A Whiny Post

I haven't posted much because honestly, what is there to say?  My body doesn't work right.  I am so dang frustrated.  I tried kickboxing today. I can get through less today (on 60 mg of steroids) than I could two weeks ago.  I can't get through the weight section at all anymore; my arms drop.  I can't do a pushup.  I can't keep my head up off the floor.  I can't. I can't. I can't.  I can however cry while trying to kickbox which makes the kiddoes a bit concerned.  Um, yup.  Momma is losing it.  And it's a vicious catch-22.  I should exercise because it will counteract the steroids - hopefully - and the weight gain.  And they tell you to reduce the risk of cancer recurring, you should keep your weight down.  But I can't make my body work right to exercise.  I was so encouraged a couple days ago when I took my first dose of 60 mg because I actually forgot to take mestinon because I wasn't slurring while reading.  Today?  Slurring.  Of course, I was awake at 4 a.m. and that probably doesn't help.  But strength?  Nope.

And I am tired of hearing that steroids will give me a moon face.  Bloat me.  Whatever.  I know all this.  Believe me.  I don't need to hear it again.  That's like saying to a cancer patient, "You know your hair is going to fall out, right?"  Really.  I don't need the reminder. 

I know I sound petty.  I know I sound angry.  I guess I am petty.  And you know what?  I am angry.  I'm furious actually.  I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired.  I have read the Bible stories.  I know the story of Job.  He lost everything - home, wealth, children.  His wife wanted him to curse God and die.  And at the end of the whole thing,  he had a deeper understanding of the creator of the universe.  Am I the only one who is bothered by the fact that he lost all his children and in passing at the end, it says he had health and wealth restored and more children.  Like the grief of losing the others was just some passing lesson.  I am reading a book with Caleb for school about missionaries to the Dani people in New Guinea in the 60's.  And we read the chapter today that talked about all these miraculous healings.  And I turned to Caleb and said, "You know it doesn't always happen like this?"  I feel terrible telling him that but it was presented in such a way that it was like "If you just have enough faith, your cancer is gone, your dead child is raised, your lame are healed, the blind see."  I believe those things can happen.  But I have a problem with the "If you just believe enough..."

I'm tired of sweet people having cancer spread, of watching little ones struggle with leukemia, of pain and suffering.  I know it's a part of life.  But I don't like it.  And I dread the ensuing months? years? of walking the tightrope of these stupid meds and this stupid disease and having side effects that pop up and then need to be treated.  Maybe I don't believe enough.  Maybe I don't have enough faith.  Maybe I don't have because I don't ask.  I don't know.  I do know I hate to actually think about being in remission or being symptom free without meds because if it doesn't happen (and chances are it won't), I'll have just set myself up for disappointment.  So I try not to think about it.  Is that not having faith?  I don't know.


I have a sneaking sympathy with this Psalm these days.  I know it is written as a prophecy of Christ.  But David also wrote it, so I am assuming he had some inkling of which he speaks.

"I am poured out like water,

 and all my bones are out of joint;

my heart is like wax;

it is melted within my breast;

my strength is dried up like a potsherd,

and my tongue sticks to my jaws;

you lay me in the dust of death."

Psalm 22:14-15

And honestly, I know I sound like a big old crybaby. Because it could be worse. I know that. I'm here with my kids. I have meds that can help. I can swallow. (Most of the time.) I can breathe. I can raise my arms. (Most of the time.) Maybe it's the steroids talking. I have yet to experience the euphoria associated with steroids. I'd like some euphoria.

Oh, and as a little extra excitement around here, I have the floor guys coming Thursday.  I also received a call from the real estate assessor as we are in the process of refinancing and he wants to come out.   I explained about the floor in the dining room being installed Thursday.  So we settled on Friday.  Morning.  I'm stressed.  We need to get the furniture moved back Thursday night so our house doesn't look like a wreck.  I'd much prefer Monday or Tuesday so I have a little breathing room.  But the mortgage company guarantees closing in October with a locked in interest rate as long as we don't do anything to delay.  So Friday it is.  Did I mention the house cleaner is coming Monday and how much easier it would be if Tuesday were the day of choice?  Friday it is.  So I'm going to put on my best nagging voice and keep the kids motivated to keep things picked up.  And mop.  And dust.  And vac.  And try to figure out how in the name of heaven we are going to get the top of the hutch back on the bottom part.  It's solid oak.  And heavy.  I could help Mark get it down (and that was a close run thing) but there is no way I have the strength to help him get it back up there.  And it needs to go back up there immediately for safety's sake because leaving it off runs the risk of a child tipping it over on themselves.  (Right now I have it wedged between the table and a bookcase so it can't tip.)  So I guess we'll be busy Thursday night. 

And I'll keep an eye out for my sense of humor too.  Maybe it's under the hutch.