The Flare That Won't Materialize if I Refuse to See It

I started my last post "Today was marvelous." I wrote one paragraph, then accidentally made it disappear. That's probably a fated ending. As I wrote, I realized that I was describing a day that was good, a day in which I accomplished a lot, but not a marvelous day. I worked hard with my daughter this afternoon. We brought all my Market supplies and products in from her car. Then we unloaded piles of things from the Pod. It felt good to know that we only need one more session to empty that giant box completely. I'd like to have it out of my driveway by Christmas.

While I performed all the physical work, I didn't feel the endurance and strength that I built up through the fall. Every lift and carry was hard. I was out of breath quickly. I didn't worry, because I know from my recent stress test that my heart is fine. I just felt a little discouraged, as though I've been working so hard and still don't see much in the way of sustained results. Later I stared in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, and noticed that my lupus rash is bright pink. I've been feeling the warmth in my cheeks for a couple of days, resting my hand there without the meaning of it really registering. When it sunk in this evening that I may be starting to flare, a familiar feeling of dread washed over me.

I understand why denial is such a powerful coping tool. It allows you to function without constantly fearing the inevitable--no, let's say the probable. I've pushed the mounting symptoms aside as far as I could, even the mild symptoms of colitis that showed themselves this week. Denial kept me from anticipating a flare or dreading a flare, or even acknowledging that my symptoms indicated a flare. Now that it is beyond obvious, I will call the oncology office and see when I'm scheduled to be treated. Maybe we can head this off without much fuss.

Still and all, this day and the one before it have had some of the properties of marvelous. I've been with my daughter and my newest adopted child. We went to an artists' sale yesterday, made small purchases, talked to people, ate fabulous snacks. I cooked. I knitted, coming close to the end of a very large toddler blanket that I'm making for a custom order. It is Knitpicks Crayon, very fluffy and soft with two strands drawn together. (See the pink and black above.) I began a pink and purple afghan from Southwest Trading Company's Bold, that expensive cotton cable yarn which I stashed when I found a sale.

Not only do I have yarn organized on shelves, I have art work on my walls. This place is feeling more and more like home. We've worked a simple system. We bring in a large load of stuff, put it away or organize it for donation, then we bring in another load. Gradually it is shaping up. One difference in this house is that my daughter is amenable to putting more of her own work out for us to enjoy and others to see. With fewer square feet of display space, they will take the place of family photos and art that I was not wholeheartedly supporting. Our collection will get better.

I failed to mention that I have stopped using my exercise bike for a clothes rack and book shelf and have been riding it. Ten minutes today. I was reading Dakota by Martha Grimes as I rode. It's a testament to her amazing writing that I didn't realize the time had passed. I've read all her Richard Jury mysteries and several of her other novels. Thankfully, I can look forward to a few more.

My Christmas shopping is finished. If you see me in a store, slap me silly.

Peace.