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What am I going to do

I’m still feeling lousy. There are days when I barely have the energy to do anything, including feed myself. I force myself to get up, do things, take care of the dogs and myself. In between, I rest. I get outside with the dogs for a 10-20 minute stroll every day around the yard as the weather allows so I am at least moving somewhat. I’ve read a couple of books and I’m trying to do some crocheting in small doses.

But I feel lousy. My imbalance, the nausea, heartburn, fatigue, pain…it’s all still here. Sleeplessness, heat intolerance…I’m hot and cold all the time. Sometimes I feel sweaty when there’s no sweat. Sometimes my hands and feet are sweaty and clammy. Today I have tingling in my fingers and face. And always the pain in various parts of my body. Both shoulders are bad, and for one of them I can’t lift my arm up above shoulder height. I’m eating small amounts of food and feeling full, then feeling hungry again later. Rinse and repeat when I eat again…small amounts of food and feeling full, then hungry again.

Our health insurance doesn’t kick in again until May 1st. Even so, the last time(s) I saw my doctor, she found nothing troubling. It could still be grief. I’m sad a lot, but I’m also exhausted a lot. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m sad or tired. This stuff has all been going on since the beginning of February. It doesn’t seem as if it’s going away…it’s coming up on three months. I can’t imagine it’s just going to disappear anytime soon.

As if I didn’t have enough to think about, the biggest issue looming is that Hub is flying to California soon for his sister’s wedding. He’s going to be gone for five days. And I’m going to be alone, having to take care of myself and the dogs 24/7 for those days. I’m going to be in this big stupid house all by myself, day and night, for five days. I’m going to have to be up early to feed the dogs, and then I’m going to have to be up and alert late to make sure they get out at night before bed. And then I’m going to be alone overnight in the darkness. I haven’t been alone like this since before I first got sick over 17 years ago. The last time Hub traveled–maybe eight years ago–I stayed with my parents with the dog we had at that time so they could help me.

But it’s different now. My mother is gone, and she’s the one who kept everything in line in their house. My heat intolerance is bad and Dad still keeps their house too hot for me, so I’ll feel horrible all day and not sleep at night. Butthead is difficult to keep track of, and I can’t trust my father or my brother to make sure she’s not eating things in the yard late at night or early in the morning.  The friends I have who are local have their own lives, work, families, pets, I can’t ask them to come help me. I considered hiring someone, but having a stranger in the house while I’m here alone is frightening to me. I’ve considered staying up all night and sleeping all day, but the dogs go out multiple times during the day so I’d have to be awake and dressed to do that repeatedly during daylight hours. That means no sleep at night and basically no sleep during the day. I could try to sleep at night but being alone in the house overnight is scary for me and I’m not sure I’ll sleep. Not sleeping will, of course, make everything worse.

This all makes me feel like an invalid. But I’m honestly afraid to be alone 24/7 for five days. I don’t know how I’ll deal with pain and anxiety and exhaustion without any support or reprieve from taking care of the dogs and myself. There are moments when I think I will be able to handle it, and then there are moments when I am positive I won’t be able to handle it. The truth will probably live somewhere in between, in the end. I have avoided thinking about this since February, when Hub bought his tickets, but it’s coming too soon for me to keep pushing it aside.

 

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March not better

I thought February was bad. March has been worse.

I’m feeling so shitty, I can’t even. Period. I spend much of my days fighting the nausea and the fatigue…I’m exhausted before I get going. And now…and now, my imbalance is back in a big way. I’m struggling to walk without falling over, and I’m back to touching walls and handrails and tables and whatever in order to keep myself stable. This is a huge slide backward for me, as I haven’t had this kind of imbalance in quite some time.

I went back to the doctor AGAIN because I’m still exhausted and I’m still nauseated. She told me I was acting better this time versus the last visit, but she’s still thinking I have a virus that I need to just “wait out”. She sent me for more blood work (ANA, rheumatoid arthritis, lyme, iron, b12), but everything came back normal. My b12 is a tad on the low side for my history but still in the normal range. I’ve ordered my b12 sublingual pills and will start them ASAP. Maybe it’s that, maybe it’s stress and grief, maybe it’s something else. I have no idea and apparently neither does my doctor. She said to drink more water and walk outside for 20-30 minutes a day. She says dehydration can cause nausea–and maybe it can–but my drinking habits haven’t altered much. Except now I feel like shit and so I don’t want to do anything, including drink. If I go walk outside my allergies will get worse and I’ll have more breathing trouble and more snot and more post-nasal drip and more nausea. The doctor didn’t care for that and told me to do it anyway, that being outside and walking will make me feel better and get rid of my fatigue. I’m not eating much because I’m so nauseated all the time. I rush through eating what I can before I feel like I can’t put anything else in my mouth at both lunch and dinner, then I leave my dishes in the sink and go back to the couch.

I spend most of my days on the couch, barely even bothering to look at my computer. I try to stay upright, but I’m so exhausted all the time that I end up stretched out and wishing that the day was just over. I don’t know why I wish for that because at this point tomorrow will be much of the same. I feel like I’m sliding into this despair of thinking that I’ll never feel better. That it will always be like this. I am trying to push past the exhaustion and do stuff–I did three loads of laundry on Sunday–in the hopes that if I ignore what’s going on it will go away. But by the time I do anything, I feel this crushing fatigue again and I end up on the couch. Or in bed.

Sleeping is a negatory. I try to sleep but it doesn’t work, and when I wake up in the morning I can hardly haul myself out of bed. I don’t feel rested or refreshed or like I even closed my eyes. I want to cry but I’m too fucking tired to cry.

I was supposed to go see my massage therapist on the 14th but our local snow canceled that appointment. I was also scheduled to go tomorrow morning, but I literally got an email at 9:30pm saying she’s sick and has to cancel. And for sure I’m grateful because I do NOT want to get sick and it sounds like she has the flu, but I’m so disappointed. For one thing, I was hoping some trigger point release would help with my imbalance and nausea (hoping, though not confident)…for another thing, getting onto her schedule is a bitch and even though I rushed I struggled to get back onto her calendar. It’ll be two weeks before I can get back in to see her, which might not be horrible because if she DOES have the flu I wouldn’t want to be back in her “hands” too soon. But it’s hard to miss appointment after appointment when I’m feeling so poorly. Hub tried to send me a link to a list of massage therapists in the area, but none of them do trigger point AND it’s hard to just find a new massage therapist. It’s like a mental therapist…you have a relationship built up. It’s not so easy to walk into someone’s space and get naked and let them rub you for an hour.

I see T on Friday, which is the day after the one year anniversary of my mother’s passing. Just happens to be how it worked out. Considering how things are going at the moment, it’s going to be a long, sobby appointment.

I can’t stand this constant nausea. Every time I swallow I feel sick. Every time I move I’m wobbly and off balance and that makes the nausea worse. If I didn’t have the dogs, I’d be in bed all day. I gave thought to going back to bed after lunch today because Butthead had peed and pooped after HER lunch so I knew she’d be okay for a while, but I didn’t want to give in. I’ve been in that place where I didn’t get out of bed for weeks (with my prilosec fever) and that’s a bad road to head down. It only makes me weaker and makes me feel worse.

Hub’s birthday dinner with his family is this coming weekend. I don’t know how I’m going to go…by 3pm, I’m so exhausted I can barely sit at our kitchen table for dinner, how am I going to get out and go to a restaurant and be “on” for his family? For hours… We didn’t go out on his birthday because I couldn’t get up the energy. We didn’t go donate the dolls and bears I crocheted to the police station because I didn’t have the energy to leave the house.

I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know what path to take. I don’t know how to do anything right now.

 

 

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Sleep? Why bother…

Apparently this is what my body and brain has decided. Sleep unnecessary.

I know that for real it has to do with my mental, emotional, and physical pain. All of those wrapped into one, split into pieces, kneaded into each other, and then rolled into a throbbing ball of oneness. I’m so on edge that one small scrape and I’m raw and bleeding profusely, figuratively.

I cried on the way to the grocery store this morning. Not because I had to go to the grocery store, not because I was worried about being able to afford the trip to the grocery store, not because I was afraid I was going to have an anxiety attack in the grocery store… I cried because I couldn’t not cry. I’m tired, I’m not sleeping, I’m worried about Hub and I’m worried about Butthead. I’m worried about myself, too. My grief is overwhelming every part of my life and I can’t seem to dig my way out of it.

Hub is agonizing over a job offer–in part because it might mean less flexibility and he worries that he won’t be able to come home if I need him–that he received on Friday. I’m worried for him because I don’t feel that the company was being up front with him…they kind of bait and switched the job position (which they apparently did to the guy before him, someone Hub knows). I am concerned he won’t have any backup on his work, and I’m worried because if this is how they treat potential employees, how do they treat current employees. But Hub is unhappy in his current job and looking for a way out. Our health insurance changed due to the buy-out, so he’s both unhappy with the new corporate owners and unhappy with their shitty health insurance. Unfortunately, the potentially new company has equally shitty health insurance…so that kind of cancels out the pro/con in that category. Now they’re not budging on a concession he asked about (a minor concession on their part!), so that might be the end of that. I only hope that his current corporate overlords don’t decide that he’s no longer needed before he finds something else.

Butthead is randomly puking again. I mean, it’s good news that she’s not persistently puking like the last episode where we ended up rushing her to the vet hospital and coming home with anti-vomit pills… But this randomly throwing up (twice in the last four days…one of which was this morning which was another reason why I was so upset) is so frustrating. We don’t know if she’s sneaking and eating bad things outside or has gastritis and so her stomach hurts her or what… We’re at the point where we’re acclimating her to a basket muzzle that she’ll have to wear anytime she’s outside so she doesn’t eat crap off the ground and make herself sick. It’s hard and sad to make her wear a muzzle because she’s a good dog, not aggressive, shouldn’t have to wear it. I know it’s uncomfortable and bulky and just plain weird for her, but we don’t know what else to do with her. We can’t figure out what is wrong with her. And if it’s that she’s eating stuff outside that’s making her sick, there’s nothing else we can do other than the muzzle. For the past month or so we’ve been out there with her every minute, following her and standing over her and making sure she’s not eating things. But with the snow and ice, and my physical capabilities being limited at this point…I couldn’t keep up with her and I think she might have eaten something that made her vomit last Thursday when I wasn’t standing over her. We just don’t know what to do with her… So I’m worried that she’s going to vomit again like the last episode. Ugh. So far it’s been these two random episodes and today I spent time on and off modifying the basket muzzle to try to use a quick-snap collar to hold it on her head versus the old-fashioned buckle which is a pain in the ass to get on and off of her, especially with her floppy ears and long hair.

Even though I’ve been feeling ultra shitty and exhausted, we had to do a bunch of things this weekend. Most of which we accomplished. Unfortunately, one of the things was cleaning up the caulk in our master shower which seemed to be growing mold behind the caulk at the joints of the floor and wall. Hub is not flexible, so he had trouble sitting on the floor and scraping at the caulk, so I did 90% of it. Which, of course, hurt my arms, shoulders, and hands more than they were already hurting. The end result, though, is that we need to call in a professional to look at our shower because this is the second time in a year that we’ve ended up with this problem. Last time my brother helped me strip and re-caulk the shower, but now we’re in the same place again… There’s something wrong if there’s mold and mildew growing behind the caulk, especially since we bought mold-resistant caulk. This all means that we don’t have a shower in our bathroom and we have to haul ass to the shower on the opposite end of the house…past all the windows in the front of the house and over the foyer area of the house. It also means we have to haul all our paraphernalia into the other shower, which is smaller than our master shower. It’s not a huge deal, it’s just more stress. And more stress in having to find someone who knows what they are doing to come into the house to fix whatever is happening. The stupid sub-contractor that our builder hired to do our bathrooms did not know what they were doing. They screwed several things up in our master bathroom and ruined a lot of our shower floor tiles by having to go back and chip out all the wrong grout they put in. So we were left with grout over top of grout, and chipped tiles. And the slope of the floor is really bad, which causes water to pool in different spots in the shower and leaves our grout with water stains where the water sits. It’s shitty and depressing and frustrating. That’s all in addition to whatever this caulk situation is.

I have my mammogram on Wednesday. We finally got our health insurance cards from Hub’s new corporate overlords. I opened the mail, found the card, and called for my appointment all within about ten minutes. The first they had was a week away (now this Wednesday) and I took the appointment. I am pretty paranoid about keeping up with my mammos, so I’m glad that it’s only about ten days overdue from the day I had it last year.

I was supposed to have a relaxing massage last week. I had it scheduled in between two trigger point appointments…I normally go to TP massage therapy once a month (ish). So I scheduled the relaxing massage exactly two weeks after one TP appointment and two weeks before the next TP appoint. And then it snowed, and my relaxing massage appointment got canceled. And I really really wanted it. I mean, not enough to endanger my therapist or myself, but I’m so disappointed. I knew this was going to be a difficult month (technically, it’s been a difficult year so far), so I had planned for the relaxing massage–which I never get–and then plans went pfffft. Since my massage therapist only works two days a week, there were no openings for me to do a make-up massage. I don’t know when I’ll be able to fit it in again.

I told T on Friday that I want this grief to have some kind of end date. But with every day, every month, it stays. It’s a solid burden that I carry with me every. This month is especially difficult as it’s the (one year) anniversary of Mom’s death. And with every calendar day I think of what I was doing on “this” day last year. How we had no idea what was coming. How we took her to an arboretum in the city trying to perk up her spirits…not knowing how soon it would get so bad. How it happened so fast. How I was late to Hub’s birthday dinner last year because I was with Mom and Dad helping them with something. How it was only days after his birthday that she was in the hospital and then hours later that she was gone. Grief has no end date. It plays by no rules. It doesn’t give a shit who you are or what you want. It lives and breathes and grows and growls and harps and hammers and changes and does whatever the hell it wants. And it sucks.

 

 

 

 

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The 1st of March

It’s the first of March. It’s the first day of the month during which I lost my mother last year to her cancer.

Yesterday I went to see my massage therapist. It was a long appointment and the therapist worked hard on my trigger points. With all the pain I’ve been in, she really had to do a lot of work on my upper body. Arms, upper chest, shoulders, neck, my entire back, my glutes. I came home feeling exhausted and so weary. I probably shouldn’t have driven home myself but I made it successfully. I had the air conditioning in the car full blast to keep me alert, but I think once I turned into my driveway my brain sort of gave up. I drove up the driveway but…when I turned my car toward the garage so I could make a K turn to park in my usual spot, I went just a little too far. And I hit the garage door. Again. I wasn’t going fast and I didn’t hit hard, but I pushed the already damaged door in just enough to break the bits on the inside that hold the panels to the rollers. I did this years ago (like 3 years?), but at that point I had backed into the garage door and the molding at the edge of the door. I broke my tail light and dented the garage door. The repair guys came out then and just repaired the stuff inside and said it’d be okay. Well, it WAS okay until I hit it again yesterday. The guys came out today and said the door parts were damaged beyond repair and we’d likely have to replace two of the panels. They are supposed to call tomorrow or Friday to let us know the cost. I don’t know what happened…and I can’t believe I hit the garage door a second time. I guess I’m thankful that this time I didn’t damage my SUV and that Hub couldn’t have cared less that I hit the garage. He was more upset that I was so upset with myself. We can’t use the garage until we get the repairs done, which doesn’t really affect me because I don’t park in the garage but it means Hub can’t put his car in the garage. Again, he’s totally not upset about the damage, but I am.

So I haven’t been sleeping much at all for the last six weeks or so because of all the pain I’ve been in. I slept about an hour or two (fitfully) Monday overnight to Tuesday because Hub went to an overnight sleep study at our local hospital. Tuesday I had my massage therapy, and Tuesday night I was in extra pain from the trigger points she worked on. Today, Hub worked from home and I spent most of the day on the couch trying to find a comfortable position. I’m not sure I’ve tried to describe this before, but when my massage therapist works on trigger points, I am often left with a feeling of horrible bruising (without any bruises) and like I am resting on golf balls that are pressing right on the bruised points. All my body weight right on those bruised spots with hard golf balls pressing right into those spots. It’s painful. Even moving is painful. The best thing I can do is not move. Find a position that doesn’t put too much pressure on any of those spots (and they are numerous and spread throughout my back, arms, shoulders, and butt) and then don’t move. So I was stretched out on the couch while Hub was working nearby and everything is hurting…and I start crying. I’m exhausted and in so much pain and I just feel overwhelmed.

And I’m sad. I miss my mother so much every single day. And I know now that March was the beginning of the end for my mother last year. And I’m thinking of the things we were trying to do with Mom last March…and how fast it went in the end. The tears just came and I let them. I feel so sad. And lost. I can’t believe it’s been almost a year. I can’t believe how much time has passed without her. How life has gone on for so long without her. It hurts. Physically and emotionally and mentally I am just exhausted and sad.

 

 

 

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No Joy Whatsoever

So Saturday the 4th in the evening, I got hit with a wave of exhaustion and wooziness and then weakness that left me feeling like I wasn’t able to stand long enough to even shower. Sunday morning I thought I was okay, but by 2ish, I was feeling the same again. This was more than just feeling tired, it was long past tired. It was close to how I felt the day after my surgery. Exhaustion, severe and overwhelming. Weakness like I had no muscles left after a 100 mile walk in one day. It was beyond beyond.

Monday morning I called my doctor’s office but no joy for an appointment, so Hub and I went off to a local walk-in/urgent care clinic not far from our local hospital. After 2 1/2 hours of waiting, ekg, bloodwork and pee, the doctor (who was wearing a face mask and coughing phlegmy) told me she found nothing in my tests but couldn’t rule out a stroke so I needed to go to the ER.

At 2pm, we checked into the ER and spent the next 5 1/2 hours being pushed from triage, Ekg (again), bloodwork (again), pee (again), the “main” waiting area, then to a small, isolated, windowless room with several other couples and individuals (some of which were contagious based on the fact that two of them were wearing masks–both of which then took off their masks while they were in there with us). This cramped little space is where we sat for another 90 minutes while they gave me IV fluids, while the others around us also sat getting IV treatments…along with two older people slouched over in wheelchairs (where there was no space for them) and another person slept on a chair. They finally found us a room in the ER, where the PA who saw us did a neurology physical test, said probably no stroke and they don’t want to do a CT without a real reason. So she did thyroid test (again) on the bloodwork which came back normal…as did all my blood work from both walk-in clinic and the ER lab. So she sent us home saying I should see a neurologist as a follow-up.

My doctor’s office called the next day and said, “come in so we can talk about what’s going on”, so I did on Thursday. Part way through the appointment (at 3pm), the doctor said “you’re having shortness of breath and leg pain, you need a lung ct and leg ultrasound to rule out DVT and lung blood clot”. Luckily for us, the nurse was able to hustle us an appointment at a local radiology office instead of sending us back to the ER again. Unfortunately, the nurse at my doctor’s office made an appointment for us at the location that was forty minutes away in the “city” versus the one that was ten minutes away and the same distance from our house. And she actually only made the CT appointment, not the leg ultrasound appointment. We were lucky that the person managing the location we went to fit us in for both tests within an hour…and the techs were both very nice about the situation.

The radiology place won’t tell us anything, they just fit us in for both test and sent us home at 4:30. I called my doctor at her office, who said she would call from home and get test results (bcuz her office closes at 5pm) and call me once she has them. She called at about 5:50 to say both tests were normal, for me to pick up in the inhaler she prescribed because my chest had sounded “tight” and she was thinking I might have asthma…and then I should rest, hydrate, and get back in touch if I get worse.

I’m at home, still feeling crappy and tired and weak. I’ve been eating normally, trying to drink as normal as possible, and trying to rest. Because of how badly I was feeling, I had a shitty panic attack Sunday afternoon (before the walk-in/ER visit) that I kept trying to get out of but it just kept recycling when I thought it was over.

Ten days after my appointment with my primary, I went back for a follow-up because I wasn’t feeling much better and the inhaler was giving me leg cramps. The doctor listened to my lungs and pronounced them clear, said I could stop the inhaler, and that I should go home and hydrate and rest some more. She said there’s a virus going around and that it wasn’t unusual for the main complaint to be exhaustion. And in fact, she was leaving shortly after my appointment because she was having the same symptoms I was (although she was also getting a little cough).

So I’m still home, still hydrating, still trying to eat normally, and I’m resting so much I’m tired of resting. Sadly, I’m still feeling really overtired and I have no energy for anything. It’s been a struggle for me to keep up with taking the dogs out repeatedly during the day (and I can’t leave Butthead outside alone because she eats stuff in the grass and then gets sick), and I’ve hardly been able to do more than one or two loads of laundry in a day. Going to the grocery store or to my therapy appointments leave me exhausted. Tomorrow I go for massage  therapy and I have no idea how I’m going to feel afterwards.

And through all of February, my pain has been ramped up. I can’t seem to get around it. My muscles all hurt. My stomach hurts. I’m having lots of trouble sleeping. I haven’t crocheted since January. I haven’t done much of anything since this all started…

Tonight…well, tonight Hub goes for his sleep study to see if he has sleep apnea. That means I get to go out into the dark and the cold tonight to let the dogs out before bedtime. It also means I will be sleeping alone tonight. Not a happy me!

Did I mention that Hub’s job is transitioning now that a bigger corporation bought his smaller employer? Did I also mention (can’t remember if I have) that they’re screwing around and even though we technically have health insurance with the new company we won’t actually have cards until some unknown time in mid-to-late-to-end-of March? So if we get sick or need the ER or to see a doctor or to GET OUR MAMMOGRAM we can’t. Or we pay on our own and maybe the insurance company might reimburse us later for some small portion of the amounts we paid? (*sob*) Talk about anxiety…

 

 

 

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Hairy update

I have so much to write about and absolutely no interest in writing any of it.

sigh

What I’m hyper-focused on right now is my poor hair. Guys, I went to an Aveda salon and spent a shit-ton of money. SHIT-TON. Like yeah. Like WTF was I thinking shit-ton of money. It’s now about four weeks out from the coloring and I’m pretty disappointed on a couple of fronts. The main thing that upsets me is that my hair feels bad. Not emotionally, but physically. I’ve never had such crappy feeling wet hair in my LIFE. It feels like brillo when it’s wet, and I can’t hardly comb through it after I wash and condition. I’ve had my hair colored before by salons…I’ve box-dyed my hair. I’ve never had my hair feel like this before. WTF. It’s frizzy as hell when it’s dry–which isn’t incredibly unusual for me–but it’s also DRY. Like so dry it makes me sad. None of my fancy shampoos and conditioners are working. Argan oil didn’t help. Coconut oil hair mask didn’t help. Aloe vera mask didn’t help. Tomorrow I’m going to Ulta to try to find another type of shampoo and conditioner. I’m pissed at how much money I’ve spent on hair care to try to repair whatever the frufru was done to my poor follicles.

I particularly picked the Aveda salon because it was supposed to be gentle, plant-based, organic, safer hair color. Don’t get me wrong, I really like the stylist, but I’m disappointed in the results.

I’m also disappointed in the color retention. My hair is basically orange (which Hub lovingly tells me it’s “copper”), red, and then sort of white-ish-gray-ish-green-ish (from the washed out blues). There’s some red leftover on the upper areas which started out purple but mostly just washed out to reddish. Then there’s kind of the original brown with tinges of dark auburn where the darkest of purple was.

I’ve spent hours since the first post-color week passed looking over instagram posts while trying not to be jealous. At this point, I’ve begun to understand that those instagram posts are kind of manipulated to look the way they do. I mean, when they took my pictures, they made me go outside to get good light. The stylist posted a VERY photoshopped (filtered?) version of one of the pictures on her instagram (which I think looked pretty crappy) instead of using one of the ones  you saw on my previous post. Inside the salon, the colors were different…and after a week they were totally different. I mean, I knew the colors would wash out somewhat, but I think because we started with lighter colors (not my choice…I wanted jewel toned purples and blues) they washed out to almost nothing really fast. All the bright color that was hidden underneath is gone, too.

I’m not sure I have a good concept of how bad my hair color really looks. I want to go somewhere to get it “fixed” but I feel like it’s in shitty condition and I don’t want to make it worse. I mean, I know I sound dramatic and all, and honestly I’m sort of just complaining because in the grand scheme it’s HAIR and it’s really fine and I just mostly put it up and no one pays attention anyway… I’m just disappointed. You guys would be horrified to know how much I spent for hair color that barely lasted a week (and I only washed my hair twice in that week to try to maintain the color). I’m honestly horrified at what I spent. I feel like if I spent that much and my hair feels this shitty damage-wise, what will happen if I go to a less expensive place to get it “color corrected”??

Enjoy my updated photos. I’m ONLY doing this because I wish I had seen updated photos on instagram. 😦 Then maybe I would have gone into this with full knowledge of what would be…

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Remember the glory of what was?

Bleh.

February has just been…shitty. I’ve used that word a lot in this post, haven’t I? I’ll have to write more posts, because I’ve been exhausted and sick and had an urgent care + ER visit and doctor’s visit x2 and a big anxiety attack and a persistently puking dog and running to the vet and… and yeah, I’ve been in a lot of physical pain to cap it all off. Plus my new glasses gave me a migraine with visual aura–which I’ve only had once in my life and it was 10 years ago. So I sent them back and picked up the “fixed” version on Friday and they’re STILL not right. Ugh.

I’m going to bed. Me and my fluffy frizzy orangey hair. Nite nite.

 

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Birthdays and grief

My mother’s birthday was a few days before the holidays. As one of my brothers said to me, “I’m sure it’s not creeping up on you, either…” And it wasn’t. T thinks that a lot of my pain and anxiety were around the colonoscopy without my mother being there, and because of my mother’s birthday, and because of the holidays without her.

Yeah, I knew her birthday was coming. I knew it was going to be bad. I also knew I had somewhat of a plan for the day. Before Mom got sick, when she was still crocheting, she hooked up a bunch of preemie hats for our local hospital’s NICU. At the time, it wasn’t a lot of hats, so we kept saying we were holding off before taking them in. After Mom passed, I took all of the small amounts of yarn I had and crocheted more tiny hats. Then I put them all into a bag and left them in my library. Because I knew what I wanted to do.

On Mom’s birthday, I woke up and got dressed. And I called my father to see how he was. He said he was just going to call me because he was going to the cemetery and he wanted to know if I wanted to go. I didn’t really, but I didn’t want him to go alone. So instead of answering him directly, I said if he would take me up to the hospital to drop off the preemie hats, I would go with him to the cemetery. He said okay, so we left about ten minutes later.

At the hospital–where my father’s sister (my aunt) was admitted and stayed for several days, and where my mother went for her lymphedema wraps–I left Dad in the parking lot and I went inside. At the main desk, they checked me in and directed me to the NICU. As I made my way down the hall, I saw someone walk into the elevator, so I hurried to join her so I could save some time waiting for another elevator. Inside, the woman standing across from me smiled, then looked at the bag in my arms and her smile got wider. She asked me if I was bringing hats to the NICU. I said yes, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. She was heading for the NICU herself…she had twin girls who had been born before Thanksgiving–when they were due after Christmas. I said congratulations and I hoped they were doing well, which she said they were. And she told me, “They brought me to see the girls for the first time, and there they were in hand-knitted hats, and it just made my heart skip a beat. That someone out there did that for me and for them, complete strangers!” Her smile was so big.

When the elevator doors opened, I walked with her down the hall and into the NICU waiting area. I wished her luck and she disappeared behind a door that the nurse unlocked for her. I approached the nurse, who was behind a glass windowed reception area, and I put my bag of 40 hats on the counter in between us. And I announced that I was there to drop off crocheted hats for the babies. In all sizes, all colors, all different types of yarns. The nurse smiled and took the bag, then started going through the hats. She oohed and ahhed over some of them, and even rubbed a few on her cheek and said how soft they were. She told me how wonderful if it was to have them, and wanted to know “how many women are there in your group that made these?” I laughed and said it was just my mom and me. The sweet woman said, “oh my goodness, please give your mom a hug for me!”

I basically nodded and smiled, gave a wave, and left the unit for the safety of the hallway. It was hard. I tried not to cry as I made my way back through the hospital and out to the car where my father was waiting. Fortunately, he was busy navigating the parking lot and trying to figure out the best way to get to the cemetery, so our conversation was pretty sparse.

When we were done and I was home, I cried. I cried because those were the last hats I had from her. I cried because I missed her. I cried because I hated where I was in my life without her.

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When my mom was going through chemo, I made her a bunch of hats for her to wear after she lost her hair. Years ago, probably six or seven years, before I was crocheting, she was supposed to crochet me an open-weave sweater to wear over a tank top. She never got to it, for various reasons. I don’t even know what happened to the yarn we picked out. She crocheted me a shawl for my brother’s wedding, and added crocheted sleeves to an evening gown for my cousin’s black-tie wedding. So I really have nothing I can wear that she made for me. I wish I did. The last thing she crocheted was a lap blanket that she was expecting to donate, but a few days after she died, I took it. I wrapped it up in tissue paper and put it into a plastic bag that a set of sheets came in, and I put it away in my guest room. It’s in a drawer in my grandparents’ dresser. It’s ugly as sin color-wise, but I can’t bear to part with it. I also have a ruffled ball that was supposed to be for a baby that was a test-project. It’s on a shelf in my bookcase hidden behind some doors with the perfume that I took from her bathroom drawers a few months after she died.

I honored my  mom as best I could on her birthday. My birthday is coming up soon. Hub usually cooks me a special dinner and he’s been asking me what I want to eat. I kept putting him off, because I honestly do not want to celebrate my birthday. I finally told him I didn’t want anything special on my birthday because I didn’t want to have my birthday. I don’t even want it to be acknowledged, because it’s just another reminder to me that she isn’t here with me. Last year she was in brain radiation on my birthday…she was just getting over the symptoms of the brain mets. We were dealing with the lawyer trying to get my parents’ trusts all finalized and stuff.

Last year, five days before my birthday, I had to call an ambulance at 11pm for Hub because he had an episode of paroxysmal supraventricular tachycardia (PSVT) where his heart rate was sustained up around 225 or 250bpm. They had to stop his heart twice with medication to get it reset. We went to his follow-up appointment with his cardiologist on my birthday.

Right now, I’m in pain. My arms and back and neck and shoulders hurt. I have headaches on an almost daily basis for multiple hours at a time. My hips hurt when I try to sleep. I still have nausea. I still have jaw pain. I still have anxiety over the jaw pain, though it’s not as persistent as it was in the past few weeks. I’m not sleeping much and I’m not crocheting because I hurt too much.

I don’t want to celebrate. Right now I just want the days to be days, so I don’t have to be so sad.

 

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