Lobster

Yesterday was Remicade day.

It went pretty smooth.

Had the reaction, Miracle Worker nurse was right there with the back-up meds, and I finished in record time - 4 1/2 hours!

And then I woke up this morning.

LITERALLY every part of my body is bright red, the color of a steamed lobster.

I have red sheer curtains in my dining room, and if I stood behind them, you wouldn't be able to see me.

That is how red I am. (okay, no redhead jokes now, that's not what I'm talking about!)

And, not only am I red, but I am scorching hot to the touch, but I have no fever.

Once again, I have hives on the palms of my hands, and the pseudo-electric current is slowly coursing through my body, but not like it does during the infusions.

When I woke up this morning, I could not move my arms or my legs.

But I took my time, and finally was able to shake them alive again.

I went ahead and medicated myself, called Miracle Worker Nurse so she could document the continued reaction for the file, and wholeheartedly agreed that I took the right meds, at the right dose, and to continue with them every four hours until the reaction goes away.

Suffice it to say, I will be dozing off very shortly.

And you thought this post was going to be about a scrumptious steamed lobster slathered in hot melted butter with a fresh baked loaf of French bread on the side?

Yeah, I wish it had been.

Sigh.

Really

~
Oh my knees are really hurting.

REALLY hurting.

Sigh.

As I was driving home from a friend's house with Jake this afternoon, I was listening to my contemporary christian radio station, and I heard "Bring the Rain" by MercyMe.

For those of you who don't know it, don't worry about it.

But it made me realize, that my entire life has been a battle.

Actually a series of battles.

I think I have one beaten, and then there is another one for me to fight.

A child of divorce.

A child of an alcoholic father I never knew, who died before I could connect.

A child of sexual abuse.

A child of rape.

And then an adult with an alcoholic husband.

And then an adult of divorce.

And then Crohn's Disease.

I have won every battle.

I am still fighting the last one.

But amazingly, I am still, and always be, a child of God.

He has brought the joy

and He has brought the glory,

and Lord Jesus

He is bringing the rain.

Eh

I got nothing better to say.

Then why the heck would I post?

I dunno.

It's my damn blog.

Just felt like it.

My knees and hips are throbbing.

Two Vicodin, Two Valium, Four Ibuprofen, a boiling hot jacuzzi bath, and a vibrating bed later, and they are still throbbing.

Because I have to take the steroids to get ready for Remicade on Monday.

YAY!

Woohoo!!!

Can't freaking wait!

Oh boy!

Okay, I will go away and shut my piehole now that I'm done complaining.

A whole bunch of a lot of damn good it does.

Which is why I try not to do it.

But it's just been a couple of those kinda days.

I'm done now.

Goodbye.

Guilt?

So we have returned from our vacation of a lifetime.

It is 1127 am EASTERN time.

I woke up at 10 am EASTERN time.

Highly unusual, for those of you who know me In Real Life.

But then again, that would be 7 am PACIFIC time.

Anyway.

I can't get out of bed.

I hurt all over.

My knees are throbbing.

My guts are raging.

I am two weeks behind on Remicade (remember? TFG????)

And I am starting to feel it.

Remarkably, I had two bad days on the 35 day trip.

Personally, I consider that to be miraculous.

I used to be better at math, but 2/35 seems like a very small percentage to me, even though I can't do it in my head anymore.

So why is this post entitled guilt?

Well, for those of you who know me In Real Life, you know what a go-getter I am, how I never stop, how I suppress the unsuppressable, how I never quit, never say die, and just plain suck it up.

Right now, I am staring at dust.

and dog hair.

and filth.

and bags upon bags upon bags that need unpacking.

and a 4 foot high stack of mail.

and an empty refrigerator.

and two monsters who are bouncing off the walls because they can't discern the difference between exhaustion and insanity.

and a husband who is already up, doing errands, mowing the grass, making a million phone calls, laying out chicken to thaw for dinner and asking me, 'when are you going to publix because there is NOTHING to eat'.

and a list of school supplies that need to be purchased.

and thank you notes that must be written.

and thank you gifts that must be bought with money that doesn't exist.

and 3,000 pictures that need to be edited and cropped for the scrapbook of a lifetime that will commence being created on the first day of school (I'm not THAT crazy that I would start THAT project TODAY).

and 12 more blog posts to be written to get everyone caught up on our trip before every miniscule detail escapes my memory.

and business battles that need to be fought with lots and lots of energy and fortitude.

and enemies that must be faced and beaten.

and I continue to lie here.

and I think I am going to continue to lie here, today, for as long as I possibly can.

So back to my original question.

Should I feel guilty?

For lying here for one day?

For going to Publix in five or six hours, instead of right this minute?

For letting the monsters watch whatever they want to watch on television today, since they haven't watched tv in 35 days?

For letting the house 'go' for one more day?

When healthy people go on vacation, do they take 'one' day to recover?

Or do they wake up in the morning and jump right on it?

I know the answer.

I used to jump right on it.

I used to be healthy.