Lupus has once again reminded me that no matter how in charge I feel, it will always hold real control over me. Feeling fine is a trick it uses to ease me into a false sense of comfort and triumph. It is a constant source of minor inconveniences, usually aches or pains, but all manageable with a few ibuprofen, good diet and excercise. A system that tricks me into thinking I’ve conquered it. But just when I forget, just when I think this time I beat it, my disease reminds me of its power with a full force attack, always when I least expect it. For the last week I’ve felt my energy levels drop, my aches increase, and the fuzz in my brain grow thicker. Today, even getting out of bed proved to be nearly impossible. It doesn’t hit all at once. It trickles in, slowly and methodically, using the dread of time to maximize its havoc.
They call it a flare.
What a pretty word for an ugly event.
My birthday is tomorrow. I had epic plans to ring in my 44th year on this planet in a city far enough away to require hotel plans and dinner reservations, but I canceled those plans a couple days ago.
I saw this writing on the wall.
Instead of packing my bags this morning with too many outfits and too many shoe options, I cried in bed, feeling sorry for myself, and contemplating the only choices before me. Neither of them requires nice shoes. I can wait this flare out and suffer through. I know this is temporary. I know this assault will eventually subside. I know whatever force inside me that feels the need to attack will retreat. But it takes time, and nobody can predict how much time.
My second option is to start steroids again. Medicine that is sure to quicken my pace to relief, but also sure to cause my body to swell and my weight to grow.
Moon face. Another pretty name for something that can make you feel anything but pretty.
What an embarrassing but honest predicament. The choice between health or vanity.
After tears, and reassurance from my husband, I swallowed the pills.
Everything now I must look at in terms of potential. I try so hard to live in the present. My mantra to breathe in each moment played on repeat. But when you’re sick survival depends on an ability to focus on what’s to come. Your mind needs a goal to look forward to. Health lays ahead of me. The energy I’ll need to restore my body back to the shape I was in before this flare lays just out of reach, but it will be there.
Today I forgive myself for not being present . Today I look forward. Today I practice patience.
Health. A clear mind. Joy.
Ahead.
Smoking In The Girl's Room 