I had a serious injury to my right wrist and hand almost 12 years ago that led to developing a rather bothersome nerve disorder called RSD or CRPS. While trying to recover use of my right hand, following surgery, I was treated with a long list of drugs including short stints on lithium, elavil, and a long time association with very high doses of something called Neurontin. This last drug turned out to be a Godsend. I was on it for almost 5 years, and then lack of money made continuing the regimen impossible. By that time, thank God, I had developed close to 50% function in my right hand. The surgeon initially told me I would be lucky to get 10 - 20% function back. Anyway, this RSD is a fickle and painful mistress. My family had to live with the ups and downs of my chronic, sometimes debilitating pain, and they did so with great patience and love. I've had several years of something resembling remission and count each of those days as a miracle. Recently, as my 47 year old body begins to settle and give in to gravity, RSD has reared its ugly head, or hand. Things that have been bearable for years are once again becoming difficult. This is creating a HUGE psychological dilemma for me. I'm not very good at focusing on me. I have a spouse who is wrapped to the knee in a fiberglass cast. She's on crutches from now til who knows when. I have a child / young adult in college, working hard at making the transition from high school to college under sometimes difficult family circumstances. I have a teenage son who struggles daily in the academic world. Things that come so easy to so many are sometimes a monumental task for him, and yet he perseveres. My 22 yr old son has just paid off his vehicle and, after losing a very good job, has relocated to McDonald's and made it look easy. My children make me very proud, and sometimes very frustrated. They have so many needs and wants, and I don't have time to slow down and deal with any kind of chronic pain. Their success should be my focus, and yet this pain thing seems to want to get in the way. I don't have time for this. I've fought this fight before, and I was able to get past round 1. This round needs to not even start.
As for the rest of things, well aging and gravity have a way of making my body look its age (I hope no older), and with that comes hard work at minimizing the impact. I don't think I'm terribly vain, but I do try to at least look nice most days. Apparently as time passes I am becoming less feminine. I'm not sure exactly what is meant by that but I've been giving it a great deal of thought. I still wear makeup, hopefully it doesn't settle in my facial lines and crevices making me look like Maxine or something. I've altered the way I wear eye makeup, and I think I've made age appropriate adjustments. I'm no longer wearing short skirts and high heels, (thank goodness!). I do wear some dressier clothes to work, with sensible, professional pumps, but no fuck me pumps for these feet anymore. I've sold most of my gold jewelry so I'm left with a few pieces of silver that are fairly simple in design. I hope I don't look like Maxine. I hope I don't look like Grandma Moses either. I hope I look 47 years 5 months and a few days. I can handle that. In the next few weeks I'll be returning to the South Beach Regimen to reset my insulin metabolism, and hopefully shed the 6 pounds I've reacquired in the past year. I don't want to be a toothpick, I just want to lose those few pounds and lose the snack cravings that seem to have returned.
Days like these past few make me miss my Mom. I miss my biggest cheerleader. I could have come out of my room with black raccoon eyes, holes in my pants, hair standing on end and my mom would have had a big smile for me, and she would have said oh you look so pretty. She would have seen the inside Pearl. The soul, although it's an old one, would have felt like a kid again. She would have known without asking, that my RSD was back. She might not have said anything, but she would have given me great reassurance, and soothed my increasing anxiety about it. Don't misunderstand me, Laurie is aware, she has seen the signs and the anxiety, she has been there to offer comfort and support. She's working hard to calm my fear. She's been here before, and she understands all too well what this flare means. I'm very lucky for that. My ex- wasn't as understanding the first time, I'd bet he'd be oblivious to this flare now, and resent me for its return when he found out. That explains a lot of the ex- part there.
So this is my maudlin blog for the week. The holidays are approaching, my daughter is growing up and needs me less and less, and I miss my mom. Life happens. This is mine. I wouldn't trade any of it for any reason.