Yesterday, I went to Walmart to fetch the groceries I forgot when I went on Saturday. Much to my frustration, I completely forgot butter, even though it was on my list both times. I am completely out of butter. Well, that's a lie. I am completely out of regular butter. I still have some European butter for special occasions. Actually, had a I brain in my head, when I made the rosemary butter, I would have used that instead of my regular butter. But, as plenty of evidence exists, I am greatly lacking in the brains department. SIGH.
On the way home, I decided to try this tiny Dominican restaurant I had spotted. I did so because I have been in much greater pain of late and I wanted some food that I didn't have to prepare and thought that would be a judicious use of some of my grocery money. The chicken empanada on that plate changed my life.
The plate was so generous that I was able to put away two more servings. These are the takeout containers from my beloved Lebanese restaurant back in Alexandria. I've kept them all this time because, back when I could afford to eat out regularly, I always had leftovers. I absolutely adore leftovers.
There were no leftover empanadas.
I ate Sunday's on Saturday.
And wanted more.
I actually bought three chicken dishes: the plate, the empanadas, and a roasted chicken. Oh, my! I thought it was a fair price: $6.75.
When picked, I came up with three cups of white meat and two of dark. I admit that I felt the need to taste several parts of the chicken to make sure it was okay.
Protein is really important in my diet, especially when the gastroparesis is flaring its ugly head. And when my blood sugar is low. And when I am not up for eating much because of the violent waves of nausea. And, basically, I practically cluck. One cannot have enough chicken!
I am already salivating over the next time I might fetch me some chicken empanadas. Mmmmm!!
Friday, I cut Amos' nails. Saturday, I plucked the curls from inside his ears. [Both of us like to pretend this doesn't happen.] Today, the plan was to cut the curls from his body. Tomorrow, is his bath. You see, on Tuesday, Amos has his six-year-old check-up. I like him to be especially presentable. Mostly ... probably ... it is because I worry I might be judged as a bad puppy momma if he's not all sweet-smelling and presentable when being poked and prodded by professionals.
But cutting his hair today was especially difficult for me.
It wasn't just that he has become worse than a baby on a changing table when it comes to the application of scissors. It was/is because of the pain. Oh, my! Has the neuropathy been terrible!! Cattle prod pokes in my arms and legs and pelvis. The electrical pulses of pain are so very difficult to endure.
This whole week, I've also had a lot of visceral pain, which had been better for a while. That is difficult to swallow because when the neuropathy is in your abdomen, you start to become convinced that something dire is wrong. Like with the chest pains you have with NCS (dysautonomia). It is so easy to become convinced that you are having a heart attack or some other coronary event. On the Dysautonomia forums I've visited, so many talk about having chest pains, going to the ER, and being sent home. They are angry that nothing was done (other than a cardiac work-up), but there is little to be done with nerve pain like this.
So much of dealing with pain is having a good self-talk protocol. Words that you can speak to remind yourself what is true when your body is screaming its insensibility.
We've had tumultuous weather of late, and I suspect some of the pain is the fronts that have been passing through. Cool. Sweltering. Cold. Steamy. And lots and lots and lots of rain. It is good that I do not have to go out until Tuesday late afternoon. I have more time to swallow the pain.
Wednesday and Friday are doctor appointments for me. If the part is in, I am hoping Thursday will be a second visit by the refrigerator warranty repair person. He believes the terrible grinding noise I am hearing is the damper motor, which is also why he believes the refrigerator is so cold. Apparently, the damper controls the cold air from the freezer. I already knew that the only cooling in a refrigerator that happens actually happens in the freezer. So, his explanation seems plausible. In any case, it does worry me that something so vital has broken on my practically brand new refrigerator. And I would like it repaired as soon as possible ... definitely before I end up with more frozen food in my refrigerator.
I sure do hope that this coming week is easier physically than this past one. I admit that I am not all that amiable to be around when I am hurting. I can manage a fairly high level of pain, but when I get to that tipping point, I become rather grumpy and a tad despairing. I very much dislike myself at those times. Since I have several appointments this week, I'd like not to be grumpy and despairing during them.
Lord willing...
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