I will not Live to 103 or Maybe

I feel 103.

My grandma lived one day short of 103.

 I,  on the other hand will not. If I do, I will eat your hat.

Not that I won't try, Readers. I just don't see how it is possible.. I gotta BELIEVE it can be!

Bad night. Hence, the negative attitude right now. Not cool with watching TV in bed all day.
Want to be out doing some things, running some errands. Visiting family. Hugging nephews and nieces.



(who can pass up a belt buckle won from a rodeo? not these pint sized cowboy nehpews. darn cute.)

Will the prednisone kick in and let me do that without much pain today?

Can you order Ninja Turtle shells that are real to hold up your rib cage online or has anyone invented that yet? Where was I?

Typing hurts with bone pain. Thanks disease. Or prednisone. Or fate. Whichever.

Well, morning was bad.  Last night I ate like someone on a high dose of prednisone who had to taper and then was trying to fill the void. This morning I woke up and can't bare to even want to look at food but had to swallow some prednisone. I took it with a sip of water - too sluggish to move and able to guzzle a whole 9 glasses of water with it.

(this is what Cushings makes me look like, I have decided.)



So I think I propped up here for about twenty minutes while it sat suspended in my esophagus and burned.

I hate that stuff. The bitter taste. But anyway, it gave me time to recall the dreams I had and I am dang glad they were cause while I was dreaming, I thought it was real.

So there were awkward moments of wearing different sandals to walk the river in front of friends and guys and my excuse for having different sandals on was this:
" My Teva strap broke." They seemed to agree that would be a problem and, hence, the sandals of different origin were kosher. Then it went from summer weather to snow and the sandals were not helping. And we had to traverse the Snake River and for some reason not by way of the road. Which caused me to feel some fear. Snow. The River. Scaling the bridge and inching along side it holding onto the ledge and looking down at slushy snow. 

Which always requires an underwater swim for just two seconds. Luckily it transitioned to a weird fair.
-that involved math problems and me too proud to ask Chel for some help that were washed away by virtue that they were just a dream. What fair has school work to do for games instead of throwing darts or using a hammer to hit a bell?

Dream Fairs.



What was NOT a dream was the rib cage that I am to the point of asking the doctors to go ahead and just carve that side of my ribs out. And while they are in there- just go ahead and take the digestive tract, sew me up, and call it good.

Did I just say that? What would that feel and look like anyway? A groundhog without part of her rib and digestive parts..... hmmmm.

 

Then I thought of a friend who has a farm and has to feed pigs. And once she said that they might eat her and that made me chuckle. And I didn't feel so sorry for myself. Or J. and the pain and torture he will go through having a ground hog for a mom.

 

wah.

Yes, I did. I don't feel like writing and so I am forcing myself to. They hurt. My grandma's hands must have hurt for a good 50 years. Will that be how long we go or will there be a miracle that comes down the pipe for bones and joints?

Isn't life just one big math problem?

 

 

A constant stream of math problems, delved out by an unmerciful math teacher who did a couple sample problems on the board, then cut you loose on some problems that looked nothing like what he or she did on the board.

With the chalk still settling in the air I would stare at it and wonder what on earth. Then skip to one I had a faint idea how to do and finally the bell would ring, I would neatly fold up the paper in the page I was stuck on and maybe take it home and ask someone what on earth it was talking about.

Such is life.

Either ya fold up your paper and hand in a blank spot for the the problem you had a problem with; or you figure it out.

 Solve it.

(Bacon in Panic - a gift I needed to give padre but didn't. darn.)

hmm.... I dunno how to figure this one out yet. Gonna need A LOT of help. So I am not going to be proud like at the fair in my dream and ASK for some help. Get this latest gargantuan math prob figured out.

Constantly having to re-solve or solve some scenario in life. Until finally one day you get to the problems that you, and no one thus far, can solve yet. And that's when the heat amps up.



(and you hope that you just write letters and not go postal.......)


"No one knows the answer to this equation? There isn't an answer key in the teacher's desk? Why not? This is the critical problem!"

J. just informed me "the change" in Saturday plans and I nodded my head. Ahh. Saturdays as a child. Granted he had a bloody nose like one of my sisters used to get all the time this morning, but other than the dry air and him sneezing onto my Christmas White Polyester bed spread when we were talking this afternoon- his Saturdays are just beginning.

Time to get with mine.