Yes. I can do this again. Doctors are my friend. Me and my doctor are one. I can do this. I will regain my vibrant health. Go Julie Go! I will learn how to manage this horrific pain. I hear someone tell me to be patient with the process. Ok, I will be patient with the process. Oh, sure, no problem.
As I walk out of my doctor’s office I take a quick detour to the ladies room. I step into one of the bathroom stalls and what do I freakin’ see? A happy face sticker looking right at me that says, “STAR PATIENT”. What?! Some ungrateful little kid gets a kudos from her doctor and she does away with it and recklessly tosses it on the bathroom wall? Where’s mine, man?! Where’s my STAR PATIENT sticker?! . . . Nope, I’m just not feeling it today. There could be a possibility that I’m hoping my way into some kind of a twisted denial. My positive belief has continued to endlessly say out loud for the last couple of years, “Oh! I should be able to get up and go by then, I’ll be there.” Alas, still I am not quite able to get up and go. As much as I tell myself I can do this! As huge as my efforts and willingness may be – by the time I am only half way put together – my energy is gone – all gone.
Perhaps it is a good thing to be able to put the name Fibromyalgia to my quirky hypersensitivity and chronic pain. But now I am learning to do many things differently. I swear, I want to learn. I promise, I remain teachable. But what the whaa?? These are not my clothes in my closet, too big. This is not my body, too weak. This is not my humor, too dark. These are not my feet, too tender! The tags in my jeans and clothes might as well be invisible snapping spiders. “Cut ’em off!” I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if Rod Serling himself walked into my bedroom while I was searching for the bees that are stinging me up and down my legs as he announced, with cigarette in hand, “You’ve just entered. . . “The Twilight Zone”. Swear to gawd I hear that music from the T.V. show all the time.
As I stand by for medical financial assistance for another month. And as I stand by for about 3 months for disability assistance. As I keep on doing the best I can with these health challenges, I do know I am blessed with a big distraction that holds steadfast and true every hour of every day. Yep, Grace, my rescue cat. The truth is, she rescues me right back everyday. Pretty cool – because that’s the way God planned it. Perhaps I do receive my “Star Patient” kudos – just never suspected it would be in the form of a black furry angel named Grace. I mean, how was I supposed to know?
Slow and steady is a good thing too I’d say . . .
A little sunshine goes a long way. . .