Day 93 of 365

It's been 23 years exactly.

23 years since our one and only child was born. It wasn't meant to be that way. We planned on having several kids, but things don't always work out as planned.

We tried for many years and wound up with nothing but two ectopic pregnancies that never made it past the first couple months. Then any chance to have more kids ended when I had to have a hysterectomy when I was 30. We briefly considered adoption, but my husband nixed that quickly. He had seen plenty of students in his high school classes who were adopted, struggling to find who they were and where they came from, that he had absolutely no interest in being part of that heartache.

So our one girl was all we would ever have. There's a perception that only children are spoiled. In one respect, that is true. But we learned early not to spoil her with "stuff". We never bought her a car, a cell phone, an ipod, or a computer. We spoiled her with experiences and opportunities. Museums, camps, trips and travel. Before she went to college, we had made sure she'd visited all 50 states. She's been on two cruises. She's driven on the beaches of Texas, swam in the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans and the Gulf of Mexico. She's played in volleyball tournaments around Idaho, Utah, and Nevada. She's snorkeled in the waters of Alaska and hiked a volcano in Hawaii.

At 23 it's getting to the point where she'll start paying for her own experiences and opportunities. What we will continue to do, though, is make her feel special on her birthday. Special with a few presents, a good homemade barbecue dinner of her choosing (steak, grilled onions, garlic bread, and asparagus, baked potatoes, and salad). Special with a cake decorated by her mommer (me).

I didn't spend the amount of time I should in decorating it, but it'll do for the three of us. I'm taking what my horoscope said today to heart. "Don't beat yourself up for not being perfect!"

And kiddo, remember that for yourself too. Happy Birthday!

Exercise update: Today was 47 days in a row. I've been down with the flu all week so it's been difficult to exercise every day, but I did it. I cut back on the amount of time I usually bike, so the total biked this week was only a little over 15 miles.

Day 92 of 365

I keep drawing these lines in the sand. And I keep moving them.

First it was the handicapped placard for the car. Long before I had my knee replacement the joint had deteriorated to bone on bone. I went more than a year that way, limping and in a lot of pain. Even going from the parking lot into the doctor's office was tough. Once in a while I would make some comment about how parking in the handicap spot might help some.

But I had no intention of ever doing that. I drew a line in the sand. In no way would I ever get a handicapped placard. I am not handicapped. I will not ever consider myself bad enough to park in one of those spots.

Except the pain kept getting worse and worse. And the walk from the car to the doctor's office, or the grocery store, or work, became more and more painful.

So with the encouragement of my family, I got up the nerve to talk to the doctor about it. The line in the sand was moved when the doctor said, based on my knee, that I absolutely needed one.

When it arrived in the mail, I again drew a line in the sand when I refused to use it.

More pain, more difficulty in walking, and the insistence from my daughter that I use it. So I started to park in the handicapped spot - only sometimes - thus moving the line again.

Then I drew a line in the sand about using a cane. Nope, never will I use a cane at work. If I'm that bad off, I'll quit working. Except I had things to do at work. And as the bones began to wear down more and more my leg started to become deformed.

I had to use a cane to get me around. Moved the line.

Then came the shots for arthritis. Would I ever give myself my own shots? Nope, never. I'm drawing the line there, doctor.

Two months ago my pain, swelling, and stiffness was keeping me from being functional and I was desperate. There goes another line moved.

Thank goodness it's a prefilled syringe that I push down and click, so there's no looking at the needle. There's no way I could ever give myself a shot where I had to measure it myself and watch the needle go in. That is definitely my very last line in the sand. I will not budge.

But that line has been crossed. I give myself weekly injections of Methotrexate. I have to measure it, I have to watch the needle go in.

I can't believe it's come to this. I can't believe this is my life.

I can't believe I have to, in addition to all of the other medications I take, do this. Do this to be able to get out of bed. To be able to type. To be able to tie my shoes, ride an exercise bike, open a jar. To just get through the day.