Dear Diary,
Today is okay. It is raining--again--of course. There is a preschool holiday potluck party that we have to go to today. H said we should just skip it, but the kids like the cheesy magician, and they've been practicing "Feliz Navidad" nonstop, so I said we should let them get it out of their system (it takes patience to hear them butcher the song over and over again).
I still have some pain in my back and joints, and the skin on my hands looks like that of the living dead, but at least my pounding headache is gone for now. And I'm not eating like a toothless 90-year-old anymore (prunes and congee).
I keep telling myself that I should feel lucky to be able to get treatment--and without the hassle of dealing with insurance companies--but it's hard to feel lucky when you feel like crap. Like it's hard to smile and say, "Goddamn, I am sooo freakin' lucky that I feel like one big giant boiling mutant," but I suppose it is true that I am lucky.
Anyhoo, I'm also lucky that I have a husband who cares for me, kids who sing "Jingle Bells" (and butcher that too) to make me happy, parents who are willing to come to help out, in-laws who help out in more ways than they believe, and friends who make me laugh over the phone, email, and Facebook. For all that, I truly do feel lucky.
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