Bed-bound again.

There are very few things I 'like' about having RA.  Actually, come to think of it, I can't come up with any - so I apologise for the blatant fib I opened this post with!  


I'm in bed for the fourth day straight (which is technically day 8, as Monday only gets an "out of bed" rating because I got up and went to work, though I only lasted part of the morning), and I'm in limbo.  I would dearly love to be getting some assignments done for uni, only my brain is too fogged out from the combination of pain and pain-killers (the exact ratios of which I'm not sure, but let's say 50:50).  I've tried to read a book, but I keep reading and re-reading the same paragraph over and over because I get distracted by the 50:50.  I've tried watching movies (they go too long, and my concentration span is that of a goldfish), TV (slightly better), and the back of my eyelids (easier said than done - I'm exhausted from poor quality and quantity of sleep, but getting comfortable enough to get any is quite the task).  Ultimately, I'm propped up in a semi-comfortable position, cat on the bed next to me (very put out she can't sit on me, but it's just too painful) and staring at the wall.  


When I have a lucid moment, I'm taking the opportunity to blog, to catch up on the emails I should have written ages ago, and carefully plotting my return to the real world when my body resembles normalcy again.  That was when I realised - for all my pain, for all the inconveniences and all the annoyances, and for all the things I can't do right now, there are many things I can.  


Stop.  
Breathe.  
Relax.  
Reach out. 
Take stock.  
Give thanks.  

They're things I must admit I tend to find on the lower end of my priority list when I'm "well", because I simply try to do too much in too little time.  I don't know about the rest of my RA counterparts, but I've always been a doer.  The kind of person who comes up with the idea, makes the plan, and executes it.  Usually in record time, mind you.  Being diagnosed with a chronic disease that robs you of your energy, physical strength and endurance, is pretty much tantamount to torture for people like me.  


So today, from the comfort of my bed, I am taking stock of all the good stuff in my life.  I am giving thanks for what I do have, and not worrying about the things I don't.  I am trying very hard to relax (those of you who understand severe pain will understand how difficult this really is), and I am reconnecting with people I should have kept in better contact with.  It may not be what I'd like to be doing today, or even what I should be doing today - but doing nothing simply isn't in my DNA.  


If you haven't ready it, Desiderata, by Max Ehrmann, is a very moving piece of writing that reminds us that we are human, and all a part of a much bigger picture.  My favourite lines are:

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

_____________

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.