(Sorry, this post isn’t the most upbeat I have ever shared, but it’s honest. And there’s some hope sprinkled in, because I am essentially an optimist. 😉 )
We are about to go into the season of giving. I have already started seeing the charities popping up on the caller ID. I don’t answer the phone because I know I will have to decline.
My sister paid our mortgage for last month. She is an angel, but I have known that forever. We probably won’t be able to pay this month’s installment until next month.
Ever heard of robbing Peter to pay Paul? Yeah, it’s like that. Who absolutely HAS to be paid, and who will just have to wait their turn. I’ve been picking up more work with the newspaper (thank you, Tracy) and also sold more of my jewelry and collectibles, and that’s brought in a few hundred dollars, but it all seems like just a drop in the bucket.
On one hand, I am so pleased to finally see progress being made with this arm and wrist of mine. I got an injection in my wrist yesterday and go back in two weeks. Dr. Chavan is happy to see improvement, but neither of us believes I am where I need to be yet. I WILL get there, even if it takes being sent to the “wrist man” for surgery. I’ve been fighting with this since May, close to six months, and I am finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. For that, I am deeply grateful.
On the other hand, the co-pays are eating us alive. And I feel guilty about it. Guilty that my husband is falling asleep at his desk at work because he can’t sleep at night. I hate seeing him looking so tired. Normally a stoic kind of guy, Benny actually admitting how bushed he is indicates to me he really is desperately in need of a break, and in more ways than one.
And I am desperately tired myself; the Chronic Fatigue is hammering me, on top of the FMS, all exacerbated by the tendon and ligament damage on my left side. It’s one day, one hour, sometimes one minute at a time. I do pretty well putting on a game face for local friends and acquaintances, but underneath it all . . . sometimes I want to curl up with my blue fleece throw and have a good old cry.
So I really needed this quote I found on Pinterest today, a reminder that the small and seemingly insignificant things I can actually do, that any of us can do, make a difference. They count; they matter. I may not be able to donate to worthy causes or participate in some events because of my lack of funds and/or my physical limitations, but I can still find enjoyment and purpose and do good for others in my own way. I don’t know, maybe some of you need to be reminded, too . . .
And seeing all the beauty and humor and sweet humanity in this face doesn’t hurt either.