Waiting
I was reading over my last few posts and realized that I am a terrible proof reader. Please don't judge.
The whole post about the blog and the life and the knitting was kinda self-serving. Like my blog wasn't already about my life before I superciliously declared it so! And like I should worry about what those that read my blog think. ("Hey, there's no kntting today! I thought this was a knitting blog. I want my money back!!") Isn't the idea behind the whole journal/weblog thing to do it for yourself? But then we had to go and publish the crap on the internet, and that makes us want people to read it, and like it, and then it just turns into stress. I guess I was trying to say "like me, please, even if I didn't feed the knitting monster today". But I've decided it doesn't matter. I'm doing this blog for me, and maybe for the munchkins. I don't care if anyone reads it. (Okay, so that was a lie, but I'm trying not to let it bother me.) Someday when I'm senile my children will be able to look back on this blog and say they could see it coming.
Abbey is loving food shows right now. Cartoons? We don't need no stinkin' cartoons! We've got the Food Network. Bring it on Rachel Ray and your 30 Minute Meals! Come on Alton Brown and give me some Good Eats! She will sit mesmerized through an entire evening if I let her.
(Can't you see the senility already? Skipping subjects all hodge-podge like that.)
And now for something else...
I've not said too much about this in the past because I don't want to sound whiney or anything, but I've decided I need to just get it in the open. I have some strange disease that the Dr.s can't quite pinpoint. Most agree that it is some kind of connective tissue disease with a lean towards systemic lupus erythematosus. Not a big deal, I don't want a pity party. I first got sick in high school with mostly joint problems and fatigue and have just learned to deal with it. Most of the time I feel pretty good, but it does cause me to go to about a million different doctors for a million different reasons. Again, not a big deal. You learn to cope. Lately I've had a bit of a flare and I went to the rheumatologist last week. He gave me some meds, ran some labs, the usual stuff. The reason I bring all this up is The Man. I was telling him about the new rheumatologist and how I thought the nurse that drew my blood did it in a spot that hurt more on purpose because I had pissed her off about a sewing machine one time when he said "We've got to get our shit together." Huh? What did that have to do with Nurse Revenge?
Me: Okay...
Him: One day you are going to get sick and we need to get everything under control before that happens.
Me: silence...
Him: It's going to happen.
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. Is this how he sees me? How he lives his life with me? Waiting. Waiting for the day that I get sick and go into kidney failure and can't do anything for myself anymore? I certainly don't live that way. I might never even get that sick. All the indicators now are that I have a relatively mild disease that can be controlled. Nothing as drastic as he makes it sound. And has he always felt this way, or just since I've been having a few problems? I've had this thing for 14 years and I'm doing pretty good. I've never had to have radiation or methotrexate or even high dose steroids for that matter. I'm fine. (Or I'm in denial.) The whole thing makes me wonder about everything else in our life. When he had the chance to leave me, did he stay out of love? Or pity? When he lets me sleep in, is it because he's pampering me? Or is it because he thinks I need it? Is he staring at me because he loves to look at me? Or he's worried about me? I understand that the whole thing is probably hard to handle from his side, but we've never really taken the whole thing that seriously. Or at least I hadn't. "It's just a little arthritis. Ha ha, I have to go to all the old people doctors. I'm the youngest patient they've seen in years." Maybe that's why I was always so flippant about it. If I lived my life waiting, or knew he was, it would stop me from living my life. What good does that do? But now I'm waiting. Waiting to find the words to talk to him and make him stop waiting. I might be waiting for a long time.
The whole post about the blog and the life and the knitting was kinda self-serving. Like my blog wasn't already about my life before I superciliously declared it so! And like I should worry about what those that read my blog think. ("Hey, there's no kntting today! I thought this was a knitting blog. I want my money back!!") Isn't the idea behind the whole journal/weblog thing to do it for yourself? But then we had to go and publish the crap on the internet, and that makes us want people to read it, and like it, and then it just turns into stress. I guess I was trying to say "like me, please, even if I didn't feed the knitting monster today". But I've decided it doesn't matter. I'm doing this blog for me, and maybe for the munchkins. I don't care if anyone reads it. (Okay, so that was a lie, but I'm trying not to let it bother me.) Someday when I'm senile my children will be able to look back on this blog and say they could see it coming.
Abbey is loving food shows right now. Cartoons? We don't need no stinkin' cartoons! We've got the Food Network. Bring it on Rachel Ray and your 30 Minute Meals! Come on Alton Brown and give me some Good Eats! She will sit mesmerized through an entire evening if I let her.
(Can't you see the senility already? Skipping subjects all hodge-podge like that.)
And now for something else...
I've not said too much about this in the past because I don't want to sound whiney or anything, but I've decided I need to just get it in the open. I have some strange disease that the Dr.s can't quite pinpoint. Most agree that it is some kind of connective tissue disease with a lean towards systemic lupus erythematosus. Not a big deal, I don't want a pity party. I first got sick in high school with mostly joint problems and fatigue and have just learned to deal with it. Most of the time I feel pretty good, but it does cause me to go to about a million different doctors for a million different reasons. Again, not a big deal. You learn to cope. Lately I've had a bit of a flare and I went to the rheumatologist last week. He gave me some meds, ran some labs, the usual stuff. The reason I bring all this up is The Man. I was telling him about the new rheumatologist and how I thought the nurse that drew my blood did it in a spot that hurt more on purpose because I had pissed her off about a sewing machine one time when he said "We've got to get our shit together." Huh? What did that have to do with Nurse Revenge?
Me: Okay...
Him: One day you are going to get sick and we need to get everything under control before that happens.
Me: silence...
Him: It's going to happen.
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. Is this how he sees me? How he lives his life with me? Waiting. Waiting for the day that I get sick and go into kidney failure and can't do anything for myself anymore? I certainly don't live that way. I might never even get that sick. All the indicators now are that I have a relatively mild disease that can be controlled. Nothing as drastic as he makes it sound. And has he always felt this way, or just since I've been having a few problems? I've had this thing for 14 years and I'm doing pretty good. I've never had to have radiation or methotrexate or even high dose steroids for that matter. I'm fine. (Or I'm in denial.) The whole thing makes me wonder about everything else in our life. When he had the chance to leave me, did he stay out of love? Or pity? When he lets me sleep in, is it because he's pampering me? Or is it because he thinks I need it? Is he staring at me because he loves to look at me? Or he's worried about me? I understand that the whole thing is probably hard to handle from his side, but we've never really taken the whole thing that seriously. Or at least I hadn't. "It's just a little arthritis. Ha ha, I have to go to all the old people doctors. I'm the youngest patient they've seen in years." Maybe that's why I was always so flippant about it. If I lived my life waiting, or knew he was, it would stop me from living my life. What good does that do? But now I'm waiting. Waiting to find the words to talk to him and make him stop waiting. I might be waiting for a long time.
posted by steff at 7:04 PM
1 Comments:
first, you blog is your blog, whatever you want/need to write, we're here, reading, unless you start spouting about your intense love of all things ronald reagon, i'm not going anywhere. nest, the man (which was confusing at first, because I think of 'the man' as you know...the man, not like, any man, or your man) his response is befuddling, even to me out here in internet land. It definitely bears talking, even just for your peace of mind, though it sounds like his mind might need peace too. talk, maybe you can give it to each other.
xoox
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