I'm going to try not to over-share into the icky stage, because until things happen, I see no point in talking about it. I'm dwelling on it in my own mind -- oh heck yeah -- it's hard not to. I've shared with a few friends the whole guacamole. But to yammer on and on and on and on before anything has been set in stone is dull. I think even
two three days of "snap out of it, kid" blog posts was pushing it, even if there was a bunny and a penguin involved.
There have been a lot of little things lately that have added up to a massive load on my shoulders, things that I would normally have scoffed at or ignored or taken care of. But when you're faced with a big fat uncertainty, those little things can make even the best faker fall flat on her face.
Most of you are long-time readers and know I have fought a debilitating type of migraine that does not respond to normal, or ANY, migraine medication. (If you're new, and are interested, click here to catch up). I finally, after waiting since June, got my long-awaited appointment at the Johns Hopkins Headache Clinic. I went last Friday.
The doctors are tops. I will say that. What's distressing is half of the medicine I take for other things may be exacerbating my migraines -- and I have to take those meds.
Also, there IS no pain medication for my condition. None. We are in the "pain management" stage of things now. I can't tell you how stunned and ripped off I felt driving the hour-plus home with nothing in my purse to help me.
I must hide all of this from my son. He can't know I'm in pain, or at least, not the level of pain I'm in. It would crush him, worry him, cause anxiety that he's too young to understand. I do go to bed a lot earlier than usual, but then I get way behind in work. Which upsets me, especially now that I have a show tomorrow and a HUGE show the end of March, and I'd like to just go out and do something for once.
Some major medical changes will be happening soon. I promise to keep you posted.
I have other worries for others I love. My friend, mentor, and surrogate mom, who recently nearly lost her life to pneumonia (she's also fighting cancer), is now doing better, well enough to notice a mole on her husband's arm -- and now he has melanoma for the second time. He's already got mesothelioma. I'm destroyed and devasted. Please pray for them.
I've had a lot of emails lately from exceptional jewelry artists who hurt, who are feeling inferior, wondering when their time will come, wondering why they work so darned HARD when certain people seem to have stars shining over their heads all the time. To them I say, you're so much better than you think you are, and if you're constantly working to grow, working at something you love, you're that much better FOR YOURSELF.
Where is this leading?
All of you, dear readers and friends, are sitting with me, virtually having tea or coffee and I imagine us sharing. We are not alone in our fears, our thoughts, or our pains. What I'd like to see is our sharing our triumphs, our successes, and our hopes, regardless of what they are! A triumph doesn't have to be "gee, I got a book contract today". It could be "I finally opened that package of PMC that's been sitting on my desk for two years" or "I finally tried that tutorial in "Step by Step Wire and now realize how much I love wire!"
Beyond the physical and mental pains nearly all of us have, we do have the ability to share our happiness, too -- and they can be odd happinesses. I'm happy I live close enough to Johns Hopkins that I don't have to either take a plane trip each time I have an appointment or skip it altogether. I'm happy I have an understanding husband who doesn't mind if I have to spend most of a day in bed.
If you've stuck with me this long, I want to thank you for dealing with the slightly-falling-apart-at-the-seams me, and keep rooting for the growing me. I know I root for all of you every day. I don't always have time lately to respond to your blogs, but I DO respond to all email, and I'll be better about it again soon. I want you to know you're not alone in either fear, pain, or doubt -- and let's toast our cups to happiness, no matter how small that happiness may be for the day.
(PS -- Did someone bring doughnuts to the tea/coffee party? Or pie?)