One good thing about the flu...

Above: me as i looked, reclining in my sickbed wearing my tiara. i found this on Varifrank.com in a pretty funny blog post.

Well, after a week of eating an ounce at a time, i've lost 7 pounds. It was a lousy week, it was one of the roughest weeks i've had in recent history, but i lost 7 pounds. That part was good.

i was looking back at what i ate all week, and if i could just manage to eat about 600 calories every day for the rest of my life, maybe i could lose another 7. As opposed to my usual eating, not perfect but certainly a bit more than an ounce at a time, i could only manage to eat an apple and 7 Triscuits all day, then maybe a piece of toast for dinner. Amazing. Of course, i did manage some therapeutic chocolate here and there.

ANYway, this brought some other thoughts to my mind:

There are things i don't like about myself, like, i don't like my weight, i'm not crazy about my wrinkles, but i'm good with myself. Here at 50-odd years old (some much odder then others) i'm actually okay with who i am.

(This could be longish, so you Skimmers hang on for the recap.)

Wind back to January of 2001--my mother died of cancer in Nebraska, and i received the call in California. This call came from her lawyer, as she had not even told me her cancer had returned. Then the deluge of treasures started coming. Stuff like her hand-written will outlining her Replacement Loved Ones and the possessions she wished them to have. i was the only of her 3 birth children still in contact, she had alientated my sister and brother years before. So for me she saved her special comments, designed to make sure i knew i'd been a bitter disappointment to her. i, along with the lawyer and my aunt, received the long pages written to each of her children outlining the many specific ways we had each disappointed her and ruined her life. Then followed the albums of family photos and framed family pictures and such, each with sticky notes attached. These told me things such as "you children killed the mother I was" and other words to hold near and dear to my heart in her absence.

i went into a hysterical tailspin and became a Frequent Flyer at Kaiser's Mental Health and Chemical Dependency Clinic. i remember the first day i spoke with someone there. i was sobbing, "But why could she love those other people, and not me?" The nurse spoke of our expectations of our mothers--"We expect our mothers to love us, and protect us. That's a nurturing act--from here, to here," she said, gesturing from an adult height down to a child's height. "Those others she can relate to from here to here," she said, gesturing from an equal to an equal.

i knew my mother had replaced us with more acceptable children in her new and improved life in Nebraska, but i'd never understood. That day started a 5 year trip down Mental Health Road. A really valuable trip. A trip i hope never to need to repeat.

But from that day of a new beginning, i came from a place where i doubted every single thing about myself, even things i was sure of. i was pretty sure i was a good mom, a kind person, but if the person who is supposed to love you more than anyone in the world thinks you are a disappointment, it's hard for someone like me to know who to believe. But the nurse that first day told me, "You have a very good chance to have a great second half of your life."

i wanted to believe her, desperately. But i couldn't see a way to that place that day. And now seven years have passed. In that time i've been able to pull together the truths of who i am as a person before God. The things He's gifted me with, the person He's grown me into, the kind of woman i knew i was, i've been able to accept--i've learned to silence the voice of my mother that lived in my head. i was finally able to sort out what i knew of myself from what my mother had me believing. And i'm finally good with me. Not with everything about me, but with me.

But i'm still happy about the seven pounds.

Skimmer recap:
Mother. Cancer. Dead. Bad stuff. But now i'm good.

;-)

Would someone please send that nurse to charm school?

Since this is my place to whine (and you can't stop me!) i feel the need for a good whinge (British word meaning "to complain or protest, especially in an annoying or persistent manner." The Free Dictionary.)

i've spoken of the Chronically In Pain Clinic at Kaiser before. Previously i've dealt with a delightful R.N. who soooothes me and makes me feel like i might live. If she is cream, the other nurse is vinegar gone bad. She sounds bored when speaking to me on the phone. She does stuff like she did today where i was talking to her and saying "i really don't want opiates, they seem to have bad side effects for me--is there not something else the doctor can try that isn't an opiate?" Her answer was "well, they use Motrin." Her explanation being that the doctor is known for treating pain by getting a good level of opiates in a patient's system and keeping it that way. But what if said patient does not want said opiates in her system? Let's just say, they make parts of her system which should be on the move think they're doing a charade of the movie "The Day the Earth Stood Still." Not good.

i recognize i can be a bit of a babbler, so my hubby The Skimmer says. But i think i was just trying to give Nurse No Charm the important details to take back to the doctor. As i am saying, "call me back on the house phone," she suddenly says, "I'm hanging up." "Whaa?" i say, though i should be used to her Non Charming ways. "I'm hanging up now," she says, and laughs. "Oh." i say. What else does one say in that situation? i'm a nice person. i've know enough other people from the not-a-nice-person pool to recognize that i try hard to be kind and polite and such. The part of me that wanted to dip into that other pool wanted to say, "So sorry to bother you!" (or something equally junior high.) But the nice side won out.

i mean, isn't it her job to help get this settled to everybody's satisfaction? This cartoon i found today sums up my present state of being, given the fibromyalgia, the achy flu and snotty nose i have and the difficulty breathing that earned me a breathing treatment at the doctor's yesterday:

i am getting very close to grumpy. i realize i don't deserve special treatment, but how about just some good ol' fashioned kind treatment?

i feel somewhat pathetic, and perhaps spoiled by the people skills of the Nice Nurse. Perhaps i really am just the dog below--

Flu.

How does a person who aches pretty much 24/7 know when they have the achy flu? Why, when they ache even more than usual, of course!

My hubby has been sick for the past 2 weeks--he spent the first one feeling like he was going to be sick, and the second one carrying out his flu destiny. Somewhere in there he apparently shared with me, as i woke up yesterday morning with a definite case of the "oh my gosh i really hurt" flu. My oldest daughter and her husband had it several weeks back, and commented on how they had to keep the ibuprofen flowing, since if it lapsed at all, they suffered greatly. Their eyeballs hurt. Their eye sockets hurt. Their fingers and nails and everything else hurt. i thought, well, i probably wouldn't even notice, since my body aches daily anyway. But guess what?? I NOTICED.

Fever and chills in the night. Hard time breathing. Fun stuff. But my sweet hubby decided to treat me with the healing properties of Ghirardelli chocolate with caramel. i may still hurt, but yum!

i'm hoping my version of the flu subsides more quickly than hubby's did. i was hoping to go shopping on Friday for daughter Corinne's 28th birthday. i mean, i have my priorities!!