I made an appointment to go back and see my pain doctor this Monday. A week of this is hard enough (but I've been so good about taking my meds exactly as prescribed! Go me!), and I don't want to do 3 more. Maybe there's another pain med that will help me, oh I dunno… not be bedridden? Pain upon moving and exertion is one thing, but crazy bad pain from just being awake is really, really annoying. And this new aspect of my bones feeling like they're on fire? So over that. (Side note: I sincerely hope that this trip is less eventful than this past Monday's. I don't need any more crazy stories just now.)

Right. So. I wish I had other things to talk about besides my being in sick and in pain. I really do. I'm sure people get tired of hearing about it. I'm tired of hearing about it! I am tired and hurting and cranky and not feeling well, though, so I refuse to indulge anyone but myself. I wish I had some ice cream. I mean hey, if I'm gonna get fat I might as well do it deliciously, right? (On an only slightly bitter note, I am totally eating less than I used to. It's a fact. Consuming less calories and all that. So there, overweight doctor who is telling me I need to eat less because I'm headed towards being overweight. Suck it.)

Guess I'm still kinda cranky today. I can't sleep lying down these past few days cause it hurts too much, so I've been spending my nights propped up on the couch. It lets me get some sleep, but not much, and the quality isn't that great. Naps are great, though. Also, I haven't had sex in probably 2 weeks, maybe more. I wish I were exaggerating. I keep asking C for it, but he keeps putting me off. I think he just doesn't want to hurt me, and I've been really sick.

Please make a note of this, so that at my funeral you can make sure the eulogy includes the fact that what finally drove Cassandra over the edge and made her leap from a tall building was that the pain took away her sex life. (Just kidding. I totally wouldn't leap to my death. I'm afraid of heights! No, no, I've got it all planned out, and heights are not the way I'd go.)

I plan to try to jump my husband's bones today. We'll see how successful that is. I am still pretty sick, and in some pretty serious consistent pain… but endorphins! And seratonin! And oxytocin! And natural analgesic properties!! Until then, I'm watching Catching Fire and trying to distract myself  long and/or well enough to perhaps nap a bit. Another downside of sleeping on the couch, besides the fact that I don't get to cuddle C, is that the cats--Coraline in particular--see it as an open invitation to pet themselves on me and wake me up. Also my mouth falls way open when I'm asleep sitting upright and it dries out and tastes terrible. Who likes that?

It feels weird to be so irritable. I'm not usually like this. I'd rather go back to being happy-go-lucky. I said something to C the other day about some tentative plans we have for a few months from now, tossing out there that, "Maybe I'll be better by then!!" C laughed at me and said that my optimism never fails to amaze and amuse him. He doesn't know, though. Maybe I will be better by then. Maybe.

A girl can dream.

(Btw, if you want to watch Catching Fire online, I found it here. It lags a little, but I think that may just be my internet. I reduced it to 360p and it seems to be doing better; the picture quality is not really affected.)

Do you ever have those days where you're just done, like, as soon as the day starts? Today is one of those days for me.

My sense of optimism has fled. I am tired, I am sick, I am grouchy, and I do not feel well. On top of that, my endocrinologist was giving me grief about gaining weight today, as I knew she would. "You've gained 14 pounds." Yes, thank you for that. 14 pounds in 3 months. Okay, but that's not so bad, you know? She tells me that I need to eat less, since I'm bedridden now. Right, sure. So on top of being in pain all the time, I can be hungry, too? Bite me. In any event, my weight has stabilized. I'm not gaining, but I'm not really losing, either. I'm about as heavy as I'm likely to get unless my eating habits change drastically.

That about sums it up for me. Fat sounds awesome. Let's get fat. And take lots of pain pills. (If only…)

So there's a lot of shiznit going down right now. Health problems, per the usual. I'm a bit concerned as to why my bones are so tender and why they burn. I don't think that's exactly a normal thing. My skin is pulling that "burning" trick to, and I don't like it, not to mention the chest pains and the random arm/leg/hand/foot numbness that's been hitting me. And the dizziness. That too.

Every time I take another plunge downward I comfort myself with the hopes that maybe this is just a temporary flare and I'm going to bounce back out of it and retain the level of "health" that I had a day/week/month ago. I think it's time to stop deluding myself. I've taken another very large step towards being completely disabled (yay pain!), and it's not gonna reverse itself without some medical intervention. Yes, still trying to figure all that out… I hope I don't end up a vegetable before that happens. My mom thinks I ought to be screened for various kinds of cancer. I can't say that I disagree with her.

Speaking of cancer… my friend is dying. My friend, the Chemo Princess, has been battling cancer for the past four years and is now going into hospice care. This is the woman that inspired me with the strength I needed to accept the newfound reality of being a fibromite somewhere over a year and a half ago. She is the one that has inspired me to find the beauty still abundant in my life and to sparkle, shine, and fight tooth and nail through these health problems. She's just so… uniquely herself. I've always been in awe of that aspect of her. I mean, I've known her since I was a kid. It was her wedding photos that made me want to get married in a meadow, which she and her husband did… in garb, I might add. He's a really cool, quirky guy too; an artist. He and his junk/jug band, Deep Fried Pickle Project, have sung some really funny songs. My favorite is "Don't Drink The Juice At The Bottom Of The Pickle Jar".

Anyway, it's just a hard reality to know that someone so awesome, who has contributed so much light, love, and joy into the world will soon be silenced. Like, really? Here we go again with that "why do bad things happen to good people" thing. It just pisses me off that such a wonderful woman and family are soon to be torn apart-- and have suffered so much already!-- and scum like G are sitting safe and sound with nary a problem. (Well, being in prison is probably a problem for him, but he totally deserves that one.)

Ugh. I have to go to sleep. I was trying to wait until the pain killer kicked in, but I really just need to sleep. I've got a doctor's appointment in a few hours, and C is coming with me since he has to run some errands anyway. Tomorrow, if I'm up to it, I plan to try to contact the right people to get a disability claim going. Almost 26, and filing for disability. What a life, eh?

Nah, it's good, it's good… I like being alive. I like it even more when I think of my dying friend, and wonder what she wouldn't give to have more time with her family. It's thinking of stuff like that that makes it so hard for me to end it on my terms. Like, there are people out there that would give anything for more time… so how can I throw mine away? It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right.

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...

Ren faire!!! Well, the little local one, anyway. My friend K devised an ingenious footrest/sling for the Chariot so that I was able to sit and be pushed around by C most of the time. Despite that, I am very much paying for my outing today, but you know what? I totally don't care! It was worth it.

It was so nice to get out of the house, and I'd hoarded pain pills against this day. I also didn't use them all, so I should (hopefully) have enough to get me through to my pain appointment tomorrow, but only just. I'm trying to spend most of the time in a drugged sleep, surfacing only long enough to pack and prepare for my appointment. I know I'm overdosing on stuff that I'm not supposed to be overdosing, but it's either that or stay awake with the pain and let it feed on itself… which means that it'll take more pills than I have to break the pain cycle. Sometimes, though, I get this nice little buzz, a cozy sort of warm fuzziness, off of the sleeping meds (depending on circumstances, how much I've taken, how much is still in my system, etc.) and it feels good. That in and of itself kind of scares me, but it's nice to feel something other than pain for a change. As of right now, I can feel the last batch I took (about half an hour ago) starting to kick in. My intense headache is being muffled, my eyes are getting kinda heavy, and I just feel a little… fuzzy. And slightly dizzy. But mostly fuzzy.

Want to see pictures of the foot sling? Check it out-- kickboxing wraps for the straps, a couple of carabiners, and a wire shelf that looks suspiciously like a baking rack.

Also, the urge struck me (and I had hours to kill while C was sleeping), so I took the time to do my makeup today. I have some eyeshadow tutorials on Pinterest that I used as an inspiration, since I pretty much have no idea what I'm doing, but I think it came out well. I just hate putting on makeup because it takes so much effort to take it off again! Wish I'd gotten a picture of me in garb as well, but I didn't think of it… so here's me in my pajamas! lol

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.