|happy picture to keep me calm and serene|
These things happen, my usual modis operandi is to ignore stuff - things have a way of disappearing or fixing themselves.
Two months down the line.....very itchy rash everywhere- still here- eyes still not mine, fingers definitely not- I have hard as rock longish nails which I've never had- quite nice... but my hands are broken, they say 'mechanics hands'- except my mechanic has lovely hands. Other stuff comes and goes- Breathlessness, some nausea, fatigue - but now I have lost my voice.... The art teacher kindly tells me this is sexy, but I have it on good authority I sound like a chipmunk.
Now my doc says it's time for more tests and maybe a referral- if you know me, this is not good, nor me- so you understand, I had my babies at home in the bath- ain't nobody gonna cut me up at home!
New plan- I'm clearly going to have to own this mess I've become.
On observation, it seems to react to stress- I know, really??
I've thrived on stress since my first job at the newspaper- it was a challenge to beat the 3 pm deadline chute as it shot off to the 4th floor works dept- I'd arrive breathless but triumphant. Then onto catering and/with 3 kids- pftt... a walk in the park.
I suspect as my grandmother would have said- my chickens have come home to roost, and they're looking like they flew from Siberia.
It's time to say no, when I would have said yes and time to walk a little slower.
It's also time to conjure up my 6 year old self, picture me, pig tails and all, my grandparents explaining that tomorrow we're going to the doctor and he's going to burn with dry ice that nasty wart by my toes all gone...burn, freeze, toes...and an active imagination....it didn't take long to decide that when I woke up that wart would be gone all by itself- and it was.
So dear 'whatever is wrong with me', I acknowledge you, I understand where you are coming from, I embrace what you are telling me and I've taken it to heart. Thank you for the nails and the kilos I've lost, I'll keep those if I may?
But unless you are going to reveal the lottery numbers in my rash, I am respectfully and kindly telling you it's time to piss off.