Had about a billion doctor’s appointments, blood tests and x-rays this week.

The drugs I’m on to control the bleeding and arthritis are destroying my liver, which is making me sick, and leaving me almost too exhausted to function. Basically, it’s like having a really awful hangover ALL THE TIME.

X-rays are showing a small amount of permanent damage to knees from repeated rheumatoid flares.

GI not concerned about my skin hurting, the need for SPF 30 indoors in winter to avoid rashes, or the depression I always seem to sink into when withdrawing from prednisone. That’s because his book says there are only psychotic side effects while ON prednisone. According to his book, this doesn’t happen. If it’s depression originating from something OTHER than prednisone, he doesn’t want to know, because that’s not his department.

Saw the rheumatologist this week too. Who by way of examination poked me in about a dozen places that I have not, since childhood, been able to bear being touched and pronounced a diagnosis of secondary fibromyalgia, as a result of this ongoing illness. Basically, “you’re going to feel like crap for the rest of your life. Get used to it. See you in six months.”

There ARE treatment options, if, indeed it IS fibro. My problem with the fibro diagnosis, is that I know there is more to it than poking a half dozen tender spots. Not to discount its seriousness for those who suffer from it, but it IS currently one of the most over diagnosed and under treated conditions out there. It’s a lazy way out of doing any actual doctoring in this case. Regardless, she won’t use any of the existing treatment options, because the GI told her off for recommending a drug to treat the arthritis that is not only useless, but harmful in treating the bleeding. Now she won’t even discuss medication with me, other than to tell me that I’m walking chemical soup, and that that’s not how SHE would handle things. I’ll probably have permanent damage from all the toxic drugs I’m taking. Have a nice day.

Lovely. Now I’m caught in the middle of an ego war between specialists. Neither of them has been able to answer my question about just who’s running the WHOLE show, and who’s looking at the WHOLE patient.

So basically, no one is.

The reason I haven’t written much this week, is because I’m tired of being all about being sick. I used to be a very interesting person.

I once blew up a bathtub with nothing but a dremmel tool. By accident, of course. It was an explosion worthy of “Mythbusters”

I’ve had a purse perish in a fire.

The fire was exclusively limited TO the purse.

The purse I bought to replace it was run over by a TANK a week later. This kind of thing used to just “happen” to me.

I’ve been to China.

I’ve been an outfitter in Algonquin Park.

I’ve been a scout leader.

I’ve been a stand up comedian.

I’ve been a toymaker.

I paint, draw, sculpt when it suits me, act, sing, write, play guitar, pennywhistle, and fiddle.

When I’m not falling to pieces, I’m a pretty damned good mom!

I can make a meal for 10 out of almost any 5 items you have in your fridge and cupboard.

I have the world’s most interesting kid. He’s currently in his crib, singing rude pirate songs to help him go to sleep.

The toddlerism for “asswipe” is adorable.

I should have a thousand interesting and funny things to say.

It’s very hard to do enough things to make an interesting entry about when you only GET three good hours in a day. On days when I don’t have Owen at home, I use them to keep the house up. It’s amazing how much crap two and a half people can generate. With Sweet Hubby working two jobs to make up for the one I’m NOT currently working, and the insurance company that needs six weeks to even THINK about a claim, well, SOMEONE has to do it. On days when I DO have Hurricane Owen at home, I use them to keep up with HIM.

Also got a notice in the mail from the Tax department yesterday, for both Sweet Hubby and myself saying that our taxes for 2002 have been reassessed, and they’ve re-categorized our earnings from the now defunct Ontario Renaissance Festival. You owe us $1645.00. You have until March 16 to pay. I have an issue with this, since, with the taxes already PAID on those earnings, we’ll now pay more in taxes than we earned. TRY getting through to the 1-800 number to file an appeal. It’s an endurance contest all by itself.

Our hard drive, sensing that we’re living on our overdraft, suddenly realized that its warranty had expired a month ago and fried itself. So now I’m living with a semi-retarded 20 that has enough brains to connect to the Internet, but not much else. Kind of a drooling lobotomized version of my usual PC. All music files all gone, all photos all gone…

A close friend I care greatly for is struggling with life a bit, but unable to bring themselves to get the help they need. I can’t force them, but can’t abandon them either, it’s not in my idiom. So I have a front row seat to watch someone I love fall apart. It’s making my heart hurt.

The other shoes I’m still waiting to hear drop:

A cat must become seriously ill while we can least afford to vet it.

A car must break, seriously.

Something must catch fire.

Someone must get a very expensive traffic ticket.

I’d drink, but with my liver self-destructing, I can’t.

With time and perspective, I’m sure this will all sound very funny to me, but right now it’s a big pile of crap threatening to topple over and bury us all at any minute. I’m shoveling for all I’m worth, and it doesn’t seem to make a bit of difference.

Off to go try to nap while baby is quietly trying to pronounce the word “bastard” as he’s falling asleep, then, hopefully, out for a walk with him while the sun is shining. Sweet Hubby is at work all day.

Thank you to all who sent funnies. You brightened my morning considerably.

Addendum: Toddler has decided naps are for losers.

He can now say, quite clearly; “You’re a bastard, your’re an asswipe, I’m a better man than you….”