Mary my lady of pain
Blind you search for the truth.
I see myself in you.
Winding at light speed through time
Jesus Christ, this CD is good. Thanks to nasus221for reminding me to listen to it.
I have been sort of Mindcrimed out lately.
I've seen the band four times -- three time, they played Mindcrime. The other time, they played mostly pre-Mindcrime. Yes, I love Screaming in Digital too, but I'd also kill to hear some Q2k or Tribe. My fault, I guess, for not hitting a concert sooner.
Like congested as hell. Like there is so much crap in my nose that I actually cannot breathe at times. I got a fountain drink and when I tried to suck on a straw, my head and ears popped like they do after a bad airplane ride.
My favorite quote of the day:
A friend: "You poor thing. Go get some zinc."
Me: "Zinc? I'm getting some big-ass antibiotics, that's what I'm getting."
I try to stay away from antibiotics because they make me so sick, but this is week three of this cold. It's safe to say it's now passed into sinus infection stage. I see the doc tomorrow.
Also, I get a cold every six weeks, like clockwork. But I am more worried now -- if this were a movie, we'd cut to a picture of my rheumatologist, right after I'd become his patient. I had told him that I'd been on methotrexate for 10 years and was somewhat cavalier (sp?) about getting my labwork done. He said, "There are three of us in this area that work with methotrexate, and every year, one of us loses a patient to it. That's about 1 in 100."
Me: (thinking of all the time I'd had a beer or two, when I'm really not supposed to) "Liver failure?"
Him: "No, usually some sort of lung infections."
At that point, my chest had been hurting for about a year, so I really sat straight up and listened.
I've always known that my health will be more complicated than other people's. But, lately, I'm starting to really understand that in a way I haven't before. Perhaps it's like my dad's death -- having the journal on here made what was just under the surface become visible as I wrote. Almost all of my entries deal with my dad, when I don't hardly deal with him in rl much.
(My mom, in that sweet 1950s sitcom way, called to check on me on D-Day and said "I know it's our sad day." It was the day the bottom dropped out of our lives, but she calls it "our sad day." Very sweet, very mom, but I prefer D-Day, or Dead-Day, as paperflowers
calls it. We are so cool and full of gallows humor when we're together. Wise in the ways of the world, we see ourselves. Hard to believe that was 6 years ago.)
I think me thinking more carefully about the long-term impact of my rheumatoid and other health issues is just a function of getting older. 30 itself is arbitrary line, but over the past few years, I've really had to do the "What I want to do with my life" thing -- graduating school, getting married, living away from people who take care of me. (Let's face it -- hubby tries, but the day I fainted, he was flabbergasted and half-way tried to catch me, but was in too much shock. All he could say was "You threw up on the floor" I'm on my own here. His family has rather low drama, where as I woke up every morning to my dad puking. Not much except a severed artery phases us, and that I think I could handle, if I had enough towels.)
Having that serious health crisis last year at this time, which was diagnosed as everything from mono to depression to narcolepsy (I think narcolepsy is correct) really hammered it home.... it was part of the mini catharsis I had that day in Tahoe, when I just took off walking for an hour or two. I'm going to have to face some scary things by myself and my health is one of them. I can die from this, particularly as I get older and no longer have the "young and healthy" thing going for me.
That being said, my chances of dying from this now aren't very large.
As I get older and have spent more of my life on medicine and the disease process works, my chances will increase. I have already spent almost half my life taking at least one pill a day, sometimes upwards of ten.
I exaggerate the risks of this because I struggle to wrap my head around them. What will probably happen is that the rest of my life will be like this -- cycles of flare and remission, managed by medication. There will be stretches of weeks or months where my feet hurt, and I consider buying a scooter, or my hands hurt, and I can't type. There will also be stretches where I can do marathons and pick up the kids I work with, and lift 100 lb clients out of wheelchairs and onto beds and toilets. I will get a little bit worse and a little bit better, but god willing, not a lot worse. So far, I only have minimal irreversible damage and that's the stuff that hurts like hell, once the cartilage starts going away. (poor feet. I wish I had appreciated you and how wonderful you were back when you were all there.) I imagine I will start to get worse gradually as damage happens, but I'm not looking at terrible disability, I don't think. Not like I was when I was 15.
There are chances, though, of scary shit, of lung infections and pneumonia and heart attacks. I imagine that will eventually get me. I have always thought that I wouldn't live past my 50s, but I think that's a natural thought in someone who had a parent die young. There's lymphoma and leukemia, both of which I'm at an increased risk for. And what sort of side effects will they find from the biologic agents? Those things scare me even more than chemicals, for some reason.
I'm sure this latest bout of stuffiness is brought on by my predisone and by taking my methotrexate last week, even though I knew better. It'd been three weeks though! My feet were hurting.
That's enough wallowing in self-pity. To tell you the truth, I don't feel sad or upset. Annoyed, perhaps, that super-thick-don't-squeeze-the-charminn-
alien-monster-snot is blocking my nose, but I generally feel good. I've gotten a lot done (I love you, provigil) and I'm just sort of stopping to collect the random thoughts that come to me as I blow my nose for the 50, 000th time.
The Ryche mix on my computer is on a live version of "Anybody Listening?"
Nice moment to sign off.Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone that sees what's going on?
Read between the line, criticize the words they're selling.
Think for yourself.
And feel the walls become sand...
beneath your feet....
Feel the breeze?
Time's so near, you can almost taste the freedom.
There's a warm wind from the south.
Hoist a sail and we'll be gone.
By morning this will all seem like a dream.
If I don't return to sing a song,
Maybe just as well.
I've seen the news, and there's not much I can do....