Other than my rant – and thank you, gentlemen (you know who you are), for supporting that post with a ‘like’ – I’ve been regretting my foray into ‘let’s try less medication’ suggested by my rheumatologist. Damned methotrexate! It’s one that fools you because it takes time to build in your system. So I dropped the amount I take and was fine – great! – for two months. Now, I’m feeling it.
Damned rheumatoid arthritis. I hate this disease.
Taking more pain pills. Even the biggies. My bro stopped by one of the coffeeshops and bought me the strongest grass with the most oomph against pain. And if I smoke it straight and chill out, it works. But it’s expensive, and I’ve got class today…
Oh, and let me just bitch about the exhaustion before I move on, okay? I can sleep anywhere, anytime right now because that’s how damned tired I am. Back to a minimum of 10 hours every night.
Naturally, this is hitting me in my right arm. From the shoulder down to the fingertips. Continual pain radiating down. Gods, I should have taught myself to write with both hands!
Immediate concern: received a message from the director – scratch that, two messages – asking if I could meet with some of the actors tonight. Off I go at the drop of a hat. And we’re meeting at a bar. Naturally. So I’ve another night sipping expensive water. And me just now healthy after the last sniffle/cold/flu hit.
Reminding myself this is better timing for a medication trial than come spring. Things aren’t crazy right now. Telling myself that everyone else drags their feet and then jumps at the last minute, expecting you to do the same. I’ve no reason to reveal how organized I am. I can wait, until I feel a bit better, and do as they do. Golden rule, after all, right?
Man, I may need to buy some coffee tonight.
Most of all, I appreciate now (maybe a bit in hindsight) how well my team has kept me and my condition these past years. I’ve grown accustomed to no pain, to being able to move, to a certain energy. RA just saps all of that. Tuesday is my methotrexate day, and I’m going back to my old dosage right away. Minimize this as much as possible.
Strange dreams lately. I dreamt of shitting my pants. Literally. Yeesh! Of all the dreams in all my life, and that’s the one I wake up remembering! I know enough shrink-speak to diagnose this as a classic ‘fear of being out of control’ thing. Same anxiety I experienced as a child, wrapped up in a brand new nightmare. And not surprising: I am not in control. I’m working in a group now, and by definition that puts me out of control. I have to rely on others to do their part of it. I have to co-operate, meaning operate from the control of more than just myself. Others can overrule my thinking, as in the new graphic from the director’s girlfriend. Not even close to what I wanted. But, now that I’m in a group, I need to include others. So I went with it. But I don’t feel good about it. I don’t feel it works for the production, for the feeling of it, anything. She doesn’t get it. That much is obvious.
Managed to get thru my Dutch homework yesterday. Other than a rather strange request in section 2, I found it terribly easy. Basically, it’s a short read with a series of questions that dig into your understanding of the text. Kudos to my teachers: it’s on male and female languages. I’ve belly-ached once or twice (or more) about how Dutch uses separate words for the same thing: they still have actress and actor, teacheress and teacher, etc. Right up my alley. And it’s something we can do now that there are no men in the group. Not exactly a safe topic among mixed company. Again, a nod to my teachers for being so sensitive. They’re wonderful examples to me.
The hot water in the building continues to be a dream. To take a shower when I want, to wash dishes anytime of the day or night, to get warm water when I bloody well wash my hands is a luxury I’m not soon to overlook. Every human on the planet should go through a few years without ready hot water. It teaches you so much about thankfulness and all the good that society can do. That is such a problem these days. We gripe about slow internet access, or how long the microwave takes, or the traffic when we can’t drive as fast as we want. Luxuries, all. Humanity is a spoiled brat, unthankful for what it has and greedy, always, for the next new thing.
I guess, in a way, I’m thankful for what’s happened. For the years without hot water, for the rheumatoid arthritis, for everything that’s seemed bad in my life. Because it’s made me appreciate all the more what I have. More and more I find myself coming from a place of thankfulness. I’m thankful to my teachers. I’m thankful to the theatre group for doing this production. I’m thankful to my brother for sticking by me. I’m thankful for the trance writing, for the wonderful stories I’m building and spinning.
This is the good place age brings. It’s what everyone tries to achieve. It’s not something you learn, because you can’t teach it. It’s something you become. Do not think, at 20 or 30 (or even 50, like myself), that you understand the word ‘acceptance’. Learning that definition comes with time and experience. It is both a letting-go and a holding-on. It is a flower that blooms at the last, and being perhaps the last flower ever from that particular vine, is all the more beautiful for it.
Or maybe I’ve smoked enough of that super strong stuff for this morning…
…Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it.