Page 30 of Drop Shot
“Yeah.” I follow her out of the alcove. “Do you need a ride?”
“I took an Uber here. I can just get another.”
Shaking my head, I grab her elbow to steer her to follow me to where I parked. “I’ll drop you off.”
“Are you sure?”
I wave away her concern as I drop her elbow. “Positive. Besides, this way I can see Craig.”
She adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “I’m beginning to feel used for my cat.”
“It’s not my fault she loves me.”
Laughing, she puffs out, “Whatever you say.”
CHAPTER 9
WHIMSY
Waking up,a groan rips out of me. My bodyaches. I know I’ve been pushing it lately—but frankly I’malwayspushing it, and I guess that’s my problem. It’s like subconsciously I’ve convinced myself that if I keep pushing myself, keep pretending I don’t have lupus, that somehow, I can magically will it away. But that’s not how it works.
I take a deep breath, slowly sitting up in bed. Craig eyes me from the opposite side with an expression that seems to sayyou should know better.
And I do, I really do.
I saw all the signs of a flare up coming—my joints swelling, particularly in my fingers, feeling more tired than normal, and more hair than usual swirling down the shower drain.
Lucky for me, Elias doesn’t have a match today, but the semi-finals are tomorrow so that means I need to spend the day resting up as much as I can. That way hopefully tomorrow won’t be too hard on me.
The first thing in order?
A very long, scalding hot shower to hopefully ease some of the ache.
I turn the shower on and wait for it to warm. Checking my phone, I see that I’ve slept in later than usual. I need the rest, and it’s not like I have any real work to do at the moment, but I crave routine so waking up late is a bit of an annoyance.
Checking the water, I find it warmed to my liking. Stripping off my clothes, I climb inside and audibly sigh as the warm water sluices over my stiff and aching muscles.
It took years before I finally got my lupus diagnosis.
Doctors said to my face numerous times that there was nothing wrong with me. I was too young. Too otherwise healthy. And—in my opinion—too female. It’s disgusting how little care and concern is given to women from medical professionals. Men act like they’re on their death bed with a cold, and I had a disease wreaking havoc on my body and was basically told that my pain was imaginary.
While finally having the diagnosis has been great in many ways—actual medication and doctors taking what I tell themslightlymore seriously—it’s also been hard dealing with the fact that I’m not even near thirty yet and I have a disease with no cure.
There are no words for the harsh reality it is to realize that your own body is a prison you can never escape.
Finishing my shower, I get out and dress in loose comfy clothes and scoop Craig under my arm so I can make some coffee. Under normal circumstances I might go to a Pilates class, or at least put a yoga video on the TV to follow along, but with a flare up I don’t plan on doing any of those things.
Craig sits on the counter, tail swishing as I add creamer to my steaming mug of coffee. I’d prefer an iced coffee, but I’m not leaving the condo to get one and I’ve learned my lesson on making them myself. They always end up too watery, even when I stick the coffee in the fridge to cool down or make my own coffee ice cubes.
“Let’s have a girl’s day. Hmm. How does that sound?” I scratch the cat behind the ears and she purrs, leaning into my touch for more.
Grabbing my coffee in one hand and Craig in the other, I scurry over to the couch and settle in with my favorite pastel pink blanket and turn the TV on in search of either some mindless TV or a movie to watch.
I’ve only just gotten comfy with one of my favorite guilty pleasure reality shows playing when a text message comes through from Elias.
Elias: What are you doing?
Me: Watching TV. Did you forget to stock toilet paper again or something?
