Thursday, March 21, 2013

The Grounhog is a Fraud

Dear John,
 

Puxatawney Phil's life has been threatened. He told us we'd have an early spring. The equinox was yesterday, and I woke this morning to 19 degrees and a lake-effect snow storm. You cannot imagine our delight. But on the good side, I was coming down 600 West on the way home from work and saw my first redwing blackbird of the season. So maybe there's hope.
 
Not with me, though. I'm still struggling hard today, physically and emotionally. I only worked four hours, then I dragged myself through Walmart for groceries, fought to stay awake driving home, and had just enough energy to grab a cold piece of meat and some celery out of the fridge for dinner. This week has been worse than my usual, and I'm afraid I'm falling into another 8-month episode of mono.
 
I've done it about every 3 years since 1986, and it's been about 3 years. Mono was doable when you were here, to get paid for work and to do grocery shopping. If I do that again, I can't imagine what I'll do, how I'll get by. I'm what Cathy used to call being beyond exhausted, my lymph nodes are up, throat sore, wheezing and having neuralgia like I do when I'm severely exhausted, temp 96.6 indicating viral infection, unable to stay awake even standing up, and I hurt all over. In the shower tonight, the back brush was too painful to use.
 
So: fibro flare, mono again, other kind of fatigue - or am I really a lizard so those things are normal? And I keep thinking thyroid, and want to get the antibody assays done. But all health care has to wait until Panera Benefits convinces Anthem that you died in April,  not January. I'm paying every month, but have had no coverage (and so no health care) since the end of November.  I've missed a dentist appointment, a mammogram, and a yearly physical so far.
 
As you can tell, I'm frustrated, discouraged, and generally sick and tired of being sick and tired. So I'm grousing at you, so that you'll be as miserable as I am. I'm sorry about venting, again. After all, the red-winged blackbirds are here, so there will be spring. And the slower it comes, the later I'll have to start mowing. And the cooler it is, the less likely it is that we'll reach 107 again this summer. And that would be fine with all of us.
 
I'll be writing late tomorrow. After work I'll be going to church for the Akathist, then there's soup and a discussion afterward. Thank you for listening - I feel better tonight for having vented. Overlaying all this frustration and discouragement is a great sadness that you're not here. I miss you every minute, but especially when I don't feel good.
 
Sleep good, pray for me, and know how much I love you.
Joan.

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