This isn't as serious as it sounds, so don't worry. It's just that my project list keeps growing—through every fault of my own—and we're heading into the holiday season. Who isn't starting to feel a little stress right about now? It just seems that every little thing on my list must first be prefaced with a number of other little things before I can get to every little thing on my list. Does that make sense?
The real problem is that I'm unable, or unwilling, to accept the limitations my health places on me (I refuse—refuse—to blame age for everything). I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept that I can't do a million things at once, perfectly well. In fact, I very nearly deleted that last sentence simply because it has the word "can't" in it. I'll leave it in to make my point. Take yesterday. I awoke with two severe bouts of IBS (one of the complications of Hashimoto's Disease) that felt exactly like the labor I went through having Joel, and with a puppy biting my face. IBS ruins my day. It makes me depressed and fatigued, and all I can do is lay around and play on Facebook or watch movies. Yesterday's sieges were the worst ever. A couple of facts about IBS, just to let you know this is no small complaint on my part:
- Gastroenterologists report that an IBS attack is the equivalent of doing 1000 sit-ups in a row in terms of fatigue.
- An IBS attack is frequently likened to early stage labor in its makeup and severity: a series of waves of pain that grow, peak, then subside, often lasting hours. I can tell you that I often wish I could get an epidural.
- People sometimes faint from the severity of the pain. I break into flushing heat and then cold sweats, and I have nearly fainted a number of times.
But I have a sense of humor and although Nigel is in his early toddler phase, I'm able to laugh through a lot. The really good news is that I always feel better by evening, so I'm not a total drag when Nettl comes home or when people drop in. As long as they bring me wine I do well. In fact wine seems to keep the IBS attacks at bay, so there you go. I must say that having Nigel as my companion during the day really helps, actually, despite the pee and the poop, and the dangerously sharp puppy teeth.