Monday, March 13, 2017

Not To Be Dramatic . . .but Sometimes Sjögren's Stinks

You must know by now that I usually attempt to find humor in everyday happenings.  Believe it or not I also try to find joy in life.  But there are days when a gal just has to give in and feel sorry for herself.

I was contemplating going on a trip to Portugal and Spain.  It was an eight-day bus tour.  On and off the bus.  Easy as pie.  Luggage and all accommodations taken care of for you.  Breakfast and dinner included.

But then I went away overnight.  One night.  Oh yes, the sink in the hotel was zenchanting - or maybe even zentastical - but sometimes I wonder if it's worth leaving the house when I have to pay the price the next day.

It began when I couldn't wake up in the hotel.  Had one of those All but Surgically Attached to My Bed fatigues going.  Drip Dry and Trigger were up and talking, went downstairs for breakfast, and came back to the room to still find me unconscious.  Ponzi and Veggie came over, we said our goodbyes, and left for the two hour drive home.  Once home, I took a three hour nap and was back in bed for the night by 9:30 pm.  Then I could not, for the life of me, drag my body out of bed this morning for a 9:00 am appointment.

Right now, it's 5:08 pm, I've put Drip Dry's dinner in the oven with an automatic turn off, and I'm going to bed.  For the night, or a nap, I do not know.  All I know is that I cannot live this life in an upright position for one more moment.

How can this be people?

How could I ever dream of taking an eight day trip when I couldn't even make it through a two hour drive and a brewery tour (which, btw, I didn't even take part in) except to drink the blueberry IPA - and blueberries are full of antioxidants, are they not?