So this was the weekend. The weekend my husband and I would spend a night away from home. It has been six years since we were able to do it last. Six years ago we only had one child. In that span of time we had three more children and life got much more complicated.

It’s the added stress of a son with complex medical issues and my own chronic illness that made a small getaway so important to us. My husband and I arranged this special weekend months ago and we have been talking about it ever since. We have been dreaming about uninterrupted sleep, a schedule free of obligations, and most importantly, much needed time alone. I have been begging for a weekend away for a couple years now. I think the guilt of being away from home and asking someone else to care for the kids, especially one with special circumstances, kept us from following through. It has also been hard to set aside money to fund a weekend away. We were determined this time and we set a little money aside and took family up on their offers to spend the weekend with our kids.

Unfortunately, my RA had decided it too wanted a vacation. It reared it’s ugly head Saturday morning. The pain was so intense that it took me twice as long to do my usual morning preparations. Door knobs and car doors looked more like thorns and sandpaper. During what felt like a grudge match with my make-up and curling iron, it struck me that I may have to cancel our long awaited get away. We weren’t going far, only twenty minutes from home, but when experiencing that much pain, it’s hard to leave the comforts of home.

I decided I wasn’t going to cancel although I was disappointed and upset that I had to be in so much pain on such an anticipated day. I had to understand that I can take a vacation, illnesses don’t. I was upset because I thought my illness should. So despite the setbacks, we enjoyed our time together. We came home early the next day because I was too sick. We came home before lunch and I fell asleep on my chair.

I realized I wasn’t *d* with Rheumatoid Arthritis and Fibromyalgia, I was *d* living along side those diseases. I didn’t want to make room for either in my life. I was trying to set myself apart from the diseases in hopes that I would get better and it would just be “me” again. It’s all quite silly because my son has an incurable illness we have learned to accept. My problem is denial. On our last overnight stay six years ago we stayed near an amusement park and I was riding roller-coasters, walking long distances and I took no medication. Six years passed and changed very quickly. I’m not sure how I’ll finally accept sharing my life with these diseases.. maybe I never will.

That’s the way life is, things change and we have to learn to live with those changes we can’t do anything about. My grandmother had to adjust to life alone after my grandfather passed away. She learned to drive his lawnmower and drive herself where she needed to go because he wasn’t around to do those things with her anymore. It’s been a hard two years but she is adjusting. I have always thought of my grandmother as a strong person. Among many things, she is a beast cancer survivor but you’ll never hear her complain. I know I want to be more like her. Both she and my mom are strong women, and it’s usually not by choice. They have been forced to make room for the unexpected trials of life

This weekend had a good lesson for me; keep going despite the unexpected. I didn’t expect to be in terrible pain the day of our departure, but I can never anticipate what days will be the most difficult. I have to keep trying to enjoy what I can, when I can. I was in a lot of pain the entire weekend but I wouldn’t trade a minute of the time I got to spend with my husband.

I guess I need to think about whether I make room for the unexpected  gracefully or make it come by force; either way it’s coming. I like it when I can do it with something to look forward to or at least with a smile on my face.

*d*