Mere hours after I posted the previous post which was a long essay basically outlining the points as to why Husband and I had basically been reduced to a platonic co-parenting team, only good at collaborating where Son was involved, I had to ask Husband for help.
I was already upset. I woke up flared, which for those of you who don’t know, a flare means the horrible sucky rheumatoid arthritis that is the bane of my existence is acutely worse. It means any joint in my body could be super swollen, hot, hypersensitive to touch, and very difficult to move. Many of my body parts were this way, particularly my hands, knees and feet which made it incredibly hard to move around and get ready. Normally on a bad day like this, all getting ready would consist of is bathroom, meds, fresh pjs and back to bed. But today was not a normal bad day. Today was a the day I finally got an appointment with the psychiatrist, who supplies me with psych meds, which wrangle my rampant depression, that has been extra rampant since August of 2014 when I ran out of meds and never followed through with getting them refilled. I missed multiple followup appointments and my mood grew steadily more miserable.
So today, no matter what I had to follow through, had to get there. I hobbled around the apartment pulling on sweatpants and a loose tee shirt. Anything constricting makes things feel worse. I raked my hair in to a messy bun and went to put on my sneakers. And I simply could not. SHoes are a tricky thing for me as I have severe chronic swelling in my lower legs and feet. My feet can fluctuate 3-4 sizes up or down depending on how good or bad the day is. So maneuvering them in to my high tops can be very difficult. Also, it requires holding and pulling the shoe in certain ways and my fingers were swollen and clumsy. So today I couldn’t. And I couldn’t cancel.
So I had to ask Husband for help. Usually on bad days he can help.. he holds and maneuvers the shoe and all I have to do is get my foot in it. But today the swelling and pain was so bad we couldn’t. And the effort of just starting to push my right foot in reduced me to tears of pain and frustration. I have dealt with this disease for over 16 years now but still some days suck so bad they reduce me to helpless tears.
Husband folded me into his arms and said,”It’ll be ok, I DO love you, I DO love you.” He held me for several minutes. A lot of making up was done in that time without words. Then we put on my big puffy Patriots slippers. I usually don’t wear them out of the house because they are so puffy I can’t drive in them. So he drove me. That turned out to be something good in and of itself because I forgot how crowded the clinic, and thus awful the parking) is on days the psychiatrist is there. But he was able to park illegally for the few minutes that were needed to get me in and out. Later, while picking Son up from his after school activity he picked up my meds so I am officially back on the Celexa with a 6 week plan that has me increasing the dosage every 2 weeks with a followup in 8.
And Husband and I have started on the road to trying to reconnect. It’s not going to happen overnight. But I now have hope that it can happen at all.