Best laid plans
I had plans for today. I wanted to go hiking, or at least walking in the woods. If I didn't feel like being that active, I was at least going to go out, get groceries, maybe get a hair-cut, and pick up some broccoli plants for my raised beds. I knew that was pretty ambitious - I haven't had a lot of energy since the bottom dropped out of everything last week. But I thought I might at least get a couple of those things done.
Uh. No.
Sometime in the night, RA decided that none of those things would be happening today. And because I know there's always a chance that this will happen, I had some secondary plans I thought I could manage; laundry, cleaning up and decluttering my bedroom - which has gotten awful over the past week and a half.
Nope. Not gonna happen.
I woke up around three am and noticed that my mouth, throat, and eyes were dry and burning. That is never a good sign. I got up to get a drink and was still fairly mobile. A little stiff but nothing too bad. I went back to bed but wasn't able to get back to sleep. My hips started to ache, then my shoulders. I gave up and turned on the television - re-runs of The Walking Dead aren't the most soothing of bedtime fare, but hey, that's where I've been lately. Around four am, I took a melatonin, the second of the night. I drifted off around four-thirty, and slept without moving until 8:30. Big mistake.
I can walk this morning. Sort of bent over, shuffling, and holding onto things. But I can walk. I can use my hands fairly well, but my wrists hurt so much that it isn't really worth it. My ankles and shoulders protest every motion with pops, creaks, and occasionally shrieks. Oh wait, maybe that's just me.
Good-bye plans for a productive Saturday. Good-bye relaxing in the woods. Good-bye groceries and hair-cut. Good-bye laundry and cleaning. RA has decided that we will be spending the day on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, sitting on a heating pad. If I can move around long enough to find it.
Oh, for the days when I could take a Mobic and regain some flexibility and strength. Or even better, for the days when I could get up, work all morning, then go out hiking in the afternoon and still feel great when I got back. I feel betrayed by my body, trapped in a painful prison, and I hate it. But hate is not conducive to healing, and the angrier I feel over my disease the worse the disease seems to get. How in the world am I supposed to love and care for the thing that is dragging me down?
Uh. No.
Sometime in the night, RA decided that none of those things would be happening today. And because I know there's always a chance that this will happen, I had some secondary plans I thought I could manage; laundry, cleaning up and decluttering my bedroom - which has gotten awful over the past week and a half.
Nope. Not gonna happen.
I woke up around three am and noticed that my mouth, throat, and eyes were dry and burning. That is never a good sign. I got up to get a drink and was still fairly mobile. A little stiff but nothing too bad. I went back to bed but wasn't able to get back to sleep. My hips started to ache, then my shoulders. I gave up and turned on the television - re-runs of The Walking Dead aren't the most soothing of bedtime fare, but hey, that's where I've been lately. Around four am, I took a melatonin, the second of the night. I drifted off around four-thirty, and slept without moving until 8:30. Big mistake.
I can walk this morning. Sort of bent over, shuffling, and holding onto things. But I can walk. I can use my hands fairly well, but my wrists hurt so much that it isn't really worth it. My ankles and shoulders protest every motion with pops, creaks, and occasionally shrieks. Oh wait, maybe that's just me.
Good-bye plans for a productive Saturday. Good-bye relaxing in the woods. Good-bye groceries and hair-cut. Good-bye laundry and cleaning. RA has decided that we will be spending the day on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, sitting on a heating pad. If I can move around long enough to find it.
Oh, for the days when I could take a Mobic and regain some flexibility and strength. Or even better, for the days when I could get up, work all morning, then go out hiking in the afternoon and still feel great when I got back. I feel betrayed by my body, trapped in a painful prison, and I hate it. But hate is not conducive to healing, and the angrier I feel over my disease the worse the disease seems to get. How in the world am I supposed to love and care for the thing that is dragging me down?
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