Moments Of Sanity

One of the primary reasons I like living in the south is the limited amount of truly cold days we have. I am extremely intolerable to cold. It physcially hurts me to get cold. I was diagnosed 5 years ago with Raynaud’s. I first had problems with it at 19. I was at work during the winter and my feet started hurting. I took off my shoes. My toes were deep purple. It eventually got a better.

When I lost Isabella, my ob sent me to a rheumatologist. Rick suspected I had lupus, but the tests were not quite conclusive. The doctor I saw was an ass. He pretty much informed me that nothing was wrong with me and that any doctor who gave me blood thinners during pregnancy was stupid. The only thng he did tell me was wrong was that I had Raynaud’s. He told my FP and OB/gyno that something was definately wrong, and I was quite possibly developing lupus. Because of this doctor, I refused to go back to any specialist for my pain and misc problems. Poor Rick tried to deal with me. My family practice doctor tried to help, but he admitted it was all out of his area. Finally, 3 years after that, I went to an internal medicine doc who is in with my family practice doc. She ran all the basic tests, did all the x-rays, sent me home with a med, and then called me to tell me something was up, but she couldn’t figure out what the problem was. I broke down and cried. She helped me research and come up with about 5 local doctors who all had really good reputations and who she could vouch for as all being nice.

Dr. P was wonderful. His job was made easier by all the tests my IM doc ran. He had all those results before I ever got to his office. After examining me, he diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia, agreed with Raynaud’s, and agreed I could possibly be developing lupus.

This all means I have serious problems with the cold. You know how when your hands are cold and you put them under warm water how it hurts? Yeah, that is how it feels when I have a Raynaud’s attack. I have to actually start out with cold water and slowly warm it up with my hands/feet under the water. Once it starts, the only way I can really get it to stop is by immersing my hands/feet in water. I have to be very careful to never let myself get too cold. Being daibetic makes it an even scarier problem.

I hate cold weather. I hate the ice and snow we are currently having.  

I have officially lost count of the people around Tony and I who have died. We went to the funeral for one today. It was interesting on several levels for me. It was the second funeral I have attended in that church. It’s the same place Tony and I will spend eternity. I did well until I actually heard my MIL’s voice. I broke down then. Our priest has always reminded me of Eeyore. I  have even told him this before. Today, I actually heard deep emotion in his voice.

I don’t remember my daughter’s funeral. I remember a few things, but not the service itself. I remember I was so incredibly sick still, and trying to figure out just exactly how I would be able to kneel and stand. I may have even stood up when I took communion. I remember being angry. I remember Tony helping me to get back to the pew after communion. I remember my SIL telling me her office had sent her flowers and was supportive. (She had started a new job that week.) I vaguely remember a few faces of friends. I do remember that it was a pretty simple service. I have a very hazy memory of going to my MIL’s after the funeral and eating something. The only other thing I remember is taking pain meds, but even then I wasn’t really in physical pain. I think I just wanted the escape. I then went to sleep. I do remember being angry that my favorite maternity dress had been turned into a mourning dress.

I remember her interment much better. I wasn’t sick and drugged out of my gord. I also hadn’t just lost my daughter. We weren’t able to have her ashes placed in the chapel for 2 years due to construction. In some ways, it was like losing her all over.

I am tired of death and loss. For the next few days I plan to very pointedly enjoy life, my family, and friends. I plan to celebrate life. One thing I am taking away from all the losses is just how short life is, and to make sure I am happy. I refuse to spend what little time we are allotted with our loved ones being miserable.

I did realize today that when Tony and I got the paperwork for our niche, we never filled out the funeral service information. It would be nice to know that was one less thing either of had to worry about if something happened to one of us.

I don’t often feel frustrated with a lack of personal space. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I have felt that way as an adult. Today is one of those days though. I am so sick of having no personal space. There are only two things in this house that are exculsively mine, my laptop and my mp3 player. Both of those get molested every time I leave them remotely in view.

I am so sick of never having space where nothing of mine gets messed with.  I can’t go to the bathroom without the kids playing with something of mine. AJ just lost my SD card for my digital camera. The camera he has already broken the battery door to. The camera I can’t afford to replace. I am absolutely sick of everything I have been crapped up. Our car……..full of garbage. I am the only one who takes the responsibility to clean it out. The house……..crapped up, half done. If I don’t take the initiative to finish it all, we will still be living in a half-ass painted house that needs repairs. People putting things back where they got them or simply not messing with things is completely unheard of around here.

Yes, I am a spoiled brat. Yes, I like nice, new stuff. I don’t generally complain about it all though. I am just really frustrated with the fact that nothing is mine. I am tired of having everything I own destroyed because no one cares enough about it to take care of it. Tony has the garage. Sure, I will eventually have to brave the potentially snake infested depths and clean it out myself so he will have his own space without everything being in chaos there, but he does have that space. There is also the storage shed out back for him once he cleans it out and fixes the roof.

I swear, I am about to start throughing all this crap around me out, and people can just live with less. They all prefer screwing around with my stuff anyway. 

I am really glad I took the muscle relaxer last night. I woke up this morning unable to raise my left arm. I can only imagine how I would be if I hadn’t taken it. I can’t lift anything with that arm without it hurting. I don’t know if this is fibromyalgia or rotator cuff damage. I do know this is some of the most intense pain I have felt in a long time. Fortunately I have a rheumatology appointment next week. Although I may temporarily need something stronger. This is almost a burning pain, like something is ripping.

Gee, pain after a day I forget to take my meds on time and after I get really bad news. What a surprise. I did actually expect it. I took preventive measures last night. I walked a little, but not my normal 5 miles. More like 1 mile. I just wasn’t expecting to wake up with my shoulder hurting like this. I will be having an early night tonight with more meds. Hopefully sleep and medication will help.  

I really don’t get why everyone is dying. It’s just something about this time of year. I am sitting here knowing that very likely my cousin will be gone by dawn. It’s expected. He was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago. He is surrounded by family and friends. Only a few aren’t with him. One of his brothers and sisters are both nurses. (He has 7 of them) It is simply a matter of him letting go at this point. He told them all this morning that he was afraid to go to sleep. Later this evening he was willing to go to sleep some. He is in pain. He had final communion and last rites today.

When I was nursing, I never really minded being assigned the patients that were dying. I took pride in making sure they left with as much dignity as I could give them. With everyone I watched die, I knew one of my biggest fears was having to watch my own family die. It was always there in my mind.

The nurse in me has a pretty clear picture in my head of what my family is going through. I can only hope and pray Johnny goes peacefully. I hope and pray his immediate family deals with it well.

My beautiful daughter has a little talent. She drew this picture of her daddy yesterday. To really see it, click on the picture.

I cannot seem to get into the spirit of things this year. Normally, I am pushing Tony to get the tree out and to put it up. This year, not so much.

Maybe it’s the fact that  I will be 500 miles from home this year. I can’t get motivated to decorate for a holiday I won’t be at home to enjoy. My mom oh so graciously offered to let us stay in Dallas for Christmas. Not that they would be coming here of course, but that we didn’t have to make the drive. While I would rather be shot than have to deal with it, I can’t do that to my children. If I don’t go there, the kids will eventually not have any memories involving my parents. They certainly won’t come out here very often. Never mind that my dad has an entire week off work now and in December.

I don’t know why I let them get to me. Maybe it’s the passive/aggressive guilt she heaps on me. Had I accepted her offer, the guilt would have quickly started, including her being too upset to talk to me when I call. Not that she would let it stop her if I didn’t. She would find some excuse to call and then sit there silently on the phone, defying me to hang up on her.

Why is she the one person whose opinion still matters? My dad I am comfortable with. It took me a long time to get there, but I did. I know he loves me, but he is never going to venture far out of his comfort zone. I guess it helps that I know he loves me no matter what I do or don’t do. He is one of the people who has always accepted me as I am, and not spent all his waking energy attempting to change me. Even when I have disappointed him, he has made sure I knew he loved and supported me. That has made it much easier to be who I am.

My mom on the other hand has never been willing to let me be me. She spends every moment she has with me trying to change me and to get me to see things her way. I will quite probably never see things her way. She simply can’t accept that. Never mind that I am 31. She still feels she is "raising me" and needs to teach me everything she knows. God forbid that at 31 I have a mind of my own. I don’t know that she will ever see me as an adult, someone who is not a part of her.

It’s a good thing for me that my brother hasn’t crawled out from under their sphere of control. Someone will have to take care of them when they are older, and I don’t know that I have the self control to not smother her in her sleep. They just don’t seem to get to him like they do me. Then again, maybe they do but in a different way. He’s going to be 22 in January and seems to have no interest in moving out.

I am also dreading this Christmas because of all the losses that have occurred this year. I am aware this will be Julie’s family’s first Christmas without her. I am searching for a card to send them. My heart hurts so much for them, and for myself. I miss her so much. We have a funeral to attend Wednesday. It  will be the first one I have attended in that church since Bella died. I look at the niches in the chapel whenever we go to church and realize they are filling up entirely too fast. I fear there are more to come, some  too close to her. (She is in the center of a cross of family and friends.) While I felt silly, I still felt unhappy that she was alone there. Unfortunately,  she isn’t alone anymore.

*sigh* I guess I need to get the living room picked up and furniture moved. I have to start figuring out when to do what. The kids and I have started a tradition of making cinnamon ornaments and several other things. I need to keep this going for them, and not let the trip get to me like this.  

I am dong some work on the business site at the moment. I was listening to one of my playlists when "Cowboy Take Me Away" came on. That song came out when I first started to plan my move to Dallas. It has kind of always been special to me. Today, I found new meaning in it. Right as I hear the lyrics, "I want to grow something wild and unruly" I hear AJ in the living room yelling, "Woohoo!". I think that boy definately qualifies as growing something wild and unruly.

Tony and I watched Pirates of the Carribean last night. Part 2.

Today a friend and I watched Failure to Launch.

I plan to come up with another to watch too.

Both movies were great.  

Happy Thanksgiving!