Spoons

I'm still here, are you?

I've lost count of the days. Most days I don't know what day it is. They're all the same. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Watch TV. Sleep. On exciting days, I go to the doctor. If I wasn't so tired, I'd be going crazy from boredom, but honestly, I'm too tired to even be bored.

With all this time on my hands, you'd think I'd have something profound to write about, but the truth is, I don't. And, yes, I realize that this post is pretty scattered. I'm not able to focus very well. 

It was a month-long game of Pin the Tail on the Diagnosis, to find that I have a virus that most people have...in fact, odds are that half of you reading this have it, but just don't know it. In healthy people, it generally stays dormant and doesn't show any symptoms. However, for infants and immunocompromised people like myself, it can wreak havoc. At this time, we aren't treating it, but I'm waiting on my hepatologist to weigh in on that. I'm continuing to go through more tests to be sure there isn't something else lurking about.

It's been a while since I've thought about the Spoon Theory but figured I'd share because it helps people understand what it's like to live with chronic illness. Give it a read and know that most of my days lately, I'm really short on spoons. Seriously, give it a read because most of what I'm writing today probably won't make sense without the context.

Friday, I had a big day. I had to go to the hospital for an echocardiogram. Since I was leaving my house, I decided to use one of my spoons and actually take a shower. I'm nothing if not courteous. That morning, I spent two spoons on stripping my bed linens and putting them in the washer. Before I left, I transferred them to the dryer. Another spoon was spent just remembering to move them to the dryer. I figured I'd use one of my spoons to get to and from the hospital, and my last spoon of the day to remake my bed before crawling back in and going back to sleep.

I got into the room for my test and the technician was called away for an urgent case in the ER. She was very apologetic, and gave me the option of staying in the procedure room and waiting or rescheduling. Since I was in a bed, and had nowhere else to be, I opted to stay and just take a nap while I waited, hoping that it might give me the spoon I needed to make my bed when I got home.

After the test, as I was walking out (in my zombie-like trance) one of the elderly volunteers stopped me and gave me a couple Andes Candies and said I could use a smile. I gave him a smile, as best I could, and pocketed the candies. Truth be told, I really can't stand those things, so I tossed them, but hey, it was a nice gesture.

I arrived home and after dropping off my coat, I looked in the dryer and it was empty. I swore I had put those sheets in there. I looked in my bedroom. My bed was made and my jammies were neatly folded.

I have a cleaning service that comes and does the "hard" cleaning once a month (don't judge me - I'm single, no kids, I work hard and this is how I treat myself). Friday was their day to come, and they had come while I was at the hospital. Now, I have never expected them to do my laundry, and they never have, but I usually do laundry on weekends, so I suppose this situation has never presented itself. I was overcome with gratitude when I realized that they had noticed that I had stripped my bed sheets and took the extra step to remake it for me. I crawled into bed and immediately fired off an email to the cleaning service to thank them and to let them know that this extra effort could not have come at a more appropriate time. This saved me my last spoon of the day. There is still good in this world.

So that's what I think about. Spoons.