The Day My Disease Caused A Moment Of Unease

One of Beloved’s co-workers stopped by the other day.  I had ever met this man before.  I happened to be at home when he stopped by to get few documents from Beloved.

Because I wasn’t going anywhere and we weren’t expecting anyone, I didn’t bother with covering up my stunning butterfly rash.  It was a sight to behold, in all of its glowing rashness.

Naturally, after being home for a few hours already and no one stopping by the house, I sort of forgot about my appearance.  I know, hard to believe, but I can actually forget what it looks like.  So naturally I was the one who was closest to the door when the bell rang.

Of course I answered the door in all my lupus glory. I mean I radiated all the stunning side effects of lupus.  Swollen joints, rash.  My hair looked so bad I almost thought had mange.  Oh and I was sporting some lovely deep purplish red bruises on my arms and neck.  He bruises are a side effect of my medication.

Now that I’ve painted this beautiful image for you, perhaps dear readers you will understand why this poor, unsuspecting individual recoiled led in horror as I greeted home with a “yes”.   Not his fault.  He wasn’t warned there was the making of a horror story behind that door.

After he struggled to regain his composure he asked for Beloved.  I invited him into the house while I went to find Beloved, but this man was smart.  He opted to wait outside least he should catch whatever fresh hell had infected me.

Beloved and this co-worker chatted, finally inside.  Documents were retrieved and shared and this man apologized for his reaction which he said he hoped did not cause that much discomfort to me.

The fact is when you have a disease such as this, or a terminal one, you create dis-ease or discomfort for healthy people.  We reminded that  bad things can happen in the blink of an eye.  That life is fleeting.  No one knows what to really do with us, or what to say.  And for some reason I feel guilty for causing this man distress.  When in fact it is just a fact of life and we should all be able to meet each in the middle.


It Was A Slice Of A Day

Some days you just have to give in and have that slice of pizza or two.  Or perhaps it’s a day that just calls for a slice of cake.  Some days, these are the only things to get us through.  We shouldn’t feel guilty about giving in to this once in a while.

Today was a pizza day for me.  Well okay, if I had thought it through more closely cake might have been the answer.  But pizza worked.  So yes even though it’s not ideal for me to consume it, I tossed caution into the wind and had pizza.

Friends, I was bold. I was fierce.  I ate two slices.  I know, shocking.  But I refuse to feel  guilty about this.  It was a rough day.  Pizza was a healing balm after a day with many hiccups and issues.

Beloved partook of the pizza as well and there is plenty left for him to munch on later on if he so wishes.  I have had my pizza fill for a good while now.  Now cake, well cake may be another issue.  Come to think of it chocolate may be used as well.  But not now. For now I am in a place of contentment.  And I refuse to feel guilty about reaching for one or two slices of pizza.  I also refuse to feel guilty for making the choice to have pizza based on the day I had.  Besides, I know it’s not ideal with lupus nor the medications I take.  But it’s not the end of the world either.

When You Find Something New

The four-footed one has discovered face cloths.  Wet face cloths to be exact.  I should back up a few steps and explain a bit.  It’s been very hot here.  Unusually hot.  Too hot for anyone wearing a fur coat.  Way too hot if the fur coat that is being worn is dark.  So naturally the four-footed one fits neatly into the category someone who is wearing a dark fur coat.

Naturally the four-footed also likes the sun more than the shade.  And refuses to have water out on her. Basically today the four-footed one would wander into the sun, flop down and sun bathe.  She’d get removed to the shade,yet she’d just move herself again.

She was provided oodles of places with water.  A mister was turned on and in a moment of desperation I made s face cloth good and damp with cold water and tossed it on her. Gently dear readers, I tossed it on her gently.  Now some animals like that.  They find it cooling.

The four-footed one though was having none of is.  She shook it off her back, went over to where if fell and proceeded to chew it.  Because she’s that kind of dog.  Unfortunately for me, she has discovered a like for these cloths.  She prefers they are wet, but will chew and roll happily on a dry one all the same.  How do I know you ask.  Because she managed to get ahold for freshly laundered ones and proceeded to have her own little party with them.  I guess when you discover a good thing it’s hard to pass it up.

The Eyes Have It

My eyes, I protested.  My eyes, I cried.  He ignored me.  He went on writing stuff, and then shining a light in my eyes.  Yes it was a trip for an eye exam.  Although it felt like absolute torture.

I’ve never been good with eye drops.  I mean I have never been able to put  them in my own eyes.  And I’m not much better if someone else puts them in my eyes. And yet the lovely eye doctor insisted on outing different drops in my poor eyes.

My eyes protested.  I cried on the inside and the lovely man said it was fine.  Of course he wasn’t having his eyes tortured.  And I’m a bit suspicious about anyone who wants to play with human eyes.  I mean what sort of person does that?

Well in this case a man who believes everyone should be able to see.  A man who understands lupus is not a simple illness, and it will impact eyes if given the chance.  A man who insists that I will survive the eye drops.  Of course he is right, I will.  But in the moment I sometimes forget.

I forget to breathe.  I forget anything other than the stinging in my eyes.  And then, naturally things work just as he said and I can see again.  And breathe.  And once more I am reminded how fortunate I am to have him in my life, checking my sight.

Bagging It

the four-footed one has developed a thing for bags.  Handbags, messenger bags, backpacks and shopping bags.  None of these are safe from her curiosity.  Or her nose.  Or her paws.

I’m not sure when she first discovered her thing for bags, but I can attest to having her paws in my bag.  I caught her today with her nose, rooting around in one of my bags.  There is something there that she would find interesting, but still she does it.  It’s a little odd, but super embarrassing when she does it to a guest.

A little earlier today we had a dear friend of Beloved’s drop by for a visit.  The four-footed one wasn’t just interested in the person.  Oh no!  She  happily stuck her head in  the bag, and at some point she climbed right in and made herself at home.  Because who wouldn’t want a dog in their bag?

Thankfully this friend was understanding about our poorly behaved dog.  Which I guess is really a reflection on us.  Beloved also has a thing for bags.  It’s why he bought me a new backpack even though there is nothing wrong with my current one.  See?  The dog gets it from him.  Not that he sticks his nose, hands or body in visitors’ bags, but you get the idea.

Inside and Outside The View Is Perfect

I don’t, as a rule, edit Beloved’s work, just as he doesn’t typically edit mine either.  However today was not a typical day and thus rules were meant to be broken.  As in, today, I found myself reading his work.  Two hundred pages to be exact, to be read and changes suggested if required.  Which meant that while he was out and about, I was home reading his work.

He leans towards a case of florid verbal copy with a more verbose vocabulary.  In other words there are times when I need to grab the thesaurus and dictionary on top on of the reference books I need to ensure he has it all set out correctly.  So today, while he went shopping for food stuff, I curled up with his words and the appropriate supporting materials.

Time passed by without me even noticing it passage.  When he left to go shopping, I got myself set up.  When he came home, I barely registered his arrival.  I was in the midst of reading a rather large passage of filled with interesting points.  To be honest, I really only acknowledged the passage of time he insisted that I stop for something to eat.  Right after that break, I went back to finish the work I had started.

The next thing I knew he was standing beside me, the four-footed one under his arm and a cup of coffee from one of my favorite coffee places.  A quick glance at the clock let me know that a solid three hours had passed and I hadn’t even gotten up from the chair once.  I had a few pages left, so I took the coffee and watched him walk over to the window seat with the dog.  The two of them curled up to watch the city before them.  And I, well, I finished reading and noting things.

When I was finished, I stood up and stretched.  Then I stretched a bit more before walking over to the two on the window seat.  Apparently the city was boring as the two of them were fast asleep so I carefully sat down near them to finish my coffee and not get bored by the view, both inside and outside.

Just Getting Ready

Beloved was standing before the mirror, getting ready to head out for a presentation.  I sat back and watched him adjust his shirt, decide his beard was okay and run his fingers through his hair.  I’ve watched him do this a million times if I’ve seen him do it once. And each time he will look at himself from all sides, stick his tongue out and then mutter “it’ll do”.  At which point he flips off the light and leaves the room.

This time, as he was turning this way and that, I asked him if he was aware of what he was doing.  He gave me a shrug of his shoulders and said “you can’t undo years of whatever”.  Because he’s done it for so long, he can “remember” getting ready for all these events, even though he has no recollection of each actual moment.  He is, as we all are, a creature of habit.

Before he headed out of the door, I knew what would happen next.  He’d find the jacket, well actually he’d look in the closet, take a step back and see which jacket he felt like wearing.  He would shrug into it, grab his keys and since I was sitting on the bed, he’d come over and give me a kiss.  He’d glance at his watch, realize the time, and hurry down the hallway to where he left his shoes.  And of course there would be drama over finding the pair of shoes (one always goes missing on him) and before I’d know it, he’d shout out “bye and wait up for me if you can luv” and he’d pull the door shut, locking it.

If I got off the bed and followed him down the hall, he’d fuss that I should be resting.  We’ve done this so many times, the two of us, it’s like an old routine.  But sometimes I surprise him, like tonight.  I sipped his jacket on for him, gave him a kiss and went with him down the hall.  He found both shoes waiting for him, only because while he was grabbing a shower I grabbed his shoes.  And it was I who closed the door, after he left my sight.

Will he remember this event any differently because he had a different send off?  Probably not, but I will.  I will remember the way the way his blue eyes twinkled with surprise at me helping him. The way his eyebrows rose a he found both of his shoes waiting.  And I will remember the playful smile at the corners of his mouth when I told him to hurry home.