I've been having a lot of fun talking about my transition to the new role of A Gentlewoman of Leisure, but the truth of the matter is...this is a lot harder than I thought it would be.
For most of my life I've run around with my hair on fire...doing this and that...running hither and yon...and fretting, worrying, and stressing myself into regular tizzie fits. It might have looked like I was remarkably calm and in control, but I promise you that under the surface of the water my fat little legs were kicking as fast as they possibly could.
I also used to pride myself on the fact that, despite my girth, I was physically a very strong person and had pretty good stamnia for an old broad. I was able to manage myself and my household without too much drama, and there were times when I would have considered myself moderately physically active.
But now?
The physical toll that this kidney disease has taken is...terrifying. I am on my knees every night thanking God that I feel as good as I do, since I know that there are sooooo many people with soooo many more terrible ailments than mine, but the loss of my physical well-being is not exactly going down like a spoonful of sugar lately.
(Of course, that last statement was meant to be metaphorical, since I do not currently possess the capability of SEEING my knees...let alone getting on them, but I think you get the point.)
So I suppose what I'm trying to say is...I'm making lemonade here, kids. And while I am enjoying quiet days of floating in a pool or taking a nap or sitting in the Happy Chair watching the walls, I would trade them quite happily for a day in which I felt better than someone who has just been dropped on their head from a very tall building into a pile of fire ants right after running a marathon and taking an all night chemistry exam.
I don't say this to draw sympathy...that would be my worst nightmare. I say it to tell you that sometimes it's just nice to come here to the Land of MakeBelieve and Pretty Stitchy Things and talk about the weather. Or embroidery hoops. Or the perfect project bag in which one stores their WIPs. I'm sure Betty would tell me that, in addition to being mentally and emotionally unstable, I am just not living in reality, but...dear, dear sweet hateful Betty...reality just sucks the life out of me at the moment and I have finally found a way to keep it in check by ignoring it completely.
So in between going to the hospital, lab, and doctor's office for tests and appointments and...all of it, I put on my sunglasses and pretend that I'm a Real Housewife of Someplace or Other and I get on with it. Every now and then I do something fun like float in a pool or wander the storage solutions aisle at the Targets, and other days I can't get out of bed for neither love nor money.
But I'm here. And to paraphrase Miss Ceily Her Very Self from The Color Purple..."I may be poor. I may be sick. I may even be ugly. But I'm here. God knows I'm here!"
(Favorite scene in all of moviedom, by the way. Right up there with Ray saying "It's the Stay-Puft marshmallow man" to explain the coming of Gozer.)
OK, end of ramble. Sometimes I just need to remind myself that it's OK to just skip merrily through the tulpis while humming a happy tune, and that you all will indulge me as I continue to do so. We're all in this together, kids, so we might as well have fun while we're doing it. Right?