A Birthday and My Reality

First the good! Yesterday was youngest son's (ASD) birthday and party. For the first time in many, many, many, many years, he had friends come celebrate his birthday, friends that he chose; he was so completely happy I have no words to describe my own happiness. The several random and spontaneous hugs I received from him through the night said everything that couldn't be expressed verbally. Even with joy being such a wonderful emotion to feel, it is a strong one and overwhelmed him a bit but only in a way that he knew when he was done and ready to go home both from exhaustion and, I believe, building stress levels from the intensity of the happiness. Only slight worries arose once home, some worry about sleep and only one wake up and walking, otherwise all calm and wonderful. 

Today I actually started thinking that a return to work was maybe around the proverbial corner. Not that I wasn't feeling my disease today, but I wasn't feeling it so intensely. That was also earlier in the morning before I had done too much; I was determined to push today, start trying to get caught up on laundry and vacuuming and since I wasn't feeling too much pain well into the 11am hour I felt like not only could that happen but maybe just maybe a partial return to work was in the near future.

I got laundry folded and sorted, dishes caught up and put away, dog walked and fed, bed made, bug killer sprayed all around outside, windows opened, stop leak stuff put into daughter's car, and the stove top wiped. By 3 the pain started kicking in and my knee stiffness really flared up, but then precious doggy decided to throw up because Mommy didn't add cut up chicken into her dog food so she didn't eat it so she had medicine on an empty stomach; it wasn't really a huge clean up but it did involve being on my knees and scrubbing, and that did me in. My arm strength is gone, and the walking-through-mid-thigh-deep-water heaviness arrived. Reality once again crashed over me like Hurricane Matthew waves crashed over piers this past week. 

I realize I have to get to, no, I NEED to find a level of acceptance with this disease. I just don't know how to get there or find it. I used to think acceptance of dermatomyositis as my life meant resigning myself to it, sinking into it, and I was not going let it get me like that. I'm beginning to realize that some level of acceptance has to happen to maintain my own mental health. I keep getting my hopes up unrealistically and then feel so incredibly disappointed as soon as the symptoms slam me back down.

Tomorrow is a new day, and a follow up with my rheumatologist now that the first rounds of infusions are done. It will be good to get his input as to what I can or might expect as to the swallowing issues I'm having, along with other symptoms that continue to appear. I'm mentally ready to start physical therapy I just need to know when I'll be physically ready! I'd love to start pool therapy but unfortunately my insurance doesn't cover any type of gym therapies. We'll see what he says!