The Song of Crossing Over

The more I think about it the more I warm to the title of my blog. I think I might keep it.

Spring is coming so resolutely that yesterday I went out into the sunroom to just lie in the warmth; my cats joined me.

My rheumatologist gave me a very hard time about pain management, refusing to prescribe anything but a tidy dose of diclofenac. I ended up crying in the office, which I've never done before, not since this whole saga began more than a year ago. But I was so damned tired. I reached for my resolve and there was just nothing left.

Her dismissal stung me. I'd had to fight so hard for a diagnosis after getting sick. If I hadn't, believe that I would be bedridden right now; that's how ill I was. So this is a rheumatologist who's supposed to be familiar with this rare condition and I'm having to coach her through the appointment. I don't know whether she doesn't believe that I'm in pain or thinks I am and I'm just exaggerating it? She's rapidly becoming useless to me.

I just want to regain as much functionality as possible because my parents are nearing retirement age, and I'm sure taking care of me isn't on their list of things to do. What's more important, I'm not interested in spending two days in a row in bed because my hips won't hold my weight. I didn't get a masters degree to end up like this!