Be Nice, Infertile Myrtle! Be Nice!

The crazy, bitter Infertile Myrtle of yesterday has now left the building. Children, it is safe to come out of hiding now...
Like I said, I figured I would be over it soon enough, and I am. And actually I have been taught a lesson. See, after my ranting and raving yesterday, I went to bed. Hubbie had already gone to bed and was completely hogging the covers. (Generally, I'm the one hogging the covers, so I'm not holding this against him)! Being a sometimes-good person and seeing how cute Hubbie looked snoring away all wrapped up in 4-layers of blankets (a 4-layer dip, haha), I decided to make do with this little blanket I affectionately call my woobie. Apparently, some time in the middle of the night however, I found myself freezing cold, didn't feel like a good person anymore, and Hubbie wasn't looking so cute, so I attempted to reach over and steal away some of the covers. Well, as I was trying to steal the covers, somehow I managed to pinch a nerve or something which actually caused me to yelp in pain. Then when I woke up in the morning I discovered that it had gotten worse. Now trying to hold anything heavier than 2 ounces causes this spot just under my right shoulder blade to throb with pain or also doing anything small with my right hand (like brushing my teeth or hair, or even typing) also causes sharp pains in that spot. And I can't run around flapping my arms like a bird. I don't know how I possibly could have caused such damage by just trying to steal a blanket or two, so my conclusion is that this is punishment for the mean things I said yesterday. Lesson learned: Being mean is literally a pain in the neck!
But don't worry about me being in pain, dear readers, as long as I can still reach out and bring handfuls of the yummy treats to my mouth that neighbors and friends have given me so far, I'll be okay!

A Moment of Ranting and Insensitivity

**I have edited/deleted much of this post. The bitter feelings that I previously expressed have been gnawing at my conscience. The person who I lashed out at didn't deserve the attack, and I'm sorry for the words I said and hope that I can be a better person from here on out!
I'm realizing that infertility is like a tiger. There are times when I think I've got it tamed and under control, and then there are times when it really shows its teeth and tries to eat me alive. Because a tiger, no matter how tame, is still a tiger after all. Sorry!

Bring It On!

I realize that I haven't blogged for awhile. I would like to believe in my fantasy world that there are thousands of disappointed readers out there just waiting for my next blog entry, but in reality I know I'm the one who has really been missing it. =)
Well, life has been interesting. My poor dog, Gimli, is finally on the mends. It has been a month and a half saga for the poor guy-pain, a messy house, running home from work to let him out, multiple times during the night getting up to let him out, loads of laundry, weeks spent at the vet's, worry, and exhaustion. Hubbie and I have been walking around like zombies! And poor Gimli was getting the worst of it. A sad but funny story. A few weeks ago, Hubbie was really struggling with whether or not we had made the right choices in having Gimli get the operation(s). His problem was that we had spent all of this money and put the poor dog through so much and was it for our own selfish purposes or for the dog's best interests? He made a comment that Gimli wasn't the same dog anymore-he just mopes around the house; he's in pain; he's back and forth to the vet; and when was the last time he brought his bear to show us and play with or when was the last time he tried to climb up on our lap? Hubbie then said that maybe we should have just put him down in the first place. Well, during this conversation, Gimli was lying in the hall and heard the whole thing, and I truly believe he understood the whole thing. Hubbie had to go to a meeting, but when he got back a couple hours later, Gimli dashed for his bear and went loping up to Hubbie to show him the bear. Then later that night, at dinner, Gimli jumped up and tried to climb onto Hubbie's lap. It was as if Gimli were trying to say, "Hey! I'm still here! You better not even think of getting rid of me!" Finally, after more vet visits than I like to think about, a visit with a specialist, and more drugs than a pharmacy, Gimli is feeling and looking so much better. He's back to his old, mischievious, loving, in-charge self. And it's wonderful!
Now granted, some people might say, "He's just a dog! Why would you possibly go through so much for just a dog?" In fact, someone did tell me that I should have just put him down. But I just couldn't do it at this point in my life. I'll fully admit that because of my infertility and lack of children of my own, I have showered all of my motherly affections on my dog. However, I think more than that, I just needed to hold onto some kind of hope. I needed something that I was hoping for to just work out for me.
So, the past couple of months have been stressful. With Gimli being sick, and Hubbie had the flu at one point, and he's been stressed with school and work and life...and ever since I had pneumonia, I've never really gotten totally better. After I got over the pneumonia, I had all sorts of stomach problems and found out that the antiobiotics I had taken, caused me to get an intestinal infection. Then I caught a cold. And then I had this hacking cough for awhile. And now I still wake up with a sore throat every morning. What I really think would make me better is a Caribbean cruise, but at this point, I'll take a few days of some good old fashioned rest and relaxation! On top of all of this, my car broke down last week--and not one of those cheap fixer-uppers either. It got to the point where I was just feeling so worn down that I got a little Rambo-ish. I felt like shouting out, "Bring it on!" to life. "I can take whatever you dish out!" At that moment, I could have followed a fire truck driving to my house and discovered my home engulfed in flames and just thought, "Oh, well." But then I got to thinking that my trials really aren't half or even an eighth as bad as some of the trials that others are facing right now--loss of employment, losing one's home in foreclosure, terminal illness, homelessness, death of a loved one--and then I mended my ways, apologized to life, and decided that I was okay with the trials that I have. I remembered that life truly is a gift and that I better start appreciating it. It's so easy to get focused on my own problems and then they look so big and I lose perspective of just how wonderful and blessed my life truly is. Because I really do have it pretty darn good!
However, I do hope that no one in my family minds that they are all get macaroni necklaces or macaroni portraits for Christmas...