Friday, August 12, 2016

I gotta say, things are really rough

Definitely a rough patch over here.

Very rough.

Yes, I know things could be much worse, so having acknowledged that, let's proceed.

Cleaning up after the robbery has been awful for me. I had no idea how difficult it would be. Robert has been helping, too, of course. It seems easier for him. He said he kind of has a layer of teflon; things roll off him easier than they do me. In general he takes life with less angst than I do. Thankfully.

I have been going very slowly with these messes the robbers left around the house. Mostly concentrating on my bedroom, which got hit the worst. It's a huge bedroom with a lot of stuff stored, it is a lot of work. At this point, I miss my organized house more than I miss the things which were stolen. Organization in your outer world helps in organizing your inner world. It's so true for me.

Every mess I tackle comes with anger, sadness, and a kind of repulsion that the robbers disgusting hands were on all my stuff. That's what everyone means when they say it's a huge violation.
I've had a few bikes stolen in my life, but in all the numerous apartments I've lived in, including inner city Boston, the poor side of Cambridge, and inner city Manhattan, I've never been robbed. I guess I've been lucky until now.

It'll get done. We are almost there.
Then we have to make a claim to our insurance, get reimbursed, and move on.

I'll miss the silver kiddush cup we had under our wedding canopy for our marriage kiddush (which we used every week for 18 years to make kiddush every Shabbat), all the children's "bechers" (silver kiddush cups without stems) with their names engraved on them from when they were born; my parents bought each one of them when the kids were born. The set of cute small cups from my brother Peter we use every Passover, our havdallah spice container, the kiddush cup from Robert's aunt to his grandfather (also sentimentally engraved), I could go on. Everything that was stolen was sentimental. Well, not everything, but many things. I won't even go into my jewellery. I'm sad about two things especially... an antique locket with diamonds on it; a gift from my father for my 16th birthday, a gold chain I bought with the first hundred dollars I made as a waitress at my first job in Boston; a symbol of my independence. You get the idea.

Again, my mantra these days... you can't take it with you.
I just buried my mom... that mantra is very poignantly with me these days.

On the headache front:

Not good. Pain is never good, unless you are giving birth. Which I'm not.

I saw my neurologist a few days ago. The good news is that the "thing" that the MRI showed is nothing to worry about. It's not what is causing my migraines, that's for sure.

So, we move on to medicine trials. Joy. I hate playing around with meds, trying new things. No choice, though. I can't keep showing up to the ER with blinding migraines.

I am now starting to lower the dose of one of my meds, and when it gets to a certain dosage, I should start on the new prescription for migraine prevention meds. Weaning off a medicine, again. It's never easy. This particular one, though, I am pretty convinced I no longer need. It just hasn't been evaluated in a long time, I've been on it for eight years. Time to go off it anyway. I pray the withdrawal isn't too crazy. Pray with me, OK?

The proposed new migraine medicine is something I have taken before, and I don't remember why it didn't work out. My neurologist wants to take a chance on it because everything is different now that I am off the Fentanyl, and off the daily analgesics. How I reacted before, he feels, has little or no bearing on how it'll be for me now. We'll see. Another "lab rat" few months ahead of me.

For now, I am dealing with the third day of a nagging headache, but not a migraine. Nothing is working to take it away, though. I just took my SOS steroid pills, hoping it won't turn into the migraine it feels like it's turning into.

Yeah, I'd call this a rough patch.
In a way it makes sense with Tisha B'av in a few days. Doesn't make it easier, though.

For today, Shabbat Shalom. I mean it with all my heart. Shabbat Shalom.


  1. Sorry you're going through so much.

    I identify with so much of the robbery part. When my apartment was broken into a couple of years ago, and my bedroom was left a total wreck (they dumped all the aronot on the floor and all over my bed), it took me over a month to get it back to any reasonable order. I, too, felt that the disorder was the worst part to deal with.

    I cleared off my bed, gathered together enough clean clothes to make it from laundry to laundry, and let the rest sit all over the place for days on end. Also lost lots of sentimentally important things.

    I kept on telling myself that I couldn't deal with the mess, but, little by little, I did.

    Wishing you better times.

  2. Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry. Sending big hugs. I hope things will get better soon.

  3. Hugs Sarah. Wish I could help in some way...

  4. Shabbat Shalom my dear friend.

  5. so sorry you went thru such a hard time coming back to your home. may you find comfort and joy being with your family, friends.