his silly antics in the ER and the way his voice changes for each character when he reads to me. I would tell you we are excited he is moving in, and that we are setting up a weekly meeting to handle any trepidation we might feel.
If we were having coffee today I would talk about how proud I am of my daughter. I would tell you she is amazing and strong. I would explain how brave she at school each day and I would brag about the computer game she programmed in creative engineering last week. I would also tell you that she spends as much time as humanly possible with earplugs in her head listening to music shut off from reality. Cause, teens.
I would tell you about my son. About how cuddly he still is and about how happy I am to find him curled up in a quiet corner reading books when I least expect it. I would tell you we are trying to work on his writing by exchanging letters and that he is worried about Penny eating his stuffies when she moves in. I would tell you he agonizes between the seemingly Herculean task of saving up for his longed for WiiU and purchasing yet another set of stuffies. He has an addiction. Our house is full to the brim with plush representations of Iron Man, Mario and Luigi, Pikachu, you name it.
I would tell you about my work and how wonderful they have been in supporting me through this. I would tell you about the people I share my day with and about how much I miss them. How much I hope I can get better and get back to the office so I can joke around with them and create again.
Well, my coffee is empty and my head is tired. I hope you are having a fabulous day! Leave me a comment about your coffee conversation!
Managing life with chronic illness requires savvy spoons