Life in the Fire Lane
7:51 am: Wake up. Lie in bed with eyes closed for a further 20 minutes wishing I didn't feel magically and thoroughly hungover like I partied with Courtney Love circa '94 every single morning since my health declined. (Big Reveal: even my hairspray is alcohol-free since last August.) Check my phone messages for 10 minutes. Stare at the ceiling for 20 more minutes because I feel tired already. Mornings are my Achilles Heel with this disease. If the disease were Greek and, you know, a myth. (A girl can dream.)
8:40 am: Haul myself out of bed. Feel productive by starting a load of laundry. Take pre-breakfast pills (5) and liquid iron that tastes of death by crowbar. Brush teeth. Wash face.
8:55 am: Lie on the couch for 15 minutes recovering from the ordeal of the last 15 minutes—you know, standing up and moving and stuff. (I have to wait 30 minutes from pill takage before eating anyway.)
9:10 am: Pull leftovers from fridge. Eat them cold, the way God intended for people with too little energy for heating them up. Take second round of pills (13) for nutritional deficiencies and powdered meds in water that taste like more death. Also take a spongy fiber drink that helps detox the heavy metal/chemical buildup indicated by my blood work. Don’t forget liquid vitamins from the world’s slowest dropper system that leaves you with your head tilted back 90º from your spine for at least 45 seconds like God intended. Mental note to discuss God’s intentions.
9:35 am: Lie back down on the couch. (How long has the slip cover been like that? Nevermind, it’s gonna stay like that, since I’m not getting up again for a while.) Recover from spending 25 minutes in a seated position, which made me feel nauseated and gave me a headache. Also a bit out of breath and sleepy. Doze. Maintain Netflix VIP status by watching the latest things. Get bored and stare out the window some instead. Try ignoring the fact that I will have to stand back up at some point. Wish the cute dog that stands in the second floor bedroom across the street would come make eye contact so I can feel like I am friends with my neighbors.
11:50 am: Remember the laundry. Go transfer it to the dryer. Stare at it feeling very grateful I have a dryer. Start feeling lightheaded and nauseated again and like my arms and legs are made of very heavy things.
11:53 am: Go lie down again feeling guilty that I still haven’t made it to the grocery store (because today is a grocery store day, blerggh). Put it off because I feel like doo-doo and I know that going to the store will just make it worse. Take powdered supplement in more water. Wish there was a better delivery system than water because water seems to intensify the “flavor”.
12:28 pm: Turn on oven and place lunchtime leftovers inside to warm up. Feel very civilized to be facilitating hot food. Make tea to increase civility. Plus, I have to drink it for the medicinal value of the herbs to detox my liver of the aforementioned chemical and heavy metal buildup. Wonder why the hell the liver is so lazy it needs so much help. Which reminds me I should get in the pup-tent sauna for further detox (very important, according to all the doctors). That will have to wait, as putting together lunch is gonna flatten me again for a bit. Plus, I still need to shower and get to the grocery store.
12:32 pm: Lie on the couch (shocker) and sketch some ideas for the floor plan of a new project I made up while I wait on lunch. Drink tea. Civility slightly diminished by prone position, especially as that tends to make tea dribble down chin.
1:00 pm: Sit at table and eat lunch. Take lunchtime supplements(10)/drops/powder. Stare out the window and watch the people walk by. Wonder where they are going, but leave off when realize brain fog is too strong for complete thoughts.
1:15 pm: Feel fluish and go lie down. After 15 minutes, resume sketching. Make a phone call. (Officially qualifying today as a productive day.)
2:00 pm: Take more powder in water. Suppress feelings of hatred for whoever invented powder. Wish medicine tasted more like Mary Poppins’ spoons full of sugar. Then remember that sugar is part of what got me into this mess. Damn Mary Poppins and her bold ideas.
2:01 pm: Wonder where the day went. Decide to shower. Calculate if today I can skip washing my hair because my arms feel so achey. Yes, skip it.
2:10 pm: Stand in front of mirror post-shower and try to get away with not putting lotion on head to toe. Remember how badly that turned out last time with the itching and the peeling (thyroid issues makes one's skin very dry) and begin application of lotion. Sit halfway through, getting lotion all over toilet lid.
2:20 pm: Dress. Smile and wave at makeup paraphernalia as I pass by.
2:25 pm: Gauge symptoms level to decide what bus I’ll be ready for. Lie down on couch for 15 minutes. Mentally celebrate victory of showering: yay, hygiene!
2:40 pm: Trudge down hill to bus stop. Curse lack of seats on bus as staying vertical saps already-negative energy and starts to make me think of vomiting. Plus, gives me the shakes and the aches. And makes me rhyme.
2:55 pm: Arrive at grocery store looking like goodness only knows. At least I'm clean. [High fives self.]
3:20 pm: Depart grocery store feeling pride at having conquered this looming domestic chore today. Beat shame on the head as it crops up in response to my describing grocery shopping as a looming task in need of "conquering". Forget confusing feelings—who needs ‘em?—in favor of concentrating on staying vertical long enough to get home.
3:50 pm: Congratulate self on only having paused twice to catch my breath on the walk back from the bus stop. Abandon grocery cart in kitchen and collapse on sofa. Try not to succumb to annoyance that this disease makes me feel like I have a fever of 110ºF every time I try to do anything. Try to spin it positively: aches, nausea, fatigue, headache, and mental sluggishness make you stronger! Fail to believe self. Instead try to convince self that frozen groceries will be fine until I can get back up to unpack them; melted is the new black.
4:25 pm: Assess grocery damage. Put them away. Realize it’s closing in on time for dinner prep. Realize I also forgot to do the sauna. Damn. Remember I can still salvage the day by meditating, since that still needs checking off.
4:38 pm: Try to achieve meditational zen nirvana while lying down, even though Andy from Headspace says I should be sitting. But he doesn’t know what sitting feels like for me, so I’ll lie down thankyouverymuch.
4:55 pm: Consult supplement list to make sure I’ve taken all the requisite liquid suspensions, powders-in-water, and pills. Cheer if yes, pout if no.
4:57 pm: Remember that other thing I needed to add to my to do list. Laugh at the idea of a to do list. Calculate the odds of doing some of the things on the to do list tomorrow. A goal of 2 items is a plausible one, since the following day is not a grocery store day. Plus, I’ve done a load of laundry for the win, though tomorrow I will have to wash and blow dry my hair. Sigh.
5:05 pm: Start dinner prep/pause for rest cycle. Achieve dinner by 6:30 pm. That gives me 20-30 minutes to feel like a real go-getter and do something extra before 7pm. But, while lying on the couch because I’m feeling a lot like passing out.
6:30 pm: Check emails and write a few notes for blog. Wonder if this weekend I might feel like putting a couple outfits together to photograph for the ‘Gram. Look at outfit list on phone and highlight top choices.
6:55 pm: Husband home. YES! A HUMAN BEING! (Sorry dog-across-the-street. Nothing personal to my good “neighborhood friends.”)
7:00 pm: Serve dinner. Thanks to Realplans.com, food is a highlight of my day. No they didn’t pay me to say that. Wish they would pay me to say that. Send good joojoo to Realplans.com, anyway. Take evening supplements(11)/powder/drops. Feel despondent when one of the powders sinks to the bottom in the exact shape and consistency of Jabba the Hutt. Try to make convivial conversation (Force. Words. Through. Brain. Fog.) and remind husband why he married such a shining star. Remember I didn’t put on any makeup and am wearing pajamas with sweats again. Crap. Pretend the dark circles under my eyes just make me look mysterious. (Try and think extra positive: he’s gonna be stoked when I’m better and wear real clothes and mascara. I’m bucking the trend of letting myself go after a few years of marriage. I let myself go immediately, and then I will inch back from there. Tricky.)
7:30 pm: Sit on couch with husband and chat. Best part of my day. Kiss him for not giving a f*&% about the makeup. Maybe watch a little (more) Netflix if we are both tired.
9:15 pm: Go brush teeth and wash face. Take pre-bedtime supplements (3). Rejoice that none of them is powder in water.
9:30 pm: Crawl in bed to snuggle. Husband falls asleep immediately. Wonder who is actually the one with a debilitating disease. Follow husband slowly into Dreamland.
