It has seemed an extra long week since this pain started last Tuesday. But that is the way it works when you are ill. The minutes and then the days crawl by.
I have been a load of cantankerousness and neediness. Were I alone, I would be in one of those heaps on the floor and I don't have one of those "I've fallen and I can't get up" buttons. My neck is slightly more movable, but the pain in my shoulders is still much the same, the left one slightly improved so that I can at least use my arm and hand within a limited range. And my right wrist is halfway on its way to Hellinahandbasket.
Yesterday afternoon I was doing pretty poorly even for my usual sad state. I tried calling our doctor back at home, but he and his staff were all still enjoying Monday as part of the holiday weekend. So, after more cajoling from my guys, I finally agreed to go to the Emergency Room at the hospital here where we are visiting. All three of my finely-bearded men came with me for the sheer joy of it (emphasis mine). There should have been one of these signs posted on the door as you hobble in..
As it turned out, they waited with me in the ER for 5 hours. Well, it was the day after Christmas and all, so the wait was understandable. At least that's the good light I wish to put it in.
At the 4 and one half hour mark I was given three injections, one in the arm and one each on my buttcheeks. And the last half hour was spent back in the waiting room so they could make sure I didn't exhibit and signs of being dead or otherwise greatly incapacitated from said injections. Two prescriptions To Go and Wes signed my release form, which probably contains a bunch of "Don't call us and we won't call you" legal stuff.
A stop at Walgreens for the two bottles of pills and to drop me off at home, get me settled, and off the three of them went for a well-deserved relaxing supper at Red Robin, and they even brought me home my favourite 'Banzai Burger' (I actually ate 1/4 of it). I tell you that I don't deserve their patience, but I'll be damned if I'm not grateful in every hurting cell of my body.
I know I take so much for granted during the times when I just live life with the normal aches and pains of a life of a certain age and prior infirmities and their lingering consequences. But rather than continually refreshing old pains and difficulties in our daily consciousness, perhaps it is better to sort of take the good days or months or years for granted a bit.. stopping to remember once in a while that you've been worse. But in the better times, I think it is best to get on with it, to get on with living in the moments and making the most of your days and nights with family and friends and storing up tons of good memories for the not-quite-so-good days to come. Because when this sign pops up in your life again..
..it's best to realise that life ahead is going to change drastically again and you'd better be prepared for a new direction for a while.
So the lesson I should commit to memory is "Enjoy the better times when you have them, live life the best that you can when you can, and when a sign pops into view that you'll be heading in a different direction, be ready for whatever the road brings your way."
That, and remember to thank the people who love you and are kind and patient with you even when you are a grumpy old mother. (Thank you, guys.)
And, oh I am so looking forward to picking up a crochet hook again soon, because I really enjoyed making this houndstooth-like scarf two weeks ago (pattern here: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2245155/free_crochet_pattern_bumpy_scarf.html?cat=24 ).
I have several afghans in need of finishing or weaving in ends, and there are always so many new things to make! Such are the ways of Crochet Love. ;)