So apparently I can talk a big game, but I can’t follow my own rules. I constantly tell parents of special needs children that they need to take care of themselves
. That if they don’t make themselves a priority they will not be able to take care of their children. Well, I am an idiot. I had not been feeling well this summer and I just chalked it up to how summer can negatively affect those with lupus. Now technically I haven’t officially been diagnosed with lupus, but with connective tissue disease probably lupus. However, I am on a lupus medication and it makes me feel better when I take it, so the doctor says it’s probably lupus, yet that my case is so mild that right now I have nothing to really worry about.(Thank heaven for small favors-right!)
Well I have felt like crap all summer. I have had no energy, I have freckled even when I am not in the sun, I have aches and pains and muscle fatigue and quite frankly my PMS is out of control. I thought nothing of it really. We have had so much stress here lately what with trying to figure out how the new disability director will handle collegeman’s case, to HSB and all of his issues, and of course that wonderful economy we are all dealing with (trying to get money out of the 401K to pay for all the medical bills, as it is the only money we have left in the world), that I just didn’t think about what and how I was feeling. I just accepted it as it was. Didn’t think about it until yesterday.
You know you are married to a good man when…he finally gets up the nerve to tell you that you look awful. In fact I figure I must really look a sight for him to actually say anything. He is so sweet, he actually tried to soften the blow with, “I love you no matter what, but you really don’t look good. But if that is what makes you happy…” You know for them to actually see how bad you look that is not a good thing, at least for hubby. He thinks I look good in mud and in a burlap dress. So by the time he notices that I am not myself, I am in real trouble.
I told him that I just don’t feel well all the time and he wanted me to go to the doctor. I didn’t think I needed a doctor visit. I know if it was the boys they would be there yesterday, but with me it’s different. What made me think of my lupus meds is that the bottle is sitting right there on the kitchen counter and I happened to look at the date on the label. It said May. Holy Cow. I didn’t think that could be right, so I called up the pharmacy and yes they said that May was the last time I filled the script. Then she yelled at me. The pharmacist gave me the lecture I tend to give every parent that reads my blog. She insisted I come get the meds then and there. I assured her that I had just taken my meds, which I had, and that I would be in later that day to get the bottle. She then told me to organize my pills like I do for the boys so I would know and remember that I had not taken my pills.
I know that I would see the bottle of meds every day several times a day as I did the dishes or cooked in the kitchen. I know that I thought to myself, time to take my meds, but apparently I would get sidetracked and never did take them, but somehow in the back of my mind I had done what I was supposed to. Oy Vey as they say in the “old country.”
Anyway, I just made myself a promise. I am going to be 50 in one month. I have given myself that month to get myself back on the straight and narrow. Take my meds, do better on my diet and exercise like I am supposed to. But I know I need to go very slowly or I will blow it. I did buy P90X for the family and I will use those DVDs to help. Interestingly I can do the exercises without too much trouble so maybe I need to raise the free-weight level, but that will happen in a few weeks not right away. Right now I am going to concentrate on getting my cardio level back up and doing my sit-ups like I used to.
Meanwhile on another front, just made an appointment to meet the disability coordinator at college for collegeman and the disability coordinator and vice principal at the highschool for HSB. I guess my fifteen minutes of figuratively smacking myself in the head is over, now its time to get back to work.
Until next time,