The day began with the familiar flash of blue upon opening my eyes. It's always hard to see at first, but clearer comes the web and grandmother spider. She crawls right to my face until I can see her crystalized eyes. What is it, grandmother? Is she plucking my thread? Or, telling me of another? I hear the dogs beckoning me to let them out and know I need to go before I'm ready, or She is finished with me. Slowly I sit up to dress as the vision fades from my eyes.
I worry for awhile that She is telling me my almost 94-year-old grandmother may have passed. But, thankfully, no such news. I wonder and worry, another? Then, having not been able to speak normally, or sometimes at all, for almost a week now I wonder - is this life almost over?
More forms - forms and forms and forms. When is a person supposed to heal? rest? recover? or learn to live with what they've been diagnosed with? Let alone, find the believable evidence to prove the diagnosis, or find the right one? The medication I'm on doesn't even become effective, when it's effective (30% of the time) for 3 to 9 months. I'm not even 3 months in.
We call (because no one can understand me on a phone, they just hang up) and hubby tries to get me appointment with my PCP to help with paperwork. No appointments - they say bring forms up. So, hubby runs me in to office to drop of the forms. After 20 questions, I think she may get them today, but I'll have another set in a week or so. I'm sure. No relief. No kind of life.
I realize one of the forms is asking me to resign from my job. I was told I would be on leave for one year - well, that's more than 3 months, more than 6 months, more than 9 months. There was a glimmer of hope. But now, unable to speak, in pain, so tired, no better at remembering or concentrating - what now? There are too many questions and no way to get answers when you can't speak legibly on the phone. What now?
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