motherhood and pain

I repeat and repeat the same things in my writing... so maybe this is it.
I have good days and bad days. All my days have pain. Maybe this is just it.
I can't imagine how we are going to approach the next step in finding another way to try to alleviate the pain. Allergies, reactions, hard drugs, going on and going off some really strong pain meds that didn't work for whatever reason.

Maybe this is it? Maybe there will be no pain control option? I actually have a consultation in Soroka on Sunday. I trust my pain doctor, Dr. Z, but I was given this appointment last year when I had no pain doctor. (this blog post is the reference to that issue. Look one paragraph from the end for when I said I actually was scheduled for this appointment. Wow, though- reading this post, there have been improvements, but the "is this it?" question is there, too.) Since the appointment was so far in the future, I went to the doctor in Jerusalem (Dr. D, who started me on Lyrica, for which I am soooo grateful), then changed to Dr. Z here. While I've been experimenting with Methadone, my Soroka appointment caught up. It is now Sunday. I'll go... what have I got to loose? Another opinion is just that; another opinion. Take it or leave it. Perhaps there is something new under the sun?

My good days are really good. They often start with a swim. I am totally available for my children, although I find it extremely hard to absorb all of their trials. I am not good at letting it roll off me; my kids problems effect me deeply. But I am there for them. I drive to & fro all the time, I help with homework, I cook healthy meals and I give everyone individual love, however it is that they need it. I laugh with all of them. They crack me up, all of them with senses of humor and idiosyncrasies that are so fresh and miraculous.
My good days are just so delicious and full in body and heart.

There are a lot of un-good days. My health issues bog me down. I have heavier pain, my body feels sick. I don't get to the pool. I feel like only half a mother, half a partner. Those are really hard feelings. There is often a babysitter on those days, and my kids come visit me in the bedroom. I have said it so many times, I do not want to be the mother who's kids think of as sickly.

Today Ya'akov and I were both down with fevers. In one way, it was comforting to know that my illness is common; if he has it too, so I'm off the hook for something exotic. In another way, though, I always have that private world going on inside my head. It is the PTSD world, where body memories of what happened to me are still quite alive and active.

It goes like this: This past Sunday I had a few moles excised from my body. Nothing much, very quick in-office procedures, a few stitches for each one, and I was out in 15 minutes.
But cutting and stitches throw me back to "the zone"... of PTSD. Then the fever comes along, after I had already gotten rid of a virus a few days earlier, and HUGE amounts of paranoia settle in for a picnic. I asked Ya'akov twice today to check the incision on my back it make sure it wasn't looking red and infected. (it's not. Both incision spots are fine.)
It is all so fresh on the surface still, even after four years. All of it. It was so unbelievable. Did all that insanity really happen to *me*? My body remembers all too well, and so does my soul.
I notice that the mole which was excised from my chest is in a small cluster of tiny scars which used to be my central line stitched in. That mole excision scar will fit right in.

The fever lasted all day today, with no other symptoms. It is what it is. Reading back in blogs, I get low-grade fevers quite often, don't I. It is part of my "gestalt" now, I guess.

But is this really it? I want to be the good mother I've turned into and be healthy and strong as well. Could it be that I can 'let go, live and love' precisely *because* I have health problems which force me to slow down, be lighter-hearted and laugh with my kids?

It's a possibility, isn't it.