Wednesday, March 9, 2016


I'm past ready for things to start getting better. I'm sure you've been there. Different reasons, different timing, same loss of humor.

For me of course the big part of it is the unrelenting pain. That's not completely true, of course, because after a while if I don't move in the wrong way the pain melts way back. Hell, if it didn't I'd never get any sleep. We both know that not the case. It's may be weird but it is sleep.

Toss in the unending anticipation of pain, the knowing that every time you want to do something you have to prepare yourself to go through that first. Is it worth it? Do I really need that full shower? How about if I just wash... well, nevermind. And actually a full shower would be a blessing, but I'm still restricted from getting fully wet.

Do I bother to answer the phone? How about that next call? Or is the phone even close enough to be an issue? Where did I leave it anyway? If I do answer it, will it upset my medication schedule? Sound stupid? Well, while I explain that, let's just pile on the awareness of how stupid much of the whole thing is, spiraling down even further. If I have to put down what I'm carrying, either a pills supply or the food or a balanced beverage with which to take them (mustn't spill, mustn't run out at just the wrong time), does it change the timing? Will I simply get so distracted by the call that any memory of what the schedule is supposed to be flies right out the window? It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself that the last one was 4:30 so I can take another at 8:30 and one after midnight if I'm awake then, any little whisper of doubt  is an eraser across the memory board. It's primed for erasure anyway, since "oversleeping" sets the schedule back.

Steve hasn't been perfectly well, further frustrating both of us. How can I pile more onto him? He's doing so much extra for me already, without complaints. But how can I stand more piled on me? Just trying to cut stresses back adds yet another layer, subtle, but there. There's that new little glitch in conversation that boils down to yet another way in this particular situation of needing to examine whether one more thing can be added to the carry pile this trip, or do we really need one more trip? I want to make it easier on both of us without burdening both of us with overplanning. Or maybe this is one of those things I can take on as I regain my independence.

At some point it all gets to be too much. Meltdown!

Yes, there are tears. Apparently much needed ones. None of which, as we're all very well aware, are well-justified in the wider scheme of things. But somehow the burden starts to lift, what wasn't possible becomes possible, what was about to be too much to bear becomes bearable.

I can appreciate the sense of humor returning as I grab half a sec to reflect that the term itself, meltdown, has been contributed to my mental conversation by a friend who's had to deal with way bigger challenges that anything I'm working on and whose life circumstances so much more justify the event even as the word is supplied.

So, meltdown? Pause. Reset. Carry on.


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