While Americans may join a hiking club, in England and Canada, rambling clubs are taking to the trails! How perfect is that for my series of rambling posts with tidbits and doodads that don’t deserve their own posts. I welcome you to join my rambling club. They’re typically named after the nearest city, but we’re not constrained by geographic limitations. One title I saw in my research (I googled the word rambling to see what came up. I was running out of plays on the word rambling.) was Reading Rambling Club, associated with Reading, England. So there it is. C’mon, join my club. Membership goes to anyone who reads my blog, particularly my piecemeal posts, such as this.
Woot Woot! I had a great doctor visit. For a very long time, maybe 20 years? every fasting blood sugar and A1C tests have been prediabetic. I’d also had gestational diabetes with one pregnancy, which is known to be a risk for diabetes. My dad was diabetic, too. Thus, every time I have a blood test it’s fraut with apprehension, although I don’t take active steps to avoid it, either. Just waiting to deal with it when I end up diabetic. (so stupid) Yesterday, I had my annual exam and they checked my A1C immediately upon my entry to the exam room. I wasn’t forewarned in order to work myself into a dither. When the doctor entered, she smiled and announced, “Your A1C is great! Not even prediabetic!” to which I raised both fists and cheered. We certainly didn’t expect that! I’m back to not eating chocolate or candy, which I used to gobble with little restraint. It wasn’t a strategy to stave off high blood sugar; it was a matter of exercising my self-control muscle. Lowering the sugar is a great bonus.
Countdown to my mother-in-law moving in has begun. ETA is September 7, 2022. My husband is in the thick of painting, rearranging rooms, and putting new carpet in the family room and her bedroom. Round about Labor Day Weekend, he’ll head down to Kern River Valley area in California, an hour up a gnarly canyon east of Bakersfield. Deadline has been established for when my mother-in-law has to be out of the home she just sold. I’m grooving on through it at this point. If my feathers get ruffled, I share that with my husband but I’m pretty sure he’s getting tired of fussing with my eider down. Breathing. Change is hard for everyone.
Physical therapy is moving to a home program, and counseling changing to bi=weekly, due to her situation, not mine. For this open future, I’m constructing scaffolding on which I plan to encourage a more positive slant on my circumstances as well as continuing to unfold, which began at the conclusion of the disability hearing. Do I want a routine? Should I go with the flow? A mix? Invariably, when I fix myself to an expectation of this activity or that, a fibro symptom recurs and responding to it dictates how I’ll spend my time. So, instead of deciding how I’ll spend my time, I’ll need to approach this differently. You know I’ll write about that journey.
Last night, I slept for 12 hours, 8:00 pm to 8:00 am. It really does feel like I’m recovering from stressing out about the disability hearing for months ahead of time, seriously heightened in the immediate approach, and excruciating for the actual hearing and the aftermath. I want to shed all of that, particularly because my claim was denied. Gonna let that shit go!
All of you are invited to join this Reading Rambling Club! Writing and posting more frequently are part of my scaffolding, for sure. Getting out on my blog trails energizes me and posting the result provokes a sense of contentment. Thanks for being a member of the Reading Rambling Club.
SurvivingSara 