Certain Types of Magic

I feel drained right now.

J's aunt passed away last Wednesday; her services were Sunday and Monday. She would have been 49 yesterday.
As with any major family event, there were a few fights and unnecessary drama, but we generally remembered the good times. J's family had a real "Irish wake" that lasted all week, finally slowing down last night when we went out for dinner to celebrate her birthday. Someone must have recognized the family because an anonymous donor put $100 towards our bill, how amazing is that?

I had a biopsy last Thursday. Not only do I have zero rejection, I got to discontinue 5 pills a day plus the hateful 4-times-a-day mouthwash. My steroid dose continues to be reduced, plus they switched me from regular to baby Aspirin. I've been taking melatonin to help me sleep at night, and it helps me fall asleep, but I'm still working out how to stay asleep or get back there if I wake up for any reason during the night.
I'm thrilled to pieces that my bowels seem to be returning to somewhat normal. I practically call J into the bathroom to bear witness every time I go...I even went an entire day without taking a dump, which I haven't done since being on the good pain stuff in the hospital.

However, I'm still tired most of the day on most days. It's so frustrating because I would love to go to yoga more often, do errands, clean the house, even read, but I don't have the energy or drive. Not to mention I still get shakes and occasional dizziness so I'm not wild about getting behind the wheel. Today I had planned on doing the groceries and taking a yoga class, but instead I flopped around in bed for a few hours after waking up at 9am and have been watching House, barely keeping my eyes open, since then.

I miss J a lot during the day, and I hate how his last-minute work ethic and ADD makes him take three times longer than anyone else to do his homework, but I try to keep it to myself because he needs to go to work and school so he can pay our bills. I feel bad because he ends up doing a lot of the housework, too, since I'm basically worthless for anything but creating a depression in the couch cushions. He gets frustrated because I should be able to do more...and I WANT to do more, and I don't understand why I'm so tired all the time. I had more energy when my doses of the drugs that should cause fatigue were higher. Granted, I've been under a lot of stress in the last few weeks (not as much as he's been under for the last several months, I'm not that self-centered), but I can't make sense of the difference between what I plan to do, what I wish I could do, and what I have the energy to do. I try to keep the attitude that eventually I will feel normal again. It's not easy.

I'm not much for sports, but I'm glad UConn won the basketball. Not only did I win my bracket pool (it was 5 people...I think my ex-roommate has to buy me a bottle of wine now; not exactly major stakes) but I know it meant a lot to my Dad and brother. Dad especially put a lot of faith in "Husky Magic"- ie repeating quotes from the coach ad nauseum and refusing to take the elevator (because the coach said the team "takes the stairs" which would be interpreted by a normal person as a metaphor). My brother is just a huge huge fan of the team; I know he's been kind of wacked since I was diagnosed with the genetic condition; his tests are coming back looking good but he's still nervous about it. Anything that takes his mind off it for a few hours is good to me.