Today has been rough. Lots of pain for me, and a very upset R who decided yesterday to go a wee bit overboard on the 100% fruit snacks and subsequently spent most of today…well, I’m sure you can guess. So his bum is as raw as my breakfast, he’s yelling, he’s complaining – nothing is right, the dog’s in his way, the cat smells funny and by the way, Mammy, “Where is ____ (toy he has not played with in a year)?”
Let me elaborate on our snack system. I say system, well, it’s a drawer and a cupboard. R has issues with opening the actual packets of his favourite snacks, so I use little ziploc-esque pouches that can keep the snacks fresh all day, and then they are all within his reach so he gets to decide when he eats, as well as the satisfaction of opening them himself. It works well, most of the time! I think poor R has learned the hard way not to overdo it on the fruit. He’s tucked up in bed happily now with his mountain of plushies.
Since I haven’t been to see the rheumatologist yet, I have no actual game plan for RA. I know that there are a lot of drugs involved, a lot of side-effects. I think long and hard about taking paracetamol, let alone this hardcore stuff I keep reading about (I know, I know, thou shalt not Google and act surprised when you read worse case scenario!). A part of me (a large part of me) is considering battling this thing with diet, not drugs. I’ve been saving for a Nutribullet for a month or two, so I’m going to be making a lot of green juices and smoothies. A part of me wants to pretend this isn’t happening. I don’t need drugs for the rest of my life. I can do this the natural way. Well, I can at least try.
I’m scared for my future. I’m scared for R’s future. I’ve been enjoying this mostly peaceful, unschooling life we’ve been leading this past year, away from interfering and judgement. Now I find myself wishing we could teleport to some warm climate, so I have a chance to not spend three quarters of the year in some level of pain. I’m also angry. Angry that this happened to me. Like I don’t have enough on my plate! Hubs is out swimming, cycling and running several times a week and I’m at home, feeling sorry for myself and wondering if I’ll ever be energetic again. I know I will be, but sometimes a pity party just happens. I tend to let myself have a wallow for five minutes, then make a cup of tea and go hug my son (or the dog, who just turned one recently). I may not be able to go for long walks at the moment – or grate carrots – but I can still read twenty books to R in an hour. I can still be there for him. It will get better.