OMGIF

This is that special red letter day I call OMGIF...tonight is the night I get to take those five little pills that are meant to stop my Rheumatoid Arthritis in its tracks. I've been taking it for six weeks now, and I think maybe I'm seeing some improvement. The stiffness upon arising in the morning doesn't hang around the usual hour, I can now make a fist and release it (and anyone with arthritis knows exactly what I mean) in about 10 minutes, now. I remember the first time I bent a finger then had to use the other hand to lift the finger back to the straight ahead position, how funny it was. I was in my early forties then and it didn't happen often. It seemed to me to be just a quirky little thing my finger had decided to do every blue moon. It was about that same time that I noticed a distinct soreness in my left shoulder. Didn't last long, I simply did some little exercises to unfreeze it and Bob's your uncle, it was all cleared up. When I turned fifty I was still able to jump out of bed with a bound. Now just a couple years later and I feel like I have been bound when trying to roll out of bed. There is much grumbling going on because this hasn't gotten any easier. So, those 5 little pills. I will stand and look at them lying so harmlessly in my hand while Mac draws me a glass of water. Tomorrow won't be so bad, but Sunday's are rough. Monday's I go from the bed to the couch and that's my day. I may struggle in to read some of my favorite bloggers, because I need to laugh. All of you guys have your own style of comedy and so I have decided that Monday, while I am lying like a zombie on the couch, I am going go make myself get up to participate in the weekly Just Living Large Menopause Marathon. I refuse to let 5 little pills beat me down. I am woman, hear me roar...well, maybe not roar, a good strong meow may have to do. This is a form of Chemo Therapy and so I go to Society Hill every two weeks to get blood work done. (Don't you just love that name? It was supposed to be the capitol of South Carolina before Columbia took that distinction.) So when I go in this morning I see it is Attila the Hun who is in the lab. She scares me. She always asks what I need blood work done for. This is my fourth trip and she has been the one doing the job 3 times out of four now. I prepare myself for blood work. I don't look at the person doing the procedure at all. I turn my head and look at the wall and talk to the phlebotomist in joking terms like "so how's Dracula and all the little vampires this morning?" and carry on small talk. Then she announces "little prick here" and I always wonder if it's a comment on her personality or the actual pain she is about to inflict. I have to say in her defense she always gets that darned vein in one stab. Stab is the operative word here. When I leave I am careful to let my arm remain straight (bending the elbow in a tight position causes bruising)when I am leaving the clinic. The little gauze pad she has plastered over the hole she made is deep red with blood before I can get to the truck. Coward that I am the last time I had blood work done 2 weeks ago, there were two of them in the lab and I actually begged the other one "don't let her be the one to jab me". Bless her, she protected me and there was no excessive bleeding. I told Mac this morning, "you know, I think she may be using a ball point pen," as I uncovered the wound in my arm. I would watch her carefully to see what it is she does, but I don't like the sight of my own blood. It makes me queasy. So, until then, I look forward to reading your blogs and seeing who's the craziest one out there and prepare an award of my own design. It'll probably have something to do with a cat, don't you think? So be funny. And spelling counts.