Falling snow is not snow...

I rejoiced at the falling snow.  Prematurely.

Amos explained that falling snow is just like rain.  He had two long timeouts before doing his business tonight.  Poor little puppy.  Someone should rescue him from his wretched mother.

Well, I did not take the Theophylline tonight.  I am hoping that might make a difference.  This morning, I very nearly rang up Sandra to tend to Amos while I took myself to the ER.  Each night had been worse, but early each morning has been more so.  Not the headache, that eases about 4:00 AM.  But my heart goes wonky, terrible stomach cramps and nausea and dizziness set in, and I cannot even walk some time between 6:00 and 7:00.  Crawling to the bathroom because of dire plumbing issues also is not my idea of fun. The misery becomes bearable some time around 10:00 or so and I fall back asleep.  Amos, who has been so very comforting in my illness of late, doesn't understand that my stomach cramps are so bad that I cannot have him draped across any part of my torso. 

Of course, if you had the little guy above waiting for you or the one sharing the pillow, would you not mind crawling back into bed?  I find it humorous that he loves to sleep with his beloved Flower.  I really ought to figure out a way to cut it open so that I can replace the broken squeaker without causing a weak spot that Amos can then use to disembowel this particular baby.

This morning, when I was weeping in fear over how weak I was and how erratic my heart was hammering in my chest, Amos started snoring. There I was, wondering if perhaps a dire thing might be happening to me and I burst out laughing at the snuffle, snort snoring filling my ears.  I find one of the blessings of my Good Shepherd is to bring me a fluff-ball puppy dog who snores like a giant St. Bernard or some other large dog.  For that matter, he snores just like a real giant might.  Joy in the midst of pain.  Joy in the midst of fear.  How complex is this life that our Creator gives to us?

Still, truly, I should stop taking Loestrin.

Yet.

I really do not want to give up the medication. I want something to work.  Five separate very troublesome issues have been resolved by this one little pill, not to mention that if the headaches were under control, it would get me out of surgery.  Surely there is some way to take the mixture of hormones without such risk to my health.  Surely there must be.

The surgeon was in surgery all day.  Imagine that.  Someone is calling to talk with her in the morning for me.  My job is to be honest about how the night and early morning go.  Today, this early morning, I was the sickest I have ever been by far.  Sometimes I get afraid when I get so ill and weak.  This morning, I was terrified.  Of course, I did think about that ambulance fee.  There was no way I would have been driving myself.  Plus, there is the thing that by early afternoon, I begin to feel normal (well, normal for me).  These days, four or five hours out of each 24 are not miserable.

I feel sort of strange saying so, but it seems like my foe has stepped up his attacks...like he was livid at a pill making such a difference for me and had to twist it into something that harms me further.  Like he did not care for my freedom from tears or the ability it gave me to talk about things still left unspoken.  A bit of courage in a bottle...actually, more like a restoration of the person I used to be.

Ethel is looking for a foot orthopedist for me.  I want to spend the money I do not have on my current issue, but my foot is not much better and in some ways worse.  However, if I only have less than 7 months of health insurance now, I need to see if there is any help for me.  Of course, what kind of specialist is going to like my request to help me without taking an MRI:  Gee, Mr. Doctor Man, will you practice dark ages medicine on me?

It is really frustrating that I could turn around, smash my foot into the door frame, and do such a bang up job of ruining it.  It is even more frustrating to think that most likely I have had the problems I have had for over four years because of a dearth of hormones and yet no one thought to look at the physical.  Not even when I asked, different doctors, if my hormone levels could be checked, if blood work for that could be run.  It is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  wonderful having a doctor who does not tell you: "I'm sure it is just stress." or worse still: "Women's bodies do not handle stress as well as men's bodies do."

No Theophylline.  The headache is still bad, though not migraine level.  However, I can breath easier.  I fervently hope that I shall not awake so ill again in the early morning hours.  I pray that the surgeon and the one calling her can come up with a plan to keep both the benefits of the hormones and the benefits of the Theophylline in my life...without spending most of each day in physical misery.

I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!