In Hot Water?

Okay, there are just times when it seems the world is against you.

I had a suspicion that powers greater than myself weren’t supportive of my new exercise regime when Phoebe poked me in the eye. But Dave assured me that Thursday, I would have such a great time splashing around in the pool, I would forget the whole incident.

Welcome Thursday, I am in my bathing suit and brand new pink terry sweats (they were on sale at Old Navy, hence the pink part), towel, personal sundries, the works are all packed into my bag by the time Dave gets home from work. I have been drinking gallons of water…and off I go!

For some strange reason, as I take the Encinitas exit, I think, “With my luck, the pool will be closed.” I park, gather my belongings and walk to the Y. POOL CLOSED AUG.31-SEPT. 2. Yes, closed, shut down, out of commission. No explanation. No reason. Only the reality that I must have seriously pissed off someone upstairs (or Phoebe has more connections in this city than the mafia. I am afraid, very afraid.)

What now? I thought of calling Dave, but he has the kids in the bath and I hate to bother him. Multitasking with the babes is not his strong suit. Plus, I would just be a raging little shut-out bitch, and that is not exactly the call that someone needs while wrestling slippery squirmy munchkins into pjs.

No, I just have to deal with it. And figure out how what I need to do to find redemption.

The beginning of my deliverance might be coming in the form of a pill. I started taking Prednisone for my rheumatoid arthritis. It is a pretty nasty drug, lots of freakish side effects. But, for RA folks, like myself, it can provide immediate relief even eurphoria. Yes, he said euphoria! Those words actually caused me to cry in the doctor’s office during my visit. That was a bit embarrassing. Oh, I should mention, my doctor’s name—Dr. Payne. Ha! Isn’t that humorous? He is a sweet guy, nothing like some of the other asses I have met in the medical profession.

Anyway, it is actually working! I am feeling somewhat better and the pain has been minimized to a appreciable degree. And this is day two! So, while I am worried that I might look a bit like Hans and Franz in the long run, for the time being, I am thrilled.

The only way I can really illustrate how difficult RA can be, would be to recount my struggle with small, daily tasks. For example, making formula, undoubtedly one of my most dreaded chores. Once a day, I would enter what I consider to be a mini-manual Olympics. I know that there are exactly 14 steps to creating the daily pitcher of formula. I can acutely feel every step of the process. From opening the container to scooping the 7 tiny scoopfuls into the pitcher, closing the top, holding it tightly (RA patients are notorious for dropping things, no grip control), and shaking it rigorously while my elbows protested. It is in these daily activities that normally would not be remarkable, that I face my greatest challenges.

So, to be able to wrestle with that bloody Tupperware container and be victorious…or better yet, indifferent—how absolutely brilliant! I know that this is only a short-term solution, but after years of this challenge, I am ready for a break. I am excited to work on bigger projects than fastening my bra, squeezing the shampoo bottle and snapping together Onsies.

If I start raging like a maniac in my blog, I expect to be notified.