Houseguests

"We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak...Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God." Romans 15:1,7

Wow! It's been awhile since I last posted. I suppose that could be because I have had two straight weeks of family visiting for spring break. I absolutely LOVE my family, but if two weeks in a row of houseguests is tough for the average person, imagine dealing with all those extra people when you have chronic illness. For one thing, my husband was out of town for the week immediately preceding Phase One of The Spring Break Visit of 2009. If you read my previous post, you know that week wasn't so great for me. I had hoped to have everything all cleaned and ready before my little sister flew in that weekend, but of course I never got to any of those things because of how ill I was. I've never been very good at letting go of things that need done around the house. I usually just push myself really hard to get them done. But lately, that has not been an option. So I had to swallow my pride and allow people to see life as it really is around here. And, amazingly, the people that love me are just happy to be with me, messy house and all.

In fact, while my family was here they cooked, cleaned, did laundry, vacuumed, and let me rest. I've never had people come to my house to visit and actually serve ME before. It really showed me that my family has begun to understand the burden I carry with my chronic illness. I don't have to put on a show for them and run myself ragged trying to entertain them. Just to be here with me is enough. That's love. That's acceptance. That is something I think every person dealing with chronic illness wants from those they care about. And I feel so blessed to have family like that.

Home Alone

Ok. I'll be honest. When my husband told me that he was leaving for 4 days to go out of town to take a class, I panicked. It's not like I'm afraid of the boogeyman or something. I mean, I know how to shoot a gun, and I'm pretty feisty. I pity the fool that would try to break into my house or attack me, 'cuz I might be going down, but I'm taking him with me or at least doing plenty of damage along the way. What struck fear into my gizzard was that I don't get around so well sometimes, I cannot drive, we live in the middle of Egypt, and I actually fall down pretty often. Literally. And recently, my primary doctor decided to play musical drugs and switch up a couple of my medicines, which really wreaked havoc on my body. I ended up falling down 3 times that week, and I have the bruises and swelling to prove it. (Let me just say here that falling off the toilet and landing on the hard tile floor face-first is just as pleasant as it sounds).

If my regular readers will recall from a previous post (My Brother Was My Keeper), I didn't fare so well the last time my husband left for a few days. For some reason, it seems like all of Hades breaks loose when he's gone. But at least last time my brother was here with me; this time, he had to go take the class too. Now, they did ask me if I wanted to go on the trip. And who could pass up the chance to sit in a hotel room all day while they're in class? I thought about it, but then we'd have to find an actual competent person to housesit with the dogs. (Preferably someone who won't trash my house and kill my pets and my plants. And that ain't easy to find, people). So then I tried to find someone to stay with me, at least at night. No luck there either. Surprisingly, most people I know have an actual life.

So, with dread in my heart and a freezer full of TV dinners, I said good-bye to my guys and prepared to hunker down at the ol' homestead. Aside from the fact that I absolutely cannot sleep when my husband is away, I did ok the first day. But the next day was a different story. Digestive issues that I dare not elaborate on plagued me on Day 2 of this saga...and I do mean plagued. I was just flat-out one sick puppy. I had the worst stomach cramps ever created; I was shaking really bad, blacking out, and breaking out into a major sweat. It felt like I was just going to die. And it wouldn't stop. When I get sick or upset, my cataplexy (loss of muscle tone) really kicks in too, so it wasn't easy to keep getting up to go to the bathroom or get stuff I needed. So...I was really getting dehydrated quickly. I gathered up enough strength to go out to the garage to get a supply of Propel, which is my "go to" beverage when I start to dehydrate, but that was truly about all I could manage. I'm texting my hubby in church, telling him I am in dire straights. He tries to reassure me that he can send someone out to check on me or even come home if I need him to. It was truly awful.

But I made it. A friend called that night and got my mind off how horrible I felt. She also promised to come by the next afternoon to visit and bring me "sick food." Thank God for friends like that! Really. You know the kind I'm talking about: the person whose name pops into your head when you really need some help and you know they'll drop everything and be there for you. People like that are few and far between. I really hope I'm that kind of friend. It was such a blessing to have her come by and bring me some things I could eat as I slowly started to try to eat soft foods to make sure my system could handle food again. And I'm doing much better today, although I'm gonna stick to the soft foods for another day, just in case.

I've already told my husband that he is forbidden to go away ever again. At least not without hiring a babysitter for me! I'm so glad he's coming home tonight. I really could use a good night of sleep and a HUGE hug from the best caretaker in the world (next to my mom, of course). I wasn't very good at being Home Alone...and I pray there will not be a sequel.