I've got a confession to make: I suck at being sick.

No, really. I mean sure, I'm not a huge grouchypants most of the time like some people would be if they had to carry this load *cough* myhusband *cough* but I'm not so great at the ins and outs of actually being sick.

To demonstrate, I shall show you a cartoon a friend posted on my fb timeline the other day, and it is so appropriate.

Calvin makes a pretty good point as well:

When it comes down to the nitty-gritty of taking care of myself while sick, I'm pretty terrible at it. The last time I recall eating a vegetable was cucumber and avocado in my sushi the day before my birthday; before that, who knows? I finally unpacked my toothbrush and toothpaste from the last trip to the big city I took… you know… a week ago. I went an entire week without brushing my teeth and only thought of it, like, twice. (And I seriously cannot recall the last time I flossed.) At least I've showered once this week. Or was it twice? Can't remember.

We have maybe 4 pieces of silverware left that are clean, no bowls, and 2 large plates. Everything else is dirty, because I just haven't done the dishes in about a week. I've either been gone, sleeping, or feeling too crappy to stand that long and put forth the energy. I did some earlier and am waiting for them to air dry so I can do some more, but now I'm in bed feeling like I'm gonna puke.

Facebook peeps only see what I choose to share, and even then it's more than most people with chronic illnesses tend to share. I'm open about the fact that I'm sick and I'm in pain all the time and that I'm on prescription pain killers (among other prescription drugs). Sometimes that leads to my having to grit my teeth, smile, and dodge well-meaning advice but it's a small price to pay for the awareness, community, and authenticity it's garnered.

I guess I can't be too hard on myself, though. Recall, if you will, the last time you had a bad flu. We're talking fever, chills, nausea, headache, achy body, the works. Were you very able to function and take care of yourself and the cats and the house? Not so much. Just wanted to huddle in bed, sleep, and ride it out, yeah? Yeah. That's my everyday life. I've caught the curse of the Eternal Flu. Probably when I desecrated that ancient Egyptian tomb… yep. I'm sure that's what triggered it. I knew it would pay off to learn hieroglyphics, but nooooo, my high school guidance counselor wouldn't go with it. Well, now I have someone to blame, right? Right.

I asked Star if she knew anyone that would be willing to come by once or twice a week and help me with light chores and cooking food to freeze and eat through the week. So far I haven't heard anything, but I just might put out a plea on Facebook… just as soon as I'm done begging for alms for the Celebirthsary weekend coming up. (This weekend!) I feel guilty about it… we're strapped so tight for money, and we could use the funds we've managed to gather for other things… but on the other hand, I think that with the stress of my declining further and his truck being smashed and all the other fun stuff that's been happening (half of it doesn't even make it onto these pages) we could really use the break. Plus we've got a free place to stay with a friend of mine, so it's not like we have to pay for a hotel. I just… *sigh* I wish I didn't cost Drogo so much money. I wish I could contribute in some way. I used to pull my weight by keeping the house all spiffy and tidy, but even that is a little beyond me now (as evidenced by the week's worth of dishes). I just… I need help. But I have nothing to offer in return for any assistance. I can't pay anyone, and I don't have any marketable skills unless you count binge-watching Netflix from my corner of the couch.

I'm nervous, y'all. Really nervous. I know Khal Drogo says we're going to be fine and we'll make it, etc. etc., but I wonder how much of that is him trying to set my mind at ease and protect me and how much is actual truth? It's always hard, starting out as a young married couple. This, though… this goes beyond "hard". Sometimes I wish I could live an extremely uneventful life. It seems that my life is fated to be extraordinary with crazy things happening all the time, big difficult mountains to shoulder through and after-school-special-worthy moral lessons to be learned. But hey, you know, everyone's got their own crap to deal with in some way or another. I can't say that all the crappiness is evenly distributed, but we all get a taste of it at some point or another. I just happen to be a connoisseur, is all.

Well, I'm still feeling pretty terrible so I'm going to curl up with a book and lose myself for a while if I can. Before I leave, though, I'll just put this right here. (It's a song that's been stuck in my head for a while now, and I finally found it! Not the typical style of music I like but it's addicting to me, at least. It makes me feel seductive for some reason, and I like it.)

My birthday is coming up. In my household growing up, birthdays are a big. deal. I mean, we're talking cake and a themed birthday party, even if it's just family. (It usually was, with a  few friends from around whatever apartment complex we lived in at the time.) With the S's, birthdays were an even bigger deal, with the newly-aged person dictating the events and menu of the entire day. When you came out to breakfast in the morning, the table was set with a lace tablecloth and the fancy dishes, and there was confetti scattered on the table and likely a ribbon or bow decorating your chair. I mean, we're talking a big deal.

Fast forward to my moving down south. The first birthday was with my grandparents and some of my friends from the local church came over, but nobody that I was really close with. I made my own (amazing) german chocolate cake, but everyone else had "normal" sheet cake. The next year (last year), I was living with C already. B and J took us out to lunch and had special plans for me. They got the sushi place to put a purple orchid on my plate and they brought out surprise mochi and green tea ice cream at the end of the meal. Also, J and I went shopping at Goodwill after lunch. That was my birthday. Very plain. Nice, but plain.

See, C was not raised celebrating holidays or, as I understand it, birthdays really. He's not the "celebratey" type, which is a shame because I'm the opposite. I'd throw a party for everything if I could! Don't have the money or the energy for that, though, sadly. But since he's not the type to celebrate, I know that if I want a good birthday I have to plan it myself. That's pretty lame, in my book, but it is what it is. I don't have the S's or H to put together a party for me, and besides, I don't think they could top my 23rd birthday party anyway. They surprised me by flying my mom out for an entire week (and J was already up there with me for her spring break!), and then they threw me a big hippie birthday party my birthday night. Oh, and I can't forget the mariachi/country song that David wrote and they woke me up with on the morning of my birthday. Have I mentioned how much I miss the S's, and H, and my life up there? Mostly I miss the people, and the opportunities for awesome and unique experiences. I had so many great life experiences that I treasure the memories of.

Anywayyyy… my birthday falls on a Saturday this year, which means that C has the day off, and I'm so happy about that! My plans and my wishes are a bit different, but my actual plans for the day are such: spend an hour or two at the antique car show going on that weekend (it's a birthday tradition for me), eat lunch and rest for a few hours, have the people that I love and care for most all over for cake, pie, and juice. That means my grandparents and great aunt (if she'll leave the house), the D's, D and J if they can make it (the snake folks), both M's, A (who graciously agreed to make my cake!!), my brother in law and his lady E, C's dad and his gf (if she's deigning to speak to me again, that is LOL), I'll see if K wants to come, and S because he's in town!! Oh, and I can't forget E and M, and I'll see if the girls from group can and want to come as well. It's been TOO LONG since I've seen them. Oh, and C. Can't forget her. (By the way, I'm going to be making the switch to code names here soon… it will be so much easier for reading purposes, I think, than initials. Less confusion. I know a lot of J's.) I might be forgetting a few people right now, but I'll be making a list (and checking it twice, hah!) and running it past C to make sure I don't forget anything.

So that's the plan. What I'd like to do is slightly different… well, not different, because I really want to do the above. (Maybe I'll do something silly like make it a sparkle party and ask everyone who comes to wear something sparkly or brightly colored? Best dressed gets a prize! Oh my goodness, yes… I think that has to happen, despite C's inevitable protests. I need to have some fun in my dreary existence!) What I'd like for my birthday (though it wouldn't all fit in one day, or even be feasible necessarily):
-Get a massage from Brenda/Belinda (can't remember her name) at the massage clinic.
-Go Goodwill shopping and get some adorable "big girl" clothes: a cute shirt, a couple pairs of comfy pants, a pair of gym shorts, a dress that doesn't require a bra that I can throw on when I leave the house.
-Get gussied up and go out to eat.
-Bookstore browsing and buy a book.
-Get new lingerie and have hot sex with my husband.
-Forget the lingerie-- have hot sex with my husband!
-A task force to swoop in and set up my craft room for me so it's useable.
-Try out that Juiced place.
-Eat a turkey sandwich- lettuce (no mayo, alas, but I think my salad dressing will do!), tomato, turkey, maybe some cucumber… all on toasted bread. (Bread! Sweet, nutty, deliciously chewy bread! *sigh* I'm in lust with bread.)
-Get a pedicure.
-Have a cleaning service come and thoroughly deep clean my house.
-Get a cute new haircut and re-dye it red.
-Get another set of ear piercings.

Simple wishes, I suppose. I won't get most or any of them, simply because of financial constraints, but it's nice to dream, eh? I won't be decorating the house at all, probably, for the cake and pie fest, but I am going to have C help me clean it the day before so it's at least decent. Maybe I can wrangle some other folks into helping us, too… guilt trip them about it being my birthday weekend so they can deny me nothing ;)

So a Lite Brite Sparkle Party with cake and pie and yes I'm going to eat REAL cake this year you guys! I'm SO excited. So, so, so excited. I haven't had real cake since… since… um… Well, that german chocolate cake I made for myself a few years back was bomb, and you couldn't even tell it wasn't "real", so I'm just going to count that as the last time I had a good piece of cake. Even M, who is a chef, couldn't tell that it was super allergy friendly! Anyway, I'm excited about celebrating my birthday with those I know and love. I don't expect presents at all, I just want to eat cake with them and hang out. Maybe I'll say, "in lieu of presents, please donate to the Celebirthsary fund so that the couple can enjoy their first anniversary in style!". That would be a good present; a fun Celebirthsary weekend. I know it would really cheer C up if we were able to buy something while there. He's bummed because we're only going to be able to sightsee this trip, with maybe a small souvenir here or there, but nothing substantial… like a weapon. He likes buying weapons at the Faire, and who could blame him? They are well made and fairly priced. You can't find that kind of thing around our town.

(I just told C about the Lite Brite Sparkle party. He seemed dubious. He said he was going to wear his blue shirt, and I said that it wasn't even bright or sparkly at all. He laughed and said he was going to come in last! Funny guy.)

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.

Today is the gear-up, preparation day for The Appointments tomorrow.

As I was drifting off to sleep last night, I realized that I am very, very anxious about what is going to transpire tomorrow with the rheumatologist. The psychologist? I could care less. Well, okay, that's not entirely true. The psych will have control over my antidepressant, I'm sure, and that has definitely had an impact on my overall functioning. However, if I were given the choice between my antidepressant and my pain meds… I think we all know which way I'd go. Antidepressants, duh! (I kid, I kid!)

I just… I mean… I'm terrified, y'all. Just so petrified. So, so anxious that my symptoms will be downplayed again, that I'll be told I'm prone to exaggeration again, that my coping mechanisms will be called into question again (without offering any assistance or anything), that my pain won't be taken seriously again, and that it's going to be harder than filling a sieve with Jello to get adequate pain management again, and that I will just end up spending another year getting sicker and sicker and in more and more pain without anyone in the medical community bothering to figure out what's really going on. It's like… this could either be really good or really bad. I'm terrified. I don't know what to expect, but my experience with this stuff so far does not have me exactly resting at ease.

But… I will do my best to come prepared with all the information and documentation that I can to make this as smooth and painless as possible.

Besides gathering all my supplies for tomorrow, I'm hoping to be able to do some more cleaning and tidying of the house. Will that actually happen? I'm uncertain. The pain is pretty persistent and gnawing today, so we'll see. C helped me clean yesterday, mopping the floor after I swept as well as helping me make the bed after I washed all the linens. That has taken a tremendous load off of my mind. I've been bothered by the dirtiness of the floor for weeks now, but unable to do the task myself. Then, of course, I ran out of meds and wasn't doing a damn thing, so mopping was out of the question. Today, I'd like to get the dishes done (since I went through pretty much every single dish while sick, because doing dishes? Hah. Right.) and clean the bathrooms. Dusting would be nice, too, as well as putting away the laundry I did yesterday. If I only get one "cleaning" thing done today, though, it's gotta be the dishes. Well, that and my laundry. How I wish I could do it all in one blazing, glorious, Spring Cleaning type day! To think that I used to HATE the weekends because Mom would want to get all the cleaning that had been put off throughout the week done on Sunday, and of course we were obligated to help. Now I'd give anything to be able to take a day and just clean the house really well. Of course, I try to employ the method that Mom never quite got the hang of, which is tidying up throughout the day and week so it doesn't all pile up and necessitate an all-or-nothing cleaning binge. I'm sure it's harder with kids, but it's also pretty damn hard with chronic pain, too.

So that's the plan for today. Eat, clean, and be merry, for tomorrow I may want to die.

Oh, and quick side note of great importance? The local ren faire is next weekend! Whoop whoop! I'm so excited. I look forward to this all year.

I gotta be kinder to myself, more careful.

Even after getting a solid 8 hours of sleep last night (how often has that happened lately? I slept through the whole night!!), I was so exhausted this morning that I was literally falling asleep in the realtor's office as we went over paperwork. Oops.

I made it through, but a nap when I got home was oh-so-welcome.

I realized that this fibro flare has messed me up more than I thought it did or would (it was so unanticipated, but it makes total sense...), and that I've been thinking of my recovery in the wrong terms. I thought of my recovery from the colonoscopy and subsequent flare as kind of a spike-- I'd be low for a day, then I'd go back up to normal levels, right?

Well, in reality, it's more like a slope, a grade. I have to gradually work my way back up to feeling okay, and it's not gonna happen overnight. Problem is, I've been running my days like I'm not diminished at all, which is really only making things worse. *sigh* I'm my own worst enemy, sometimes.

So I'm working on being more mindful of my health and my energy levels-- especially my energy levels. If I completely exhaust my energy resources, it makes it that much harder the next day, and it just snowballs from there. I still struggle with guilt and self-worth, but C told me point-blank the other day that I don't have to justify not doing a lot of stuff every day. It's okay to bum around if I need to.

I love that man. He helps me keep my balance.

On another note, we made an offer on a house this morning! We are looking to hear from the seller by Monday to see if they will accept it, and if they do then the offer will go to their lender, which will take... a while. It's a short sale, meaning that the seller owes more on the house than it's worth, so the bank is the one that decides whether or not to accept the offer, ultimately. We'll see how it goes... but we're keeping our eyes open to see if anything we like as much or better pops up in the meantime. Estimated closing date at this point is April 14th, I think.

The rest of the day has been good. We were at the realtor's early, then we swung by Home Depot, because I delegated the creation of the wax seal to C, and he needed a few parts to make it work. He's really running with it, making it very functional. I was just gonna hot glue a few pieces together and call it good, but the very idea appalled C. He was so passionate in his rebuttal of my plans that I gave him complete control over it, and he's really putting some energy into it. It's really cool to see him working on wedding stuff right alongside me :) Next weekend, he, B, and D will be going to get their tuxes/suits fitted. They would have done it by now, but life's been throwing stuff in the way and it just hasn't happened yet.

After swinging by Subway for some food for C and Starbuck's for a drink for me (what a rare treat!), we headed home to eat. I took a nap, then headed out to the Ren Faire that S is working this weekend. I took a little bit of money with me, but, I mean, come on... it's the Ren Faire! And they accept credit cards? So I spent a little bit of next week's paycheck on a dagger, and some of this week's allowance on a simply gorgeous leather collar with a silver filigree heart dangling from the front and a silver heart shaped padlock on the clasp. I went back to the booth 3 times before I finally decided to go ahead and purchase it! But I knew that it was one of those things that, if I didn't, I'd regret for a really long time.

I must have looked great today, because I got flirted with a lot. The last thing I did was go to this juggling show, and the juggler, A the Bawdy Juggler, was making very sexual jokes the whole time... but I did find them funny. Adult humor, I guess. Anyway, he picked on me a few times while I was in the crowd (along with other folks), but he pulled me up on stage for the last act. It was fun and funny, but he was very sexual in his humor and was making some pretty bold advances, so I kept him in his place. I'd elbow him in the ribs or slap his hand if he got too fresh, and I made a few verbal jabs of my own. It was sweet of him, though, to ask if I was doing okay, because I had been sitting on my walker (no way was I gonna walk around for several hours without it, not the way I've been feeling lately!!), and he wanted to make sure I could stand for that long. Periodically while I was up there he would ask in an aside voice if I was doing alright. I knew what he meant, and told him I was fine.

A few months ago, I would have been so embarrassed and horrified by the situation and the adult humor, but considering my recent "uninhibiting", I did just fine. I blushed a few times, because let's face it-- some things are private and just not funny. But for the most part I enjoyed myself. Plus, let's be honest... it was flattering :) After the show I had several people from the audience approach me and tell me how much funnier it was with my involvement, and that I did a good job. I'm going to laugh so hard if I get stopped in, like, Walmart or something by someone who saw the show!

I leave for Id in a few days. I realized it with a jolt today, because it's come up so fast! I need to create packing lists, and prepare my food for travel. It's going to be so good to see my family again...

I will have to tone myself down and bind myself back in some ways, though, and I don't mind. Out of respect for their lifestyle, the values they hold, and the way they are trying to raise K, I don't mind getting rid of a few things temporarily for the sake of those I love. The jewelry will go, of course (though there's not much I can do about the piercings-- the lobes have to stay in, and my cartilage will close if I leave it out too long... but they're simple, inoffensive little silver studs. They don't attract much attention... I hope.), and I'll be watching my language as I've become more casual in my use of expletives. I don't mind going to church with them at all, nor joining in family prayer or any other spiritual activities.

I can mold myself to fit in more, and I don't mind. First of all, this is my family, and I value their long-term health and wellness as a family unit as well as individuals. Would I risk the possibility of strife and discord after I'm gone just so I can be free to express myself? Hardly! I don't need jewelry, and I can go without it. Not a big deal. Also, it's short term. I'm only up there for a few days. So not a big deal for me to go with their grain while I'm with them.

I do need to start preparing, though... I'd put it away, figuring I'd get ready when the time came upon me. Well, it's upon me, soooo...

I'm excited! Yet, at the same time, not... because I know it's gonna be a hard trip, both emotionally and physically (there's no way I'm gonna be up to "normal" in just two days, so I'll still be diminished physically, and also the reason behind my trip is just so sad...