D-Day & the Spoon Shortage

Dear John,

 

I had a good day at work, and a short one - I had everything done after seven hours. And I need your advice. I've been beyond exhausted all day. And I have another day to work, and mowing and Elyssa's birthday party Saturday, and church Sunday. Then Monday comes and I start all over again. I've worked two four-day weeks, and I'm dying. I need the hours and the money, and Kathy needs the help. But tonight I'm wondering how much I can really do.

 

When you were here I could work within my limits and look after my body. Without you, it feels like financial necessities are requiring more than my body can do. Just working two days in a row flattens me, and when I'm that tired I don't think well. My job isn't physically demanding or stressful, and I really do enjoy it - there's no job I could have that suits my limits better.

 

When you were here, I didn't have to think about myself as chronically ill. I could manage the illness and limit it's effect on my life. Now I'm not even flaring and it's painfully (pun not intended) clear that I'm sick. I need the heating pad, but climbing around and moving furniture to plug it in is just too much pain and effort.

 

Can you tell I'm feeling a bit panicky? I'm sorry - I know things will look better in the morning. But I'll still be exhausted, and I'll still have to go to work. And stay awake driving my whole twenty minutes there. The solution would have been life insurance, but you couldn't get it because of your health history - and even I can't blame the insurance companies in your case!

 

What seems to be needed here is faith. The Lord has looked after me this far and won't abandon me now. I'll keep on keeping on, try to get more sleep, be careful to eat right, and see what happens. If I'm still dying on the vine in a few weeks, I'll call Joe. And there's always the equity we have in the land. This is my struggle. Yours was with the results of the radiation. Mine is with fibro - whatever the heck it really is - and with fear. Please do pray for me tonight. I'm trying to find my way without you, and this is part of that.

 

Oh, and please tell Daddy how much I appreciate him, especially on this anniversary of D-Day. If you remember, he was in the first wave to land. Whatever he saw that day, he never told a living soul. But it never left him. Tell him I love him and I'm proud of him and what he did. It makes my struggles look so small.

 

Love you so much,

Joan.