if it ain't one thing...

tuesday I had the root canal done. Wednesday I got my staples out and had my first bath.  The doctor tuned up my meds and they really helped.
Today I had to rush back to the dentist for the tooth, it's infected.  He was very serious about it, got me on powerful antibiotics and gave me his private cell number with instructions to call if it heads towards my eye or gets worse, or if in 48 hours it's not better.
I called Iris to give me a ride.  She couldn't be available before three, for sure.  Dentist wanted to see me ASAP but I told him my ride wouldn't be able till after 3.  So he gave me 3:30, and I waited till the last minute to pester Iris again, having sent her the info at 2.  By 3pm she gets back to me that she's just too filthy to come get me, but will pick me up.  Uh huh, after I get there how? Taxi?  I mean, if she'd said no earlier or hadn't suggested that she would be available, I'd have called Dan to race home.  Now there wasn't time, so I drove.  Driving went well enough.  But by the time it was time to wait on the prescription I was beat up and my butt was bleeding again. Got home and took another hydromorphone, even though it's not time, just because I still had to feed the dog and myself.  Now I've rested awhile and the drug is in me and it's helping.
I looked up the antibiotic I'm on and it can cause a form of colitis from a bacteria that gains dominance when the other bacteria are killed off by the stuff.  It's there to work on the infection, but it will also take out my gut bacteria.  So I'm having curry for supper and will again tomorrow.  If there's more curry sauce like this, I'll keep eating curry.  I'll also start adding garlic to my diet.
The bone broth needs to be processed now.  It's getting bitter.  Bones have to come out and the broth bottled up.  
Dan's housekeeping skills are so poor it's getting to me.   Tom can't keep up or catch up at this pace, so if the pills do their job and give me some activity again, I'm going to spend it cleaning this place.  I've always been the tough one.  the weeble that wobbles but never falls down.  It's so hard to be treated like I'm delicate, although nice to be treated with caring instead of waved off as independent enough not to need anything or anyone.  Still, it makes me sad when people are sympathetic or even worried about me.  
I'm also pissed off at Iris.  So she can't be relied on for rides after all.  She gets the wrong shit when sent shopping. She has yet to actually step up on her offer to clean.  Sooooo, one volunteer down.  Tom was never much of a volunteer, and Eileen can't do much.  ~sigh~ I'm still underserved.  Those meds better step up, I need myself back in the game. Nobody else is proving useful, really.  Or capable.  Dan is getting tired of all the work and doing less and less of it, with less grace.  Yeah, I cried a bunch today.
Last night in the tub I had a think about miracles and my access to same.  I tried to chase why I am not openly begging God for life, for a miracle.  I mean, most folks would, right?  Even if only in the private spaces.  I realized I'm stuck.  My desire to live is conditional. If it's just going to get more restricted, less interesting, more or same loneliness, stuck here, I don't want that life.  If I can surge forward and finally see a change for the positive, I do.  I've tried to fix my life a bunch of times.  Radical surgery, self change, brave efforts, better education, you name it, I've chased it.  Time and again I fail and here I sit in a shabby shack counting pennies against bills and seeking distraction from my unhappiness. How do I pray for life if I don't know I want it?  I'm doing what I can to care for myself, co-operating with the doctors, waiting to see what they say, what they do, how it works.  But praying for a miracle?  It's not enough merely to stop having a life-threatening disease.  I must see some success in creating a life worth living.  Simply weeding flower beds just doesn't cut it.  May as well let this infection take me here and now and save us all a lot of trouble, if my life is going to wind up restricted to a shabby little house in a bad neighborhood anyway.

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