Short Shift

Well, what is going on in my world? I've covered some of it here: Writing My Life Away and Rendered Praise. If you're truly interested, you can catch up. If you're not, it will save me having to recount it on this blog.

I spent most of today sitting in my house reading. I didn't really do anything, except maybe finish putting away almost all the laundry. If you read a bit on any of my blogs, you will find laundry is a problem for me. I seem to have an inordinate amount of laundry. I don't know why. We are clean, but I only do laundry once a week, generally on Saturday. I do sheets, towels, and our clothing. In theory, roughly three loads.

However, it seems Sarah has the most laundry but she's only 9 so I don't see how that can be. Wait, that isn't true. She wears a uniform to school. She changes when she comes in. So, two outfits a day would equal 11 changes of clothes a week. O.k. that could be it. Odd, it never occurred to me until just now. Really, it didn't. Must find a solution to that.

Today I did not do laundry. I had already done most of it earlier in the week. I only had one load of everything so yesterday, I tossed it all in together. I didn't care if there were towels with the undies. They will act as scrub brushes and scour any soil right out. And I only had one load to deal with.

The only thing left to put away is two weeks of sheet sets.

I don't care. I hate sheets.

I've been working on the Ocean Sunset afghan again. I picked up some more yarn earlier this week. (See above blogs). I realized I was short of one color. I was not well enough the last week to work on it but one day this week, and I knew I was short, which acts as a damper. So, I went to JoAnn's and got the yarn and worked on it some last night. This thing is just beautiful and I'm going to be sorry to give it away. Alas, I didn't start it for myself. I realized recently I haven't made myself any crocheted items but dish cloths. Very practical girl, I am. There is something wrong with that. Nah, I just love giving the pretty things to people I love.

So, now I'm off. This post will be short tonight. I'm tired and have some reading to do so I'm ending here. Church tomorrow.

Update to Medical Woes

Courtesy Pixabay.com

I received an email from my RA doctor in reply to one I sent with concerns about the increase in pain I've been having over the weekend and the possibility of prednisone when I reduce my the methotrexate dosage this week. 

If you're behind in that news you're not on my Facebook page. I've had a problem with high liver enzymes and low white count. I have to reduce my methotrexate to try and get those numbers reversed. I'm at high risk of infection at the moment. So, when I got the most recent lab work, I got an email from her to which I sent my question, "What do I do about joint swelling and pain when I reduce the metho?" I asked if prednisone was a temporary solution. On top of everything else, over the weekend I woke up in agony with pain in every part of my body that has hung on for a couple of days. 

Here is her overall response. 

1. The overall pain I described is probably a fibromyalgia flare & prednisone would not help that. (In the first place I was referring to my reducing my metho and using that to help with the joint swelling and pain. Never mind....)

2. She suggests Lyrica for the fibro pain. (Now, I've asked about Lyrica for 10 years. They would never prescribe it for me and for a long time even the insurance wouldn't cover it. Too many side effects for too little return was the interpretation I got from it. But now, as I interpret it, we are out of options so here, try this!)

3. I'm to continue to take Doxepin every night (a really adequate medicine for certain kinds of pain) for the next week or so. (I've taken it the last several nights. I'm sleeping but not as much as I want/need to sleep.) 

Now, if it is a fibro flare, which is likely, it is the worst one I've ever had. The doxepin has very few side-effects but over time I get emotional/mood symptoms I do not like. When I've needed it, I usually take it every other night for a few weeks and stop. Taking it every night is not something I relish. Since I'm prone to depression, I don't go there voluntarily.

No way to know what I'll be dealing with once I reduce the metho. NO alternative suggested at this point. Maybe she's waiting until it happens.

To fair to my doctors, I'm not a compliant patient. I frequently refuse to take things they say are good for me. I also refuse to increase dosages at their suggestions. My theory is that if a low does works, why take a high dose. I'm glad I did that with the metho. If it is causing the problem with my white cell count, I'm glad I refused to go straight to the injections as they suggested. I insisted on a slow increase in the dose over time to see if we reached a lower dose that worked. I shudder to think what would have happened and how much sooner it would have happened. 

There you have it -- the lastest from my medical experts and my opinions.

The Price of Praise

Rendered Praise

See, I made this challenge for myself on my Rendered Praise blog. I had the idea for it in the middle of the night and figured why not. I write a bunch of stuff anyway, so make it worthwhile.

As soon as I begin, I realized it was the right thing to do. It felt right. It went so smoothly that I was able to do a post ahead. This helps if I'm having a pain filled day and I can't write. I won't miss a post. I find I like being a day ahead on something. In theory, this could be a post for that blog, but since the next ten days of Render Praise are devoted to praise, it wouldn't work. Since I constantly whine here, this works.

As with any project I've ever done for God, and that whole blog is directed to Him, there are rewards and penalties. The reward is that I like the more positive feelings it has evoked. I find I'm thinking of new ways to give praise instead of focusing on what is "wrong" and things to complain about. No, this won't save me nor make me perfect. It doesn't mean I'm more special than anyone else. I just feel better in my brain.

Of course, I mentioned penalties, too. The first penalty I've experienced is the meltdown I had today while doing the next post. I have no explanation for it. I just fell apart in the middle of writing and had to walk away. I came back once I'd regained some control and finished it, but I'm not exactly "right" at the moment. There is an edge to the afternoon that cuts each time my thoughts move in specific directions. Even writing this post is a challenge to my body and mind. I'm exhausted and feel as if I've hit bottom. I'm not sorry I made the challenge nor do I want to quit.

I've always known that praise is an empowering item. There is a book by a guy named Merlin Carouthers, who wrote Power in Praise. If you've never read him, I would encourage you to find a copy of the book and read it. He also wrote Prison to Praise, equally good. If you want a life-altering perspective of praise he provides it. I read it nearly 40 years ago and I've not forgotten his name or the name of the book. The truth is, praise is the only life saver you have. It doesn't mean you have to jump up and down or run around the block. These are impossible for me now with my hips, knees, and feet feeling broken most of the time. You don't have to scream, cry, or use a bullhorn. Praise is not just a way of talking. Praise is a way of thinking.

You may be sick and everyone who looks at you may think you're dying. You may be wracked in pain and unable to move without hurting. Praise can be uttered anytime, anywhere, under any circumstances. If someone thinks the only place you can praise is in church, in a certain manner -- they're wrong. David wrote dozens of Psalms while watching sheep, surely the loneliest job in the world.

Paul and Silas were alone in the deepest part of the jail to ensure they couldn't escape and their only companion was the jail keeper. They were not comfortable. Yet, they sang and praised God. Not because they were happy or excited. There was no church music, no praise team, no congregation to pump them up. Have you ever seen a real dungeon? Can you picture the smell of filthy bodies, rotting food, human excrement? I suspect in some part of their mind, the knew they had to do something to get their mind off their situation. We've all been there. It is why we crank up the stereo so loud the neighbors have their heads out the windows considering calling the police. Or we load up on our drug of choice. It is because want to think about something else. We're not interested in praising God in the the middle of our mess.

Jeremiah, one of my favorite prophets, was up to his armpits in mud when he came up with one of the most comforting praise passages for grief-stricken widows I've ever read, anywhere. It is marked in my Bible in red with a pink bookmark. I've read it hundreds of times in the last six and a half years. It always makes me cry uncontrollably. Why would I read it? Because someone understood what I feel in ways I never thought possible and they are able to tell me how great God is in the middle of it all. And I want to know that.

I called upon thy name, O Lord, out of the low dungeon. 

Thou hast heard my voice: hide not thine ear at my breathing, at my cry. 

Thou drewest near in the day that I called upon thee: thou saidst, 

Fear not. O Lord, thou hast pleaded the causes of my soul; thou hast redeemed my life.

So, even in isolation, it is possible to simply praise God for being. And despite the penalties, I'll do my 10 Days of Praise. I suspect other penalties may be waiting, but I won't borrow from tomorrow that which will be here soon enough. Instead, I'll just think about how I can give Him more praise today.

Wednesday Wonder - Just Me

Monday, Monday

Never let it be said that all Monday's are created equal. Last Monday was an awesome day. This Monday, not so much. Sarah was up until midnight with a belly ache and I had to get her into her doctor this morning, bright and early. I came home, after dropping her off at school, because bellyaches only occur at night. I know this is true because I had the same thing last week.

Anyway, on my return I had a raging headache. I had to take a pill for it and spent the rest of the day in the recliner, checking the phone now and then for emails, which I then had to answer. Sometime after two or three I think the headache was better, but my neck and upper left back feel as if I've been beaten with a bat. I used my tennis ball, but the pain in the trap was so bad, the ball hurt. Using the ball on the right side of my back told the tale. It didn't hurt and it felt good to roll the tennis ball along the muscle.

Sarah came in from school and when I asked her if she got in trouble today she danced around the question for five minutes. She thought I had seen her Class Dojo (message system between parents and teachers). Joke was on her - I had not. She finally told me why she got in trouble. She had talked during class and lost a point. I grounded her for the rest of the week and took her tablet, which she may not get back for some time. This was the second time in a week she's felt the need to chat on the job. The last time she was grounded for a day. I informed her that since she felt it was crucial to talk when she should have been working, she could do her school work this week when she'd normally be talking to her friends or playing.

So, for the next week she will be doing math worksheets, extra ones instead of games, toys, and friends. To give her credit, she didn't complain after the first 20 minutes, during which time I had to endure whining, complaining. and bemoaning the fact that she didn't know how to do math. She's in the 3rd grade. She knows.  She finally figured out that I was serious and nothing was going to change. Then she blew the subtraction. Badly. She'll have it down in a few weeks but at the moment it is her nemesis.

I wonder who actually gets punished when kids are grounded? I never believe in grounding. Never got grounded in my life. I got spanked but not a lot. The key to spankings is that you learn not to do the things that get you spanked. There were consequences. So, I followed the rules and as a result, my life was relatively simple and straightforward. Despite an alcoholic parent, I didn't starve, feel deprived, or suffer neglect. I had a large extended family and we had great times. I was clothed, housed, gifted, loved, and spanked. Amazing that well that turned out for me.  I'm eternally grateful.

I didn't have to ground the boys much. On the rare occasions they got in trouble, they got spankings. Which, incidentally didn't kill them, crush their spirit, or make them impotent. They were just as sassy afterward as before. And we had great fun during their youth. They never got arrested for criminal behavior. Never attacked old ladies on the street. Never raped, murdered, or robbed anyone. Cause Mama was waiting home with a paddle and feared neither police, judge, or CPS. And if you wanted to come home, you better keep your nose clean and keep a civil tongue in your mouth. If you can't don't let the door hit in the butt you on the way out.  The one time Mike threatened to call the police if I spanked him, he was 10 or 11, and I walked over, picked up the phone. I looked him dead in the face and said with no trace of a smile, "Would you like me to dial it for you?" He never did that again.

Sarah is a different child. She's fairly easy going. She does her things, I do mine. The trouble comes in when she is forced to remember that I'm the adult and she's the child. She's confused by that, I think. I'm Mawmaw. I'm fun. I'm silly. I'm kisses, hugs, and giggles. I'm not the stern old lady who has a paddle and isn't afraid to use it. I'm not the woman who glares at her when she gets sassy. I've rarely glared at the child more than half-dozen times in her life! That woman she doesn't get. Until she does. Then she is as good as gold. Has she fooled me? Sometimes she thinks she has, but not usually. As the sister of six, mother of two, and aunt to a few more there isn't much that fools me.

At the moment, she's got another stomachache. It is bedtime of course. And she didn't eat the supper I gave her at 6. So, of course, she's starving and that's why her belly hurts. And it probably does. I've fed her but I've given her a promise, something every child who has ever lived in this house knows I only do with the gravest of intentions, that at 6:30 a.m. she will get one wake up call. If she fails to answer that call promptly, there will be consequences. I hope she knows I mean it.

Now, it is my turn  to go to bed. I've had enough. I have a long day tomorrow.