Sickness Galore

I’m not good at being sick, which is funny considering I am chronically ill and have sickness issues on a fairly regular basis. Still, no matter how much practice I get at being sick, I am still no good at it. To be honest I’d be fine without ever getting any more practice at this. And I am totally okay with not being sick either.

I suspect that this comes as a surprise to some people and to others it’s just a case of my stubbornness. If I could find the person who said I need more sickness in my life, I would probably have words with that person. But alas I cannot find one single person. And it’s that time of year when there are hordes of sick people to found anywhere and everywhere. Heck they will find you even if you don’t want to be fine. Trust me, I’ve tried to hide from them.

Beloved half laughs when I demand a sealed bunker, but when you have a crazy immune system and take chemotherapy to try and control it, well those sniffles suddenly become rather threatening. Your wee sore throat gives me the heejeebeejees. Your minor cold makes me shudder in fear. I’m terrified of getting sick enough to have to head to the hospital. Hospitals are full of sick people and we know how I feel about them!

So please, if you see me avoiding you like the plague, or holding a can of Lysol to spritz you down with prior to getting near you, do not take offense. I just don’t do sick well.


The Fright Long After Halloween

Beloved can be, well, unusual at times.  In fairness we all can.  So when he came into the house and declared someone was going through our trash I just kind of shrugged my shoulders. It isn’t like we have exciting trash.  Mostly just food stuffs and dirty paper napkins.  The odd wrapper and lots of dog poop.

We tie out dog poop up in little baggies once we pick up after her.  Which is right after she’s decided to do the deed.  So I mean honestly if someone were to go through our rubbish, have at it.  But to Beloved this isn’t good enough.  First he wanted hard proof someone was going through the rubbish bins and secondly he would want to know want they were looking for.

Beloved being Beloved, he set up a covert camera and trained it on the trash cans.  Within a few days he had his proof, there were two individuals going through the bins.  They were not successful in finding whatever it is they wanted to find as they walked away empty-handed.  And while they did go through the trash, they sort of tidied it up when they were done.

Still I was unnerved that someone felt s need or desire to go through my trash so we called local law enforcement and shared the footage with them.  And that’s why we now have law enforcement do random checks throughout the day.  It’s also  why Beloved has someone with him at work now too.  Just until we know what’s going on,  because free speech and the right to associate with who you wish is never really free.  People will try to exact a cost, such as a career or a life if need be.

Just A Wee Thing Indeed

My mama used to say nothing good would come from an early morning call.  Early morning as in before the sun comes up.  Of course my mama never dealt with relationships across the pond where there is almost a half day’s difference in time.

Mama wasn’t wrong though.  Because while it was Beloved on the phone, it wasn’t good news.  Not horrible news, but not good news either.  A “wee accident” as he put it.  Of course he also put it like this “nothing of consequence except for a wee injury requiring a cast”.  Because that’s the best way to tell someone you’ve shattered your bones and require a few plates put in to hold things all together.

Because metal plates and screws are just “wee” things of “no consequence” and therefore shouldn’t be considered as alarming or shocking.  Everyday occurrences basically.  Which for some people I guess isn’t that big of a deal.

I’m not sure if once the pain medications wear off that Beloved will feel exactly the same way about the injury.  And I can’t shake the feeling that there is far more to this story than he is sharing.  Which wouldn’t be unusual due to my lupus and all.

And speaking of lupus, it is definitely not going to let me rush to Beloved any time soon. Granted he isn’t going anywhere any time soon either so maybe lupus will settle down enough for me to make it to him, or he will be healed enough to get here before it settles down.  Because it’s just a wee thing indeed.

Transitory Thoughts

My father used to tell me that nothing worth having ever comes without a fight. He would bring up how much more enjoyable things are when you have had to struggle to get something or make it your own. Somehow struggling, hard work and what have you is supposed to make me desire the end results more.

Of course, what he was really getting at was that I would hold that which I acquired through hard work at a higher value and would appreciate it more. And there may be something to that, but at the same time I have never not appreciated that which has come easy to me. I have also never assumed that something which came without effort or hard work was of a lesser value.

The rocky process of transitioning from one state into another is where the challenge, the struggle and the strife all rest.  After the transition is the state of change, where for some it is a place to stop and catch their breath and enjoy the view. I suppose that it is after the change where my father’s words come in. He is talking about that whole process from the beginning of the transition into the point of having become changed.

Is it the change we fear or is it the struggle that lies in the phase of transitioning?

Results Coming In

Today I learned how much I rely on my eyesight.  I had assumed I would know my way around my house, I mean I can find my way through it on a dark night.  So why did I struggle trying to find my way through my house on a sunshine filled day?

Well for starters despite the sunshine streaming into my house, it could have pitch black.  You see at my eye exam the lovely optometrist ran some tests which required all sorts of amazing eye drops.  And those eye drops were designed for specific tests, not for carrying out daily tasks in bright light.

Some how among the eye drops going in (not a pleasant experience for me), the side effects of the drops, the tests and of course my stress I managed to work myself into a state of being unable to not only see, but also make sense out of where I was.

They had warned me, the test would render me unable to see in bright light or look at backlit things such as my electronic devices for a few hours.  I was prepared for that and even had lovely dark glasses with me.

What I wasn’t prepared for was how my fear and stress would alter my rational mind to the point I couldn’t find my way through my own house.  And while I wait for the rests, I’m sure the stress, anxiety and fear will continue to alter my rational thought process.  But I am also sure I can find a way to occupy some of my thoughts for some of the time.

Until the results come in!

It’s Slow, It’s Safe

A friend of Beloved’s is trying to convince him to go SCUBA diving into the depths of the ocean, to check out caves and the life that lives down there.  Beloved is not keen on this idea.  As he put it, he is made for land.  He can survive on land.  He can move on land.  He cannot breath in the water without having specialized equipment.  Which is heavy.  Moving in water is also not natural as it isn’t his natural habitat.

It would be exceedingly unnerving I should think, to be in the inky darkness of the water, unable to see far into the distance.  It would also be unnerving in that you can’t see all around you, you have no place to hide really.  That is if you need to hide from something with great big teeth which can crush through your delicate skin and bones.

Needless to say Beloved has told his friend he isn’t too keen on the Idea.  He has countered with taking a nice boat ride out to the area, but not going in.  I personally would go with Beloved’s idea over his friend’s.  It just seems more sensible.  But then we do tend to fear that which we cannot see or do not know.  And besides, sharks! Real live, hungry sharks.  Not the kind I used to imagine in the deep end of the swimming pool.  These ones are real, wild and unpredictable.  So yes the boat makes more sense.

The boat, though, is safe.  And safe doesn’t let you see the caves and creatures of the deep.  This is his friend’s argument.  And secretly I hope this argument continues.  Because as long as it continues neither one of them is getting into deep, dark, unknown waters.  Which is safe.

Lousy Lupus

I’ve debated writing this post.  I’ve asked if it is better to write the post or to not write the post.  Or if I should write the post snd then have the debate publishing or not publishing said post.  It’s rattled around in my head for day, nay weeks I dare say.  Fleeting here and there, dancing on the edges of my thoughts.

I’ve thought myself independent and fiercely fought to stay that way. I’ve considered myself self-sufficient and capable. And least you get the wrong idea, I am these things.  Except when it comes to opening jars.  Or carrying things for long distances, or heck traveling long distances.  Then again simple things, like doing up buttons, tying shoes or working zippers can seem near impossible at times.

Shen these moments strike I am reminded that my skills are no longer what they once were.  That I am not always capable of doing what I want or need.  And the frustration that kicks in seems to make things even more of a challenge.

I am reminded that even when there is no rash on my face, no redress or swelling of my joints, there are reminders that lupus has changed my life.  Lupus has challenged me to rethink what it means to be independent, self-sufficient and capable.  Lupus poses the question is this now the slide down the slope to doing less, relying more on others?  Lupus also whispers so what if it is, what will you do?  And then answer that rattles in my head is a shaky, terrified one.  It is the asking for help.  Which seems near impossible for me to form.  As if asking for help is more terrifying than leaving my house with my zipper undone and my shoes untied.  Or settling for workarounds rather than allowing others to help and be grateful they are there in my life.

For the record, I truly am grateful for them.  And I do appreciate it when they help me out with things I struggle with.  But it rubs me as a reminder than I am having things taken away or at least altered and it isn’t on my terms.