Back from Boston. Proud to report that everything is going well. I mean it is. Really. As a transplant patient, I really am doing well. My counts are good. My liver is functioning. I have not had any opportunistic infections. My energy is improving. I am getting better. Really. Some days I have to talk myself into believing that. But it’s 4 days before Christmas and I am really hoping that this Christmas I will be at home. And I think I will be. The excruciating pain in my shoulders is not a mystery, it is yet another joint fallen to avascular necrosis. My right (and left, but my left doesn’t hurt me as much), humeral head has collapsed making it look as though I have a pothole in my shoulder instead of a smooth round ball. Plans are to try to correct this through yet another surgery tentatively scheduled for the end of February, as I near my one year rebirth. This surgery and recovery will, god willing. take 2 weeks. To be followed about 3 months later with a hip replacement, Which will take, god willing, 6 weeks or so to recover from. In theory. So we will be spending some more time in Boston.
In theory, I should be thinking about going back to work. In theory, I will be weaning off the majority of my meds. In theory, every day should get easier. In theory.
Some days, I do feel like theory and practice mold together in my life. And some days my future seems, well, theoretical. Today was one of those days.
It seems like the germ bags, otherwise known as my children, have been incubating for weeks. Cough, cold, congestion, fever, pneumonia (yaaaas, you read that right), repeat, repeat, repeat. I have my own parking spot at the pediatrician. And her cell number. It’s hard to say what I feel like when I’m sick. I have not really figured it out. I can tell you, I’m nauseated, tired, anxious, frustrated, achey, but this goes on for days and weeks. So what’s really a problem and what is not is hard to tell. But hey, it’s Christmas time! I am totally over-stressed, over planned and over it. Just like y’all. (I plan all these things when I’m feeling well, so don’t think I’m purposefully self sadistic or that I don’t enjoy the holidays- so not true.) And I guess, I’m sick. I budget my energy, but I also push myself. “Get this done today, and tomorrow you don’t have to do a thing.” That was my mode today.
Little miss, having been to the NP only once this week, decided to start a low grade temp to compound her already congested and rough sounding cough. It’s Friday. Before the weekend before CHRISTMAS before we travel to see family before New Year’s and go to Nashville. You see what I’m saying. When else am I going to go? 3 a.m. ER visit? No thank you. I’ve spent too many holidays in the hospital. Bad kharma. I’m ready for a new Christmas tradition. So, I took a little extra nap after being up at 5 (just couldn’t sleep). And the doctor worked us in at 11:30. Poor Dr. Compassion (that’s what I’ll call her. She is just the BEST pediatrician besides Nana. The whole office takes care of us). I must look like what I’ve described. And for those of you that know me, I do not hide feelings well. At all. And I’ve been in there like every week for like 6 weeks. Seriously. I just started crying. I don’t know about you, but tears are my “I’ve had enough” meter. I just start to over flow sometimes. So, I’m in there with all 3 kids because Greg has woke up sick too and he has lots to do, just boo hooing. Poor doctor. Does she hurry me? No. Does she “poo-poo” me? No. And this office has seen me a lot. Anyways, we got our zpack which worked miracles for Big M and will hopefully do the same for little miss and a reassurance that they are there when we need them. And I must say that they are.
Finally, one task done, 3 more to go. Hobby Lobby. You know the hot mess Hobby Lobby is this time of year. They do not have motorized cart. I never thought this would matter to me at 42, but it does. But long and short of it, I walked to the back of the store. I got my yarn and out we went.
By this time, 3 kids are crumping from hunger. I want nothing to eat (see earlier note on nausea). We settled on a local very inexpensive eatery. I don’t know what we look like to people. But I know I bring looks. Quiet whispers, especially when I walk. I was without HH. A single lady, with a crutch, thin hair and 3 under the age of 10 kids. 4 days before Christmas. In a very inexpensive eatery. 3 very happy kids got hamburgers and FF and milkshakes. Little miss is sporadically laying in my lap because she doesn’t feel well. I too am crumping. I just want to go home and lay down. I can’t power through anymore. Every morsel of my being aches. I cannot stand the smell of greasy fries and stale smoke any longer and we finally get our bill. I cannot get to the cashier fast enough. She cannot get our bill to pull up on the register. We wait. And wait. She comes back. “It’s been taken care of.” What? “Someone paid for it. Merry Christmas.”
Which of the whisperers was it? Did she know? Did she know that I worry at night that I won’t see my kids grow up? Did she know that I am over whelmed by life almost every moment? Did she know that I cried as I left that eatery? Did she know that I am frustrated and overwhelmed in circumstances I can’t change? That I am in pain every. Single. Day. And that I am nauseated more than I can count? Did she know that she gave me the strength to power through the rest of the day? That I feel guilty that monetarily I probably have more than she does, but that she thought enough of us to buy us lunch? Does she know she made a difference?
Mary, did you know? Did you know that your act of love would save us forever? Did you know that he would save us and bring us undying and unconditional love? Mary Did You Know?
A little act can make such a big impact. So many of you out there make a difference to me, to us in so many ways. I hope that now you know. Merry Christmas.