My health has been testing me. My soul is tired. Through my doctors eyes the unknown future is filled with optimism. My future seems to have an everlasting cloud overhead. I may have good days but my illness will be there. Forever. Looming overhead. Like the word "but" in a sentence. I was told once to never use the word in a sentence because it voids any thoughts, feelings, etc that appear prior to the word. My cloud being "but" and looming suggests that all good moments have a negative twist. All that aside I survive.
I'm struggling with not being a contributing member of society. I had a career that I loved. Working in a pharmacy I was helping people feel better. You come in at your most vulnerable state, you trust me, I make you smile. Briefly you forget about being sick, because of me. It was very rewarding. Such a twisted irony. When I went for my last I.V. I was so annoyed. I was in a mood and I wanted to be left alone. I was mad because I saw 3 Orencia patients bouncing around. I was mad "why doesn't it work for me"? The nurse was trying to make me laugh and I have to hand it to her she was hysterical. That just made me more mad because I wanted to sulk. That makes me think. Was I really making my patients happy or were they just to beat to care I was invading their feelings?
Joe says I am contributing because I am a mom and a wife. That's not enough. I'm done with resting all day to barely fit in QT when they both don't get home until 7. I want to work. I loved my job. I want my body to cooperate so I can not be the one who always needs the help. I didn't learn all I know about medications so I could help me. I did it so I could help you.