Friday, March 7, 2008

Get yer Kleenex out, this one'll gitcha

It's hard to realize your limitations. It is even harder when you're in denial. I babysit. I take care of the kids, the dogs, cats and the house. Sometimes I even do things for Super G. I work 30 hours a week, own my own business, just got done pimping Girl Scout Cookies, I've adopted a soldier. I hardly ever say no to helping people out.

But, I've had to realize today that I'm sick. I write a lot about my kidney foibles. I write about the surgery, and the pain, and the frustration, and the great C2 narcotics I get to ease the pain. But lately I've been having to go to the ER two or three times a week for pain control.

But I laugh it off, sometimes I get frustrated and angry, but I deal with it because these are the cards I was dealt, and it's not like I've got some terminal illness........

But Monday, Simon the foster dog had to go back to the rescue and get a new home. He went after my cat, my 11 1/2 year old lovey 20 pound biting balding man-cat. And we can't have that. So Simon is in a new foster home and the house has settled back down and all was well. But I was at the ER when she came to pick him up.

I e-mailed and asked for another dog to foster. We still have Carmen the foster dog who won't ever get adopted. She's so terrified of people and strangers that she barks and growls incessantly when she meets you. You have to come to the house 4 or 5 times before she lets you get close to her. Her former life must have been hell. Right now, we are her stability and her world, and I am her rock.

So I wanted another foster. And I talked my Rescue Rep into getting a new female to me. New Female was supposedly perfect for our home, but the Rep had serious reservations about bringing her here because of my health. Oh, I said, I'm okay, this helps me get these dogs healthy and happy..... i'm not all that sick.

So then I tell Super G about New Foster, and ask if it's okay. This is shortly after I sent him an e-mail describing my pain as excruciating even though I had 125 mcg/hr worth of fentanyl patches on my body, and had popped 2 percocet and a dilaudid to get me to the level of excruciating.

And he told me that perhaps instead of getting a dog well, I should work on getting ME well.

Then it hit me. I'm pulling in multiple fosters and loving them up and into health and happiness because I don't know if I'll ever get healthy again.

I have a problem, and no doctor knows why it's there, or what to do about it. I'm on drugs so potent and strong that most people that are on it are usually terminal cancer patients, and those people do not usually function well on the meds. I'm fine while on them, because they don't work very well on me anymore.

I'm sick. I'm really sick. I'm in pain that becomes unbearable at times. And no amount of rescuing and saving other lives is going to make that pain better. It's not going to make me healthy again.

I hurt. And I would like for nothing more than my momma to come here and let me curl up in my bed and rest for a day or two and take care of my babies just like I would and take care of my house and let me just concentrate on me getting well. But none of those things are going to happen. Even if they did happen, I'd feel so guilty about not taking care of my kids, and just being selfish and lazy, that I wouldn't lay down and my kids won't leave me alone to do that anyway.

So I came to the realization that I don't just have a problem here or there, I'm sick. I can't get well by changing my diet or lifestyle. I am sick, and no one knows what is wrong with me. I'm sick, and it affects the lives of everyone around me. My daughter acts out for days after a hospital visit. My son misses me and gets so scared that I'll go to the hospital and leave him again. My husband has had to work from home, schlep kids around, take care of dogs, help customers and deal with last minute life changes when I'm gone. He might even worry about me when I'm up in the bin.

I'm sad. I'm grieving my life, and the sweet denial I once had but now have lost. I'm rambling now, but it's how I feel. I feel lost in the land of "sick" rambling from one obstacle to another. I'm sad, and I cry from the despair, and I cry from the pain. Normally, I breathe through the pain, and make jokes and try to get through it. But now when I feel the pain creeping in, as it has been doing since late last night, I take a deep breath, blow it out, and the pain is still there knifing me. It won't be fooled anymore, because I'm sick.

I suppose I'll feel better after I take a shower and put on makeup and stuff. I hope so. I have work to do, and kids to play with and feed and take care of, and a girl coming home from school early because it's snowing. And I'm sick.

What if I never get well?