I curl up in my nest and I write blog posts in my head. Wonderful blog posts, funny and sweet, with lots of pictures of all our adventures. I think I composed at least three to go with the snow days.
I have pictures of all the kids, and all their friends, and the snowman, and George eating snow… but by the time I had been up and out to take all the pictures, and enjoy the snow, and then navigated the piles of wet gear for the rest of the day, by the time I had a moment to actually sit up and type the blog post that was in my head, the words were gone. They had absolutely no resemblence to the thoughts that practically wrote themselves a few hours before, when I was snuggled with a napping George, resting up for supper.
Oh, I wish you could have read (because I wish I could have typed) my post about Sam and his two years of service to our church as an altar server for the Latin Mass. Sometimes it’s hard for Catholic homeschooled teenaged boys to find like-minded guys… I know a number of young men out there who feel like they’re the only ones like themselves… But I guess that post got lost to two chemo sessions scheduled too close together, which pretty much left me useless and brainless for a couple of weeks.
There are a few more that I just have to resurrect from the “write them in my head while I curl up in my nest file” though. My friend Tracy, her cookie parties and her conversations with all the bishops… Sam’s birthday, playing Headbandz, going bowling with George… updates on my health and wellness (or lack thereof 😦 )…
Maybe I need to start dictating posts to whichever child is keeping me company at any particular time… then they can put them on the blog, or just write them down so that at night, when I’m all used up and exhausted, all I have to do is type, and not think or remember.
And now we have another barrier to posting right while I’m thinking… the photo above is the view of my new machine from my perspective. That’s my nose in the very near foreground. I’m all wrapped up – from jaw to knee – front and back, all around, with high tech computer pressure sensor inflatable microtubes all put together with foam and velcro. You know I’ve struggled and struggled with lymphedema, which has worsened despite my very best efforts. Since I am now seriously immunosuppressed, it’s only through the direct intervention of God that I’ve not had to be admitted for lymphangitis infection this winter.
Well, right before Christmas, we found out that the company that makes the very most advanced lyphedema management pump was able to work it out with our insurance company to provide us with the whole computerized unit for FREE. This counts as a miracle in my book.
However, as you can see in the photo above, which Emily took of my arm and hand, I can’t exactly type (or knit, or talk on the phone, or rescue a dropped ipod, or get up to use the bathroom) while I’m doing my treatments, which last 60 minutes each. So there are more wonderful blog posts being generated in my head as the machine works… posts that by the time I get up, stiff and dazed, I’m in no shape to type out, much less edit and resize photos for.
There I am, all wrapped up, immobile and stuck. (and mostly bald) But even though the time requirements are intense, and it’s just one more thing that I need lots of physical help with, there has been improvement in my arm just since we started yesterday.
So back to the blogging concept. I NEED to blog. It connects me, it serves as a journal of my journey, and when I don’t post, people REALLY worry. But as my strength and energy dwindle, I need to find a better way. Let go of the perfectionism and just post words without pictures? Or just have one of the kids upload my favorite pictures, and every reader can make up their own story to go with them? Figure out how I can have blogging time somehow get magically carved out of the more energetic moments of my day?
I guess the other option would be to save my limited energy for just nesting with my children, and forget about writing about it? I don’t like that option, we have to be able to come up with something better. I’m open to suggestions. I’ve been WEEKS away from my blog, and I’m really sorry if I’ve worried you. The posts are there, just hiding inside my chemo-toxic, adrenally insufficient brain…
During tomorrow morning’s hour on the big pumper machine, I’m really going to think about this. How can I get back to investing the time and love into my blog that it deserves… meanwhile, I’m sorry it’s been practically a month without posting. Who knows, maybe I’ll surprise you and be right back at it tomorrow. Thank you for your patience with me.