Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Dissapointments
I have one hour and fifteen minutes, to find enough energy to pick up my best friend's daughter from school, take her for a treat and then dance class. Its our special day that we were suppose to do a two weeks ago, but the snow storm of the decade hit, so class was canceled. Its almost 2pm, I dragged out of bed at 11am, one of those days that making a list of eat, shower, feed dog, let dog out is so overwhelming - please energy kick in, kick in, kick in, i am so tired of disappointing people - that is what i hate most - being a very dependable person stuck in an undependable body. My mom is stopping by the grocery store to pick me up something more to eat, the fear of not having people around to help gets overwhelming too. All I have to do is have the energy for two hours, two out of twenty-four that's all I am asking for, two hours to not disappoint the 5 year old that has told her kindergarten class that she has a special day - please fatigue go away, take a break from me for two hours. The ordinary day feels like the last mile of a marathon - it becomes mind over body - that's the best way i know how to describe it. Two hours.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Little Lady
12 February 2011
This is the second time I have seen her in the past week. Same walk, same camel color wool coat with a belt, same off white knit cap, walking with a purpose. Her two bags of groceries balancing each other out as she walks briskly, head down, on the home stretch. Today I saw her as I was breathing in and out of the nebulizer, hoping that the expensive Xopanex would open me up. I looked out the window, with the gray February day, and saw the little lady in the trench coat and just wanted to cry. She must be at least 80, and yet I wasn't crying for her, I was crying for me. The last time I saw her I was sitting in the same sofa, it was after 11am and I was shaking and trying to eat my morning scrambled egg ritual. The TV was on with Hoda and Kathy Lee being wacky, and in the bottom right corner was the Storm Team weather alert - with the temperature and below zero windchills, and as I looked up, there she was - camel trench coat, off white wool hat, head down, briskly walking to the grocery store. And just like today, I held back tears, for myself.
You see, I was crying, because if I didn't' feel so damn shitty, I would have bounced out of the sofa, grabbed my boots and coat, and ran to have her stop and I would drive her the mile to the store. But instead, I just sat and helplessly watched her, with concern and envy. I watch her, and wonder, what is her story - does she have family or friends, is she stubborn and won't ask for help, or is there no one to ask? And I know, had this been my pre chronic fatigue self, I would have all those answers, but right now I am just trying to get through the day and not lose hope, that by next winter, in the cold days of February, the little lady in the camel coat and off white wool hat, will be riding shot gun as we head to the store.
This is the second time I have seen her in the past week. Same walk, same camel color wool coat with a belt, same off white knit cap, walking with a purpose. Her two bags of groceries balancing each other out as she walks briskly, head down, on the home stretch. Today I saw her as I was breathing in and out of the nebulizer, hoping that the expensive Xopanex would open me up. I looked out the window, with the gray February day, and saw the little lady in the trench coat and just wanted to cry. She must be at least 80, and yet I wasn't crying for her, I was crying for me. The last time I saw her I was sitting in the same sofa, it was after 11am and I was shaking and trying to eat my morning scrambled egg ritual. The TV was on with Hoda and Kathy Lee being wacky, and in the bottom right corner was the Storm Team weather alert - with the temperature and below zero windchills, and as I looked up, there she was - camel trench coat, off white wool hat, head down, briskly walking to the grocery store. And just like today, I held back tears, for myself.
You see, I was crying, because if I didn't' feel so damn shitty, I would have bounced out of the sofa, grabbed my boots and coat, and ran to have her stop and I would drive her the mile to the store. But instead, I just sat and helplessly watched her, with concern and envy. I watch her, and wonder, what is her story - does she have family or friends, is she stubborn and won't ask for help, or is there no one to ask? And I know, had this been my pre chronic fatigue self, I would have all those answers, but right now I am just trying to get through the day and not lose hope, that by next winter, in the cold days of February, the little lady in the camel coat and off white wool hat, will be riding shot gun as we head to the store.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)