Perhaps this entry should be in my 'Chronic Pain and Me' blog, but since it involves so much more, I'm putting it here.
On Friday, we had an incredibly close call. My husband, Wolf, pulled into a McDs to take advantage of the 'free small coffee' deal currently happening. (Americans, don't feel jealous, its McDs way of attempting to compete with the annual Roll Up promo at Timmies). Getting back into the van, he discovered that one of his rear wheels was locked up solid.
Turned out that his rear brake had literally exploded.
Wolf takes the highway straight to work. If he hadn't pulled in for coffee exactly when he did, the locked up wheel would have sent him directly into oncoming traffic.
$700 later, the van is back on the road...and I still tremble when I think how close we came to tragedy.
Then I checked my email on Saturday. I've been offline for a bit, dealing with pain and depression.
Clearing my email, I discovered that a friend I've known since she was nearing the end of her pregnancy with her first dd, and I was finishing my first trimester with Tazzie had lost her 1 yo baby girl this past week.
She'd put her down for a nap, and found her dead when she went to wake her.
Her husband has been able to make it home from Afghanistan, and the funeral is tomorrow.
My heart breaks for her. I've wept so many times since finding out, reading her posts in the group we're in together.
Yes, that's right. She's an 'online' friend...but as real a friend as someone I'd go for coffee with.
I can't imagine her pain. I hurt for her, her eldest dd, her husband...but nowhere the reality of the Hell they're going through, that I know.
And right now, for me, the litany of, 'Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.' is racing through my mind as I count down the minutes to Wolf getting home. The arm is flared all the heck up to the point where even typing this solely with my good hand is still reverberating through my arm, making me grit my teeth and bathing my body in the cold, greasy sweat that accompanies pain flare ups.
The weather is stunningly gorgeous. I haven't bumped myself, or any of the other 'known' issues that would cause a flare.
Good old fashioned emotional stress perhaps. PMS perhaps. Or perhaps nothing at all, just having RSD.
I feel tears brimming, and I couldn't tell you who they're for. My friend, mourning her baby, or just physical pain.
RSD even robs me of that. When I want most to be praying for my friend and her family, focusing on offering whatever support I can on THEM, RSD takes me down, making me self centred, driving me into a ball of pain.
So, I'm asking readers of my blog to please do what I can't right now. Please pray for J, her dh M, and their dd E. I don't use my name on my blog, so I won't post theirs...I've no doubt God will know who the prayers are for. Pray for their strength as they say goodbye to baby M, for love, healing for them...whatever, anything that you are moved to do.
Please.
My boss from work called this afternoon. She asks me how I'm doing, says that she'd heard there was no change and that she was so sorry about that. Then she tells me that she wanted me to know that I have until Dec 2010 to have my skills assessed and approved or bring them up to the new standardized levels.
Her : I really don't know what to do in your case.
Me: Well, if I hadn't been hurt on the job, ensuring that my skills were up to standard wouldn't be an issue.
Her: Yes, they give you lots of time to get it done, and I don't doubt that you would.
Me: Uh...But I *was* hurt on the job. There's no way that I can lift, push, pull, or anything else that would be required on a skills assessment.
Her: Yes, that's true. But everyone needs to have this done.
Me: I was hurt on the job. I don't have use of my dominant hand and arm. I couldn't even write a test, let alone do a full skills assessment.
Her: Yes, I know. I just don't know what to do, so I'll send out the package to you, notifying you of the need to get your skills assessed and re-certified.
Me: I think I'll call my union, see what they say.
Her (panicky sounding): Why would you call them?
Me: Well, since I *can't* do any sort of assessment to re-certify my skills, since I WAS HURT ON THE JOB, I don't know who else to ask about this.
Her: I don't know either...Maybe I should ask HR about what to do in your case.
The conversation was out of the Twilight Zone. One of those, "You know in the dictionary, under redundant, it says, 'See 'redundant'?" moments.
That was a few hours ago. I'm kinda snickering a bit now. I felt like I was in a Who's On First skit! I swear, the stuff in my life...I just couldn't make it up. 
Wolf and I were talking earlier, and my ectopic pregnancy came up. I started crying.
Then, my mother sent me a daily calendar, "To My Daughter With Love, Caring Thoughts" so I opened it today. It has a picture of a pretty young woman in a wedding dress, and the saying is, "Mother still knows best, even when that means taking her daughter's advice."
I started crying again. Why? Because my parents didn't attend my wedding. Yes, it was in another province, but I'm their only daughter, and the excuse that they couldn't afford it just doesn't ring true. My parents have no mortgage, and always brag about the size of their bank account.
I didn't realize that I still hurt over that, until this picture and saying. I was married, surrounded by people I didn't know. Nobody in my family came. Heck, I didn't even know I had family in the city til a cpl of years later when my mother did come to visit, after I'd had Tazzie. She told her rich uncle and aunt that we'd just gotten married 
When my aunt found out we'd been married for two years, she was aghast, and told me that they, and their kids, would have come. My mother was ashamed that I was a single mom, so didn't bother to tell them that I'd moved to their city, nor tell me that I had family here.
I'm back to no family again, because my rich uncle got po'd that we'd pulled Diva from the Christian school he was paying for (she was being bullied, had a kid threaten to slit her throat on the bus, etc, plus we moved across the city).
All of this is old news. So why am I crying over it today?!
I failed.
*sigh*
I simply got my butt handed to me by my RSD. I can't handle making the dress for Diva.
So, I'm giving her the material, etc for Christmas, and it will be a project that we do together (ie, I supervise)
I'm angry, depressed. I wanted to honour my daughter, and RSD robbed me of that.
I'm not 'me' right now. Wolf has even commented on how quiet I am the last day or two. Apparently, "A quiet wife isn't a happy wife" as far as he's concerned.
Hopefully, I get back to being 'me' soon.
Merry Christmas to everyone. God Bless.
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