Writing these dairies is becoming more difficult for me as time goes on. The situation with my health is wearing on me and I am finding it impossible to be creative. I realize this is probably due to the frame of mind I am in, but it is annoying none the less. It is becoming harder to find humor in my situation. The daily grind of dizziness, nausea, pain, fluid retention, etc. makes me want to find a hole to crawl into and pull it in after me. If I was a member of my family, I would be so very tired of living with a person who was constantly sick with a no name brand of illness. It must truly be a chore living with a chronically ill person who is boring, uninteresting, unenergetic, unimaginative and constantly on the verge of collapsing in utter exhaustion.

My husband certainly deserves kudos for the constant he has been in my life.  I am usually asleep when he leaves for the office in the mornings. If by chance I am awake, I am about as coherent as a beached whale. I no longer participate in running our business. Seeing me in all my “glory” would shock the customers speechless. Suppers are non events at our house. I make them but as simply as possible. A housekeeper comes into our home for 6 hours a week. I am afraid this place would have been condemned by the health department if the cleaning was left up to me. When my husband comes home from work, he certainly does not find a partner capable of stimulating conversation or brimming with exciting ideas.  My husband is an early riser and goes to bed accordingly. After battling with my cramping, crawling legs, I finally go to bed hours later. During the night I am like a yo yo; sleep for an hour and a half and then up for an hour. This man never complains about what I am sure must be many disruptions to his sleep.

With all my medical problems, I am so blessed that I have someone that continues to come home day after day to put up with my by now boring and never ending medical problems. I am so blessed to know that I can trust this man not to desert what must certainly feel like a sinking ship.

All this has led me to wonder if doctors ever think about the consequences an undiagnosed illness has upon a family? Do they ever think about the stresses, worries and hardships these families have to endure? If doctors actually have sufficient brain cells for these thoughts to cross their minds, do they care? My experience shows me that doctors have insufficient memory to process any thought patterns that might include the feelings and worries of a patient; certainly not enough memory to process any thought patterns that might include the feelings and worries of the patient’s family.

Last night was the first time I used my new CPAP machine. I, of course, had hoped for miracles even though the doctor at the sleep clinic had told me he did not think it would help. The adrenaline rushes woke me up three times between 1:00 AM and 6:30 AM. I may have had a deeper sleep during the few times I actually slept. Time will tell.

This morning I received a phone call from No Name’s clinic advising me that their holter monitor for blood pressure was broken so they would have to reschedule my appointment. I stressed to the nurse that I was very anxious to do this 24 hour blood pressure monitoring because my blood pressure was fluctuating so much. She told me they would try to have it fixed by my Friday morning appointment with No Name. I find my self getting more and more impatient with delays. After 4 years of waiting, maybe I have a right to get annoyed.

Grandson and I had our fourth breakfast picnic this week. It is wonderful to spend this quiet time with him. His subjects of conversation are very interesting. He is growing up so fast! Too fast.