Good Days, Bad Days (You know I've had my share)

I've been listening to plenty of Led Zeppelin lately.  Not sure why.

Just so everyone knows, this is a bad day (actually, several bad days).  I am tired all the time, but can't sleep and I am in pain.  Nights are the worst.

I  have been so busy working on the physical therapy aspect of my recovery that I forgot I have a chronic illness that I know almost nothing of, especially how it manifests itself  after the initial symptoms abate. 

So I am taking it to the Internet:

Luxury Problems

I feel bad about something I said in my previous post-about being tired of being grateful.  That is not quite what I wanted to say; I am aware that everything I have needed, and many things that I have wanted, have been provided to me when I have needed it.

To our friends, family and complete strangers who have treated us with generosity like I have never experienced, or thought I would experience, you will always hold a dear place in me.  None of you have ever asked for anything, not even gas money.

I feel like I have received a miracle, "God's Footprint," so to speak.  And sometimes, I don't feel worthy of it.

And sometimes, like today, I have say that if I could have chosen, I would have chosen to stay in my old life.

Continuity of Care

Monday, January 17, 2011 09:04:24 PM

We made it to church yesterday.  I kept falling asleep; at one point Adrienne woke me up because I began to snore...

I haven't been writing much lately, not because I haven't anything to say, but because I have been too busy sleeping my life away. No matter how much sleep I get, it isn't enough. After church, I ate lunch then took a five hour nap. Then came dinner and off to bed I went.

I don't know what makes a good or bad physical or occupational therapist, but I always felt I had competent, if not excellent ones and I was fortunate to have them. And there have been plenty.  I had both kinds of therapists at University Hospital, a plethora of therapists at the Drake Center, and then throughout the summer, a succession of physical and occupational therapists came to my house.  I have had fifteen different therapists.

Happy Birthday, Emily.

Last night I achieved the (somewhat dubious) goal I set for myself here,