Grrrr! Pfffft!

I was sitting on the floor in my living room one morning. I hardly ever sat on the floor, because I had osteoarthritis in both knees pretty badly and it was a bitch to get up again. So I didn't know when or why I'd sat down there, but I knew it was a school morning and my 8 year old daughter needed to wake up and get ready to go.

I started pulling myself up, using a chair for leverage, meanwhile yelling at Lyra to wake up. She came running in and asked me, "Are you sick? What's wrong?" I guess she thought it was strange that I hadn't gone into her room and gently rubbed her back to wake her up, like I usually did.

I told her no, I was just having some trouble getting up. Then I told her to get dressed for school and continued trying to pulll myself up. She scampered back to her room and got dressed. Her bookbag was already by the front door, ready for her. She ate breakfast at school, so that wasn't a problem. Before long, her bus pulled up at the curb in front of our duplex and she very bravely went out and boarded it by herself. I usually walked out with her and watched until the bus pulled away. Not that day. I was frustrated that my knees were not cooperating with me. And I was getting tired.

Lyra, meanwhile, told her teacher I was sick and couldn't get up off the floor. Her teacher, an amazing woman, rushed over to our place and found me there, sitting on the floor. I was exhausted. She quickly called 911. The ambulance came, and I must have passed out. I remember them starting to put a backboard under me. Then, as if I had beem magically whisked away, I was lying in a bed in the ICU at the hospital. I'll never forget that moment because, for some odd reason, both my legs were floating above the bed, tied by strings to my hips.

That was March 30, 2010, when everything in my world changed.

So I've been in bed nearly every day since. Well, I did used to wish for more time to myself. Wishes do come true, it seems. I realize now that I should have been more specific.

There have been some new developments. I'm going to see an endocrinologist, as if I know what that is, and I'm going to meet up with the dietician. She's going to tell me to stop eating outside food and to tell Jeff to stop bringing me supper the days that he visits. And I'm going to say no.

Then the doctor is going to order me to stop eating snacks and to stop having outside food brought in and I'm going to say, ain't gonna happen. 

My blood sugar has been high since before last Christmas purely because of the fact that I have had various infections since then. I just started on a broad spectrim antibiotic because I finally, after several weeks, got my doctor to order a urine test. And, yes, I have a UTI. Nothing new.

All my doctors and nurses have been harping on me about how what I'm eating is causing my blood sugar to be high. It's high even when I haven't eaten in the past 17 hours. But they will not listen to me because I'm just a stupid old woman who doesn't know anything, derp derp, derp.

Grrrr.

Eating things I like is just about the only pleasure I have left and the only power I have over my life. Take that away, and there truly is nothing left to get me through the long, endlessly boring, lonely days. Why, then, would life be worth living? I'm already standing with one foot hovering over the edge of a steep cliff. I resent having to defend this last tiny bastion of independence.

Oh, poo. I'm going to lose my mind. That's all there is to it. Don't get old. People just assume you're senile if you don't agree with them, especially doctors. A lot of those are gods, don't you know, and if you don't take everything they say as gospel and follow them off a cliff like a lemming, you're just being "difficult" or, if you're old, you're "irascible"

I could rattle on indignantly like this forever, but I'll spare you. I've already ranted more than is polite.

Be well and happy, peeps. Otherwise, life stinks. Love ya.

Hide me!