So guess what, folks? The Princess (that's me!) went on vacation. An honest to goodness, get away from it all vacation. I really, really did! It would in no way have been possible without my amazing sister in law, who I did not know cared for me as deeply as she does, but she spoiled me in almost every fashion imaginable.

First off, she had started saving for this weeks and weeks ago, and while I was there I paid my own way on things twice. Twice. In an entire week of going places and seeing things and doing stuff and buying food! Second, she was very careful to keep my physical labor to a minimum, to make sure that I rested as much as possible, and that I was able to access the places we visited. She carried all of my luggage and would only let me carry pillows and the like, even loading and unloading my walker every time we got in or out of the car! I must admit, it was pretty fantastic to have a sherpa, as I jokingly called her throughout our time together.

It was a bit of a whirlwind trip, but it was so incredibly nice to have no responsibilities, to not have to pay for anything, to have fun things to look forward to every day yet not have any kind of a rigid schedule so that our whims and my health could lead the way as to our activities, and to just kind of… well, I have this mental image of, like, my normal life and home and such with this blank white cutout space in my shape throughout the entire week where I would normally be during that time, and the cutout of me was pasted into this whole other life and reality for a week. Does that even make sense? It was so different from how my life usually proceeds that it felt like almost an entirely different reality, which is what vacation is supposed to be, right?

It felt restorative, rejuvenating, and soothing. I was the closest that I've been to my pre-Spoonie self than I've been in years. Granted, it took a lot of assistance to get that, but that doesn't diminish the experience at all. It's a series of memories that I will cherish for a long time to come, I can guarantee that.

Our week went something like this…

Sunday: Colleen (sister in law) arrives and we more or less intend to leave that day, but don't because I'm feeling poorly and it takes me forever to pack, and also what's the rush? We make a list and Colleen packs for me, which is awesome.

Monday: We leave in the morning after stopping by the local muffin store (Yum-azing!), I sleep all the way to Tucson. We go grocery shopping, Colleen cooks supper, take a walk around University, get locked out of house upon return and Colleen ends up breaking in through a window that was unlocked.

Tuesday: Visit an art store for shopping, go clothes shopping for me at a thrift store nearby, have dinner with Colleen's best friends and I have my first margarita. The night is capped with my first hookah smoke and we talk late into the night.

Wednesday: Walk the main drag near the University and visit the tea house we've had our eye on, go to dinner at a fancy place and run low on time, get trapped in the parking garage because of a faulty ticket and barely make the play we've been looking forward to seeing (and pre-purchased tickets for). End the night by returning to the main drag and hanging out at a coffee shop smoking hookah and eating Mediterranean pastries until the shop closes late.

Thursday: Drive to town an hour or so away to spend a few days with my friend Rose. She was interning with the Victim Rights department during the trial that put my molester in prison, and so she was sort of a victim advocate for me and we've kept in touch and maintained a friendship since. Get settled, I get a haircut and Rose takes me on a mini tour of the Army Fort and beautiful surrounding scenery. I fall asleep in the car and nap upon our return, wake to find company over for dinner, and we all hang out until dispersing for bed some time after company leaves.

Friday: Take a 2 mile walk with Rose (yeah, that's right! I'm fuckin' proud of myself!!!), nap briefly before we all pile in and drive to Bisbee to check out the stores and sights. Colleen buys her first "real" piece of art and is now an official adult, and I find some amazing souvenirs and a smaller cast iron skillet of a size we don't already own that I take home for Corey. (He likes it a lot, and used it for the first time tonight to make a sort of omelette.) After coming home, Rose's "Gathering Of The Awesome" party starts a while later, consisting of awesome women that she knows and invited to an evening of yummy light food, good drinks, good conversation and company, and a fun art activity that was also insightful and connecting.

Saturday: Leave Rose's and head back to Colleen's house, go grocery shopping for afternoon picnic planned. I nap for a few hours, then she, I, and one of her best friends that we went to dinner with go up Mount Lemmon and have a picnic, sort of start a fire to keep ourselves warm, and watch the sunset on the drive back down the mountain.

Sunday: We both sleep in, and eventually she packs up the car and takes me back to Yuma but leaves shortly after because of work the next day.

I was feeling pretty good throughout the week, at least as far as "good" for me goes, but as the week went on I could feel myself wearing out. By Friday night I was running a mildly low grade fever and felt pretty gross. Saturday night I declined a proposed meet up with a friend of Colleen's in favor of staying in bed because I felt shitty, and Monday, the day after I got back, I pretty much did nothing but sleep in hour-to-several-hour increments for about 24 hours. I'm still recovering, but part of it is that I don't have that medication that helps so much with the stiffness and pain in my joints anymore, so I just feel more arthritic and whatever than usual anyway. Also, period should be coming soon, and I'm always exhausted the week before my period and sleep more than usual, so I'm not surprised there, either.

I cheated a lot with allergens on vacation, so I'm returning to being a "good girl"… but oh man, I had some of the best food in a long time. Have you ever had fresh sopapillas? Then you are missing out on the culinary equivalent of salvation for your soul, I swear to you. They are so. good. I've also been on a huge muffin craving kick since we hit that muffin place on the way out of town. I had forgotten what I was missing, but now I am constantly reminded of my suffering due to lack. Alas, alack, woe is me, woe betide, and all that sorrowful jazz…

It was a good trip. It was a very good trip. I don't expect to have an experience like that again anytime soon, but I will surely treasure it. I feel different somehow from having  had the experience, but I'll think on that more later. I am so indebted to my ladies, Rose and Colleen. My gratitude knows no bounds. I know that they really went above and beyond for me… and yet for them, I'm sure it seems somewhat of a simple matter. It's funny how perspective works. From my perspective, it was a chance to live life again, to have fun and forget the frustrations and complexities of trying to juggle doctor's appointments and bills and finding rides and medication snafus and all that… to simply be a young woman again and enjoy things… to just have fun, pure and simple! From their perspective, it was doing things that maybe they don't get to do every day but have been wanting to, but it wasn't particularly mind-altering I don't think. It was pretty much business as normal, but on vacation time.

Regardless of who felt what, there is one thing that we should all be feeling right now, and that's pride. Pride in me, of course. Why? Because it's only been 3 days since I got home, and I'm fully unpacked! Yeah, baby! (This is fairly unheard of, just for context.) Now that I'm home, back to responsibilities, I feel a little better equipped to handle them now that I'm not so frazzled and frayed because I had a pleasant break. On the other hand, it makes me not want to deal with real life at all anymore and just continually live the vacation life on someone else's dime… Heh. If only, right?

I'm sorry I've been so sketchy at writing. It's just that usually I'm so tired and my brain is so fuzzed up that it's hard for me to keep a train of thought going, even during conversation. In addition to that, it seems like things are both not happening at all and yet so many things are happening that I don't have the gumption to write it out. Any feels I have these days I usually cry out in the tub, or into a pillow, or onto Corey's shoulder. (I've also decided, what's up with the aliases? It's hard for me to keep track of them now, and internet anonymity is really kinda not much of a thing these days unless you work really hard at it and I'm just not willing to put that much effort into it anymore.)

I've made some friends, new friends, and one of them drove me to the pain doc in LA yesterday. It was a fun experience… she's basically like a version of myself in 20 years, so we get on great. Anyway, the doc mentioned it last month, but this month he was really emphatic that he thinks I'm dealing with seronegative arthritis, which is arthritis that doesn't show up on blood tests. Next month I've got an appointment in Tucson at the University with the rheumatology department there for a diagnosis. I was thinking EDSH, maybe, but now there's this question of arthritis… maybe it's both? Who knows, really. Maybe it's "just" hypermobility syndrome and also arthritis. I dunno. Whatever the case, I think things are finally starting to get figured out, and that's a relief.

I am so tired of trying to wrangle all of these doctors and appointments and trying to get all of the doctors to work together and communicate and send the dang files when they're supposed to and, just… my goodness. So done.

But I have a "vacation" of sorts coming up in a few days. My sister in law is coming to pick me up and I'm going to spend the better part of a week in Tucson with her and an artist friend, just kicking back and enjoying the sights and being a tourist. Both of them have a clear grasp of my health status and my limitations, and I'm so very grateful for that. I wish I didn't have so many damn limitations, but it is what it is. I'm looking forward to a chance to go have fun, to be out and about and also have reliable rides the entire time, to more or less be catered to I guess? And the last time I took a trip that wasn't for a doctor's appointment was in March, when we went to the Renaissance Festival. Seriously.

Marriage. It's been strained in ways, because of our tight, tight finances. I was denied disability and I'm still working on finding an attorney to appeal it. I had a lead but that closed down today, so I have to keep searching. I only have 30 days. The stress has been hard on both of us, but it's also led us to be very, very honest with one another, to have some good talks, and we've had a lot of fun together as well. There are pros and cons both, as with all things. One reason I had been somewhat unhappy a while back is because I had fallen into that tempting trap of comparing us with others. First of all, we are a unique couple, and healthier than pretty much any other couple I know (neither of us could think of a healthy marriage that we could turn to for mentorship; isn't that horrifically sad?!), but more than that we are dealing with chronic illness and a terribly unique situation. There is no manual for this. We're making it up as we go. Sometimes it's rougher and tougher than others and I cry a lot and feel sad and lonely and unfulfilled, but those times seem to be further and farther between now, especially once I embraced the fact that we have to make our own journey and I have to look for the ways that Corey uniquely expresses his love toward me. He's not a writer or a poet or a very traditionally romantic guy. I'm not going to get grand gestures or sweet notes or thoughtful surprises. He will, however, drive me to and pick me up from a doctor's appointment on a day that he has called in sick (which he never) does because I am not well enough to drive myself any more except on very rare, desperate occasions. He got up earlier than he wanted, while sick, and drove me to the appointment and picked me up, all while not feeling good. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is love. So, stuff like that. I would love flowers, sure, and he likes to get them for me, but we can't afford that right now. We are having an alarmingly difficult time with basic bills and food, as hard as that is to admit. He is kind of depending on the hope of my getting disability to help us pull through in the long run, but I found out today that I just don't qualify at all for SSDI. I didn't work long enough and recently enough to get credit for that. I really hope I can get SSI, because it's our last hope, really. If I can't get that, I don't know what we're going to do. I just don't. I've been making some crafts in the hope of selling them, but the price for a stall at the swap meets is outrageous! I'm still hoping to sell them, though. That may help a bit on the finance side, but if nothing else then at least it's been a good outlet for me.

There's a lot of feeling overwhelmed for me these days; overwhelmed with feeling lousy almost every second of the day, overwhelmed with juggling doctor's visits and records and lab tests, overwhelmed with paying for all of this doctor stuff, overwhelmed with trying to "be sick right" and eat the right things and take the right supplements and meds and exercise and do everything that I can to keep my health up so it's not my fault, overwhelmed with sorrow that my financially stable husband is now struggling to handle basic life costs because his wife is so high maintenance to just keep alive and semi-functioning.

But, you know, there's also good stuff. There's always good stuff. Life isn't entirely bad, except when I'm going through a particularly bad depression slump, lol. I suppose that instead of feeling pressured to write about everything going on at the moment maybe I should just pop in and write little blurbs here and there, like small anecdotes that give a picture into my actual life rather than just my thought and emotional life. Hell, maybe one of these days I'll actually put together a coherent blog post on a topic, rather than just rambling! Perhaps not. I don't think that's the type of blogger I am, at least not on this blog. This one is for me to come and feeling-vomit and walk away feeling a bit lighter.

Speaking of lighter… I am gaining weight, so much weight, and I can't seem to stop it. I am revising my diet, exercising more (yes, even with the pain!!), trying to eat less… and still I've gained 18 lbs in the last month?! What the hell is that?!?! I don't know what's wrong, I don't' know why this is happening, but I dislike it. I hate it. I don't want to be fat, but I am. Today, though, I looked in the mirror after dressing and I thought to myself, "I am not going to try to look like a skinny girl because I'm not; I'm a big girl. I am a big girl, but I'm still pretty." And I actually felt that, I believed it, and it was a nice place to be mentally.

The cats are going stir crazy because I've kept them inside for the past half a weekish, due to Halloween. People do awful stuff to animals around this time, and I want them to be safe. I have a very strong protective urge that centers around those in my "circle", including my family, pets, friends. I guess I just feel the need to take care of people. It's been bred into me since I was a young'un, living in such unpredictable, dysfunctional environments and being the oldest it made me the caretaker of the kids… and of the adults, after a fashion. That urge has never died, though it has matured, become tempered a bit and and much healthier. Learning about boundaries and implementing them in my life has made a huge honkin' difference, though I know I still have stuff to learn in regards to that. As far as the cats go, they get their freedom tomorrow. As for me, freedom comes in a couple of days, Monday specifically. Unfortunately, the morning I leave is the day of the afternoon that Corey comes home. We're gonna miss each other like ships in the night and I won't see him for over a week by the time I get back, which is gonna be kind of a bummer, but it'll be great to see him when I get back.

And that is a slice of my life as it lays right now.

So after 2+ years of being on gabapentin ("Neurontin"), which is a psychoactive drug used to treat epilepsy and neuropathic pain, I finally decided that I wanted off. I mean, my dose had been increased several times throughout the years with still no help for the pain and too many negative side effects for me to want to take it any longer, especially if there are no benefits to outweigh the risks or negatives.

I tapered down after telling my neon pain doc that I wanted off, which she instructed me on how to do, but I was already not doing well because I had yet another instance where I was forced off of pain meds for a few days. It was a crappy week +, but then the night that I took my last dose I started feeling really, really awful. I thought it was just a bad bout of "fibro flu" at first, but as my symptoms continued to worsen and I was the sickest I could remember being in recent memory, even worse than when I had just been going through pain killer withdrawals. I told Drogo the second night when he got home from work how awful I was feeling, and how it just felt like really bad withdrawals and… then I kind of got an idea. I did some research online real quick (thinking that it may have been something to do with seratonin toxicity, which can be SO dangerous), but the only real change had been quitting gabapentin. My symptoms lined up perfectly, and I thought that I might be able to persevere at home now that I knew what I was up against. You know what I mean? It's just easier to fight a known enemy, even though I still felt increasingly worse. (And really? Going off of this med with no warning whatsoever that withdrawal symptoms were coming, much less that they'd be so virulent?! It was a very nasty surprise… but in retrospect, I should have totally seen it coming. Oh well.)

I had a doctor's appointment with my GP the next morning, and she was concerned. She wanted me to go to the ER for monitoring just because of the severity and concern connected with many of the symptoms, most importantly bad chest pain and very low (for me) blood pressure with severe and consistent near syncope upon movement. (I actually collapsed/passed out in front of CVS right after the appointment, but Drogo was there to catch me and lower me to the ground. I really gotta stop collapsing in pharmacies.

We decided not to take me into the Emergency Room because, even though insurance covers a lot of the expenses… the hospital is NOT a cheap place, not by any stretch of the imagination. Khal Drogo was stuck in a hard place, seeing me so sick and knowing that I really ought to go in, but looking at the long-term of our financial situation and just feeling that, well, we can't swing it. Ever watch Cinderella Man with Russell Crowe? He finds himself in similar situations as he struggles to feed, clothe, house, and keep his family healthy in the midst of the Depression. It was not easy to watch Drogo wrestle with the decision… it hurt me to watch him have to make such a terrible choice.

A few hours after my appointment, however, I was still worsening, and fast. I texted mom and RDad to tell them what was going on, mom called RDad, and Rdad called Drogo to tell him that finances weren't a concern. Get me to the hospital. The timing was great, because I had just texted Drogo from the bedroom saying that "I am getting worse, and I don't know how much more I can take." I broke down crying about that point, because while I deal with a great amount of pain on a regular basis I am also worn down from doing that for so long without any significant relief at all. The "regular" pain combined with the awful withdrawal symptoms and pain was just too much for me, and so on the 3rd day of withdrawals I ended up in the Emergency Room. I hadn't been able to eat hardly anything the past few days, and that morning I'd only had a small applesauce snack cup, so I started getting pretty ill from not being able to eat while in my ER room in the back. In addition to that, I wasn't allowed to take my own meds and so the time for pain killers came and went… and my pain (a 9.75 when I came in to begin with), skyrocketed. I finally fell apart after a few hours, especially after having to get up and move around for x-rays, and I started sobbing and wailing uncontrollably which lasted for an hour or two before I was given something that took the pain back down to manageable (about 9.5 again).

Yesterday was kind of a blur, but I know I was eventually admitted and I haven't broken down crying since. The pain has been bad, don't get me wrong, but below a 10, and I am okay with that!! LOL. During initial triage, the nurse that was trying to take my blood and put an IV in just wasn't doing a good job somehow. The tourniquet hurt like nobody's business, driving my already high pain up, and then she was digging around with the needle and tapping on it for over a minute before I told her to just use the other arm. I couldn't handle the tourniquet pain any longer. She hit a nerve (twice!) as she pulled out and I couldn't help but scream and start sobbing again. I actually blacked out for a split second because it hurt so badly. It startled me.

I've had some great nurses, though, and the doctor who saw me was good. Professional. Friendly, but genuine. He's keeping me overnight again, since I'm still so symptomatic and not doing well… sending me home would not be a good idea right now. I feel much safer and way more comfortable here, with regular medicine application, constant saline drip in my IV, nausea meds, and a type of synthetic opioid, methadone, that is actually used in detox programs for opioid addicts. My pain is still hanging out in the 8-9 level, but that's "normal" for me anyway, and my pain is being aggravated by all the other stuff so it's not a big surprise. I'm getting the methadone and tramadol, as well as IV solu-cortef, which is what's in the "stabby stabby" that I have to administer when I get into an accident or whatever to avoid adrenal crisis. It is more potent than the tablets I normally take, and I can feel it keeping my body more relaxed and stable. It's nice. I thin that was part of why I "collapsed" in the ER as well, because my adrenals were shorting out or whatever on top of everything else. I wasn't allowed to take my meds, remember? It was a nightmarish afternoon. I can legitimately say that I have not been in that much pain before in my life, except maybe in small, short bursts. I was waiting to pass out from the incredibly high pain levels and my utter fatigue (especially after sobbing uncontrollably for a prolonged period of time, and being so weak to begin with when I was brought in-- couldn't walk, could hardly sit up at all).

So… it's been a fun adventure. I feel awful, yes, but not as awful as I would if I had just tried to make it at home. I mean, I did try, and I made it as long as I could, but I just kept worsening instead of stabilizing or improving, and there's only so much a person can take, ya know? I'm so grateful for the intervention of Mom and Rdad on my behalf. I'm honestly and genuinely glad that I was admitted and that I'm being taken care of. This has actually done a fair deal toward improving my totally bleak perception of medical care here in my town, and in the hospital/ER in particular.

I haven't been able to sleep more than 2 or 3 hours since I've been here (or even the day before), and I keep waking myself up with dry heaving when I do manage to fall asleep, but I'm going to maintain a valiant effort to crash the heck out. I'm SO. TIRED. Hah.

Before I go tho, let me take a selfie… LOL. I figured I had to commemorate such a momentous event. Plus my hair looks freaking fantastic, rolling around in the hospital bed this whole time :D

How's my pain? It's over 9,000! LOL

Look! I'm a fall risk! First time for that… means I'm not allowed to stand up on my own.

A whole breakfast tray of… nothing I can eat. I learned how to order whatever "safe" food there was before my tray gets brought up pretty quick, and Drogo has been bringing me safe food from home so I can eat little bits when I'm hungry. Still can't eat much yet, abdominal cramps and nausea too bad.

But they gave me Sprite! Rock on, nurses.

Peace out, homies and fellow Spoonies. May your spoons be plentiful, and take care of yourselves, yeah? I'll stick to doing the same over here.

I'm still here, still alive (barely, hah!), still kicking (feebly, and then only some days).

Things are tough here at home. There's a lot of stress. Naturally, there's the stress of my being sick; that's not gone away, especially as my condition has deteriorated further and I'm spending 23 out of 24 hours flat on my back in bed. (Oh, how I wish I were exaggerating… Well, okay. I am a little. I spend some time propped up with pillows. ;) ) We're having a rough go of it financially. Medical bills are piling up, and we keep getting hit with unexpected other things, like an astronomical water bill due to the broken pipe in our front yard (but Grampa is coming over on Friday to help fix it with the tools that we don't have, so we don't have to hire a plumber! Yippee!) and Drogo is gonna need new tires for his truck, and those blasted trips to the big city and the copays for the specialists, and having to buy me a new phone, and it just goes on and on and on… Drogo told me that we don't have enough money to go grocery shopping this week. I felt sick to my stomach. We have enough food in the house to make it to his next payday, though, and Grampa said that he's going to be bringing us food from the food bank, even without him knowing that we're so tight on funds. He and Gramma know that we're struggling. It's hard, being a young couple just starting out, even without all of this medical nonsense. RDad did us a huge favor and a good turn by giving us over a thousand dollars free and clear, out of the blue, to pay a huge laboratory bill that came our way last month. I paid that on Monday, and it was a relief.

Drogo is very grumpy, distant, and moody because of the money shortage. His entire paycheck is used up this week on the mortgage and that water bill. There's nothing left over for food or other bills at all, and he still has to pay his phone bill… that'll come out of the hundred or so dollars he has left in savings, and then he'll have maybe thirty dollars left to get us through the next two weeks. And he has to buy gas, too. Oh, he's so stressed, the poor guy… and there's nothing I can do. I am actively working on applying for disability, though. That's one thing I can do. We decided that it's something necessary for us… I'm sick enough to warrant it, and we need the help. Even a few hundred dollars a month would go such a long way…

I'm getting really sick of him being so crabby, though. I'm like, dude. I get that you're stressed. It's a big deal, this money thing. It's something worth being crabby over… for a little while. You're the provider, and we both depend on you. It's a big burden. I get it. But get over yourself. Your attitude is not helping anything, and it's making this whole "hey, let's have a good, happy marriage in spite of all the shit that we're dealing with" thing very, very difficult, so knock it off. If anyone has a reason to be crabby and grouchy, it's me, but I don't act that way because it won't help anything or make anyone happy, so you need to be an adult and suck it up. For the sake of our happiness as a couple and the atmosphere of the home, get the fuck over yourself and stop letting your stress get the better of you, okay?

He says he'll stop being grumpy when the money thing is resolved, and lordy knows when that will be. I think it's a poor decision to let your circumstances dictate your attitude. If anyone has the call to be a raving bitch, it's me. But I don't. Why should I? It would just make everyone miserable, myself included. Sure, I'm grumpy sometimes, but I do my best to be happy and look for the good stuff in life, to surround myself with love and beauty. He needs to do the same. His grumpiness is setting me on edge and making me grouchy and irritable, and I don't like it.

Aaaaaaanyways… I'm also on edge because my bestie here in town moved last week (or was it the week before?) and I hadn't realized how much I'd come to rely on him for company and also for getting around town when the need arose. Having to scavenge for rides is difficult when half the people I know don't have cars and others are out of town for an extended amount of time and most of the people in town I don't know well enough to ask for rides and the rest that I do all have jobs with difficult schedules. I don't drive now, at all. And I don't leave the house without my walker, ever. If I'm not improved within 6 months, I'm gonna start saving up for a pretty, new walker that's more streamlined and much lighter.

This thing is sturdy, to be sure, but it's heavy and bulky. I got what I could on short notice and it's served my needs admirably, but I honestly never dreamed when I purchased it off Craigslist that I would need it this much or for this long. I thought it was just to aid me in travel through the long trek through several airports on the way back East for Christmas. Now I've had it a year and a half and it's an invaluable tool.

Oh, I'm also blogging now over at a different blog I just started. It's different than this blog, not as personal. More for my writing writing, if that makes sense. I need to actually draw up a schedule of topics and write an "about me", but I'm working on it. Slowly but surely. It excites me to be "out there" as a writer, even in a small little corner of the world. I do love to write, and I've received a lot of encouragement. I'll still be here, when I have the energy and the thoughts and feels I need to sort through, but I'll be there, too. Honeybee Chickadee is the name. I'll see you there?

Oh, and by the way, just wanna throw a HUGE congratulatory shout out to Beate and Keith on their engagement! I'm so happy for you two-- you are clearly a good match, and very happy together. I'm very much looking forward to wedding pictures, but more than that I am looking forward to seeing the adventure of the life you two will lead together. It's going to be stunning, I am certain, and so full of, well, life. Keith, that's a heck of a vacation my friend. I've never gone on vacation and come back engaged to a beautiful woman! Then again, I've never gone to Germany, so… maybe that's my problem. ;) Again, congratulations. Much happiness to you both.

So I pretty much had the craziest Monday of my life. It was long, involved, looooong, and there was a great deal of pain present, not just mine. Here's what went down…

I had an appointment scheduled with a pain clinic for 8:30 am on Monday. I couldn't get anyone else to drive me, so M left the ren faire she was working early Sunday evening to crash on our couch and drive me up early Monday morning.

3:30 am-- We hit the road in C's truck. M is driving while I am filling out the 27 pages of New Patient paperwork I printed out the night before. (I never got a packet in the mail.) A few hours later, I doze intermittently while M keeps driving.

6:30 am-- I snap awake in time to scream as M slams on the brakes and hits the car in front of us. Traffic just kind of… stopped… but we didn't. At least, not in time. The car in front of us was pushed into the car in front of them, and was totaled. The car at the far front just had a little bit of a smashed bumper, and they were able to drive away. M was injured in the accident with soft tissue damage to her wrist and ankle but refused treatment because she had to get me to my pain doc appointment. She helped me to mix up my emergency steroid shot and I stabbed myself in the leg for the injection, to avoid going into adrenal shock. An hour and a half of procedures and such later, I took over driving the now snub-nosed truck and we made it to the pain clinic with 15 minutes to spare.

8:15 am-- The secretary has no record of me in their system, and insists that I have no appointment with them. I am devastated, baffled, and slightly upset as they were the ones that called me to set up the appointment. We go outside and I proceed to fall apart emotionally. It's now been about 12 hours since my last pain killer (which was only 1/2 of one since I had been on half-doses that week, trying to make them stretch), and I have no option for getting more. M has an idea, and we pull up the phone number of the pain clinic that the neuros initially referred me to but had turned me away, and sure enough… I took us to the wrong place. It's now time for my appointment, and we're 1.5 hours away. They agree to try to fit me in at some point in the day, and we jump in the truck and book it over there. (In my defense, I have been drugged up on sleeping pills the past week and a half-ish, and the difference between Arizona Pain Institute and Arizona Pain Specialists really isn't that great. I think my confusion is justifiable.)

12:30 pm-- I'm now laying on the floor of the pain clinic, since I can't handle being upright any longer. They take me back to a room so I can lay on a bed thingy at least while I wait for the doctor, and I finally break down into tears from the pain. The nurse comes in, takes my vitals and information, and not too long after the doc comes in. It was a good appointment, and he takes me seriously. He is really happy to hear what rheum I am seeing and says that he's one of the best. He feels that there is something systemic, possibly autoimmune, that is causing the scope and severity of my pain beyond just fibro. (Finally, a doctor that agrees with me!!!) He prescribes me my regular pain killers along with aqua therapy, but I have to pass a urine test before I get my prescription. Makes sense. I make it to the bathroom before throwing up from pain, but then realize that they gave me the sample cup for some other woman. They bring the the right cup, I make it to the bathroom before throwing up (again), and pass my urine test. Sign a contract for responsible usage, get my script, and hit the road in search of a pharmacy.

???? pm-- The CVS down the street doesn't have the meds I need, but they suggest the Walgreens across the street. We get over there, they have the meds, but it'll be like, 30 minutes. While we wait, we fill up the gas tank and hit the Starbuck's for some tea (me) and coffee (M). Keep in mind that M is damaged this whole time, and is getting increasingly stiffer and sorer from the accident. She's still driving me around like a champ, though, limping along beside me and my walker, and even pushing me once or twice. I can barely walk at this point, and my pain has been at a 9+ for hours. I've only cried a little since leaving the doctor's office, but it's getting harder and harder to handle my pain.

As M is getting in the truck after pumping gas, we're approached by some white guy who claims that he's a Marine and served _____ places for ______ months and has $1600 in a bank account, but the bank doesn't have any branches around here and he's going to get it transferred to his wife's Wells Fargo account tomorrow but he doesn't have any money today and he needs to get gas in his car so he can go pick up his four year old daughter from daycare and they charge $20 for every 30 minutes you're late and can we spare some money to help him and he'll even give us his driver's license to hold until he pays us back? I say no, M says no, and he begins to protest. We tell him we don't live here, we're leaving in a few minutes, and he asks if we have an address he can send it to? I'm just like, "Nah, bro. We can't help you. No." He gives up and goes away, and M and I talk about all the inconsistencies in his story, which are many. I knew he was trying to scam us right away when he began swamping jus with unnecessary details. That's a pretty sure indicator that someone is lying to you, trying to convince you of the "truth" of their story.

We make it back to Walgreens and get my pills, which were cheaper than I expected. (Hallelujah!) As we are walking/limping/shuffling away from the pharmacy counter, I suddenly felt very faint and knew that I was going to pass out. I said so to M, "I'm gonna pass out," and knelt down with my head resting on the walker seat. After that, it's kinda fuzzy. I guess I slumped over and ended up on the floor with my face super pale followed by flushing, and was more or less unresponsive. (I remember bits and pieces, but most of this is what M told me and I just kind of gut feel that it's right.) A lady who was standing in the aisle came over and helped M get my sweater partially off so that I could cool down because I was very warm and sweating, and they took the pillow off of my walker seat and put it under my head. The lady in the white sweater held my hands and massaged them to get the oxygen back into them (my hands and face were numb, and I was hyperventilating some I guess) while M pulled my purse off of me. The male pharmacist came over and was also holding my hands (how many hands did I have?!), and another female employee was there as well, I think. Everyone was patronizing me, telling me what a good job I was doing and to keep breathing steadily, deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth. They told me to squeeze their hands if I needed to, as hard as I needed, and as I was writhing on the floor they kept telling me to lay however was comfortable for me. The pharmacist told me to go to my happy place and I laughed. He said that his happy place would be under a race car, scraping off mud. I laughed again and told him that sounded like a crappy happy place. He said something about how he loves to race, anything involving that would be his happy place.

By this time, someone had called 911 and blocked off the aisle so that no curious onlookers could crowd around. (I never opened my eyes through all of this, so I don't know what anyone or anything looked like.) At some point, M tells me that I started screaming. Loudly. I hurt, okay? I know that I broke down and started crying, but apparently I was screaming/wailing very loudly while doing so. I don't recall that. I did wave my medic alert bracelet at them at one point, and they were questioning M as to whether or not we were together. She said, "Yes, we're together. She's one of my best friends!" (That's heartwarming to me ^_^) I somehow told them that the meds in the database for my bracelet weren't entirely up to date (they are changing so much and so rapidly lately!), so M went out to the truck for my big binder of medical info. I am so glad I have that thing!! I think the EMTs were there by the time she got back, but they wouldn't talk to her about what was going on. They wanted to hear it from me, probably to know that I wasn't delirious or anything.

I started getting my breath back and becoming more aware of my surroundings when the EMTs were working on me, so I was able to answer their questions. One of them asked me if I had any medical conditions, and I laughed at him. Then he asked me what medications I was on and I laughed at him again. I mean, I told him, but I laughed first. They got me sitting up, and then standing, and it was decided that I would just take a pain killer and try to make it back to our town. Since my case is so complex, with so many overlapping conditions, there really wasn't much they could do for me besides take me in to the hospital which I did NOT want to do. (We're kinda tight on funds right now, with all this traveling to the big city for my appointments, and ambulance rides and hospital visits are expensive. Not to mention the fact that we wrecked the truck that morning, too…) The EMT guy was like, "We can take you in, but you know your body and we don't. Do you think you'll be okay with just taking a pain killer? Is that what you think you need?" M and I agreed that it probably was, so I got them to push me out to the truck on my walker so M wouldn't have to, since I didn't really want to try my luck walking again. Somehow I ended up with a bottle of water that I drank, but it had no lid.

When the ambulance was at the crash scene that morning, I had insisted that M go with them to get checked out since she was obviously in a great deal of pain. She was so emphatic that she had to stay with me to get me to my appointment, and she was so cocky about how it was a good thing that she didn't go with them that morning or else I would have been dealing with all of that by myself and obviously I needed her. Yeah, yeah, yeah… lol. When the EMTs showed up, I waved vaguely in the direction of M's voice and said, "You're supposed to be the one going with the ambulance, f***er!" (I have found that swearing makes me feel better, but I think I should cut down on the habit since I have been doing it some very inappropriate places lately… such as when my mental capacity is diminished and/or I'm in a great deal of pain. Last time I got a steroid and pain killer shot at my doctor's office, I dropped a very loud f-bomb because it hurt SO. BAD. I thought it was in my head, but C was laughing at me and informed me that it was, well, out loud. Oops.)

The EMTs asked me what my pain level was at once they got me standing, and I immediately answered, "10. Wait, no… 9.5. I'm saving my 10." That day without meds was definitely the most pain I've gone through yet with this whatever-the-heck-disease-this-is. Every time I have to go without pain meds, it's worse. Now though, I've got consistent, established care with a pain doc and I won't have to worry about trying to scramble for meds. Well, I won't have to worry if I stick to the regimen of 4 a day. I know now that I can handle extreme amounts of pain, especially if I have sleeping pills on hand. I just know that I can't expect to have much of a social, professional, or personal life for a while yet. Not on only 4 pain killers a day. I'm not working anymore (which is also contributing to our financial crunch), so that pressure is off a little… I can pretty much just stay in bed. Not that I want to, but I gotta lower my expectations so that I can actually mentally make it through on 4 pills a day, without such a strong temptation to take more. I rationed out the correct amount of pills into my pill organizer and gave the big bottle of pills to C to hide. I told him that I'll come to him on refill day and ask for it back, then when I've refilled for the week I'll give it back to him to hide away again. Seeing the small amount of pills I have for every day will help me be less free with my consumption, because when I have the big bottle I'm digging my pills out of it's easy to think, "Oh I have plenty left… It won't hurt to take one extra right now, 'cause I'm really hurting…" Well, I have to realize that I'm pretty much always "really hurting" now, and I can't escape that.

Anyway, we got me packed into the truck and M drove us back home. The closer we got, the more pain she was in, so I stayed awake to chat with her and distract her from her pain (and mine). At my insistence, we met her mom at the ER as soon as we got into town and I left M with her. Guy M literally ran over to the hospital from his girlfriend's house (his ride fell through) and he drove me home in C's truck. He also spent the evening with me until C got home, which was nice. M finally got out of the ER at about 3 this morning (we got her checked in at the front desk about 7:30 pm), but fortunately she's only banged and bruised up. She was having chest pains even before we began our trip and could hardly eat or drink a thing the whole time, but that was determined to be an esophageal issue, and she will be following up with her primary care for that. (She had me worried! I was like, heart problems? Noooo!) The officer at the scene of the crash was talking to M and I just before we left the scene, and after I told him that I had wanted M to go get checked out he looked at me and said, "Why is she driving if you're not in any pain?" I was like, "Ohhhh, I'm in pain! I'm always in pain." It was funny. There were so many funny moments scattered throughout the craziness of the day, but the moral of the whole story is that M is a badass and an amazingly loyal caretaker and friend. We've decided that in the interest of simplicity, we're simply going to identify as sisters from here on out. It's just easier that way.

C took the news of his crushed truck surprisingly well, but he's definitely distressed about it. He had been planning to pay off a significant portion of the loan on it with his tax return, and also to put a chunk of money towards a new car for me since mine is set to crap out on us at any time. (It makes him nervous to be driving my car around, since he's afraid that it'll break down on him on the way to work.) Instead, he'll be paying the insurance deductible to get the truck fixed, as it's leaking oil in addition to the body work it needs. I'm really glad that it got us through all the running around we needed to do. We also have had to give up on the idea of the Celebirthsary that we were hoping to do, but I'm not as devastated as I might be since that was a tenuous hope at best to begin with. He wasn't sure we'd have the funds for it even before this happened. Guy M said something about how M was distraught over the idea of us not being able to have our Celebirthsary and how they were going to make it happen or some such, but I don't know if C will accept that. He has a proud streak… but I'm not above accepting charity! LOL. I'm just happy we got to go to one ren faire, even if it wasn't my favorite one. I knew that even if we got up there we wouldn't be able to do a nice dinner or go to the adult toy store like I wanted, but we'd at least have a decent hotel room and a day at the faire. But maybe I can put together a stay-cation for us here? Something, at least. I mean, our first wedding anniversary… it's kind of a big deal. Plus you've got our birthdays on either side of it, hence the Celebirthsary.

Oh, for those of you who haven't seen it, this video is the origin of the term "Celebirthsary". It's hilarious because C and I are so much like that couple. I mean, I don't go to trick C, but I love to celebrate anything, whereas C doesn't celebrate anything if he doesn't have to. The man doesn't even want a Valentine's card. He told me not to get him a card for anything, every, any occasion. Hah. Like I'm going to follow that rule!

So yeah. There you have it. My longest, craziest Monday ever. I'm still recovering from it (pretty much haven't budged from the couch), and I almost passed out again this morning, but I laid down in time and got it under control. I ordered myself a small pizza this afternoon and ate the whole thing by myself in one sitting. It was delicious and I totally savored it… until I started throwing it up several hours later. M said he totally knew that was going to happen. I guess I need to stop eating pizza. This is the 3rd one inside of 2 weeks… and I'm allergic to a lot of the stuff that makes it up. If I want to be kind to my body, I'll knock it off. But oh… I want to be kind to my taste buds, too! I figured I deserved an indulgence after a day like that… but maybe next time I'll indulge in something else. Like cheesecake. Except I don't know of any place that delivers cheesecake...

So today we plan to go visit the local ren faire. I'm inordinately excited, as I always am when it comes to renaissance-themed events. I plan to wear my green dress (the one I initially bought to get married in), and, joy of joys, I can get away wearing it without supportive undergarments! Freeeeeedom.

My friend K devised an ingenious sling of nylon webbing, carabiners, and something that looks like a wire baking rack. It loops over the handlebars of my walker so that I can rest my feet up off the ground and be pushed on the Chariot. It's a foregone conclusion that I am not up to walking around a dusty fairground for hours. I woke up with pretty severe back pain, especially low back pain, so even getting to the kitchen from the couch is a bit of a challenge for me today. I saved pain killers especially for today, though. I will not miss out on more things, just because I'm sick! I'm already having to miss K's wedding, although that's really more of a financial thing than anything else… I missed being able to spend a week with J and had to content myself with just a few hours. I had to give up my job completely this past week (which my heart is still crying about)… no. I draw the line at ren faires. As long as I have someone willing to push me, I will force myself to stay upright and conscious long enough to at least make a pass through. I do have to make a point to take pictures of the ingeniously designed sling, though. Many people have asked for them.

Despite the high pain levels, I am feeling a bit cheery today, probably because I'm expectant about my adventure. I need to shower, but I'm feeling so buoyant that I may decide to do my makeup as well! I've compiled some really neat eyeshadow tutorials on Pinterest, and I've been dying to try one of them out. So far, though, I've not had the energy or the occasion. Seeing as how C recently laid himself down to sleep and won't be up again until 1 pm, I've got hours, so I can take my time and just do a little bit at a time. Once the sun comes up, I will bring my makeup out into the living room and set myself up a little makeup studio. Maybe I'll put on one of my favorite animated movies while I do that. I'd like to re-do my toenails, too, but that is not going to happen today. Too much back and ribcage pain for me to be bent at the waist for more than a few seconds. Besides, sparkly nail polish doesn't ever look abominable, even when it's chipped. Plus I'll be wearing boots.

Oh! Oh! My friend L, who moved to the East coast, is in town this week! She showed up the other night and surprised me :) It was really nice. I was feeling pretty awful (that was after I'd been throwing up, but was recovering), but she already knew the status of my health so there was no pressure. We hung out on the couch together, watched Pirates of the Caribbean, and chatted up a storm. Heyyyy… maybe she'll come back over and do my toenails for me? I'll be seeing her at the faire today, as well.

So far my tactic of drugging myself senseless with sleep aides and Benadryl has worked. I've slept a lot, and it has helped me to stretch out my remaining pain pills further than I ever anticipated. I'm really proud of myself for making it this far. It's been miserable, to be sure, but I'm still here, and I made it work. Now, to just make it to Monday morning… God, I hope they give me a script. I've been keeping track of my pain, (the new blog, remember?), I keep track of when I take my pills, and I've got the timeline of my symptoms and pain, so it's pretty clear that I'm legit. Not to mention the fact that M will be with me and I won't be alone, so I have someone who's seen my sickness firsthand and has taken care of me. She can add valuable perspective, and help me to advocate for myself. I couldn't find anyone else to take me up there on Monday, though I asked around, so she will be skipping out early on the last bits of the ren faire (she's staff there) and driving me up at butt-thirty in the morning. We'll be leaving by 3:30, I believe the plan is.

Have I mentioned that I'm terrified? I'm so scared that they will refuse to help me… or worse yet, want to help me but be unable to. I'm scared that I'll be labeled as a drug-seeker, as a faker, that I won't be taken seriously, and that I will be condemned to try to live with this pain as best I'm able. This is, essentially, my last hope at this point. These are the people who can help make my life livable and bearable. Whether or not I am able to control my pain dictates whether or not I'll be able to participate in life again, to hold down a job, to drive myself places, to have fun adventures, to have sex with my husband, to keep my home in order, to exercise and help my body to be as healthy as it can… It all kind of hinges on what goes down this Monday. And that, my friends, is terrifying.

I'm going to be doing something a little different here for a while. I don't know how long it will last, and I will probably continue with my regular blogging habits in the midst of this (because girl gotta vent, you know what I'm sayin?), but I think it will be a fun little diversion. I felt the urge to pull out my old journals and scrapbooks last night and start browsing through them, just to see how different my life is now and, more importantly, how much I've grown and healed in my thoughts and in my heart. (Hint: it's a lot!) So what I'll be doing is posting entries from my paper journals that I kept before I started blogging, probably in no particular chronological order, just as they speak to me. I'm going to call this endeavor Blast From The Past. I hope you enjoy this little bit of time capsuley goodness. I think I will.

The drive up was pretty uneventful. We didn't have to leave by any certain time, really, so we both packed the day of (because I was overworked and exhausted the day before), though I'd already stocked the fridge and pantry with my provisions for the week. C drove most of the way, though I took over for a few hours so he could nap. It was much different than the other times I've made that drive, where I've always been by myself and had to drive the whole way. Then again, I'm also in a different place physically than I was the last time I made that drive a year and a half ago.

Due to traffic and construction, we arrived a little later than we thought we would, but in enough time to surprise J as she and a couple of others were preparing to leave the house and stay in Lton for the weekend. While I wasn't able to sneak up on her like I would have wanted (she knew that a "surprise" would be coming up the driveway), she was definitely enthused and surprised. Funnily enough, so was K, because she had forgotten that we were coming that day!

C and I spent that evening recuperating some, as we were both exhausted and not feeling well after the long trip. He fell asleep super early and slept all night. It was difficult to get a good rest upstairs because it was so very hot (no AC, much to C's consternation lol), but we managed. The next day was Friday, and we headed into Otown to pick up my medical records, show C the town, and see a few old friends. We also had a lunch date set up with a couple of my friends, but I found some time in the morning to go out to the gardens and relieve a few strawberry plants of their burden. I didn't even get close to picking all of them, as they're not being picked on a regular basis and so are overloaded, but I got a sizable batch that I split into 3. One was for B, one for my friends M and S, and the other for J. We hung around in Otown for the afternoon then drove into Lton for J's rehearsal dinner. I'm glad that I wasn't able to make it for any of her bridal showers, as I admit that I would have had a hard time swallowing my jealousy. I know that the pre-festivities have no bearing on the wedding or marriage itself, but I still do feel gipped. Oh well. It is what it is, and I'm very happy regardless.

At the rehearsal dinner (which was beautifully set up, I might add!) C got fed with some good food and I munched on what I had brought with me. Before we even got around to the dinner, W and J led an entourage the block and a half from the church to their new little apartment that they're leasing. It's really cute! Small, but cute. They actually don't have much less square footage than we do, but the way ours is laid out makes it look much bigger.

The next day we headed into town to hang out with H, her husband S, and the two kids S and A. The kids were so excited at the rehearsal dinner when they found out that we would be coming to their house the next day! S was actually jumping up and down with excitement. It brought a warm glow to my heart, because it was me he was so excited to see. They call me Auntie Cassandra, which I think is awesome. Anyway, I made it into the gardens before we left again, so we went to H's house armed with a large tupperware container full of freshly picked, ginormous blueberries. We ended up eating most of them while we sat around looking at wedding pictures on my computer and telling funny stories. C and S seemed to hit it off quite well, and C was very impressed with the K's as a whole. He could tell that they are good people, and he said that if all Christians were like them then the world would have a LOT less problems, and the church too. I was invited to "girl's night" at the hotel in Lton, but it's 2 hours away from home and I knew that I'd need to be rested up for the next day, which was the day of the wedding.

We left the house on Sunday at a compromised time of 10 so that I could get to the hotel in time to finish getting ready with the girls of the wedding party. C took my laptop and a movie and sat in the hotel lobby (fully dressed for the wedding in a 3 piece suit!) to watch the movie. The timing was perfect, because I had just enough time to get myself ready before we headed over the park, and I also arrived with enough time to be partially through curling my hair when J showed up and I got to help her into her wedding dress. She was a truly beautiful bride, and I loved her hairdo with the fresh flowers that were slipped into it. She appeared to be much calmer than I was on my wedding day, but then again I have no way of knowing what kind of vibe I was giving off, so... Then again, she had everything organized and laid out, whereas I didn't as much.

When I was done getting ready I collected C and we headed over to the park to eat a light lunch. We wandered around sorta helping out, greeting old (for me) and new (for C) friends, and just observing. I was careful not to do too much because I was already not feeling too hot, and I knew that I'd need a lot of endurance to make it through the rest of the day. I got called over to join the family wedding photos at one point, which made me feel very special. I know that we consider each other to be sisters, but it's the public inclusions and acknowledgments that seem to be able to make or break the affiliation, especially in others' view. D was not there, obviously, and that was a sad thing, but W and J used his Bible with the well worn pages for their service, and there was a chair reserved for him with a single red rose placed in front of a sign that read, "In Loving Memory of D S".

C and I were in the third row, so we had a clear view of all the proceedings, and they were beautiful. I liked that the service was short, sweet, and to the point, but obviously very meaningful and thought out. You could just see the happiness radiating off of those two! It made me smile :)

After they ran back down the aisle as Mr. and Mrs. for a little quiet time, we wandered over to the reception area and sat at an empty table to see who would join us. Our table was sparsely populated until toward the end, when H and S joined us, though H was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. It only makes sense, as she was the wedding coordinator, and was probably doing the same at my wedding though I hardly noticed! The couple took pains to provide gluten free options for everything, so I ate very well and even had TWO pieces of cake! I had not had cake in so long, and it was a bit shocking to my stomach because of all the sugar, but it was totally worth it. I went through the receiving line and hugged the bride and groom and was once again hit with how grateful I was to be there. I would have been so very disappointed to have missed that.

There was only one hitch, which happened sometime between pieces of cake, and that was that a yellow jacket somehow crawled up my dress. The bees and yellow jackets are terrible up there this year, and as J's decorations were comprised primarily of flowers we had a lot of them hanging around the wedding and reception. We were leaving each other alone just fine until I felt some sort of a itching sensation to the right of my sacrum (lower back), so naturally I reached back and sort of felt around/scratched to get rid of the problem. That's when I felt the stab of pain, instantly realized that I had been bitten or stung by something, and crushed the area with the flat of my palm as hard as I could. I guess I got the thing, because I didn't get stung again. I did, however, scream very loudly, jump up and knock both my chair and my neighbor's water glass over, and shout some sort of expressive phrase like "good grief" or something. (I am soooooo glad that my brain's filter was firmly in place this weekend and I didn't drop a huge, loud F-bomb right in the middle of my sister's reception. Considering that 99.9% of the attendees were good, staunch conservative SDA's... that wouldn't have gone over so well.) H came to the rescue with a plaster of mud and wet paper towels, and that took the heat out of it for a while. One of the other guests picked some plantain that was growing at the park, and I chewed up the leaves and held the poultice on with a couple of bandaids overnight. The sting went away with no trouble, but I had a lot of itching and redness, even some swelling, from the adhesives on the bandaids. Oh well. It was the lesser of two evils at that point.

After the festivities had wound down, the marriage license was signed, and the garter and bouquet thrown, the guests formed a corridor for the couple to dash through to their getaway car while we showered them with dried lavender flowers. The park smelled great! Hehe.

C and I headed home and pretty much collapsed into bed. Well, I did at any rate... (Ok, maybe after having a little fun of our own...) I had to say my goodbyes at the reception, as that was the last we would see of anyone before we skipped town. The next morning C and I packed up the truck, tidied the house, and headed back home. That trip is a post in and of itself, so I'll save it for later. I will say that I am thrilled to have Juneaux back home with me, though! He seems to be adjusting well, though he hasn't been outside yet. That'll happen in a few days, after we get him a collar and tag. We wanted to make sure he'd come back, so we've been keeping him inside. I don't want any Milo and Otis/Homeward Bound stuff going on, with him trying to get back up north! This is home now.

So I couldn't say anything here or on fb for fear of ruining the surprise, but C and I drove up to Id for J's wedding weekend! Yep. We are now firmly ensconced in the S's home, watching over it while they're all crammed into a hotel room together. I'll be doing some cramming of my own over the weekend, but it's nice to have a peaceful, quiet place to relax in. Although C did most of the driving, it was still a grueling trip, and neither of us are feeling very good right now.

C, J's mom, had told her this morning that she would have a surprise rolling in about noon, but she had no idea it would be us! Her delight and enthusiasm more than made up for the difficulty of the trip, and I for one am thrilled to be here. A HUGE thanks to my mother for supplying the gas money and making it possible!

It is strangely sad, though, to be here and know that D is dead. It casts a solemn pall over what would otherwise be a strictly joyful trip, but that's to be expected. I knew this would happen, and so did C.

Also, when I went outdoors and called Juneaux he appeared immediately and was incredibly happy to see me. He had no troubles remembering his mother at all! That made me happy. I missed my sweet baby boy.

You know how fibro makes it so you can't do the things you used to, or the things that you want to?

I say eff that! I'm going to a beach city with friends for the night. It's not like it's spur of the moment (we've been planning it for a couple of weeks), but it's still going to be awesome.

I was torn between two options for this weekend--seeing my bestie J for a day, or going to the beach for the weekend. The tipping point was when my friend M revealed that he has been saving up and basically wants to spend money on the two of us that are also going. Yeah... I'm shallow. I like free stuff.

Plus my latest bouts with grief have me longing for the ocean. I need it for my sanity, and I know that J understands.

And with that... I'm off!

*So excited!*

I did two things today. One was foolish, the other was brave and awesome.

We'll start with the brave and awesome. I marched my happy little self down to the local beauty school's salon and got my hair streaked with bright red and vibrant purple. How is this brave and awesome, you ask? Well, I've been wanting to do this for years, literally years, but I've been so afraid of what other people might think (because I have a reputation to uphold, you know) that I never could bring myself to give voice to my personality in that way. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and C agreed to pay for it, and then my massage therapist told me today to do something fun, so... there I went. I was supposed to get a haircut, too, but we ran out of time, so I'm going back in the morning. Nothing crazy, just a shorter version of the cute, choppy bob that I loved so much last time my hair was cut. The layers will really show off my new colors nicely. I'll make sure to get at least one decent picture.

The foolish thing? I marched my happy little self down to the local beauty school's salon without taking any painkillers or snacks with me, or even a bottle of water. Big mistake. (Granted, I had no idea how long it was going to take, but it was still a foolish oversight.) I was there for three and a half hours, sitting in uncomfortable chairs, holding the same position... and then I had an HJ meeting afterward, so by the time I got home I hadn't eaten in like, 5 hours. That's bad news for me. I was able to score some apple juice during the meeting, to boost my blood sugar a bit because I was shaking. That got me home, but I was so nauseous and painfully sick from not eating that it almost wasn't worth it... but the black rice and grilled asparagus that I forced down really did hit the spot. I'm super worn out, though. Skipped group. I just couldn't do it. Plus I've got work tomorrow.

It's dumb how just sitting in a chair for three and a half hours can completely knock me on my butt. I resent that. I did get to explain fibro and chronic pain a bit to my hairdresser, though. Of course, because I came in with my walker, it was a natural conversation topic to come up. It made me realize that I'm really interested in advocating for chronic invisible illnesses in my community, but I really don't know how to go about doing it without seeming like I'm complaining or throwing a pity party. I'll be mulling this over, I'm sure... keeping my eyes out for ideas and opportunities.

Despite my mistakes, it was a pretty good day. I'm happy. In a hell of a lot of pain and thoroughly exhausted, but happy.

Whew. Today has been a rough one.

I did a ton of packing yesterday, and then we moved it all over to the new house, so that definitely wore me out. On top of that, I had a doctor's appointment and a couple of errands to run, plus my last Spanish class, and I was already fighting major fatigue. I did not want to help load up the truck and move our belongings last night-- I wanted to go to bed!! But I helped my beloved anyway, because it would be a jerk move for me to leave it all to him. He looked over at me in the passenger seat and said, "I can tell that you overdid it today."

"You think so?" (Not sarcastically, genuinely questioning.)

"Yeah."

And he was right. I was hurting yesterday, but I woke up at 5:30 this morning due to pain and a growling tummy, and I could NOT get back to sleep. I was so frustrated! So I got up, ate something, and settled onto the couch with my trusty, newly-fixed laptop. After an hour or two, I dozed off and was able to get a couple more hours of sleep before my acu appointment. I wasn't up to walking, because even two painkillers hadn't dulled the pain to a "let's act normal" level, so I drove. That was a big tip-off to E, my acupuncturist, because I usually walk. When she saw I didn't have The Stick with me, she knew I was hurting. She did a more intense treatment on me this time, on my back instead of my front, and then my massage therapist worked on my back when she was done. I still hurt when I came out, but I felt tons and tons better.

I've been medicated today, but I feel funny. Weak. Like my eyes won't focus right, and my legs are going to give out... and this funny, weak, up-and-down feeling in my torso. I don't know how to explain it. But I'm tired. Sooooo tired...

So anyway, I came home and made some food, chatted with J for a while, then hopped in the shower with C and got ready for my next doctor's appointment. To the dermatologist! I got my stitch from the punch biopsy taken out, so now I have a neat little crater that's healing up quite nicely. It turns out that the blotchy rash-lesions on my chest are a fungal infection, and we can blame that on my suppressed immune system. Not only is my immune system compromised, but the dexmethisone for my adrenals suppresses the immune system, and the hydroxychloriquine is a suppressant of sorts as well. So the derm said that I'll probably see reoccurrence with this, especially while it's so hot. It's not unsightly or anything, but still... first acne, now this? I guess I'll just be battling my skin all of my life! At least it was clear and beautiful for my wedding pictures. I am unendingly grateful for that.

Also, I had my appointment with the lady doctor yesterday, and after describing that bleeding situation with her she put me down for a pelvic ultrasound. She didn't feel any lumps or anything in the manual exam, and everything else looked good and healthy, but she'd rather make sure that everything's okay than miss something terribly important... or even not-so-important. I'm cool with that.

After my dermatology appointment, I ran a couple of errands, saw my friends at the pharmacy (heh.), and then headed down to Mexico to try and hunt down a cheaper version of Savella for R. Bad news-- no one has it. Like, they've never even heard of it. Bummer :( But it was worth a shot, and I've found that I'm much better at dealing with the pushy vendors and the even pushier guys. I had one older man follow me for half a block asking if I wanted a Mexican boyfriend. We walked past his friend, who made sure to shout at me that he was single. Oy. I just kept walking, eyes forward, head high, no eye contact. Doing my thing, and ignoring them. There was a really nice guy in a safety vest that held my car door open for me, and stopped traffic so that I could turn around on the narrow little street to get back to the border. He was very kind, and I was grateful for him. I also noticed him tailing me briefly as I first began hunting for pharmacies, making sure that I was okay (because at the first pharmacy, the one that I parked in front of, some guys started trying to heckle me as I walked in). As I said, he was kind.

I was SO ready to be back home and collapsing into bed by the time I was finished with the Mexican pharmacies, but lo and behold... I got stopped at the border for inspection. I had to pull my car off to the side and sit on a bench while they went through every inch of the vehicle. I suppose it was the heat, but I got hit with the most incredibly intense headache while talking to the agent that directed me to pull aside for inspection, and it frightened me how sudden and shockingly intense the pain was. It was focused in my left temple and around and behind my left eye at first, but then it spread to my entire head while maintaining an emphasis on the left side. Any movement hurt, and it was kind of difficult to see. (Driving? Not fun.) When I was finally allowed to drive away and I got the air conditioning cranked up, it abated some.

I got home, changed, and collapsed into sleep for a couple of hours. Mercifully, when I woke up, the headache was gone. Now I'm just left with an upset tummy, an exhausted body (MOAR SLEEP!), and tendrils of a headache dancing through my noggin. And the twinging, painful frame, of course. I don't want to take more painkillers, but I may have to. If only I'd had the Comet I needed to scrub out the tub yesterday, I could take a bath now. But I kept forgetting it at the new house and only picked it up today. If only someone could or would come over and scrub my tub for me!! Alas...

I'm trying hard to be balanced, I am. I don't want to overdo it and pay an awful price, but it's hard for me to realize when I've run out of spoons, or when I'm working with diminished levels to begin with. C says that I have a lag in my energy levels, so that by the time I realize I've run out I'm already in the red. He's right, and I must learn to work with that.

My massage therapist gave me another "prescription" today. In addition to doing one thing each day that makes me happy (and makes me feel happy-- she emphasized that point!), I am to slow down on the packing, take more breaks, and make it fun. Okay. I can do that. At least she didn't forbid me to pack, like she came close to doing! I am definitely forbidden to move furniture, though... Nothing heavier than a chair. (Yeah, I totally ignored that two days ago when I was hauling boxes to the new house...)

So now I am laying on the couch, drinking coffee and tons of water and watching "Shall We Dance?" I love JLo, and I love Richard Gere, so this movie makes me happy. It makes me want to learn to dance. It makes me want to make C watch it so he'll want to dance so we can learn ballroom dancing together! :)

Yeah. It's been a rough day. But there have been bright spots, as there always are. I don't feel down, really, just physically trashed. I really just want C to get home, because I miss his face. And his presence. I love that guy...

Oh, and a major bright spot in the day? I've been getting very positive feedback on the Flip Flop Theory. J said that as she was reading it she was confused for a moment, as she thought that it might have been written by "a professional psychologist person", but when she checked she realized that it was indeed me that wrote it. So she said that I write really well, and it was well done. This pleases me. It pleases me greatly, especially since Miss J is a talented writer herself, and a fellow grammar nazi and etymology enthusiast. (Oooooh, alliteration! I love alliteration.) I am very grateful to be accoladed as a good writer, since it's a talent of mine that I'm especially proud of... and that makes me vulnerable in that area, and vulnerability is scary, scary stuff. So sharing my writing with the world? It's hard, but often quite rewarding. I guess I'll keep it up... :)

Okay, so funny thing about how plans work out... they sometimes don't.

I went to bed all early and stuff... but I can't stay asleep. I'm waking up every hour or so, and now I'm just not tired anymore. (It could be the pain...? But it's not that bad! But bad enough to where I can't sleep in certain positions... I dunno. Whatevs. I took a tramadol and hopefully that will help me knock back out. Gotta do what you gotta do.)

Anyway, as I was drifting off the first, second, and third times, I was thinking about a few things... one of them being how my friend H encouraged me in my writing today. She sent me a message that went thusly:

"So for the whole month of February I've been trying to write one stinkin page on my courtship website and have been having the hardest time doing a page about the Proverbs 31 woman. I thought to myself, I bet I could ask C what she would write and she could come up with a really good intro in like two seconds. Just thinking about talking to you or asking for your help INSPIRED me! Seriously. 

I just finished reading this blog post (SUPER GOOD BLOGGER!) and I just HAD to tell you that you REALLY have a gift for writing. With your fibro thing going on and having low energy and all, you can really make an impact on this world through writing. That IS your gift. I like following your blog - largely because I care about you, largely because it educates me in my pursuit to be a good counselor, but another large factor is that it's just well written!"

Yes, well... clearly, it meant a lot to me. A lot. (And I hope you don't mind my sharing it, H!) And the funny thing is that I've been thinking lately about how I can make a contribution to the world now that I'm so "diminished" in other ways... It's like, "Okay, my definition of productivity has totally been turned on its head. How can I still be productive without judging myself on what I accomplish on a daily basis?" Writing could be it. I don't know what that will look like, exactly, but I feel that my feet are set on that path, and I'm slowly but surely walking toward something. I've felt that way for a little while now, and it's kinda exciting. Hard, 'cause you know me and waiting for stuff, but exciting.

That led me to begin thinking about other ways I can reach out and make a difference (while making a living), and the idea for an Etsy store came to me while I was drifting.

Okay, related side note: S has found a place to live and will be moving out within the next few weeks. That means that we'll have a spare bedroom, and C said that I can have it to move all of my crafty stuff (and wedding stuff) into! That means that I'll actually get to set up my easel! So I was thinking about how, once I have a space to work in, I can start making stuff, and how therapeutic it was for me to make that spoon last week...

And that led me to thinking about creating an Etsy store that specializes in survivor awareness jewelry, keychains, bookmarks, and art. Survivors of chronic illnesses, survivors of abuse, invisible illnesses... Like, I could have a whole "line" of stuff just for and about spoonies, featuring and made of spoons, and I could even make more of those "inspirational spoons" and feature them as gifts for the spoonies in people's lives... and I could have another line of stuff related to abuse survivors... and I could also put up the art that I create in various mediums. I'm thinking of a name something along the lines of The Art of Survival, or something like that. While the majority of profits would go towards defraying my medical bills (I really want to help R out on that one!), 10% of any profits would go toward various organizations that promote awareness of and healing from chronic illnesses and abuse.

While I don't have the resources to invest in jewelry and keychain making materials, I can definitely pick up cheap, older jewelry from thrift stores and take it apart to reassemble the parts into what I desire. As far as bookmarks and art goes, well, I'm always seeing things at Goodwill and the dollar store that I'm like, "Oooh, you know what I could make out of that?"

C says that, if I think I can do it, go for it. I'm thinking that I'll wait until after the wedding to even try thinking of it. I may put it off until this summer, even, when I don't have classes. We'll see. Definitely not until after the wedding, though! I think it would be fun to try to pursue this, even if it doesn't pan out like I'd hope that it would. (Hoping to become somewhat self-sufficient, income wise!)

And for now, I'll be patient and see where my writing takes me. I feel like I can't really contribute much in the way of fibromyalgia awareness or anything until I get mine under control, you know? My diagnosis is so recent and my symptoms so unpredictable that I feel like the only thing I really understand is the "freak out" stage... and I don't even have the answers for that yet!! lol

We'll see. We'll see. For now, it's enough to just dream...

I'm alive! And only slightly sore :)

Yosemite was mostly great, partially an annoying ordeal that I couldn't wait to complete. I missed C, and wished that he were the one hiking the trails and soaking in the view with me. Alas...

The sights were fantastic. The drivers were not. This did not help my sympathetic system dominance at all.  You know, fight or flight? Yeah...

I got to check off "see that giant tree with the tunnel in it" off my 7 Wonders of North America/bucket list!

I fell in love with a mini-Taylor guitar my friend currently has. It's.. amazing. A steel string, but with a nice, low action. It hardly tore my fingers up at all, after hours of playing.

I had Jamba Juice again. Mmmm... Jamba...

I ate too many nuts and got super sick. (Could also have been from the general stress of the trip?)

I hung out with my friend :)

I got a bumper sticker for my guitar case.

I studied as well as I could, and managed to pull a 90% on the test. (That's great, because I was uneasy about this one... the peripheral nervous system just wasn't really sticking in my brain for some reason.)

I caught up on some sleep on the drives to and from Cali. Though I didn't sleep too well while there, I did have a crazy dream in which the end of the world began and people were going all anarchist/destruction in the streets and... ended up in a song-and-dance number, the chorus of which went like: "Welcome to humanity, flamingos and flambe..." That's what I woke up to in the wee hours of the morning!

I was very happy to get back home to my creature comforts, and to be reunited with my love. I'm working on a wedding website that will not only inform the wide world that I'm engaged and planning to marry this great guy (yes, I am announcing, regardless of my fear of other's opinions!) but will also solicit donations toward the wedding budget in lieu of wedding gifts from a registry.

I think this trip is the first time I've ever gone hiking in a dress and flip flops. Hmm.

I've still got a few things to complete for myself tonight before I turn in, so I'll be off. I'm skipping group tomorrow night, so that I can wind down and regroup (get it? re-group? hah!), because the trip and the packing and the studying and the traveling (oh, the traveling!) were wayyyy more stressful than I anticipated, and I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed suddenly.

Cheerio!

Took the girls to the water park today. Ohmylanta am I tired... but it was fun. Mostly. Those girls can be very willful, and it's hard to corral them when you're utterly pooped, but it worked out okay. Even the boy's group (all two of the boys lol) came out, and while the girls and boys were bickering at first, they reconciled over lunch and hung out together for the final few hours. And the girls adhered very well to the "let's wear one pieces or otherwise cover up our bikinis because we don't want to be hoochies" dress code.

I took yet another step towards freedom from "what other people think of me" when I wore my bathing suit to the water park... without shorts. I was wearing them at first, because I'm highly self-conscious about my legs, but the shorts were chafing when they were wet and I thought, You know what? Forget this! I don't care if some stranger doesn't like the fact that my thighs jiggle when I walk or that I have cellulite, and I want to have fun with the girls. Off with my pants!


It was a very liberating experience. I was far from the most attractive girl there. (Apparently there are a great deal of very, very attractive girls in Yuma. Who knew?) And it didn't really bother me. I wasn't there to be ogled, I was there to have a good time with my little survivors, and that's what I did. It felt good.

I just haven't had the gumption to get on here and hammer out my problems the wordy way.

Monday-- I was sick. Again. I did some stuff that I can't remember (dishes mostly, I think), but pretty much just wrapped myself up in a blanket and watched Glee with S and D. Turns out I'm hooked. (I'd been avoiding it since Mom and J got hooked-- a fairly easy feat, since I don't watch tv.) But now S's Netflix account has run out, and none of us have the money to renew it, so I guess that's that. Got somewhere between three and five hours of sleep. Yuck.

Tuesday-- Worked for E in the morning, which was good. Group was tough, but that's the way it goes sometimes. I'll be working on revamping our sessions a bit, and cobbling together a legitimate curriculum, which I'm stoked about. L was over and we hung out, but I conked out early, due to the previous night's lack of sleep.

Wednesday-- The day R was allowed to come home again. Haven't heard word yet. Wound up in the emergency room that morning, since the discomfort and random symptoms I'd been experiencing for who knows how long coalesced into a rather serious bladder infection. At least, I assumed it was serious when my urine was bloody. Got that taken care of just in time to jet off to a speaking presentation with E, after which we found out that the HJ got a partly unexpected grant for quite a chunk of change, and do you know what that means?! Not only does it mean we get to open up more groups (hurrah!), but it means that yours truly has a job! And not just any job, oh no. It means that E's going to stick me as the Director of the teen division. A director, y'all! You may kiss my hand now. (As my friend used to say, "Kiss my hand and call me Sensai.") So that means added responsibility, but that also means that I can call a cease-fire on the desperate job hunt.

School starts in two weeks, and I'll have the HJ as my part time job. I'm stoked, because that means that I won't have to divide my attentions between work, school, and volunteering like I thought I would. This means that I can throw way more energy into HJ than I thought I'd be able to. This means that I get to run another teen group in a different location.

That in mind, I was thinking after the meeting (it was a United Way meeting that totally inspired me to give back and get involved and help people) about how I'm getting involved in these various things... but I really came away from that meeting lit up about the possibilities. I've always wanted to make a mark on the world, to change it for the better somehow... to "change the world", as cliche as that sounds. It was on Wednesday, though, that I realized that this is the city I have chosen to make my home, and that I can change this city for the better. I can make a difference. I can literally make Y a better place to live. Do you know how cool that is?! These seemingly random involvements suddenly connected in my mind like a series of dots that paint a picture of a positive impact on my community... by impacting individuals.

So that was cool.

Thursday-- took my first "date" with C and we headed to the beach. We got there around 1-something, spent a few hours walking through a favored (rather touristy) location of mine, and then we headed to the beach for a few hours. C didn't think to bring shorts or sandals for some reason, so he was the only fully clothed person on the beach-- jeans and work boots. It was rather funny, or so I thought. I was able to stretch out on the sand and read (and get a little sunburnt), listen to the waves, and dive headfirst into the water (at C's encouragement). It fed my spirit, truly.

My affirmation from Wednesday's group was, "The most important things in life aren't things."

While I was in the water, I really felt that sink in deeply. Memories kept rushing at me as I walked along the water's edge and bobbed within the waves. The memories were all of happy times I'd spent with family and various groups of people there in that very city, on those very beaches. I realized that the experiences I'm stockpiling, the people I'm connecting and building relationships with, are so much more valuable than anything I could ever buy.

C was a little grumpy, but he got a nap in on the beach and on the drive home, so he picked up after that.

I got home and wanted to sleep, but I wanted to get a few licks in on some HJ stuff I'm doing, and then I wanted to blog... and now look what time it is!

Tomorrow I intend to go apply for food stamps and med care (so I don't have to keep asking R for money!), and I'll be taking the twins door to door.

It's been a good day.

Got some of the job hunt out of the way today, then got a good half of this insanely long job application done.

While I was on the phone with B, the guys came to the porch door.

"Do you want to go swimming?!" *huge grin*

"Heck yes!!"

Why so enthusiastic? It was pouring buckets, with thunder and lightning beginning to make their ominous appearances.

So we went swimming in the downpour, until the maintenance guy kicked us out. Then we headed to Walmart to grab a few ingredients for the sumptuous dinner I'm making-- pomegranate-chipotle bbq chicken with rice and broccoli. (I'm probably the ONLY one going to be eating the broccoli, due to the simple fact that there's not much left. Maybe I can convince C to eat some?)

Now, I'm cooking, watching the lightning, and making concert plans with S. (He's going to Jesus Jam with me, 'cause I don't want to go alone, and in return I'll be going to some concert with him.)

It's just... been a good day.

The phenomenal lightning show has been a pleasant kickoff to the Sabbath, and I'm really digging the massive thunder-rumbles and claps that follow.

Note: The guys think my cooking is the best thing ever, and I had to split the broccoli three ways between me, D, and C.

It's been almost a week since I blogged last. When was the last time THAT happened?!

Had company over the weekend (15 ppl!), got sick from overdoing it, went to work for S-- who doesn't have internet-- then I spent 26 hours on the road, followed by a few days recovering.

Working for S is always a challenge to my heart, and not just because it's where D used to live. (Actually, this time around, I found that I am quite satisfied with the fact that things didn't work out with D. Listening to some of the things S said about him, I realized that he was/is totally not ready for anything serious, and that's what I was wanting. No wonder he ran off and wouldn't talk to me! Which is a huge red flag for not being able to communicate through difficulties... Yeah. I'm glad that one didn't work out, in retrospect.)

You see, S is very lonely and unhappy. M is described by S as a workaholic and emotionally distant, though he seems like a nice enough guy to me. (Then again, I'm also not his wife...) So she performs in order to win/keep his esteem and affection and respect. That being said, anyone that she brings in to help her is automatically under the same pressure that she puts upon herself, because the how the hired help performs reflects on her performance, and she's got a lot more at stake than just gas money. Love is on the line for her, and so the pressure becomes stifling. It feels like I can't do anything right, like I'm this big clumsy oaf, and it's awful. Not that she says anything disparaging, because that's just not her style. It's more of a lack of affirmation and the constant flow of comments that let you know that her way is the way that will work-- always. Her way is the way, and it's the best way, and your way just really isn't good enough for any number of reasons. It's enough to shrink a person to lilliputian size, to just let that frail woman walk all over you because it's easier than trying to prove yourself night and day.

And maybe that's what she needs-- the knowledge that she's good, she's the best, she's worth something... because she feels that she has no worth outside of her immaculate housekeeping and prolific canning and gardening...?

What a sad life.

Somewhere on the last day, I put my finger on it-- I was succumbing to a "shame attack". The tapes in my head that replay that discordant refrain of "not good enough, never good enough" were kickstarting again, and I was really feeling low. (That always happens over there...) I was gearing up to outperform, to overdo, to win affection and approval by force, if necessary. Then I realized what was happening. I wasn't able to totally stifle and stymie those tapes, but it was better. I realized that I don't want to live that way anymore, I don't want to be that person. I needed to do my best, to be sure, but toward what end? Toward the end of simply knowing that I've done all I can do, and done it to the best of my ability, and that a streak on the window doesn't somehow lessen my value or lower my lovability. (Yeah, ridiculous, right? But that's the kind of pressure that broods in that home.)

I didn't realize until spending time teetering on the verge of that trap how very free I've become. And I relish it.

S and I parted on good terms, but I was sure glad to hightail it out of there. I managed to pack everything into my little Buick, and the car held up well for the return trip. About twelve hours in, it got a little sluggish, but I had to keep plugging along. I am not sure I've ever been so anxious to get home.

I got very sick on the way, and I am now convinced that I have a potent potato allergy. That, in conjunction with the altitude and the heat, made me very ill. I had to stop and rest for an hour, talking on the phone with Mom to calm me down, because I was experiencing asthma-like symptoms and I had nothing with me to help with asthma. That happened again in the wee hours of the morning, but I called C that time. (Common denominator? Baked lentil chips with potato starch and flour as the second and third ingredients. And a semi-asthmatic response as well as the gut pain. No, no anaphylaxis, please!!)

I do miss the NW, to be sure. I miss the S's. I miss K, but I'll have those beautiful business cards she came up with as a consolation prize.

The day before I left to S's house, C and I sat on the bench outside with prickly pear lemonade in fancy glasses, and just chatted. I want to send her a little thank you note for that, because it was really wonderful. I miss having that mother figure around, because I don't have that in these parts. I'm the adult, here. Mer.

Ahh, but the homecoming was grand. I was tired, but I made it. (Two 5-hour energy drinks is what it takes to get me to or from ID safely, I've found. They typically last me about 8 hours.)

I walked into C's room and he didn't know who had just come in, but when he saw me he leapt out of the chair, and we embraced. My arms around him, his arms around me, one hand on the back of my neck holding me to him... it felt like he was cradling me, and it was so nice. We swayed back and forth, just holding each other, for a very long minute.

For two weeks, that was all I had wanted-- to be back in C's arms. And finally, finally, there I was again. Bliss.

It was funny, though, because I was so tired, I felt like I was drunk. I could hardly walk straight, and I was seeing things. (Probably because I had worked hard all day before I even set off on my drive home, so I was already tuckered out.) C helped me into bed, and I crashed for somewhere around 12 hours.

This weekend has been Recovery Weekend, basically. I haven't done much of anything but hang out, sleep, and a little bit of eating. I did go grocery shopping and bra shopping, and we did go see a movie Fri afternoon. Other than that... it's been very blah. And that's fine. I know the coming weeks will be busy enough what with work and getting ready for school and all.

Oh, yes. C's surprise.

I was all geared up to get the surprise when I came home, but while we were on the phone on my drive home, he told me that it'll be 6 to 8 weeks, because of the "other people" involved in the surprise. (I know what that means, though I won't let on that I know. It means the ring's in the shop, but he didn't expect it to take that long!) And, while I was suspicious, now I'm certain. How, you ask? Easy-- because I gave him back the engagement ring that he had given me once upon a time when we got back together and knew we wanted to get married. I gave it back so that he could re-use it, but the problem is that it had fallen off of my keychain at one point and been run over by an Expedition, so it was warped. He took it, and it got put in his dream box for safekeeping. I would check on it periodically, to make sure it was still safely tucked away, and so did he, because every now and then I'd find it out of the box, lying on the desk where he'd left it. Now, however, the ring is gone. Completely gone. So I know he's getting it fixed, and probably getting some additional stuff put on it like he said he might do.

I have some processing of emotions to do with this whole "settling down" thing, but I think I'll put that in a separate entry, because it could potentially take up a lot of space.

For now, I'm just so happy to be back home with my beloved... and happy to be getting copious amounts of sleep!