Dose Two

I have given up my afternoon dose of Neuronten. So far (in a whisper now) so good. While I still have some weird feelings in my gum lines, there is no debilitating pain and this is a good thing. This Thursday I will give up one of my night time doses. (shudder shudder) Needless to say, I am walking on eggshells and just waiting for the other shoe to drop and all the other cliched sayings.

My ice packs are lined up in the freezer, ready and waiting. I take my bottle of Neuronten with me where ever I go. Neurotic, yes? Not so long ago I waited for four o'clock to hit to see if I was going to have a good night or not. Now, I watch the clock constantly to see if I will have a good life or not. Have I kicked this condition or is it lying dormant beneath the surface of my face ready to shoot fire and pain back into my life once I drop that one pill, that one dose at the one time on the one day?

So I continue to watch and wait. Dose two. Week two. Day eleven. So far: me=2, fire shooting monster beneath my skin=?

Dose one

I am so sick of hearing about whiny people who have to leave their kids, wives, husbands for a couple of weeks or a month or some short amount of time. I am being disgruntled I know. I just thought I would get it out there that these people (mostly on "reality" shows that I am sucker enough to watch) are weak and whiny and pathetic. There. Now on to more personal things.


So it has been five days since I gave up my 3 o'clock dose of Neuronten. So far, no pain on my left side. However, and really in this condition that is a horrible word, there has been some on my right. As I have mentioned in the past, this is NOT good. But I keep faith that the reason my right side is giving me a little (note: little) pain is because I am fighting some allergens in the air.


I am going to keep on dropping doses until I am free of all medicine and I can get back to the life I lead before this debilitating condition entered my life. And I have the confidence that I can do this. (not really, but don't tell anyone) Come on body. Come on trigeminal nerve, we can do this! (has it really come to this?)


I am also fighting something else. I am fighting the impulse to tell my husband to not come home when he is scheduled to. I look horrible. I mean, really. I am being a realist here and with the help of several people and their reactions to my current state, I realize that I am a disgusting mess right now and will not be able to look better by the time he is supposed to come home. And I have tried to prepare him for the inevitable by describing what effects the meds have had on me. I have not sent any pictures of me since he has left. And I know he doesn't believe me. But everyone around me knows. They all know that I am a mess. So I feel like going away when he comes home. Isn't that ironic?

So I have some things on my mind. (a crazy trigeminal nerve for one! ha!) But for now, I will wait until Wednesday to drop another dose and do a little dance to ward off any pain. And as for tonight, I will go watch "The Bachlorette" and listen to the beautiful people whine about ridiculous things. This is what my life has come to. Oy.

Need

So my whole life (or at least the last thirty years of it) I have been consumed with trying to get my hands on a mason jar. Yes, my family who are reading this, you know. They know of The Jar of Little Things. When I was young my friend Robby owned said Jar and would charge me a dollar to gaze upon It.

You see the Jar held dozens of "Little Things". Things like miniature finger nails and dollar bills, dolls and postcards, playing cards and lipsticks. I have no idea how Robby got his greedy little hands on it (he would charge my sister and I a dollar just to walk into his room!) but I was fascinated with it. When my parents said we were going over to Robby's house for a visit I immediately started dreaming of going through the Jar of Little Things. I never had a dollar so I never got to go through it. Sometimes Robby would pick out one Little Thing (like fake teeth) and dangle it in front of my eyes. Mostly he would shut his room off and I would have to gaze at the fuzzy Rush poster on his door. You know the one.

And then we grew up. I had dollars. But I wasn't thrilled with life...where I was living, etc. I then started thinking about moving to Washington DC but couldn't make up my mind to do it. And then it happened. Robby dangled The Jar of Little Thing in front of my eyes. He said he would give me the Jar if I moved to DC. He happened to be living in DC as well.

I needed no more reason. I packed my apartment and drove the big yellow Penske truck to Arlington VA. I took the big step. I got a killer job (Director of Marketing at five brew pubs) and a killer boyfriend (now husband) and now I wanted what was mine. The Jar.

Robby gave me the Jar and we reminisced about our growing up together. And then I ran back to my apartment to sift lovingly through every desired piece. For twenty years I yearned for this jar. And now it was mine.

So the years have gone by and I have moved five times, across country, across the world. I haven't looked at the Jar in years. It has been perched up on a shelf in my daughter's room. And the other night I stole a look at it. (I don't want my kids to notice it. They ultimately will destroy it, I am sure) And then, I opened it. The kids were in a different room. I was so excited.

I pulled one Little Thing out. It was a miniature bottle of Coke. I pulled another out, it was a miniature compass. I reached in and then....I heard the kids stomping down the hall. Argh! I quickly put the flat top of the Mason jar on and screwed the lid over it.

Foiled again. Someday I will be able to open the Jar of Little Things at my leisure, like I did that one day in Arlington VA. Perhaps that was the last time I was able to do anything at my leisure. From that point on, I got married, got pregnant, moved to Slovakia, moved, moved, moved.

And the elusive Jar followed me. Never taunting me (as Robby did), but always there. Through childhood, through young adulthood and now through parenthood.

I always get a great feeling when I happen to gaze upon that silly Jar. When I am putting laundry away or picking up toys. I remember the feeling of really wanting something. Of wondering how I could get through the fuzzy blockade the Rush posters offered. And now, now I have it.

No dollars needed.

Loose Change

Here is one for you: I have no idea where I am going to be living in two months. I know that I won't be living in the house I dwell in now. But I have no idea where I will be, or where my stuff will settle. Not a great notion for sleeping well at night. Right now there is a lot of change happening in our family. Change of location, jobs, schools, medication....

I am especially concerned with that last one. Actually medication and location. My neurologist is leaving the hospital where I have been seeing her. Rather abruptly she told me she is leaving and asked me even more abruptly if I wanted to stay with her or with the hospital. Ummmmm...what? And this was followed by the fact I am going to take a tremendous step in testing the Neuralgia medication. So I guess since I have no idea whom I would call if stopping the meds was a bad, bad mistake, I will stay with her...right?

Yes, I am changing the meds dosage as of next week. Slowly I will lessen and lessen the dosage week by week, pill by pill. Until hopefully...knock on wood, crossing all fingers, kissing all crosses...I see that the pain is gone and the meds are no longer needed. Or....the opposite. Bad, bad idea... get those meds back in me...now now now! And then, I will schedule my surgery with the neurosurgeon. I think.

So, change is upon us. It has blown in and is swirling around and where it deposits us...who knows? Isn't is strange how big changes seem to always come at once? I pray that the biggest change for me is not where I will be living but how I will be living. I could be living in Kansas or Florida, Colorado or Kentucky but as long as I am living without ice packs and twelve dosages a day I will be okay. Throw my husband being home with us and life will be...good. And isn't that what we should strive for, wish for, look for? Life to be...good.

Escaping

Tomorrow I will be dropping off Symphony tickets to some families of injured soldiers, so that while they are visiting their soldiers they can get a little pleasure in their life...escape for a while. Sadly I am getting used to seeing young men limping around with canes or prosthetics. Do you look, smile sympathetically or nod your head in a weak attempt at a thank you or just completely ignore the canes, the limps, the burns? I don't know. I'm not even sure what to tell my kids who ask in complete innocence "What happened to that man's face Mommy?" I can't tell them the truth because then they will have nightmares about Daddy. I usually just say that man got hurt with fire...don't point.

Today I received a letter from a family member that I unfortunately rarely see. In it she writes of how hard I have it with the three little ones and my Neuralgia pain. It made me stop and think about how I have been able to get through the last few months. I can honestly say that without my family and friends I am not sure I would be getting through it all. They are my "tickets to the Symphony". I definitely have moments that I just want to walk out and never look back.

But mostly I have a desire to see this deployment through. Perhaps this will be our last deployment. I can tell in my husband's "voice" via email, he is ready to come home. Usually it is a "rah rah" email/letter, with: We are doing our part for our country, our kids. Feel proud of what we are accomplishing. We are doing good things here. Now it's a count down to when he will be home.

We are almost done with our fourth month apart. The kids are still drawing pictures, sometimes with Daddy in them, sometimes without. But mostly we just chug along with our daily lives. Me praying that the pain has been cured (we shall start finding out starting next week!), the kids talking about the impending move at the end of the summer.

I think of those families that are visiting their sons, brothers, husbands and the long road of recovery they have in front of them. I also am reminded by the house on the corner who has pictures upon pictures plastered to their fence of the men who have been killed in Iraq. I see women with pins on their shirts in honor of their sons, friends, husbands who have been killed. Suddenly our wait isn't such a huge deal. We can do it. As long as I get an email every day that tells me he is safe. And that is how I get through it.

B is for...

I find my life ironic on most occasions but this past week has proved it to be true. My birthday turned into several days of celebration with packages from Slovakia filled with a chocolates and a beautiful cross, wonderful people stopping by with a surprise "party in a bag" -- how I wish we were all staying in one place so we could all become better friends! -- and, of course, my lovely children not only inviting every person we came into contact with to a non existent party, but literally serving me breakfast in bed, (an Eggo waffle, a piece of string cheese and a piece of bread that I think was supposed to be toast) and giving me homemade birthday cards. Best of all my parents and my sister and her family came up and took me and my kids out to lunch and then had a party at my house.

Given past birthdays, I think if my husband were here, none of this would happen and my birthday would have been a couple of kisses and maybe a dinner out. Which is the ironic part. Since he is gone, I had the best birthday I have had in a long, long time. What does that say about my husband's birthday skills? They need to be improved. Of course, this is the same man who gave me cash (oh I'm sorry gift certificates) for Mother's Day a few years back. Yes, he needs help in some areas. Take my 30th birthday. A pretty significant date in my book and it was our first birthday as a married couple. What did I get for this important holiday? (yes, holiday!) A Happy Happy Headscratcher. I am not kidding. Have you seen these? They have a straight handle and about fifteen wired fingers sticking out from the base. You stick it on your head and move it up and down and it massages your head. Yes. He needs help in some areas.

Today I spent in my neurologist's office talking about weaning me off some of the meds to test the significance of my wisdom tooth extraction. I am terrified. I just so badly want the cure to this horrible nightmare to be the extraction, and I am not ready to be let down (not to mention the pain coming back...not ready!!) In two weeks, I will be taking my meds down one at a time until either a) the pain comes back or b) I am completely off the meds and cured. b b bbbbb!!!! Please be BBBBB!!!!!!

I pray that irony will not affect the outcome of this test. I pray that the good luck of finding friends in people that I didn't know cared will carry on into this process. I pray that having my family around will give me the strength to face the outcome. And I pray that I don't get cash in a card from my husband congratulating me on a job well done. Oh how I want to wake up with Eggos in the morning and not pain!!!!