Did I do that?
I’m tired. I can’t walk without losing my balance. I blame the plethora of medicines I’m required to ingest. But that’s not all of it. In contrast to the nervous anxiety of my husband and his need for medicine to keep him in line, I am exactly the opposite. I need to work these things out. He won’t let me. His token efforts to allow me to “stomp around” isn’t the exercise I need. I’m going to have to take control.
We could say I got caught up in life. We could say life made me tired. We could also say I’m stumbling through life. All of it would be correct. All of it would indicate not that there aren’t enough hours in the day, but that my brain and its injuries have taken a surprising toll.
This Sarcoidosis diagnosis is a threat. The actual autoimmune disorder isn’t the issue. The frustration dealing with the purported specialists is the problem. To be honest, I’m doing better without them. I have my PCP and, to date, I can rely on her to think logically with me more than anyone else, including my husband, has yet to do.
I vented. This helps. More later, I promise.