Hurry up and wait.

That seems to be the spoonie motto at times. Waiting on Dr’s, waiting on meds, waiting on good news just. So while I am in the middle of hurry up and wait, I might as well acknowledge that I am still here. I am still fighting and I am still waking up grateful.

Its hard for me to let go and not be in control. I can’t work right now and I am not sure when or if I can again. I am spending hours trying to find help for xmas so my kids can have the holiday they deserve and so far nothing has panned out at all. Two of my kids still aren’t even speaking to me, and letting go of that one has been the hardest. I realize that its a teengers job to hate their parents but I never expected so much damn heartache. I often have to remind myself of the asshole I was when I was a teen. Juvenile hall, running away, a total disrespectful know it all. So if me and my middle daughter had an amazing relationship all the way until she was 15, this is apparently an accomplishment. Call me crazy but I think kids should always respect their parents but when the co parenting is lacking, the outcome won’t always be sunshine and flowers. Acceptance of not having control has allowed me to breathe. To really listen to my body and this fucking pain. And to not feel bad if I am having a bad day. Cause they happen. Life happens.

Today I am ok. I am going to be content in the hurry up and wait phase, and be thankful for the small victories. I got approved for $34 in food stamps monthly and that is a blessing in my eyes. Being this broke isn’t fun but I know how to budget, cut corners and go without. Hell I haven’t bought bacon or block cheese in years LOL

Be well. I am constantly writing in my head, and I hope what I share allows all to see we are not alone. We are never alone.


What a difference a day makes.

It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve started this mission. I am still only at a trickle of dialudid with my pump since it was decreased. I’ve stopped taking effexor for depression, promethazine for nausea, flexeril for spasms and topamax for my nerve damage. All I have is weed and some 10/325s norcos, which I only take when I can’t take it anymore.

I’m able to eat again. Sleep. I’m not so anxious, not crying every 2 hours. I’ve been SOCIAL. And I honestly feel happy. Happier than I was. Being depressed and in bed for months seems like a bad dream to me.

I’m getting my MRI results next tues from my PCP. He of course won’t really know my history, as my pain mgmt does. But it’s results none the less. I’ve put this off. It gives me fear, but I can’t move forward until I know what I’m really up against. I’m realistic. The mri helps me get into the Spine center at Uc Davis so I’m currently in that process.

I don’t know when the pump will be taken out. I know when I see my dr in 2 weeks I can answer with 100% confidence that I do want it removed. Am I in pain? Of course. I’m moving slow, I went out on Halloween and sat the entire time even though my spirit craved to dance. But that’s just it. I’m OUT of the house. I’m talking to strangers again. I’m grateful for the trees and the sun, the pain and this life. I was clearly very medicated, and it happens when our alternatives are so fn limited. So I’m gonna try this for now. One day at a time, not worrying about the fact I’m not working, and knowing that no matter what I’ll be ok.