Decisions...

There are so many decisions in life that have to be made and when one has a chronic disease like rheumatoid arthritis, the decisions begin to mount up all too quickly. And often these decisions can come with consequences that no matter how hard we try to determine them, they are like fleeting shadows that we just can't see or get a hold on.

I have two children. One is thirty and one is twenty. When I was in my twenties and thirties I was fortunate. I didn't have ra. I didn't even know that ra existed. We had no relatives that were infected with this disease. I had no clue.  I was first diagnosed when I was 42. My children were already born, I was well into parenthood and enjoying it immensely.

Recently both of my children are showing signs of a chronic inflammatory disease. It may not be ra but I know those sneaky relatives love to come in and take over lives. The genes have been put into place, the dna turned on somehow, their fate sealed. It breaks my heart just thinking of this possibility and it angers me too. I had no clue! I had no way of knowing I would pass on a set of possibilities if I didn't know I was carrying the detonator inside my DNA!

Decisions. Always decisions to be made. I often ask myself now if I would have allowed myself to conceive if I had known I was carrying this broken DNA. Would I have knowingly brought children into this world with the possibility of inflicting them with the pain and yes suffering I have endured. This is such a personal decision and I know of many ra patients that are actively seeking to get pregnant. I pass no judgement in this post as all decisions are personal ones and ones that we all contemplate long and hard. We search our souls deep, we question the medical knowledge out there, we turn over the decision like we are looking at a precious polished pebble. We make that decision carefully and toss the pebble. The ripples begin…

I love my children without question. I have had such a rich life, such a meaningful life because of them.  In my case the decision will always linger in my mind and often in my torn heart like a wisp of smoke. Something I was not given the choice to make, something that I can't quite grasp, something that slowly fills my soul with trepidation and sadness.

Decisions…. 

A Cat's View

A humurous tribute to our two furballs Mango and Moomee...sisters!

Iz controllinz yourz brainz....feedz me...feedz me!

Youz finally up...aboutz time!

My turnz nowz.

Iz ahere to helpz youz with thatz ebayz listingz...

Cat for salez...startingz auction...25 kittyz treatz perz days.

Iz heardz that Moomeez...

Iz ain't for salez....Mangoz haz pridez ya knowz! Fifty at least!

Whatz! No wayz! I amz not doingz that song...Singinz Inz the Rainz!

Diz herez iz a mathmaticalz puzzles to keepz yourz brainz active :-)

Iz dunz nowz....nappyz timez. Turnz the lightz out onz the wayz out!

More Moomee and Mango shenanigans:

How Cats are Like RA

My Happy Toolkit...A New Purrspective

Round and round she goes.....

There are times when I swear I am on a carousel going round and round and round. This week has been one of those times. It seems that it is the same thing over and over and over. I get up in the morning, take my meds, wait about an hour for them to kick in and boost me on my slow way to the kitchen, start the coffee process, watch the news for a bit while the coffee makes, prepare a bowl of oatmeal with honey and cinnamon, pour the coffee, and finish watching the news.

I round the carousel corner by getting dressed, checking my emails and blog, and then deciding what one or two things I may be able to accomplish given my pain levels for the day. If I choose laundry then that is pretty much it for the day. If I choose to clean my bathroom I know this will put me out of commission for days on end. If I decide on vacuuming I might as well have decided to fall off a cliff (the dust bunnies just keep growing and multiplying in my home).  If I decide to focus on my health and venture out for that round the block walking trip, I then need to rest but yet again when I arrive home.

Round and round she goes, where she will wind up nobody knows.  I suppose the tedious monotony of it all is what is making me nauseous of late. I want things to be just a bit more normal. Say, could I at least have the option of doing my one load of laundry and taking a walk? Or perhaps, am I asking too much, be able to vacuum and not have my hands, wrists and elbows feel like they are dislocated?

Can someone please contact the ride operator and let them know it is time for me to get off. I am tired of riding this ra ride and would like a reprieve now. I am tired of the same old, same old with the side effects of the medications available and the possible long term implications on my health if I decide to venture down a new med road again. I am just tired.

Ironically, since my car was stolen and taken for a joy ride, I look at her with new found respect. She has been mechanically fixed and runs just fine but her body still has patches which shows the abuse.  Once we finalize her with a brand new paint job, no one will know. Her secrets will be hidden below her new paint job and she can once again zip around with pride. How come I can't get patched up like that? How come we have to wear our battle scars permanently with this disease? And how come we can not return to our old selves? Our remake is constant and never ending. We must ALWAYS be under reconstruction either by taking meds, getting surgeries or trying our darndest to just maintain what is left.

Yep, I am ready to stop riding this merry-go-round. Can someone please notify the operator to let me off?

This way I can find me a human repair shop whereby I can trade in my body parts for new ones and spray on a new set of skin.