Wednesday, October 19, 2011


For a brief time in my life, I studied chemistry at university. I'm good it, albeit don't really 'get' it. And for a while, we studied combustion. Combustion is treated as this miraculous event, and obviously it was. I mean, suddenly something was powered of it's own accord and you could fuel the engine and keep it going.

I like to think of the anger inside me as that powerful agent of combustion.

My child is excessively clingy, my husband is grumpier than hell and I hurt.

My doctor is overseas for a while. Apparently he wrote a letter confirming there is nothing physically apparent on the xray. Everything in my hips screams. I can't rotate it. I can't move it. I can't walk. I can't climb. I can't eat or sleep. It hurts.

SOMETHING is wrong.

He copied my Rheum on the xray and I suspect the letter. He didn't mention to me he was going overseas.

I have spent the morning on the phone. Trying to convince the GP's office to refer me to the hospital but they keep telling me it's against practice for another GP to take over a patient.

I have called the Rheum's office and keep getting put onto answer phones.

I've called various physio offices practically begging to take me on. Tomorrow at 3pm. Do they have any experience in mixed connective tissue disorders? Ummm...No.


Things are chaotic here. Soph is so bored. She's becoming destructive.

I can only play Barbie for so many hours before I want to scream.

Matt is grumpy and cross. With me. With life.

People want to know what it's really like living with an ongoing illness? With chronic pain?

It's hard. It's not fun. It's horrible. It's rejection. It's being a blip on the radar of anyone who gives a damn.

Fights between one another. Kids who feel pushed to the back burner.

It feels like this volatile gas is building up under pressure. All it take is that magic of combustion before it explodes all over the place in excess.

There are days when you wish you didn't have to get up. That would be today. But I have to. There is no one else.

And there is tremendous pressure to be THAT mother. The one who can push through it all. With a smile.

I did laundry, cleaned and made brownies yesterday while battling a headache from the Tramadol and downing anti-naus meds.

I really wish there were days when you won medals. When someone brought you dinner. When they offered to vacuum. I want the gold star and the accolades for pushing through this pain.

I just don't want the damn thing to blow up into a billion messy pieces. I'm trying to prevent that combustion.

Today is so hard.


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