When You Don’t Have Something Good To Say….

I have always lived by the old adage, “If you don’t have something good to say, don’t say anything at all”.  I really don’t know where, why or how it became so ingrained in me but it is just something that is deeply a part of my being.  Writing this blog, and the book that came from it, I have realized it is a sort of “brand” with me.  I think it has been/is a good coping mechanism for being chronically ill.

Well, BUMMER.  For one of the first times in this long assed saga I just don’t feel like I can put a hopeful spin on things.  Maybe, as I write this, I will get there.  Perhaps the clouds will part and the sun will come out and once again I will become the “warrior” people call me.  Well, let me just address that whole “warrior” label while I am at it.

I did not sign up for active duty:  I was drafted.  The only reason I am a warrior is because a gun was put in my hands and someone started shooting at me.  I started running and shooting back and it just never stopped.  And, Oh MY GAWD, but I am fatigued!  I am so tired of war.

Every time there is a pause in the fighting, I think it is over.  I sit down with a cup of tea and a cookie and pet my dog and start to plan a life beyond the battleground.  I even begin new projects.  I start to learn a  new language or challenge myself to walk further on my almost daily walks.

Then the sniper fire starts up again.  At first I can just hear it a little in the distance.  I tell myself I am hearing things.  There couldn’t possibly be another battle coming my way.  After all, I have had enough, haven’t I?

But the sounds get closer and I realize it is coming for me.  I hear the ratta-tat- ratta -tat -tat -tat-tat of the enemy’s arsenal trying to blow its way through my poorly built defenses and I tell myself I will not fold.  I cannot.  I just can’t go back to wherever it is going to take me; a hospital, a doctor’s office, bed bound, couch bound, zombie land.

And then it’s right in front of me.  It’s firing at me.   I am shooting and nothing is coming out of my weapon but blanks.  My body is not cooperating at all.  In fact, in the last few weeks everything has gone haywire and I have been so damned sick and depressed that I have had a circuit from the couch to my bed and that is about it.  I was in the hospital with pneumoia for the 3rd time in 10 mos and I have a couple of other things going haywire.

I am getting better.  I am not going to die of any of this shit right now.  I am just overwhelmed with the constant battle.  I don’t really have anything good to say.  The only good thing I can say is that my husband is pure gold.  He has done everything and more for me and for him I will try to get better.

I have a lady problem and the doctor in charge of my pneumonia is a very nice young man but he doesn’t get it.  He won’t prescribe the medication necessary to deal with a side effect of a great deal of steriods and antibiotics.  It is beyond upsetting and makes me feel angry and powerless and humiliated just when I have had enough of that.  When I see him on Monday, I plan to school him a bit and in a nice but firm way.  Medicine is not an exact science.  I hope he can hear what I have to say.  In the meantime I call around to doctors and beg for medicine.  It’s not pretty.

My colon is almost completely dead.  That’s right:  Colon doesn’t want to work anymore.  I have to go to physical therapy for my butt!  It is so stupid and gross that it would be funny if it wasn’t happening for real.

The good news is that my dependence on an oxygen tank is lessening.  I can get off the couch without getting dizzy.  So, you know, there is progress.

So, there it is.  I just confessed all of the disgusting realities of my war torn body.

I am a reluctant warrior.

My flak jacket is riddled with holes and no longer stopping the flak. There are holes in all of the places that are supposed to be covered and I no longer have a helmet.  My gun keeps jamming and the soles of my boots are flapping wildly when I try to run.

A large part of me is starting to say, “Why bother?” But, I will find a reason to keep running.  Even if I don’t run for myself, I will run for my family.  I know they care whether or not I am around.

So, you see, I don’t really have anything good to say today.  I know I should bring this back around to the Divine.  But truthfully,  I have no idea where the Divine is right now.  I think She is on hiatus from my life at the moment.  Maybe it is me that is on hiatus.  Probably that is the case.

To be honest, I am just sort of pissed.

That may be OK, to just be pissed.

I will leave it there for the day.