I suddenly felt so tired that I wanted to lay down on the hospital bed next to my husband, right there in the ER and fall asleep. For days. And I was angry. So angry. The anger and the tired mixed together until I couldn't tell them apart anymore.
I'm tired. I'm tired of hospitals. I'm tired of hardship. I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of people around me being sick and not knowing why. I'm tired of doctors who don't try enough or don't care enough to find the answers.
I'm tired of my health. I'm tired of being fat and having hormonal problems and not knowing why. I'm tired of being the one to tell my doctors which tests to run because for some reason they don't care enough to do it on their own. They don't want to figure out what's wrong with me. They just want to give me Clomid or Birth Control Pills or whatever other drug to treat the symptoms. They aren't thinking about my future.
I'm tired of hearing my husband talk about diseases he thinks he has. I'm tired of hearing him describe them to someone else as if he has already been diagnosed. I'm tired of other people looking at him like he's crazy to talk like he has this crazy-ass rare illness, and seeing them think that his symptoms are obviously just a coincidence. Most of all, I'm tired of the fact that even though I don't think it's a great idea to diagnose yourself online, last time he did that and got tests done, HE WAS RIGHT. How can I begrudge him for looking when in the past he's found things, serious things, that the doctors overlooked?
I'm tired. I'm tired of thinking everything is starting to go okay, that maybe we'll make it, and then something else pops up. I'm tired of reminding myself that life isn't fair. I'm tired of trying to prevent myself from having a pity party. I'm tired of keeping my stress and my emotions in because there are people that have it way worse off than I do. I know that there are, but that doesn't make me feel better about the place I'm in right now.
I'm tired of looking for a job. I'm tired of wondering if we'll have enough money to pay the rent next month. I'm tired of thinking about things like whether if we moved into an even smaller place, like an apartment with no yard, if it would be worth it. I'm already tired of the job that I'm about to take at a call center answering people's questions about their effing cell phone bills.
I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of wondering where we're going to be in a year. I'm tired of wondering how and when we will ever manage to get back on our feet. I'm tired of people around me being sick. I'm tired of people I know dying. I'm tired of the pain that people cause each other. I'm tired of the way people treat each other.
I'm tired. When will I be able to rest?
Update: I wrote this post on Thursday night after getting home from our first weekend trip to the ER. Long story short, Justin was sick after Thanksgiving dinner, then again on Friday evening with another trip to the ER. I'm not going to re-hash everything, just say that he's fine and not taking his ADD meds anymore (Adderal), because they think that was causing bad reactions. We're making more doctor appointments tomorrow. I was so exhausted this weekend that I could not function, and my Mom ended up taking Sam all day Saturday and overnight and all day Sunday.
We're okay now. I'm out of the place I was in on Saturday morning, which wasn't good. After getting a couple of days of actual REST and a really good night of sleep, I'm happy to have Sam home with us again.