Author: Grace by any other name

God-lover

HELPLESS : adoption

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How to stem the tide? My daughter’s birth mom agrees with me that she probably has ADHD. I’ve seen what undiagnosed ADHD does even to professionals with degrees. There’s a case I know of where the manager of a Black female was pretty sure she has ADHD. But the HR department said it wasn’t anybody’s place to ask her to be assessed . This young lady had already been moved from a job she was not performing well. And now, she was going to be moved yet again to smother lower paying role.

We know more who immediately get fired. Even those who are diagnosed and whose bosses know. How much more my child’s birth mom who’s in the kind of job that accepts people who don’t have degrees. Job security is reduced. Have a worker who can’t pass the written part of a menu exam and it’s a mess. It’s a set up for someone with undiagnosed ADHD to fail. Learning ingredients and being tested. No concessions. No checking if she even needs to know the ingredients or if she can’t call a different waiter to do that part if a customer asks. Or give her time to learn the ingredients as time goes by. But nope, she failed the written part and was only given a part time contract. Not the full time job she’d hoped for. Waitressing. And given the staff share tips, they don’t get to keep their own tips, the waiter who might recite the ingredients on her behalf gets some of her tip anyway. Imagine her being a phenomenal waitress, bubbly, but she gets the same tip as a surly waiter who might have not received any tips. And I know she would get tips. At her previous job, customers went out their way to praise her. I even saw an email sent to her manager about her. She is definitely getting tips on the few days she’s working. Pity she’s sharing them. But that’s how that business works. Just sad that there’s no protection for her. It’s not like she could afford any meds for the ADHD anyway. She has to pay for the baby’s nanny and their food clothing…

Helpless.

We had tried to stop the cycle. Birth mom warned and warned her daughter about premarital intercourse. Offered to go with her to a clinic if she thought she’d want to have sex before she’d studied at university. Then we found out the teen daughter had a baby. And there is – yet again- an absent father. Just like with birth mom’s case except for the middle child, my daughter. He is present. Just unemployable. Sad that those with jobs aren’t taking care of their children. And so, it’s all on her. And now she has a grandchild too. All on a waiter’s part time wages.

I might have typed all this when I first mentioned birth sister had a baby. But at that point I didn’t know the potential dad would be absent. I didn’t know all of this would be on birth mom’s shoulders. Even if she wasn’t already clinically depressed and on anti- depressants, this whole situation would have caused depression.

And so, despite our hopes, the cycle has passed onto the daughter. Unplanned baby. No baby daddy present. No formal post high school education (yet.)

I’m sad. So, so sad. We can’t change anything from the outside no matter how high our hopes are. And I mention this because I realise that I’m relieved I never did become a child psychologist. If the child is depressed because of abuse, I can’t help them. If a child is depressed because the mom favours a different child and mistreats them, I can’t fix that. I can’t change the situation. Teaching resilience and strength isn’t what I wanted. I wanted to change a child’s world for the better. But there are too many forces out including the there that prevent that from happening. Including the child herself.

Helpless.

Why I Blog

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I don’t know why…Before, I had lots of American friends I’d met online through our love for natural hair and locs. I knew they’d be reading my blog like I was reading theirs, so I wrote about my life here in South Africa and in Kenya and back again-and the process of my locs locking.

I also wrote because I wanted people to see that it’s possible to obey God and be content and happy. To have a home that glorifies Him.

Today…I write because life stinks and I want just one Christian with a stinky life to know that they aren’t alone. Invisible illness- if you don’t have a high EQ partner – is a very lonely illness. I’m hoping that one day, a desperate person will be helped by my words like the mother of an autistic child was helped many years ago when I wrote about my now eight year old and his struggles.

That reminds me of the other reason I write. Autism is different for each autistic person. By sharing all my children’s quirks and difficulties, I hope to help another caregiver feel less alone. We are in this endless battle together.

I don’t know if they’ll ever find my little corner of the worldwide web, but I hope they do.

I also write to process my feelings, to educate, to raise awareness. I know of one person who js more aware of the possibility of a child having autism or ADHD. They’re more aware of the world of neurodiversity. And her awareness has led to more sensitivity and thought. And that makes me happy.

I hope I don’t forget these reasons when I’m tempted to stop blogging. Some day, someone in the future might find something in here that resonates. That encourages, that strengthens, that makes them feel less alone.

Or as has already happened, who can get to know me and my world better. Because they’re interested.

Disease Progression

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There was a day when even modifying my back stretch exercise to a much easier version didn’t work. When it caused too much pain. I thought, “Is this the beginning of the end? Am I headed inexorably to being hunched or fused straight?”

There was a day I couldn’t do my shoulder and back exercises. I gave up in dismay, but hoped it was “just a bad day” and not something more sinister.

There have been DAYS where I have told my husband that I can’t search for my clothing because my shoulders hurt too much and I need to bring my arms down. Days when just hanging laundry tires me out and my arms shout NO. Times when I realised my arms weren’t moving as far as they should during my AS exercise. But I told myself I had begun badly -unable to do that exercise ever- so maybe it was not any worse.

I have mentioned the increasing pain here too many times to count.

And so, it should not have come as a surprise when my rheumatologist tried to move my joints, felt me and things were proven to have gone bad. My shoulders wouldn’t move as much as they could. She felt them protesting. Stiff. My fingers, wrist are swollen. My foot is swollen. My neck… My back… The measurement test she conducted on my back show progression. The phrase “incurable and progressive” doesn’t really show the horror to many non native speakers of English. Nobody ever says, “It gets WORSE? You mean this is the best you’ll be? But this is already bad!!” It’s too benign a description for what it means.

And so, medication change. I get sick too often to get any benefit from Enbrel. Consentyx is a once a month injection that ironically costs way more than Enbrel😔 and medical aid doesn’t even pay half the costs even though we are paying them way more in monthly premiums after moving to their most expensive plan.

I was extremely down yesterday. It’s one thing to feel pain and increasing stiffness. But I thought it was some prolonged flare. I didn’t know it was that bad.

So, we await medical aid approval and for the panel if rheumatologists to convene and agree. In the meantime, I’m not crazy. I really am worse. And will continue at a fast pace given I’m off treatment anyway for surgery.

I loathe all invisible diseases. Nobody can see the fatigue or the pain. My teens didn’t know I was suffering because I never verbalized it and my body language didn’t show it. I need nurturing. But I can’t rest.

I hope for better nights one day. I hope Cosentyx will be the one. After all, my husband said he felt the second biologics were try would be the one, let’s hope!

😝Not that he’s even close to being a prophet!

It’s Like Before the Mammogram

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I googled ‘uterine cancer’ (which is what the biopsies next Friday the 26th will be looking for) which took me to endometrial cancer and I have two symptoms. The inexplicable and STILL continuing main symptom despite the days of the tablets the doctor gave me to stop the flow, and the urinary symptom.

It’s like before the mammogram where there really WAS something. But like it, I am hoping it’s again, NOT cancer. I admit that for the first time, I’m really in a hurry to do the surgery. If it wasn’t for needing to be off Enbrel for two weeks, I’d have done it this week. I’m really anxious. My heart has been working harder for a while now according to my Apple watch. I also have wonky blood test results taken during my hospital trip on March 1…I want to get past this hospitalization so we can continue fighting my normal enemies. And find out if this Saturday’s blood tests -taken for today’s rheumatologist visit-show improvement. My March results were WORSE than ever! And I’d been on my Enbrel fully since January 25. So it was disheartening. My friend and I really hope it was just a blip and all is improved again. To have abnormal numbers that had been fine before, and numbers that have gone way worse than the bad they’d been…)

I was really touched by the sensitivity shown by a friend whose baby died in 2016. It was how he stated that he can’t get over the grief but his wife was “hit harder (obviously.)” It’s that understanding that I love. He gets it but is real about his own grief. His sensitivity is not common. I have seen some men not understanding that it does “hit” mothers of deceased children differently.

On that note. It’s also interesting how his wife is just in shock and horror over everything going on in my life. When I compare my lot with their… Her husband was our groomsman at our wedding so got lots of time to know my family and my in laws too, as one took photos on our wedding day. So I gave them a crash course in everything that has occurred in my life. Kinda. She was horrified. She-who went through the worst grief imaginable- also, like a friend of mine, feels like all of this is too much. The lack of support from family, the challenging family life here at home, the lack of help when our dear helper isn’t here, the unkind acts committed despite how kind an selfless I try to be, my declining health..and she doesn’t know about my upcoming surgery… She said it was as if the devil is trying to just get me down so he’s throwing every single thing he can at me and it’s too much, she wants to pray for things to ease up on me despite how I seem to be accepting of the crosses I bear.🥹

Speaking of crosses. I was wondering if our creator of this magnificent art installation😉will ever be potty trained or if she will remain in diapers forever.

Her dad then told me about a colleague who has a friend with a 16 year old autistic son. He is also non-speaking, not potty trained and cannot walk. Or does not walk. The positive is that he CAN manage school, so his mom gets a bit of a mental break, but sadly, school has brought no gains whatsoever for him. For my husband, it would be worse if our angel was in a wheelchair. I guess so. But I wouldn’t mind if she could find a school TOO! 😉 And I’m mean all of the little four, not just her.😅

She does repeat things she’s heard on video. And randomly shouts out animal names. Or names the foods she wants. And after prayer time on Friday, she suddenly said, “Wow… It’s time to pray.”🤣🤣🤣 I’m telling you, she’s trying to construct her own sentences that she’s not heard before! Good first start!

This girl who was nervous and scared of people… We have cleaning help three days a week. And yesterday was her day to come in. While I was sorting laundry, she told me that she’s found our girl not eating so she offered to feed her. Our girl took one mouthful and decided that was enough… But she did tell aunty, “Good job!”😂😂😂😂❤️❤️

We celebrate every word. It’s hard won. And still not consistent. It’s not like the list of words we hear is growing each day. What she said yesterday will still not be heard again for months if ever-unless it’s a request for food.

This video made me smile. Just seeing the hug and the held hand…It calmed my fears. The day I go for a consultation -at a not very close by hospital- to discuss my elbow surgery is the day both teens will be writing a Business exam. (I feel I’m ready to go write their Business paper myself because they’re both doing it so I’m marking double the number of Computer Science and Biology papers!! So! much! marking! My SI joints do NOT approve of the strain we are putting on them with our school work! I need a huge raise!) My husband will try work from home as he will be in the country that day, but these four need mega watching cos they scatter all over the place and they don’t have a sense of danger, so now that we know our angel is ok with her, I know she won’t cry and run away when it’s diaper change time.

And that..is a relief.

She got into the floor and lay on her tummy…She usually does that when shows or socks are different to her norm and she thinks it’s cool.

I love the energy and activity. So yes, no school for me, no hearing her say, “Mommy” but also, thankful for the ability to move. I don’t know if the young autistic teen is frustrated that he can’t walk, but I think as a mom, I’d be sadder on his behalf. And it must make toileting and bathing more difficult.😔With my bad bones, it would be torture. I can’t even change her diaper without worsening my pain. So yes, I’m thankful for her walking and running and spinning.

HELL and THANKFUL

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I’m in hell. AS pain getting worse each day. I quit using my pillow earlier this week as my neck pain with it- as flat as it is- was too much. It was then that I bitterly remembered how the rheumatology was surprised that I “still” can move my neck. The bone scan did show arthritis there and in other areas as mentioned, but I had managed to forget it except for when I’m washing my hair.

But this week…Maybe it’s also the cold weather hitting us. I’m limping. My SI joints are aching deep inside. I could go on and on. Let’s just say I woke up with so much shoulder pain that I don’t know now if I should try the pillow again to reduce pressure on the shoulder. But given my hands and knee were also swollen and screaming… It’s not the lack of pillow. My injections under CT guidance will be next Friday. See my rheumy on Tuesday where I will tell her that we are not making any progress with the fight.

Blood tests done tomorrow that she will need. Ahh, the costs!

But…As bad as this morning has been, waking up in the worst pain ever and with my right side swollen and stiff and more painful than the left, with yesterday having included my begging the children to, “please let me rest for a while!!”when they came looking for me, my forcing myself to cook and do laundry when really I felt like my body was in revolt and I needed to lie down, I will mention some positives.

The friend who totally understood the ramifications of the next operation. Who hates the constant pain I’m in and was teary not only about that, but my one autistic child’s academic struggles. I am grateful that someone can sit in the reality. To think, “Hang on, surgery again!??? And the procedure sounds…” and “What about the teens’ exams, when do they write in relation to the date of the op?”

It is not nice, having surgery after surgery and to have that also felt by others was refreshing and appreciated. Especially when it means I can’t fight the stupid AS given I have to take a month’s break due to surgery and there’s still elbow surgery after this.🥹(I want to schedule it after my teens have finished exams because I won’t be able to care for the younger children with one hand only and a broken body to boot.)

I am thankful for Sunday National Benchmark Tests. I mentioned to three people how my son said they are all written on Saturdays (for University of Cape Town application purposes.) But one sent me a list of Sunday dates from last year and I knew we’d be ok. I googled and indeed, there are Sunday dates. When my daughter then went onto the laptop to apply, she very easily saw the options and chose a Sunday date for the tests. And then my son did too. July 7, 7:30am.

I’m thankful that though we can’t fully enter my angel’s mind and she can’t tell us what’s in it, there are moments of connection. Where she pulls me to whatever creation she has been working on and wants me to sit and watch her as she keeps working on it. It’s hard, balancing everyone’s needs- educational and emotional while trying to be good to myself. I would love a full time nanny and a cleaner as the doctor said this week. But for now, I’ll be thankful for moments of connection. And it also makes me even more thankful for the ability to communicate that I had taken for granted with my other children.

These things I’m thankful for today are all ‘minor’ in the great scheme of life. But the major things like health- are under attack. So I will be thankful even for the small things. I know life isn’t a chess game where God moves things around for our benefit so it wwwns trite to thank Him specifically for tests that happen on Sundays as if He orchestrated it. But I am thankful that things worked out.

Also, the faster you put the needle through your skin and into your body, the less pain you feel. I felt NONE this week and I injected super fast. We won’t mention the actual medicine when it enters.

Radiothermal What?

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WARNING- FEMALE ISSUES AHEAD

Gynae stuff.

Read at your own peril

Hint- The woman in the Bible who touched the hem of Christ‘s garment.

Since my uterus misbehaved and got itself into early menopause, I’ve not been able to control uterine bleeding. I go on the Pill but it’s dangerous to do for long and as soon as I go onto the placebo, the long bleed starts. I try stay on the hormonal pills and skip the placebo- pharmacy won’t let me. “It’s too early… Yes, I know the doctor doesn’t want you to take the placebo pills but the system won’t allow us to override the timing.”

Try Mirena implant in my uterus. Bleeding continued on and off for four months anyway. After month five, I made an appointment and got rid of it.

Tried Activelle- an HRT- worked okish but ..bleeding continued for four months. See the theme? My hot flushes were disappearing though.

Oh. Did I mention the side effects? I think I did do so in another post, but let me repeat them for this post. No libido whatsoever, discomfort during the acts, terrible hit flushes- “Mommy, why are you sweating so much?” And waking in a cold, wet bed that my sweat soaked.

Then tried a different birth control pill. Thrush. Ugh. Off I went. Tried a different HRT. It was ok for the first four months! Only four days of bleeding. And then suddenly, 23 days ago- it began and has not stopped. Longest bleed since this all began.

Next step? Medication to sort it out. And surgery. Radiothermal ablation (burn the uterine lining to cause scarring which will hopefully stop the bleeding) but first a hysteroscopy (camera to see what’s going on inside) and biopsies of different areas of my uterus for testing-ovarian and uterine cancer come with bleeding in menopausal women… And then the actual ablation and then another scope to make sure nothing has gone wrong (like burning a hole through my uterine wall) and then we wait and see.

Day before my 21st wedding anniversary. Not that my husband will be here till the evening of the anniversary anyway. Traveling overseas for work…

How do I feel?

Scared.

The thought of them burning a hole into me isn’t exactly a comforting thought. But it is one of the risks.

The thought of ‘BURNING’ me is not a comforting thought!

Having to go off Enbrel AGAIN is not a comforting thought! I did my last injection for the next four weeks today.

Of course, it COULD be cancer. But I’m pretty confident that like so my other biopsies and tests, this will prove to NOT be uterine or endometrial cancer.

And if the ablation doesn’t work to stop the flow- total hysterectomy.

That’s also not a comforting thought. Have you seen the hectic obesity and heart disease death stats after hysterectomy?

Not comforting at all.

I would really love a break from this life and body. Just a few months in a healthy body…If wishes were horses..

Instead, I have to ask my pulmonologist to give the anesthetist my lung function report. Talk about complicated body!

I’m thankful for a sisterhood that understands and cares. I’m nervous but hey, I haven’t died yet so I probably won’t.😉

Yes, that’s one of the risks.

Send Your Adoptees Back

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First, it was my mother telling me to send my son back to social workers so we could get a “normal” child. He’s not an appliance, he’s our baby! But it could have given me a glimpse of her thinking. If she could think a child is easily discardable just because they have special needs, no wonder I was termed a “waste” because I homeschool my children. I too was worthless because I wasn’t contributing financially. Just like my son never will.

This weekend, someone asked if my health issues that keep getting worse aren’t being exacerbated or triggered by my emotions that are under strain due to the heavy load I’m bearing- caring for all the children who have hectic needs and draw from me from wells running on empty.

My first thought was, “Seriously!?? Do you know how many of us spondees, Ankylosing patients, have other health problems? Many of us have gut issues, increasing pain, and I’ve seen recent posts where lungs are also dying like mine are. And these people don’t even have six TYPICAL children, let alone my angels with all their complexities!”

I’ve seen 37 year old mom of only one child already bent over. And she didn’t have any other health problem except that. Except AS. I’m 43 and still upright and able to move my neck. It could be worse!

My second thought was, “If for some weird reason, my children were the cause of my health issues, what would she propose?” It’s not like she’s close by and offering to babysit. She’s in a whole other country. So what then? Would she suggest- like an ex friend of mine- that I give some children away?

Yes, I had a young person suggest I give my adoptees away as my husband wasn’t really being a hands on dad like her husband is. She thought he might be hating being an adoptive dad.

Believe me, I’d get back from church and he’d nap and I’d be the one hands on even with our first biological children. My toddler son would smash his dad on the head with a plastic cube- noisy and rattling, and dad would remain fast asleep. Not all dads have received the “Give your poor wife a break on weekends and Mondays and after work!” memo like her husband has. And it’s not just dads of adopted children.

So I will be clear. I am sick because the devil has brought suffering to this world. Yes, I’d love to rest more. But my lack of rest is not what has caused scarring in my lungs.

My children are here to stay. The only thing I do agree with is that I’m not able to rest much. But none of my angels are causing my body to disintegrate.😅And I’d love it if those suggestions stopped. They reveal a lot about people’s hearts. And I spend a lot of time lamenting our church’s fallen state as it is! I don’t need more evidence of cold hearts.

The Arm

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Trauma doctor said broken arm and bleeding (internally)

It’s been tough. Extreme pain. She fell off the trampoline. Where was I? Calming down her twin sister having a meltdown. I really felt upset with God that day. So much had gone wrong. I couldn’t walk up a very small hill without losing air. My SI joint pain was extreme. But I tried to stay ‘thankful.’

Then my daughter had a meltdown. Dad and oldest sister not here. I wanted to cry. I truly needed to be resting- not going out to strain my back with heavy children. But even then, I thanked God. I was so relieved that my offering her a swing in the sensory swing had calmed her down. Yes, I was hurting my back, pushing her in it. Yes, it was hard, getting her in it. But it was extremely rewarding to finally see her smiling. And to even hear her laughing! I felt so thankful and grateful and privileged…

Then I heard a scream and loud cries. The one who was meant to be watching the younger children had just left them. In an unsafe position. And my angel broke her arm. The one who was meant to watch them had not disappeared on any necessary business. And I have drummed into them that my middle two have no foresight etc, THEY need to watch each twin that I’m not watching.

But instead, they left the children in a vulnerable position. And my child jumped closer and closer to the edge- her eight year old brother not seeing the danger. And she jumped off the trampoline (not on purpose) and rolled onto her arm on the ground.

I couldn’t believe it. Why??? Have we not gone through enough? My cough isn’t even gone!! My lungs haven’t improved! My heart rate is above normal and has been for five weeks now! My elbow needs surgery! My children are not ok. And now this. My poor angel would suffer for who knows how many weeks- uncomfortable in a cast.

I wanted to sit down and cry. But I had to pick her up and carry her to the car. And carry her around the hospital. And watch her in agony. And hold her arm down in different positions as she cried from the pain.

I lost hope.

I don’t have the money to hire a second mother. I don’t have the space to put a second mother. But my children need one.

I feel sad and hopeless.

I don’t feel thankful, I feel and am over burdened. I am in need of help, not platitudes. I don’t need Bible verses, I need help. And I don’t know how to get it.

It’s been a sad week. But I will be thankful that I’m still alive. My poor child has been in pain and wanting mommy all the time. One afternoon meal time, my children were shocked that I had her. She was soft and I was far away in a different room. But I still heard her, “I want mommy.”

And I rushed to her, shocking my teens who had thought her voice had not carried to me.

She needs mommy.

I’m thankful I’m still alive to be mommy.

Just Balloons

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The word “No” is very valuable. Children must never learn that they can have everything they want. She has already taken her nine year old sister’s doll that I gave her for her birthday – necessitating my buying a new one. And my angel 9 year old hadn’t even complained about it.

No.

You cannot have everything you want. Things belong to other people and they are for them, not for you,

A lesson her father tried to teach her today when she wanted congratulatory balloons he received yesterday when it was finally announced at his workplace that he had gained a new role. I say finally because we knew and were waiting for the official announcement so when someone at his office sent me the announcement, it wasn’t news to me but she thought it was- telling me to spoil him. I had already said my words of affirmation when he told me that the Board has decided what they had decided.

“No” has given me 50 minutes of screaming. She has thrown things around. Tried to break her cracker into multiple pieces. Has pushed me. Has tried to bang her head on the wall. Picked up the landline and threw it down. Has tried to bite her sister – the nine year old…

Oh my word. What a morning when my pain tablets haven’t taken and I just want to cry ANYWAY.

The positive is that the Endodontist was just as angry as I was at the dentist who refused to fix their non permanent crown. Its is the first time someone in the medical field got angry at someone else. And that made me feel better. Pity that appointment wasn’t today.🫣

PS. Peace has reigned. She’s doing her usual happy shouting. I wish my heart could recover as quickly. I wish all the physical stuff didn’t make me worry about the future… Next time, the phone might break. Next time, she WOULD bite her sister. Next time, she might push me over. Next time, she MIGHT fracture her skull. But for now…I focus on the now. Time for me to phone the hospital radiology department and book the bilateral SI joint CT guided injections. Ouch.

I Have a Glass

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Is it half full, half empty, overflowing?

Life has give me lemons. And I am on the autoimmune protocol so can’t add any sugar to turn it into lemonade. So I’ll just have lemon water instead.

The chest has finally started behaving, so I cancelled the GP appointment. I had been complaining for a while to my husband, telling him my elbow was feeling wrong. The one that had the nerve release but not the complete procedure I’d booked for- the transposition part. Basically with cubital tunnel syndrome, you’re meant to move the nerve from where it’s stuck in the elbow, and move it elsewhere where it won’t get stuck. To a different place on the elbow- which my surgeon claimed he wanted to but I have no fat so the nerve would have a very thin layer over it, causing me a lot of pain forever. Or, as google and other surgeons say, you can move the nerve to lie on the muscle. He didn’t. He just released it from where it’s stuck..and put it right back.

And yes, even my hand surgeon was displeased.

And now I’m the one paying the price either for the surgeon’s laziness or for his lack of experience. My arm has never healed. I have numb areas, I have areas that feel pain. But now, the nerve has become trapped too. I had been complaining that it felt like it, I have started dropping things- which means my grip is getting weaker, and yesterday confirmed it.

I picked up my dumbbells, hoping to restart my AS exercises. I’d felt too sick to do most. But when I did a bicep curl, BOOM, SHRIEK, my nerve screamed. I tried lighter weights. Same thing. Bending my arm causes pain that I now cannot ignore. And the elbow pain has now begun waking me at night.

I’ve ordered a brace to wear at night. The conservative approach is to stop the movement causing the pain, wear a brace to keep my arm straight at night, take anti inflammatories (which I am on already for the AS) and wait and see a while. But every bit of lost movement cannot be regained. This is a condition that can cause paralysis of the hand.

And so, I wait. And tremble. Recovering from that surgery was BAD, and that was without the nerve fully being moved. I assume the next surgeon I find will do the full procedure. I couldn’t sleep for weeks! My nerve was in so much pain that even a sheet on it with my pyjama sleeve covering my arm, was excruciating. I looked for a doughnut to put my arm on so my elbow would rest on air. Talk about difficulty sleeping, but the thing I got was too hard. I’ll buy a breastfeeding circle pillow as soon as I know I will need the surgery.

So, the glass has water for this thirsty soul. My chest is getting better. But it also has so much lemon juice lemons that it grates my teeth- my nerve is in trouble and I hated the long recovery period. I’m scared of it… And I hated not being able to use my arm. And I don’t know where to find a GOOD surgeon.

And also, I’m going back to the Endodontist today. I had a crown done by a dentist. A bad dentist who didn’t believe me when I said the temporary crown was way too high. I went to a different dentist that evening because I was now experiencing jaw pain from not being able to bring my teeth together and he was in shock. I didn’t even have to bite on the paper thing they use to check your bite- my upper and lower teeth were clearly not close to each other.

Long story short, that crown fell off. Then part of my tooth broke. When I saw the Endodontist she said that if she had put it in, give it was less than a year since it was installed, she would have charged me nothing to replace her poor workmanship. Alas, the dentist not only charged me for the consultation to LOOK and see, but then told me they wouldn’t be able to replace the crown and I really would be fine without it 😏. And now, a further part of my tooth broke off and I’m going to the Endodontist to find out if there is anything she can do to save the rest of it. And get a quote for how much that will cost me. A crown costs a whole R6400… Gulp.

My glass has lemons. I will have to be off Enbrel for two weeks pre surgery and two weeks post surgery. I only restarted yesterday.

I read memoirs of holocaust survivors. Death camps and concentration camps where you had to find your own cup or bowl for the disgusting ‘water soup’ they received. A glass was a luxury they would tie to themselves so no other desperate prisoner would steal. Theirs was usually made of metal, a metal cup. It was the only way they could eat enough to keep their bones loving. And that was a minority. Many died even though they passed a cup.

I have a glass. It is not really half full in my estimation, but things could be worse. I could have no glass at all. So I’ll accept the AS lemons and daily struggles of life. I’ll go and hope my tooth can be fixed. And I will be grateful for a glass. At least I can drink my sour lemon water. It will keep my bones moving.