Last week was a tough week.

It began with my phone completely failing and then the replacement phone that Apple sent me (so kindly ~ the full cost equalling a pending charge on my credit card) *also* not working.

Then we moved into a hurricane.  No big thing.  Just eight hours (give or take) without power and many, many road closures and floods.

Following that brilliant beginning, I was lucky enough to enjoy my very first colonoscopy (preceded, obviously, by the truly wonderful prep I had heard so much about).

We had some fun challenges along the way (my mammogram, meant to happen on Monday, being rescheduled for the second time because, really, no one stresses about lumps in their breasts, amiright?!? Then nearly being late for the colonoscopy and endoscopy because a major road was closed and no phone lines were working at 6:30am;  I mean, I’d sign up for another round of prep, wouldn’t you?).  In the end the mammogram happened (albeit this week), we got power back and I survived the most evil night of gatorade drinking known to man. Barely.  (But barely counts).  Additionally, after about eight hours on the phone with Apple and Verizon it was discovered that we were sent an AT&T phone … so, while painful and time-consuming in ways that cannot adequately be articulated, in the end my phone was fixed as well.  Woof.

I often have moments of such utter and extreme fatigue that the only logical way to cope is to cry.  Everything hurts; my head, my body, my eyes.  Everything.  Last week brought me to my knees so many times, I lost count.  And it was just life — not MS.  Which, y’know, likes to jump on bandwagons and make things better.  (Ha).  On Thursday morning I was so delirious from lack of sleep my whole body was shaking uncontrollably.  I just could not get warm.  It took me until Sunday night to start to feel like a human being again.  Even after meds on Friday morning.

It’s very easy to give into the frustration, the anger.  Trust me, I had some moments.  (Like when Verizon’s chat just stopped responding …).  I tried to remind myself that being angry wasn’t actually helping a single situation.  I could be mad about drinking spiked gatorade on an emply stomach, nearly vomitting many times and being unable to sleep or lie down for more than 20 minutes at a time.  But in the end, I had to do it.  I knew that it was the smart decision (my family history of colon cancer = not good.  At all).  I also knew that no amount of anger would change the phone situation.  I just had to keep working the problem until a solution was found.  And eventually … it was.  Power outtages and extreme weather are always jolting (especially if you have a high strung dog who freaks out ABOUT EVERYTHING).

It’s an exercise to let go.  It’s a practice.  It’s something I just keep trying, over and over and over again.  Sometimes I succeed.  Sometimes I fail.  Sometimes I just thank God I’m somehow still alive despite everything.

The bad weeks will keep coming.  The good weeks will keep coming.  If I’m lucky and if I give a little effort, I’ll be able to take a deep breath and step back and recognize everything for what it is.  But it will never get to be easy.  I think it will always be a conscious effort to take the emotion out and understand what I’m wading through.  Cuz when it feels like shit, and it smells like shit, it’s hard to think it isn’t, in fact, shit.

xox, g