Aren’t We All Worthy?

Friends, I am tired.  So very tired.  Sure part of the reason I’m tired is that the four-footed wonder has taken to wanting to start her morning at 2:30.  By start her morning, I mean she wants a walk and play time and food.  Yes yes I’m aware I’m the adult here, but she’s a loud and insistent.

But that’s not really why I’m tired.  I mean it’s a small bit.  But I’m tired from so much pain. Pain that wakes me up.  Pain at won’t let me sleep. Pain while I work and while I rest.

Sure some of the pain is due to weather and air pressure fluctuation.  Sure some of it is from lupus being super active.

But mostly my I’m tired because too many people are not having their pain addressed. Too many people are having the quality of lives made insignificant out of fear of people using illicit drugs.  I’m blessed right now that I still have decent pain management, but part of that is because too often I just try to push through the pain.

Friends it hurts emotionally and thus feeds my physical when I hear how many people are suffering.  Why is chronic pain or pain from chronic illness not treated with care and respect.  Why are people not provided dignity while dealing with their issues while dignity and such afforded to others?  Aren’t we all worthy of dignity and quality of life?

In One Ear, Turn Head, Forget

The four-footed one has taken to having afternoon naps in odd locations.  She has a perfectly good dog bed, well several to be honest, which she was using before.  And now suddenly she’s sleeping on my bed (up until today I had no idea that she could Ike even jump  onto the bed as I usually pick her and put her on it for the night) as well as the rocking chair (another item I had no clue she could reach).

Now I’m not against her napping, but I confess I’m a bit surprised at how bold she is with displaying her new napping place.  I mean I removed her from the bed and she seemed to understand she shouldn’t  be up there until it’s ready for her.  And then she goes and jumps onto another piece that’s off-limits.

So we had a chat, the dog and I.  Or rather I did the talking while she turned her head from side to side.  It looked like she understood me, but maybe she was just humoring me because I found her back on my bed a few more minutes after our chat.  My mother told me there would be days like this, but I don’t think she meant because of a dog.

A Hilly Thing

The four-footed one reminds me that life is what you make of it.  It’s partially how you see things, how reality works and mostly how you react and respond based upon the reality you’ve been given.  The four-footed one, it would seem believes she is a huge work-beast rather than a dog smaller than a shoe box.

Today while we were out for a our daily walk. the four-footed companion decided she needed to run.  But not just run.  That would be simple.  Instead she decided to run while dragging me behind her because I foolishly held onto her leash.  While she ran.  Pulling me up the hill after her.

Why?  Because she thinks she’s a work horse or something.  And also she seems to think I enjoy running up hills with her.  Or maybe she thinks I need to run up hills with her.  I’m not exactly sure.

The only thing I’m really sure about is that I am not in need of running up hills while having my arm tugged because I need to hold onto a leash.  Yeah, I’m pretty sure I could pass on that and still be okay. But it makes her happy.  And her being happy make me happy.  Although why running up a hill makes her happy is beyond me.

But when we think we are something other than how reality sees us and we can prove ourselves to be more than that, well maybe we just get happy.  I’d think about it more, except I need to make sure that my arm remains in its socket!

Letting Go To Leap Freely

While faced with a rather large amount of work to do and really no strong motivation to get it done, I decided to take my laptop with me while I grabbed a coffee.  The logic was simple, if I could get a table in a relatively quiet corner, I’d attempt to get to the work.  It such a spot could not be had, my laptop and coffee would make the trip back home and I’d just have to plop myself into my den and get on with the working.

Thankfully I was able to settle into a nice corner with a vat of coffee, okay not really a vat, but a very large cup of coffee.  I set about getting on with the work that needed to be done while enjoying my coffee and letting the quiet noise act as very gentle background noise.  And work got done.  Not all of it, not when there were distractions to be had. Such as careless words tossed around and even more immature reactions to those careless words.

A couple of women had found a spot near me after I had been there for a half hour or so.  One was talking about how she was ready to make some big, life altering changes.  The other woman was trying to support her, but at the same time was pointing out some of what the first woman was saying happened to contradicting other things she had said.  The first woman said something about needing space to make her changes and the other woman said that sometimes the changes that need to be made do not require physical space, instead they require emotional space.   The first woman went back to needing to have her space, physically while at the same time insisting that the second woman be there to support her.

At some point, I had stopped listening to the back and forth of this stuff, the second woman said something about how this was the stuff of books. The first woman became very quiet and got up, heading to the washroom.  When she returned the second woman apologized if she had somehow upset the first woman.  And then all heck broke loose.

The first woman went on a tirade about how the second woman was supposed to support her, encourage her, protect her and such and yet by choosing to use the phrase “stuff of books” the second woman had proven she wasn’t going to do any of those things for the other woman.  After that, the first woman stomped out of the coffee shop. The second woman finished her drink and left quietly.

And I stopped working altogether.  I had been curious about what exactly the first woman had been trying to change in her life and equally curious bout how the second woman was supposed to do all these things for the first woman.  Was there a contract?  Did these two women not realize that I needed to know the rest?

After a few hours, when I was back home, I finished the work that needed doing and realized decided that because nothing happens in a vacuum, the changes one person makes will have repercussions that aren’t always easy to foresee.  And sometimes to make a major leap you need to let go of the safety rope and all those people who keep things safe.  Sometimes you need to just jump and see where it takes you.  Some people find this easier to do than others. And it seems the ones who struggle the most with this are the ones who end up making the most rules around things.

Here A Timer There A Timer

I thought I’d take a page out of the four-footed one’s book and let the day become whatever it wanted other than the obligations I was required to meet.  Only because I haven’t managed to find a way to not need to work or what have you.  Because there are those pesky things called bills.  Which for some reason need to be paid.  On time.

So I did what I had to do and allowed the rest of the day to take me where ever.  Not exactly ideal for me because it’s so easy to get caught up something and then miss the fact I had something for a specific time.  I tend to give in to my passions and interests if left to my own devices.  And once I get into that, time seems to fade away unless I set an annoying timer to pull me back to what I need to be doing.

So I had to set timers which meant that I could never fully get into whatever caught my attention the way the four-footed one does.  Granted she isn’t tied to a clock, or bills for that matter.  Oh no, she’s got the freedom that I want.  But then she has something to take care of the food, housing and all the rest.  Perhaps would have been better to not take a page out of the four-footed one’s book.

Foot Notes

The four-footed one has a thing for feet.  She loves nothing more than to curl up on someone’s feet during the day when she’s ready to have a nap.  Typically she does this when you need to pop up like a million times, but you can’t because she’s resting peacefully on your feet.

If she has to wait to cross the street and the pavement is wet, she won’t sit on it.  Nope she will sit on, you guessed it, my feet.  If the ground is cold and she’s tired, she does the same thing.

At night when I put her on my bed, she will curl up right in the center and excuse to move until I crawl in.  Then she walks up and down the length of me and some how always ends up sleeping on my feet.

When I come home from work and she’s done greeting me with happy barks, many scratches and tail wags, she wants to sniff my feet or lick them.  Even though I’m wearing socks.  And my feet don’t smell horrible.

If I decide to sit with my feet curled up under me, she will paw at my leg as if to say “put your foot down, I need to rest”.


I spent a long time debating how much I would share with people about my journey with lupus.  I know some people are an open book and so they share all the ups and all the downs.  There are other people who keep their journeys to themselves for their own reasons.  There is no right or wrong way to share your journey, after all it is a personal thing.

There are times, due to circumstances or people involved, that I won’t share anything at all.  Not even that I have lupus.  It doesn’t seem important or I don’t wish to give the impression that I may be requiring special treatment.  Now let me say that there is nothing wrong with requiring accommodate ins or such due to a disability.  If you need something to make your life easier, I’m all for it.

There are also times when I open up and share everything, maybe too much, with certain people.  One of those people I do this with is Beloved, because he’s very impacted by how lupus and I are doing.  The thing is while Beloved is a very strong, supportive and wonderful man, he doesn’t deal with negative medical news well at all. So when my lab results came back indicating my kidneys were in worse shape, it was a double blow.

First I had no expected to receive those results, I wasn’t feeling any different from when my labs looked better. Secondly, Beloved was devastated.  He was devastated because we were doing everything to have the upper hand with lupus, we were doing treatments that aren’t the most pleasant and so on, but still lupus was winning.

He took the news personally.  And when the world transplant was loosely floated around as a potential outcome, he was beyond devastated.

So now, as something a bit new and very unusual for me has cropped up, I didn’t spend time wondering what to ask my medical team.  I’m pretty blunt and forthright with my questions.  Instead I spent my time debating what to share with Beloved, what to tell him about the appointment etc.  And now, as I sit here holding a letter with the very results and next steps, I find myself debating again how much to share.  How much more can he take?  How much more do I want to do this?  I know we have to chat, he after all has a right to know some of this.  But how, when and why.

He’s Got The Power

Beloved grew up the youngest of a batch of children.  He also grew up with a substantial gap between him be the next oldest child.  This resulted in Belived never really having power in any situations.  He also grew up in a very poor household.

I grew up differently.  I learned at an early age that who ever holds the controls to the television or radio, controls the house.  Naturally whenever I could, I ensured I had the remote control firmly in my grasp.  Even if there was no one else who would grab it out of my hand, as long as I was awake and home I needed to grasp it.

Due to our differences, Beloved is amused when I sit to watch tv and have the remote within easy reach.  We will both want to watch the same show and yet for some reason old habits die slowly.

However now Beloved has started to feel the need to have the remote in his hand, or pocket at al times.  Even if the thing it controls isn’t turned on.  A lot of things in our house have remotes and some days as he is getting ready for bed, he will shake three different remotes out of the pocket of a sweater or cardigan.  And look at me sheepishly and say he had no clue how they all just jumped into his clothing.

The next morning he starts attracting remotes to him again.  Sometimes they even leave the house with him.  He says it’s because he is in a hurry, but really he likes the control and rush of power he gets.

Shrieks Of…

The four-footed one brought in some presents today.  A multitude of presents to be honest.  She brought them into the house with confidence and a devil-may-care attitude.

I shrieked at the sight of the multitude of presents so proudly displayed on my floor.  Freshly cleaned floor I might add.  And it was, perhaps, a shriek of excited joy as those presents started to crawl on my floor.  Perhaps a shriek of horror too as they were all in my kitchen where she left them.  And they were making their way to my pantry.

I must confess that I’m not a fan of sharing my pantry or its contents with ants.  Or other insects.  I might share my belfry with some bats, if I had a belfry.  Then again I might not.  And yes I know I share the house with a dog, but she doesn’t try to eat everything in my pantry.  She might I guess, if I let her.  But she’s not permitted in there.

So the presents, while a lovely thought, were quickly rounded up in a bin and put back outside.  It’s better for all involved really as they are outdoor animals and I have an issue sharing.  But the gesture and thought by the four-footed one was lovely.

From Where I’m Sitting

I love to sit here, when the sun is just breaking through the darkness of the night. It’s so peaceful and silent outside of the window an it seems as if the whole world is just standing still. During these moments it is as if I can hold time still and not worry about appointments, things going wrong or anything.  It’s pure magic.

And then the house begins to stir and it’s I see it’s a bit of a mistake that I’ve made in thinking that it’s magic. It’s just the stillness and the sense of being alone.  Not that I mind once the household begins to stir. After all the four-footed one is always eager and ready to tackle a new day. She wakes up with energy and happiness and it’s hard not to catch her vibe, even if just for a bit.

And the way Beloved never fully wakes up before he makes his way here, searching for a cup of coffee to jolt him into the here and now.  It’s impossible to not take that in and feel as if maybe there is magic in the moments where we aren’t fully awake and aware of whatever it is the day will bring us.  Once he’s managed a few sips of coffee, it’s all good and he’s alert and ready to go.

When we are both up at this time it’s different. Because he’s up for other reasons. A haunting nightmare perhaps, something from work lingering in the air or something that is too grey for his liking that must be sorted out sooner rather than later so he can rest.

But if he’s asleep at this time and I haven’t wandered over to my seat, I will sometimes just watch him, watch him sleeping with the slumber of a man who is certain of his place in this world.  Mostly though, I take to my favorite place and instead watch day start to lighten the sky and the world gets ready for the fortunes of the day.  No worries about tomorrow, or bad dreams, just the hope for the fortunes of the day.