Thursday, May 30, 2013

Gibbstervention Avoided

Dear John,
 
It was a short night, but not as long a day as I feared. I was awake until 3 AM and slept in until 7. I was very busy at work today. The Open House was busy until 5:00, then the storms that we weren't supposed to get got here. So Kathy sent me home, I got milk at the Fast Lane, and had a terrified dog. Tomorrow is the last day of the sale and Open House, and will be nice and busy.
 
You should be proud of me: I'm being sensible and responsible. I decided to miss the reunion this weekend. For one thing, Kathy needs me tomorrow. For another, I can't afford it. But really, I don't dare push the fibro that far. When I went to the last reunion five years ago, I spent three weeks in bed recovering from driving sixteen hours in three days. I could do that when you were here and working. But I have to take care of myself now, and that means providing for myself, and that requires taking care of myself whether I like it or not.
 
The people I really want to see, I can see without a reunion. I'd like to go down and spend a couple of days seeing friends in Indy, then Louisville, then Lexington, and swing back up through Springfield and visit with your family. And take my time doing it. Fibromites can do about anything, as long as we take our time and pace ourselves. And aren't flaring. I'd enjoy that more.
 
As soon as I started talking to people about it, I discovered that lots of folks were concerned about my plans for the trip. I'm lucky there wasn't a full-scale intervention - or Gibbstervention, as Tammy says, which is a lovely word. And I admit that I feel relieved. It will take time for me to learn how to plan and pace myself without you. There are lots of things that I'm still figuring out how to do without you!
 
(By the way - if you get the chance to visit some night, please show me how to work the trimmer.)
 
That's all for tonight, just the small fact that I have made a sensible decision and the world has not stopped turning. Thank you for looking after me, for encouraging me to do things and then encouraging me to give myself the time to recover from them, for valuing me even though I wasn't as able-bodied as I wanted to be - in short, for loving me. When I wonder what I should do, sometimes I ask myself what you would say. And I do that.
 
Love you, trust you, always,
Joan.

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