"Spoons? What the hell are you talking about, crazy lady?" says you, in a really snotty tone. I mean, really, we're one sentence in and you're already sighing and rolling your eyes. Aw, c'mon... there's going to be photos related to this down below. And maybe some illustrations!
You'll love the illustrations! I'm so talented.
Not at illustrating, just in general.
First, let me link you over to
The Spoon Theory by Christine Miserandino. Go on, go over there and read it. I'll wait here...
Hey, while they're over there reading the article, I'll just talk about the gist of it- you see, the "spoon theory" uses regular old spoons to demonstrate how people with chronic illnesses get through their days. You start out the day with X-number of spoons. Each task takes a spoon from you. Some days, you have a HUNDRED SPOONS and you never run out! Some days, you have no spoons and those days suck ever-so-hard (and not in the good way, know what I'm sayin'?). Some days, you have four spoons and the very act of getting out of bed takes a spoon. Walking down the stairs takes a spoon. Getting your breakfast takes a spoon. And you're down to one spoon and you haven't even gotten dressed yet. And guess what? Those hundred spoons you had the other day? Yeah, you don't get to keep those. They don't carry over like those rollover minutes on your outdated mobile phone plan.
What's all this got to do with me? Well, I'll tell you...
Welcome back, guys. Did you enjoy that article? I hope so. It made me cry the first time I read it. But then, yesterday, I cried during "Independence Day", so don't listen to me about things that make me cry. (it was the Russell Case scene when he says: "Do me a favor... tell my kids I love 'em..." and BAM! TEARS!).
For the record, crying takes a spoon.
But back to today! TODAY!
I was going to illustrate today's stuff in a series of photos. But, I ran out of spoons before I got to the photo part. I had to go to the store and that took all the spoons I thought I had.
So, let's get started.
Today, I woke up having a pain flareup. I struggled to sit up on the edge of my bed. It took two tries to turn off my alarm. I use my mobile phone as my alarm clock. And the alarm that wakes me up first is a
song by Steam Powered Giraffe. Hey, I like to wake up to a smile and SPG makes me smile. Especially that song.
This is a recreation of the event. I wake up early, before the sun is up. And when I got the idea for this blog, it was well into the daytime and I didn't feel like recreating it with a photo. Hence this lovely illustration. We have a reasonable facsimile of my room. A window with a dream catcher, me sitting on the edge with my red mobile phone. A lump in the bed representing the Disabled Guy.
I was rested, which is shocking, but I was in agony. All-over aching pain. I felt like I'd been thrown down a flight of stairs and stepped on. So, when I finally made it down the stairs- getting up and walking to the bathroom- one spoon and Putting on a T-shirt and yoga pants- one spoon (I sleep naked. Yeah, I'm naked in that illustration. How about
that, Internet?)... Where was I?
Oh, yes... when I finally got downstairs- which took about ten minutes- I did my morning usual: took my thyroid pill, and 20 minutes later, took my morning muscle relaxer. But today, I had a Vicodin chaser with that. About 45 minutes later, I got up to go take the rest of my stay-alive medicine (some asthma stuff, a couple water pills, a blood pressure pill, and some vitamins the doctor told me to take) and to get my breakfast (I had Raisin Bran). I felt good. I felt
really good! The muscle relaxer and Vicodin cocktail on an empty stomach
worked!
YES!
I HAVE ALL THE SPOONS!
Normally, on a flareup day, I end up going back to bed after breakfast. Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I don't. Okay, most of the time, I sleep. But today? No way, man. I didn't
need to sleep! Instead of stripping down and crawling back under my two fleece blankets, I stayed up. I took a shower.
I HAD ALL THE SPOONS!
*
photographic evidence of ALL THE SPOONS*
"Wait a minute," you say, "Is that a whisk?"
Yes, that's a whisk.
"I think I see a ladle." you tell me.
You do.
"And a spork. Is that a spork?"
Yes, it is. You see, when it comes to having ALL THE SPOONS, we don't discriminate. WE HAVE ALL THE SPOONS! AND A WHISK! AND A LADLE AND BY GOD, WE HAVE A
SPORK!
So, imagine my disappointment when, during my morning routine of blowdrying my hair and getting dressed, my spoons were being rapidly depleted. I don't know what happened. A task that was supposed to take one spoon was taking two. And I might have dropped one. All I know is that the spoons were gone by the time I had to drag myself to the store.
All the spoons...
And I no longer held them in my hand. No, they were gone. Sure, they look like they're on that table, but they're not. What happened to the spork? I have no idea. Even when I came inside, the spork was gone.
Instead of having ALL THE SPOONS, I was now being crushed by the spoons.
*
artist rendering*
By the time I was done dragging myself around, I decided to do the photos. And halfway through the two photos, I said: "To hell with this standing and moving thing, I'm going to draw some stuff in Paint."
And that brings us to now.
Today's spoons were an illusion. They were held up to me and I was toyed with and still managed to get to the store and I made chicken casserole for dinner. Because comfort food, goddammit.
When you think you have ALL THE SPOONS, make sure you do. And if your spoons are rudely taken from you as mine were today- don't mentally obligate yourself into doing tasks that take energy. Stick figures in Paint are just as good- IF NOT BETTER- than photographs.
Also, I made today's chicken casserole with fresh chicken. It really wasn't any extra work than using canned chicken. I suggest you give it a shot if you haven't already.
The worst part of losing today's spoons? I didn't have the energy to bake the cheesecake I was going to bake.
Dammit. DAMN YOU, SPOONS!
