wizard level unlocked

I haven't been very bloggy over here, have I? But I do have a few things that need to be noted.

natural red light from a heat lamp bulb, not edited

First off, still have hair, yay! Went through a month over the summer where I lost a bit again, have a couple of kinda bare patches, but I think those were the roots resting and now there is new growth coming in there again. I just can't believe it's this long. I don't think it's been this long in over ten years. Again, diet change. Cannot express enough what a difference dropping carbs and adding more protein and some healthy fats has made. No other special anything at all because I'm allergic to everything- can't use product, no special vitamins or natural treatments. Growth starts on the inside.

That is also my real skin. too. No makeup at all (except penciled eyebrows, stopped growing eyebrows years ago), never mask or exfoliate, no cover ups of any kind, just the barest bit of Johnson's baby lotion because, again, I'm allergic to everything. Several years ago I had to be crashed off birth control (and then crashed off my thyroid med for a couple of months), and after I went through all that, a gyno specialist told me I'd start to see some aging now. I was on birth control for about 25 years, and controlled hormones have a lot to do with skin anti-aging or something. He's right, I've seen a little aging since then, but other people can't tell because I'm supposed to look older than this. I'm the only one in my family who's been able to tolerate birth control (we're all PCOS), but it wreaked havoc with my blood pressure and we finally just couldn't control it any more with meds. HOWEVER. My skin did not look this good until the last couple of years. It looked very unhealthy and gross because my overall health wasn't good, which leads to the next paragraph.

My diabetes is more controlled than it's ever been because I've become so used to naturally watching what I eat. (Remember, a doctor pulled me off meds because I'm so med intolerant.) My fasting glucose regularly ranges from 84-96 without even trying, but I still spike real bad if I eat the wrong stuff, so I can't just munch out willy nilly. Because my blood sugar stays in the normal range throughout the day (rarely goes over 140 on a snacky day, usually 130 tops after eating, and I know this because I test), I continue to have a much easier time with headaches, joint pains, and whatever viruses are going around than I used to in the old days when I was more miserable all the time. Also, I've noted on this blog what a huge difference keeping my blood sugar down has made on my anxiety, which in the past has been noted many times as "severe". All these things being so positively impacted by diet control means I can handle getting through every day with far less medication nowadays, which is awesome, despite what I'm about to write in the next paragraph.

My fibromyalgia has always been documented as "severe", but over this last year, several assessments during therapy programs have noted a strong fibrotic response (scarring throughout my tissues) that will probably need to be maintained regularly (deep tissue work to keep it microfissured as my muscles harden), several areas down both arms that had developed nerve entrapment (requiring deep soft tissue work), and "moderate" to "significant" localized arthritis in my spine (requiring more core strength and flexibility training). So far nothing terrible or immediately worrisome (although hella painful), but definitely will cripple me back up if I don't stay on it. When I first started therapies about 4 years ago and saw improvement, I thought each improvement would be another solid step up, but I'm finding out that reconditioning and healing aren't permanent unless they are regularly maintained. If I don't want to be crippled again, like I was from summer 2007 to summer 2014 (yes, that's how long I was descending and fighting my way back out of complete immobility), it's up to me to stay on top of being able to keep moving for the rest of my life. I know from hard experience that not a single one of the handfuls of meds they had me on for years stopped any of that, and I wound up having to get off all that stuff just to become functional again. I'm happy to say this last year has been my most functional ever since 2004.

Bringing up 2004 opens the door for cognitive assessment, because that was the year I went through brain fail and finally had to quit work and could barely handle going back to college for one semester afterward. I went from brainiac to ignoramous in a few short weeks, thanks to a viral infection that hit my nervous system and affected brain function. I lived with severe brain fog and memory problems for years afterward, but over this last year have started seeing remarkable improvement in capability and function. I still go through some brain fog and short term memory deficit when I'm tired, but considering how difficult it was to string sentences together into paragraphs and make a single blog post around this time 3 years ago (I really like that post, I'm glad I wrote it, took hours), I feel like I'm in the fast lane now, even though I haven't yet gotten back to what I was capable of before 2004. What I'm saying is, the sentences fly out on their own now. I don't have to think about it any more. I still make loads of typos, but after several paragraphs fly out of my fingers, I just laugh now.

The next bit is my favorite. I haven't gone autoimmune all year. I even got permission from my doctor to try to go autoimmune, really push myself and see if I could flare up, and even though I hit a few hard walls, it just never happened. I still have to be careful about autoimmune hyper response around things that trigger allergic reactions, but so far so good, best year I've had in a very long time. I have to wonder if a lot of that is keeping my diabetes controlled. My body is healthier, so it's not falling all over itself over responding to stress and fatigue.

The reason I started this particular blog was because I needed some place to write the truth about the person behind the other blogs, where I do way more fun and distracting writing. I needed a place to practice learning how to say the hard stuff without being a drag. Over time it became a blog of hope. You guys really would not believe how crippled and ugly I got for several years. It was so terribly depressing, and I really did believe I was going to die soon. You know what? I decided I'm not dying yet. I'm not DONE yet. I have more to do, more to say, more to see and hear and know. I'm very lucky that we have internet nowadays to help me find information and figure out how to apply it to my own life.

I know it's hard. I know you might not believe me. But I also know there's hope. If you are not willing to give up what's killing you, that's your business and your choice. It's not a sin to die naturally from old age and illness and just getting worn out. But in case you aren't done yet, go back through this blog and follow me out of your hell. If you want this, you can do this. You've gotta want it more than anything. You'll have very hard days (but when do we not?) and feel discouraged (we feel that anyway) and sometimes you'll backslide (that part is really eye opening for seeing how far you've really come), but one day you'll wake up and go Wo, how. did. I. get. here???  I can breathe again, I can bend again, I can smile at people again. I can THINK again. There are some wonderful moments waiting for you down the hard road.

We can do this, guys.

middle of the night chronic spoonie lurker jackpot

Pix click out to other sites and sources. Some amusingly have nothing to do with what we're talking about.

I was very ill for about a year before I finally felt desperate enough to seek out medical help. I'd lost 75 pounds and hurt profusely all over, and felt like my spine was being microwaved, as if the spinal cord must have a fever. My first doctor was an ancient country doctor on the brink of retirement. My bloodwork inspired him to let me know I would be in a nursing home by 40, and that there was nothing that could be done. Then he prescribed the biggest jar of aspirin I ever saw in my life and told me to take it every day. About a couple of weeks into the aspirin I went through a full week of hallucinating and 'visions' and should probably have been in a hospital. I never went back to that doctor, and stopped the aspirin. I was in my mid 20s.

A few months after that I dragged myself into a city clinic and saw a real rheumatologist. He asked why I was there. I told him I thought I might have lupus. He asked me ten questions, and I said yes to all ten, including losing my hair, which was noticeable to my family. Without ordering a single blood test, he laughed and told me I don't look sick, and said I was skipping down a rosy little path to a psychiatric illness. I dragged back out to my car and sat there crying for almost an hour. Note- several years later, a doctor sent me back to that same rheumatologist who was now in an even bigger clinic, and after touching my rock hard shoulders exclaimed that I had the worst fibromayalgia he'd ever seen and demanded to know why I wasn't being treated for it.

I was too devastated to try again for another year, until I finally couldn't take it any more. It was a horrible time for single parents on medicaid, no clinic I called would take me. I finally drove back to the city to a clinic I hadn't called yet and dragged from office to office asking if someone could please see me. Finally, on the third floor, one doctor said yes and saw me that day.

From Fibromyalgia- University of Maryland Medical Center
"Fibromyalgia can be difficult to diagnose. It can take 5 years for the average person with the condition to finally get a diagnosis. As many as three out of every four people with fibromyalgia remain undiagnosed."
I was fast tracked to rheum and diagnosed within a week.

From Do I have lupus or fibromyalgia?- Fibromyalgia Information Foundation
"As many of the symptoms of fibromyalgia are similar to those experienced by lupus patients, there is a natural concern that the symptoms of a fibromyalgia flare could be the underlying lupus picking up steam. Ultimately, the treating physician has to make a call on these increased symptoms. In general, lupus patients who are undergoing a flare have other findings; such as evidence of true arthritis (usually with joint swelling), skin rashes, sores in their mouth, fever, hair fall or evidence of specific organ disease such as pleurisy or microscopic amounts of blood and protein in the urine. Furthermore, in active lupus, blood tests such as the sedimentation rate often become elevated, the white count (particularly the lymphocyte subset) becomes depressed and there is often an increase in the level of anti-DNA antibodies. None of these findings are a feature of fibromyalgia -- thus the distinction between a flare of fibromyalgia and a flare of lupus should not be too difficult if the problem is approached systematically."
I was also dx'd simultaneously and treated immediately for lupus based on positive ANA and high SEDs which refused to come down for several years even on meds. Medicaid wasn't paying for a new drug called Ansaid, so my doctor kept me on samples for five months. I credit him with saving my life. He also dx'd me with Hashimoto's (autoimmune thyroid) about a year later, based on radioactive iodine uptake.

My SEDs hovered between 75 and 100 for several years. I felt like my bones had been crushed and nothing touched the pain, but the Ansaid kept me functioning enough to work on my college degree.

In the years since, photosensitivity called polymorphic light eruption (PLE) was confirmed by a dermatologist, a liver condition called NASH was confirmed by an endocrinologist, and I underwent heart surgery at 38 to correct a rhythm problem that started in high school after I had measles, which I just lived with until it became unbearable. During my worst year I went through nerve fail which caused such severe dry eye (I still make only 3% moisture in one eye, confirmed by an opthamolagist) and dry mouth that I developed cavities all over my mouth. My dentist was thrilled when the moisture finally came back on, and I have had only one cavity in the years since.

I'm also positive for lyme, esptein-barr, bartonella, and CMV, plus I had the measles in high school. What doesn't kill you doesn't always make you stronger. Sometimes it makes you a puny sickie.

Why am I saying all this? Because I still have doctors asking Are you sure it's lupus? (Yeah, they're asking me.) I've never been hospitalized and managed to fake my way through 15 months on a desk job (my last job after years of more laborious jobs) without missing a day before I finally fell apart because when I was growing up, we never went to doctors. I grew up on a farm working like a dog since I was very young, pushing animals 4-8 times my size around regularly, and using my hands so hard that I'd developed carpal tunnel by the time I was in high school (recently confirmed as 'severe' by a neurologist). Then I went on to survive being thrown out of a car crash without any pain meds at all. After living with nasty trigeminal pain from damage for years, a neurologist finally dx'd me with trigeminal neuralgia.

I've come through a whole lot of thick and thin, have been through several epic health crashes, but what started turning it all around was 1- finally being dx'd with diabetes and changing my diet, and 2- slowly weaning off the handfuls of meds that kept me 'drunk' for years. AFTER THESE TWO THINGS, my liver tests finally went back into a normal range. I had elevated liver enzymes for two decades until I changed those two things. One year my liver was so sick that my doctor wanted to test me for autoimmune liver disease, but I felt too rotten to go through a long needle penetration. I still get symptoms once in awhile, so maybe I do, but it sucks so I avoid flaring it as much as possible.

Ever since I made these changes, which have taken several years (four years since the diet changes, seven years since I first started weaning off meds one by one under doctor supervision), my health has slowly but steadily improved. I have come back from being convinced death was close (using a cane and sometimes a transport chair and daily advair just to be able to breathe, and needing help dressing and bathing), to living a pretty normal life in my own home now. I still have mini flares, I still get SED spikes once in awhile, but for the most part nearly everything in my body is improving as I age after years of immobility and misery.

I still look around for tips and advice from other spoonies on rough weeks, and what I call my rough weeks are still spectacularly rough compared to non-spoonies, but to me now, they're a vast improvement over rough years.

I wrote this down in one place to give other people hope. There really is hope.

If you are a very sick and puny person and are still drinking soda pop and smoking cigarettes, you cannot get better until you stop that.

If you are a fatigued scatterbrain who enjoys a little too much pasta and dessert, you cannot get more energy until you stop that.

If you are overworked and eating salads and and torturing yourself to 'be healthy', you cannot feel healthy until you stop that. Get some real rest and more protein in your diet.

If you are buying extra makeup and putting more chemicals in your hair trying not to look bad, stop that and take a step back- do a real self assessment, prioritize some goals, make a PLAN, and spend the next 2-5 years implementing. It took you years to go to pot, it'll take a few years to come back from that.

I am a workaholic. I'm also an alcoholic (20 years dry now), a very heavy smoker (3 packs a day, 25 years off now), a codeine-benzo-caffeine addict (never cold turkey off benzos, guys, it sucks and it's dangerous, and guess how I know that), a chocoholic (a severe nut allergy popping up cures that real quick, read a few labels and laugh with me about how most of the chocolate in the world is processed in facilities also processing nuts), a sweets junkie (I'm an artist with decadent baking), ok you get the point. All that stuff piles up. And once you've overloaded, it takes years to undo damage to your immune system, your liver and kidneys, your eyes, even your brain. You can't take ginseng and improve your brain power and still do all this stuff.

There are people out there who do everything right and don't get better. Hugs to you guys, I've watched a few friends go down and I know it's really hard. There are other people out there who do everything wrong and live long lives without ever getting sick or cancer. High five on you guys, good on your magic DNA. Trade me bodies sometime. And don't gloat or feel better than other people because we all know it was the luck of the draw, and it's not like you got to pick your body before you were born.

It's not your fault. Yes, we have science and medicine now, yes, you know better than to be ingesting things and not exercising and whatnot, but just because we know this stuff doesn't mean it's your fault. 300 years ago, people died all the time and no one knew why (unless it was murder or some crazy accident). Now we know why, and basically it really is the luck of the draw- you are stuck with the DNA you were born with. Some people are prone to cancers, some prone to diabetes, some prone to autoimmune problems, whatever. You were born that way.

True story. My husband's granny lived to 102 with full blown diabetes. She avoided stuff that spiked her blood sugar. Her daughter (my husband's mother) eats bags of candy and to this day in her 80s remains completely free of diabetes. Eating sugar doesn't cause diabetes, but it will make you very sick if you have diabetes. My husband has been hovering on the brink of 'pre-diabetes' (that's such a joke, just call it what it is) for years because he's a hard worker and manages to keep his fasting glucose low enough to keep the doctor hesitating, even though he carb loads like crazy sometimes. When he does that, his heart races, and we know there is some damage going on at the cellular level, but he thinks he can get away with cheating. He's never yet been treated and he doesn't count carbs, he just works really hard.

On the other hand, I come from everyone going diabetic on my mom's side, lots of strokes and vascular disease kind of stuff, and she didn't make it to 70. I watched diabetes destroy her. She suddenly started wasting away and I thought she had cancer. She said she never felt better in her life. I don't know if that was true, because I also know her feet started going numb, and it took her months to recover properly after a simple gall bladder surgery.

I was going down way faster than my mom. Way faster. Now I'm doing much better at this age than she did. Way better.

I just want to let you guys know there really is hope, but you are the one who has to decide whether to make it possible. Whatever your diagnosis, whether they're missing something or not, even if it feels dire, you can make decisions that change how you feel down the road. Where do you want to be in five years? Make a list. Fewer headaches, maybe. Heartburn gone for good. Bladder control. Less brain fog. A little more energy. You might surprise yourself if you make a decision and stick to it. Just 5 years ago I was using a motor cart to buy groceries. Now I trot all over Walmart.

Little steps over several years add up to really big changes.

mean is how I show my love

There's a new policy agreement I had to sign before my physical therapy assessment this time. They have so many no-shows and cancellations that they're losing a substantial amount of money flow, and THAT, my friends, is why insurance is so stupidly high. Don't blame it all on poor people and ERs. Blame the people who have insurance and medicare who are purposely noncompliant with care plans.

Physical therapy is hard work. It's not for the faint of heart. I've been there- in and out of wheelchairs, using a cane, needing a driver and assistance in and out of the shower, and help getting dressed. I know exactly what it feels like to be a burden and spiral down a black hole of hopelessness. I'm such a good friend with pain that I actually miss it when it's gone, because I almost get high off of it, even without meds.

It's so easy to take the whiny way out. I hurt. Yeah, join the club. I have a headache. My worst headache lasted 6 weeks and I got at most ten minutes of sleep at a time that entire time, because it was so bad I couldn't even lay down, so I hear ya. It's hard. So is having babies, and that's not stopping anybody. I can't do it. Then curl up and die, you big baby.

That's me talking to my head. I have said all the things everyone else has said. And then I kicked my butt and slammed my head into a wall and GOT TO WORK. I got pissed off enough to get up and do something about my whining.

It was hard believing I could do this. Every morning I had to actually literally SAY "I can do this." Sometimes it was just a whisper in my mind while I cried. Sometimes it was a hopeless defiant shout in the dark. But many times I really did say it out loud on my way in to physical therapy.

Yesterday was hard. I'm in a better place than I've been in years, but it was still hard getting through another assessment and core review. I'm not out of the woods. I can't just flop my body into a chair and pop pain pills when I sit too long. I can't be lazy without backsliding into more pain and disability and eventually major surgery. Yes, I can ask them to turn the pain off and risk paralysis and sepsis and a whole list of other possibilities in a 50/50 gamble, because that's what surgical pain management is. It doesn't fix anything. It actually harms the body even more so you just can't feel it. There's no guarantee how long it'll last, and once it's done you can't go back and undo it. I know too many people this has backfired on. It's way too easy to skip ahead to the last resort and then hear the horror stories- multiple procedures melting down into meth addiction trying to handle pain that simply can't be killed off. Procedures that went well but then catastrophic fail happened after a blood clot in the spine, making the disability so much worse than it was before. Pain being replaced with maddening numbness. Asking someone to cauterize a nerve is such a leap of faith, I can't imagine doing that unless I was ready to commit suicide anyway. My psychologist told me a few times I'm a cynic. That's putting it mildly. I look at it like this- if a surgeon tells me he won't do pain control on me even in radiology with a needle because my history contraindicates success (nice of him to be honest), then I'm going to find another way to live like this.

There is this wonderful program in place to help people who are sinking into quagmires of pain and disability. It's called physical therapy. It's there for just about everyone- medicare is very supportive, and most insurance plans will take the brunt of the cost. All it takes is a person telling their doctor they'd like some help with a specific pain- how to move correctly, how to strengthen that area, how to become more functional around the house. I can say from experience that it's like working miracles, but it takes participation. You can get a whole team of people in on it, and they'll all tell you the same thing- pain shots, PT, and even surgery all work better with regular stretching and exercise, and good nutrition and hydration. You wanna heal? Cut the crap. You don't make a car run better pouring sugar in the gas tank. You don't stick a cigarette in your dog's mouth. You don't give babies beer bottles. You don't pick a fantasy football player who doesn't make the workouts. The logic is sound. All we have to do is apply it.

Several years ago I made a decision. Do I want to LIVE? If I don't save myself, no one else has to. Get out there and GET TO WORK. It made differences nothing else ever did.

I went through a little backsliding the last 8 months, so I'm back in GET TO WORK mode. I'm slapping myself to get up and MOVE, I'm plugging my ears and singing lalalalala when my head whines that this is too hard, I'm gritting my teeth and psyching up and telling myself that actors and professional athletes are where they are because they were willing to work for it. There is nothing in this world saying a writer doesn't need that kind of one on one physical training, as well. Sitting in a chair writing words isn't easy. Anyone who thinks it's easy is an idiot.

I know I sound mean. Sometimes you gotta get mean if you wanna stick around longer for your family. Whining my way to an early grave is unacceptable to me. I've got things to do, people to meet, a world to change...

embracing the wolf

Of all the watches I've been on, this one has been the tensest on my family, canceling plans and rearranging some financial priorities. Twiddling our thumbs waiting for results is always the hardest part, but once again, here we are on the other side and everything is going to be fine.

A few years ago I realized my biggest, maybe even my own only real fear is not being finished yet, having to stop, being taken off the game board before I feel like I've done what I came here to do. Realizing THAT was my fear behind everything else, I decided there was nothing that could stop me once I decided I'm the only one who can truly stop me.

Some of you have watched me come back from a dark precipice, a nonlife of near complete nonfunctioning in all ways, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I was nearly beaten down by what I didn't understand. I was given handfuls of narcotics and benzons, pain killers and antidepressants, antispasmodics and anti-epileptics. I learned the art of mixing 'cocktails' and chasing them with OTC potentiators. I spent years legally drugged out of my mind over documented valid excuses.

And it was killing me. There came a year where I knew it was killing me. The meds were actually destroying me faster than the reason I was taking them. Before the final light bulb went out in my collapsing mind, I realized I had to choose- Do I want to live? Am I willing to do what it takes to LIVE? Even if it means I choose more misery than I've already been in up to that point? What am I willing to do to LIVE?

And better yet- What do I have to live for?

Embracing the Wolf

controlled crash- holiday spoonie

It's been years since I've gotten through the Christmas season without being in some level of flare up. I usually get validation in the form of a speckled ANA and 80-90 SED in January or February and wind up on prednisone for a week to knock it back down. I've been doing this so long that I can feel about where I'm at day to day, and in order to avoid an ER trip at Christmas over a solid face plant from doing way too much, I have learned to readjust my days accordingly, slowing down more or letting go of something on the list, until I'm nearly down to a crawl, but still functioning.

I've spent a few Christmases completely nonfunctional and unable to even smile and get dressed without being a huge drag on everyone, so it was easier to hide in my house and cry and try to sleep through everything I was missing. I felt too ill to get into a car to go lay on someone else's couch, and I couldn't be nice on the phone if someone was handing me a million dollars. It's very hard to juggle all the extra social expectations on top of the extra demanding physical expectations the holidays bring. Yes, I've done it all- parent president of high school marching band, a variety of fundraisers, as much school support as I could handle while still working, and eventually had to bail on this and that until I was finally just missing everything. I followed all my doctors' instructions, including handfuls of pills, but nothing replaces rest, nutrition, and common sense. During holidays, all three of those fly right out the window.

Most of surviving holidays in flare up is about balance. People think they have to fulfill social obligations. I realized over time that other people would be shocked if they were asked to be supportive of social obligations if it meant risking their lives. Every time I go into flare up, I am risking my life when I do too much and start crashing. I have lived for years with flare ups, and they don't necessarily kill a person outright, but they do cause harm in the form of wear and tear on tissues, and a person must spend quality time rebuilding that shredded tissue if they want to live a good life. Inflammation from a flare up is hard on blood vessels, the lymph system, major organs (especially kidneys and eyes), and can affect the brain to the point of making terrible mistakes in traffic, and we all know how immediately life threatening that is.

Several big things happen in our bodies to keep our balance. Hormones regulate everything 24/7, special organs continually assess chemical and nutrient levels and send reports to the brain, and the constant feedback is how we stay in a good rhythm every day. We sleep, get up, eat, get busy, eat some more, enjoy something, and go back to sleep. When we get out of rhythm we don't feel well and get jet lagged and cranky. People who live with chronic illness of any kind get bumped out of rhythm very easily, the reports to the brain get a little frantic, the brain reacts with attempts to adjust this and adjust that, but when something isn't working very well to begin with, all kinds readjustment attempts can bump into each other, cascade into a mess, and then snowball out of control. Hormones and chemical levels on blood work look more like a first year programmer failing an exam than an experienced machine that evolved over millennia.

Someone with lupus and diabetes, like me, might feel really good one day. It's the holidays! This is fun! We go on an extra shopping trip, miss a meal, grab food on the fly, stay up late with friends, don't sleep well, feel gross and eat all wrong the next day, push ourselves to keep up, shove extra coffee into our systems, take extra pain pills, and before you know it, a couple of weeks of mistakes have crescendoed into the nasty realization that we are way off course and the only way to fix what's happening in our bodies is to stop everything right now and get back on track, or even get emergency medical intervention. Being exposed to flu or strep on top of all this can result in hospitalization for some spoonies. What a dismal way to spend Christmas.

I have learned to do a 'controlled burn' and a 'controlled crash'.

A controlled burn is like knowing you're going to wreck your day, so you pack for contingencies. I take a lunch box with my own food when I go shopping. I limit myself to only so many hours of activity and then GO HOME. I've noticed 4 hours is about my max, and assume the rest of the day is screwed, I don't try to cook or clean after I get home. If I'm stuck in and out of a car longer than 6 hours, I know I'm going to crash hard so I pre-plan my medication safety net. The key to pills is knowing they do not fix anything and don't give me super powers. They are a bandaid meant to transport me more comfortably to the end of my day, they are not meant to 'cure' or make my problems nonexistent. I have dearly paid for abusing medication to keep stubbornly plowing through life, and I'm on full disability now. I would have been smarter to let go of a few things on my list.

A controlled crash is more of a long-term plan. My holiday stress starts in November and goes for at least 8 weeks through New Year's. After that I'm pretty much in crisis and need intervention. If there were no holidays, the changing weather alone would still impact my life, so I can't just blame holidays. But because there are holidays, I know I'm going to destroy myself, and I know it could get really expensive and depressing to clean all the mess up with doctors and then being stuck at home. So since I know this, I can control just how messy it gets. I can keep plowing stubbornly through, or I can map out a plan with contingencies and loop counters for smaller fails. I can let go of lots of little things and make executive decisions to control my blood sugar and my fatigue level, or I can cast my cares to the wind and spelunk straight into hellish misery and subsequent regret.

We hear people addressing depression and self harm in the form of cutting and whatnot, but we don't hear a lot about depression and freaking ourselves out with blood sugar spikes in the 300s when we reach for the comfort food other people take for granted. And then, if we have autoimmune responses, the inflammation that a glucose spike causes can trigger a flare up, and here it comes, the joint pain, the aching all over, the nasty headache, the difficulty moving around and sleeping and keeping up. And then comes the regret or self pity while our brain chemicals freak out and depression knocks us flat. And then comes over medicating or drinking, waking up with either way too high or way too low glucose levels but we're too depressed and late for work to check, and then comes a nasty morning traffic accident. I know of two morning traffic deaths in the last year directly related to blood sugar levels, both of which left orphaned kids behind. That was NOT a controlled crash. Yeah, now you see what I mean by controlled crash.

Everybody's got something at Christmas. Some people have cancer, some have funerals to go to, some are homeless, whatever. It's normal to go through depression at holidays and feel bad, but we must realize that sooner or later, everyone goes through a really bad Christmas. Or several. My mom was airlifted to a hospital on Christmas day one year. One of my children was in a hospital several hundred miles away on another Christmas having emergency surgery. Other Christmases I've been too ill to shop or wrap presents. So before we start our controlled crash and burn plans, the first thing we must embrace is that part of the PLAN is to plan on depression. Allow time outs for depression.

Normal up and down depression is nature's way of telling us we need to slow down because we're doing too much and then kicking ourselves for not keeping up. Stop that! Plan out a picnic for your depression. Make it a regular date thing. Don't shove it off and pop a pain pill when you've got time to waste a couple of hours. Let go of the world and crash on your couch. A lot of little crashes beats a nasty big one every single time. I have noticed over a couple of years that allowing for normal depression swings has a very positive impact on my more severe clinical depression. Depression, for me, is a lifestyle, so I include that in my self care plan. The key to this working is to let go of all guilt. Guilt is a control mechanism that people and society use to force behaviors. I would never dream of making someone feel guilty if they didn't play the Christmas game right, because I can imagine them crying later if I ran over their feelings and forced mine on them. We see it happen all the time. We also think Christmas day is THE DAY to be with family. What about the other 364 days? Doi. That kind of thinking isn't worth your health, capiche? We love each other every day all year long. Let go of that silly guilt. Enjoy a couple of hours of down time.

-*-*-Side note to caretakers- I know you don't get down time. I was DPA for years for my disabled mother, and my sister raised a terminal child. Find a way to do nice things for yourself. It's ok to ask other people to help you do a controlled crash and burn once in awhile.-*-*-

The next thing to embrace in a controlled crash and burn is forgiveness. If you think something has to be perfect, imagine falling and getting a concussion and not being able to finish making something perfect. Was it worth it? I'm here to tell you nothing brings reality home like a good set of stitches with lots of blood soaking everything. If you think something can't get done without you, imagine this is the year you shock all your friends being the youngest person they know having a heart attack. The world won't stop just because you do. Stuff gets done whether it's you doing it or not. Want to be around to see it get done? TAKE A BREAK. And eat something healthy with magnesium in it. Magnesium deficiency is one of the first things they check for when they do ER tests for possible heart attack. Ask me how I know this. Forgive yourself for not being superman or superwoman, forgive others for not reaching your expectations, and chillax. Just because you didn't die yesterday stressing out doesn't mean you won't have a stroke today over the very same thing. My mom had hundreds of TIAs before the big strokes started. She was right side deficit for years from stress and uncontrolled diabetes.

The next thing to embrace for controlled crash and burn is limits. Set reasonable time limits, glucose level limits, activity limits, and stick to them. I don't know about you guys, but I find it really embarrassing to wind up in an ER on holidays. I feel like I'm ruining other people's Christmas and stressing them out more and I really don't like the extra attention. That alone is usually motivation enough for me to stay on track well enough not to super crash. I've never been hospitalized, even with all my stuff, which seems to amaze a few people. I grew up very independent, raised by a father who still doesn't believe in doctors, and people who see me going to doctors all the time without knowing my history don't have a clue how difficult it is for me to get out of my house and keep trying to find ways to solve my problems with medical intervention. I feel like a guinea pig, I've hated all the tests I've had to go through, I loathe the fear (I usually have to be sedated for a simple MRI), BUT I am very very good at living with autoimmune flare ups and diabetes because I know how everything in my body works. I've known too many people who shrugged odd pain or feelings off and found out later they were in advanced stages of cancer or having severe diabetes complications or suddenly having heart attacks that nearly killed them.

One of the best inventions on the planet is a little tiny flip spiral. You can buy those in packs. Every day I flip to a clean page, put the date at the top, and then write the time when I do glucose or blood pressure checks and every pill I take. Make it a habit. It very quickly becomes second nature, and then you start noticing things. Maybe those two pills shouldn't be taken together. Maybe glucose readings are better at certain times of day. Maybe that headache or anxiety attack or cranky feeling you get starts showing up about the same time every day, and you notice it seems to be happening within so long of certain meals or activities. Or every single weekend. Once you notice a pattern, you can control the pattern. It's very liberating not feeling hostage to chaotic cosmic whim, life going out of control again, freaking out in the wee hours over something. It's very empowering to experiment with data and results over time.

Hence, a huge part of my controlled crash is data entry in a tiny flip spiral. I can tell you that I've missed taking my thyroid pill two days in a row only twice in so many years and both times I was extremely miserable. That alone snowballed several days into a ridiculous debacle, because thyroid has huge impacts on sex hormones, blood pressure, and diabetes. The headaches were out of this world, my heart thumped real hard, and the fatigue crash was pretty scary, not even going to mention menopause symptoms going off the rails. Yeah, two days was all it took for me. And I know this definitively because if a pill is missing in the spiral, I didn't take it. This has been a crucial strategy for me because I had significant brain fail for several years and my short term memory was a joke. I could have caused myself serious harm taking my pills wrong, and many people do. Medical mistakes are more common than you think. Not all prescription pill deaths are Hollywood actors overdosing. Click this if you think I'm being too dramatic. Prescription Drug Overdose in the United States Yeah, don't want that kind of crash and burn, either. You're seeing more and more why I'm calling my way a 'controlled' crash and burn.

I use my little spiral to help me set limits. If I can see cause and consequence patterns, I can control outcomes. If I can see that my fasting blood sugar is over 100, I know better than to eat sweets for breakfast, which starts the cascade for a really bad day with a nasty headache later and feeling sluggish through the afternoon, grabbing more junk and coffee, and then not being able to sleep, which in turn starts the next day off negatively before I even get started. If I have several rough days in a row going off track, I know it'll take a couple more days to get control back, and if I feel a flare up coming on, I know I need to rearrange my schedule for the week or wind up going out of control and calling my doctor. I can glance back through my little spirals and easily spot the days and weeks that went out of control.

I live on this edge in my body every single day, where things can go out of control real fast. I plan my life meticulously. That sounds like a drag, but it's actually pretty easy when I follow a few little guidelines I've made for myself. Take breaks, set limits, forgive myself, and pay attention to what I'm doing to myself. The easiest way I have found to control the cascade is to count my carbs in the first place, faithfully take my thyroid pill, and assume I'll need breaks even if I think I'm feeling fantastic. For the most part this has worked really well, but I still make some pretty big mistakes.

So a couple of days ago I made eggnog. I know I have to stop at 1/2 a cup and no more for at least an hour, preferably two hours. I wasn't feeling well because I had overdone, my brain fell out, and without even thinking I drank 2 cups of eggnog within an hour and popped my one pain pill for the day (doctor ordered anti inflammatory), then fell asleep on the couch. An hour later I woke up in crisis, disoriented, brutishly nasty headache, blood pressure spiking 187/112, weird things happening like one of my arms being ice cold with nasty spiky nerve pain shooting out my blanched white fingertips while the other arm was hot and my hand was bright red like I had been badly sunburned. My pulse was fine and my arms worked fine, so this was more like a nervous system reaction to something, but it clearly didn't seem to be any kind of allergic reaction. I finally thought to check my blood sugar and couldn't believe how high it still was fours hours after the eggnog (I usually go back into the 90s within 2 hours, so I must've gone really high),so I didn't eat the rest of the day. I'm guessing the glucose spike triggered an autoimmune reaction in my nervous system. This is not a new thing with me. Two days of severe headache and other nerve pain later, I'm kind of feeling ok again but dragging like I ran a marathon. All because I drank some eggnog two days ago.

The rest of my Christmas holiday absolutely must be revised now to a more tightly controlled crash. I feel like I'm in flare up now, my energy level is almost nonexistent, and it's up to me to get my team (family) in on not letting me hit the wall now before Christmas. No extra surprise favors from gramma on top of what I've already mapped out, no more exciting hustle and bustle, the plan now is to coast and stay on track with small meals and lots of rest. NO GUILT.

It's easy to forget all this when I'm feeling pretty good. It's easy for my family to forget all this when they see me feeling pretty good. But I've been kinda cranky lately, which is my typical warning sign that epic fail is ahead. I have to remove myself from the game board immediately. I did pretty good this year getting stuff done up to this point, and I'm going to focus on that and not moan about what I didn't get done. Getting 'done' with stuff before holidays isn't worth risking our lives. Capiche?

I've had years of practice. It never gets easier. It never stops being scary. But at least it's not hopeless any more. It's no longer a crazy scary scream ride that I'm clinging wild eyed through. It's more like a merry go round I can step off of and watch from the sides. I don't have to feel sad about it, because I've learned I can still enjoy it while I take a break. I don't have to be involved to enjoy the holiday. I can be glad I'm still here to see it happen.

That, my friends, is a controlled crash and burn. It is my Christmas gift to you if it's still a big crazy ride for you and you are alone screaming through the night on the internet looking for answers and feeling like your Christmas is spiraling in flames. Take a deep breath and put 'tiny flip spiral' on your shopping list. You're about to change your life.

If you're still in the mood to keep reading, I found this forum convo very helpful.

Is Having Blood Sugar in the 400's Dangerous?

This one is more techy.

Lupus and Diabetes
"People with lupus or diabetes – or both – can improve overall health and relieve a number of symptoms just by making healthy choices. A plant-based diet with lots of vegetables, legumes, and plant oils is critical. Adequate rest is also important. And exercise is crucial, both to control weight and insulin levels and to increase energy and improve mood. A healthy diet and a commitment to a treatment plan will strengthen the body and help the immune system return to a state of balance – and will make the treatment plan itself more effective."

One more thing- I can't repeat enough what a difference getting more protein in my diet has done for my overall physical and emotional health. Your tissues cannot heal properly without adequate protein and you will always feel 'off'. Pills can't fix that.

Get that spiral!!! Good luck.

I have this hair thing- spoonie hair probs

I have met many women of all ages losing hair. This is something that has been happening since my grandmother's time, and her grandmother before her, yet it's still not really openly talked about and still rather looked upon as not only a mortifying deformity, but a shame, as if it means we've lost the essence of our womanhood. It's becoming more acceptable nowadays to live with hair loss, thanks to women standing up to cancer, but one day I hope it can be more of a lifestyle choice and not a losing 'battle' that defines who we are.

Ever since I was a little girl I have dreamed of having blue hair. I never saw people with blue hair except in a Cat in the Hat book. Click this pic to shop for cute little Halloween outfits.

I see pictures like this nowadays and nearly swoon with delight. That clicks to a pin on my pinterest board.

I have always struggled with my hair. I was born puny-ish with very thin delicate hair, so I struggled mightily through perms and colors over a couple of decades in adulthood. The first thing I tried to hide, mostly by parting my hair differently, was part of my bangs having been incinerated to the skin on one side and it took a long time for them to grow back properly, even in my pre-medication days. Funny story- I was on a date at Pizza Hut, had one of those giant fluffy perms, leaned a little too far over the candle and *poof*, my hair was on fire. Yep, I am the girl that caught her hair on fire in Pizza Hut  in the 80's and the next day all the candles were gone across the land. Your urban legend lives and walks among you. Anyhoo, thanks to the chemicals in my hair and the flash blaze, the scalp where those bangs were singed right off refused to cooperate for several years and I just got used to covering a minor glitch and mostly didn't worry about it. Everybody was going punk back then.

I started losing hair in my late 20's during my first big flare up. I grew up not going to doctors, so I spent 9 months in low grade fever and getting really skinny before I finally got scared enough to see a doctor. The first doctor was really old and on the verge of retiring and knew nothing about the new 'fibrositis' and lupus stuff showing up in the medical journals. He basically told me there is no cure, that I'd be in a nursing home by 40, and prescribed a giant bottle of aspirin. My SED and RA scores were pretty high, my core body temp refused to go any higher than 94 on a thermometer, and I could barely walk. The last thing on my mind was my hair.

A few months later with new determination I saw a rheumatologist in a city clinic who told me I was skipping down a rosy little path to a psychiatric illness because I told him I was losing my hair and hurting all over, but apparently what he saw was a normal looking college aged young lady. Young female bodies can hide a lot of problems, especially for men who can't see past "You look fine". He never ran tests. I was so crushed that I couldn't go back to a doctor for awhile. I have no idea how I managed to hang in there, but I'm one of the most stubborn people I know. Other people have mentioned that my intensity frightens them a little.

In the meantime, I started making jokes about the scalp tattoo I'd be getting if I lost the rest of my hair. I wanted a treasure map, with sea monsters in the water part and a real X marking the spot on the land part, with a dashed line leading to the X. I pored over pirate maps picking out what would look cool on my head. Honestly, I couldn't see myself wearing wigs because I'm so aspie I can barely even tolerate wearing a ballcap or a knit beanie in the winter. I grew up with headscarves like you see in old fashioned pictures of third world mountain women, but I'm terribly resistant to the whole head covering issue for women, and I can't imagine me keeping a scarf on, either, even for aesthetics. Why should my head not be as free as any man's? My rebellion runs very deep, not against God, but against the silliness of the human race. If I were to lose all my hair, what better way to live with it than with an awesome treasure map on my head?

A year later I was so desperate again that I dragged from office to office in a different big city clinic begging to be seen until a doctor finally took me that day, and after saying "I hurt here, here, here.." in all the right places (I had no idea at the time) I was immediately sent for tests and on to a rheumatologist who confirmed severe fibro and autoimmune flare up, and after that they handed me a giant sack of medication samples and started experimenting on me, which I believe saved my life. By this time I was shuffling very slowly everywhere I walked, couldn't open doors or carry anything, and could barely write my name on a check or grip a steering wheel. I was 28.

Through all this and then through treatment, my thin hair grew thinner, but as I was still able to hide it, I simply did my best to not draw attention to it. As the years rolled into my 30's and I was able to slowly increase my activity level, I tried perm after perm and several colors, and my hair always looked ok, although hairdressers continually expressed shock when they saw my head up close.

I was in my late 30's when I decided I couldn't get any more perms without seriously risking killing out the rest of my hair growth. I scared a poor hairdresser silly when the perm rollers started detaching in her hands with my hair still rolled up in them. She freaked out and started moving faster, and the only way I saved the rest of my hair was to make her stop and back away, only looking on as I bent over the sink very carefully removing them myself. I'm pretty sure I'd have walked out of there bald that day if I hadn't been so bossy. I tried to reassure her that it wasn't her fault, but I imagine she had a few nightmares about it.

Somewhere in my 30's my eyebrows also started falling out little by little, looking patchy and odd enough to have to experiment with pencils and plucking. Oddly, I've never lost hair anywhere else, but at the time I remember thinking alopecia wouldn't be so bad if I never had to shave my legs again. I didn't realize it's more complicated than that. None of my doctors have ever addressed my hair loss. I think it is taken for granted in the medical community that women with medical conditions lose hair on meds and if we have a problem with it, there is a thriving wig industry to save the day.

Think about it- wigs and head scarves have always been there for women. Why? It's never been acceptable for women to lose hair, even though it's not uncommon. Hair loss in women is such an abomination that we close our eyes to it, cover it up, pretend it isn't happening. I hear men talk about their suffering through hair loss- well, at least it's socially acceptable. Men are 'allowed' to walk around with patchy hair and balding scalps without that much recrimination. Women? Cover it up- fast.

I continued to color up until 40, even though I didn't need to (I've still never gone gray), as my hair color grew more dismally 'flat'. Years of medications and illness took their toll and I felt like I was on my last leg hiding my hair problems. This was my 40th birthday. Little did I suspect that my long hair days were nearly over for awhile.

Part of the autoimmune challenge is the impact regular viruses can have on body systems. I got slammed hard one year and lost so much hair that I had to cut it off just to stay ahead of clogging up the tub drain and hair finding its way into my cooking, despite keeping it put up. Hair was everywhere. I was afraid to brush my hair, so I bought a big-toothed comb and barely even combed it after shampooing. I made sure nothing stressed out my hair. All it took was a clip or soft scrunchy to inadvertently pull more out, so cutting it short seemed like a logical way to at least keep it attached to my scalp. This is one of my last pictures with long hair before I chopped it. You can see my eyebrows were already gone. I've experimented for years with pencils and different colors, never really satisfied, but whadayado.

This was one of the hardest haircuts I've ever gotten in my life. I transitioned to short slowly but it was still a shock. I still hate looking at it.

Here I am in the same shirt as a couple pictures back, but here is a couple years later. I was feeling very sick the day I took this, you can kind of see it in my eyes.

Me on the rebound about a year and a half after the last pic, starting to feel better. I learned that if I kept my hair super layered all over and didn't try to do anything with it, no one seemed to notice how patchy my hair was. The second I tried to style it or pull it back, very noticeable. I have to note that if it weren't for my sister insisting on dragging me into a salon and getting professional advice on caring for my hair while I was ill, I might have given up and just never tried to be cute again.

It's been 8 years since that midway haircut in the purple shirt. My hair kept getting shorter and shorter until I almost didn't have hair. I still can't bring myself to make those pictures public. I looked so bad during my sickest year that store employees would offer to get me wheelchairs and bring me things. That was harder to deal with than being sick, so I stopped shopping for a couple of years. Is it any wonder people become psychologically homebound? If I learned anything from my personal experiences it's that constantly having one's hair problems noticed can have disastrous personal repercussions in private later. My greatest asset during this time was having Asperger's, but even with the cushioning of a general lack of self awareness, I still had to face people reacting to just seeing me. After a year of curling up and crying in my cave I decided I'm done with that and proceeded to get very good at helping other people feel more comfortable around me, which is a huge social leap for someone like me.

What's interesting to me in retrospect is that I never was the sort for taking selfies until I got sick. I have loads of pictures of me with horrendous bedhead and really bad hair after I cut my hair off because I thought it was so funny. As I've begun feeling better, I keep taking really oddball pictures because I still think it's just so funny to be silly. I guess after going through the scary sad stuff for so long, it's a relief to come through to the other side and realize life is way too short to take that seriously. Here are some of my favorites.

This was Halloween last year.

Glue in my hair after an EEG.

I was prepared to live the rest of my life with icky and maybe even no hair. I reached a point where I was feeling better enough a couple of years ago that I realized I no longer care about my hair. I could lose it all right now and still be a happy person because there is just so much more to life than hair, especially when you've nearly lost everything else, too. I know that's hard to fathom, but it's kind of like realizing that the thing I was most unhappy with my entire life no longer had power over me.

I've talked in another post about getting healthier with diabetes and autoimmune problems by getting off unnecessary meds and changing one's diet and what a drastic impact that can have on skin health. I'm not here to say get off your meds or to tell you what to eat, but I do have to share my surprise- a hairdresser noticed a couple of years ago that I have new hair growth. Whaaaa???? Guess what. This came after a post I wrote called my problem with healthy food. Ever since I changed my diet, I have been growing new hair. It's been really slow going. I didn't notice it myself for a long time, but eventually I could tell it really was getting a little thicker, and best of all, had stopped shedding! I had become so accustomed to shedding hair for years on end that I couldn't believe it. I stopped being careful and started yanking my hair around to see what would happen- it stayed in!

It's been almost a year since I first posted about growing my hair back out. I didn't say much at the time, mostly because I'm not holding my breath. I know at any time I could plunge back into the black spoonie abyss with a flare up and more meds, and that every time something like that happens my tissues must recover from a lot of damage. Recovery and rebuilding tissue are two separate things. Recovery goes on all the time. Rebuilding can happen only when I have enough good nutrients coming into my body to spare for it, otherwise it all goes to sheer daily survival. The fact that I can actually grow healthy hair after twenty years of hair loss is stunning. It means something is working and maybe I'm on the right track. I hope. It means I'm finally on the winning side of inflammation going on all over my body, including at the roots of all my little hairs.

I know better than to assume my hair is 'back' and will continue. Yes, I hope it does, but if it doesn't, I don't want to wind up in a bitter puddle on the floor. I've been given a little time to enjoy my hair again, so I'm growing it out. I really missed having a french braid. Unfortunately, in recent years I've become too allergic to hair products to ever get it colored again, but I still love looking at other people's photos of them having fun coloring their hair vivid purples and pinks and greens and stuff. I love that it's becoming more acceptable to have fun with hair, and that people are so creative with their hair.

Now that the internet is so prolific and making everything easier, I'm finding all kinds of ways to have fun with hair. Too bad I didn't know about eyebrow toupees when I was younger. I get hives with adhesives now, so that one is out. And of course, now you can find every kind of wig style and color imaginable, so who knows, I might eventually wind up playing. Knowing me, I'll have more fun with it than most people, but isn't life too short NOT to have fun?

Click this next one to see a lot more blue wigs.

I made a huge mistake last winter and cut my hair off again after Christmas, on the advice of a new young hairdresser who insisted it would help my hair continue to get healthier. Sadly, I have wound up on prednisone a couple of times since then, and also had to change my thyroid med dose and start another med, and my hair growth has slowed down in response. I noticed my fingernails and hair are pretty synchronized on the ups and downs, so as I get a little shedding again, my fingernails also suddenly started peeling again. I know this is a protein problem and I need to stay on top of getting enough protein in my diet, but meds make it hard to eat right. If I want the hair, I have to give it a solid chance. If I don't want the shedding, I have to cut the junk food and keep it as easy as possible for my body to sort through the nutrients and use them well. If my systems are distracted with sorting through junk that slows everything down, the protein winds up going to continual recovery instead of rebuilding tissue.

This is my hair ~right now~. I never dreamed I'd ever see it like this again. This is the healthiest my hair has been in a very long time.

I'm going to get real brave and show you why this is a big deal, and why I'm ok now with losing all my hair if it comes to that. And I want all my friends and family to know it's ok to keep showing off your own wonderful hair and colors and perms and styles and all the fun you have with your hair, because I'll still love looking at it.

This picture is for all the women who are sad about losing their hair because of illness and cancer and hormones and stress and accidents and whatever else happens.

And this is me saying Don't despair. Maybe spray paint your scalp with glow in the dark and glitter and I'll be right there with you when the time comes.

If I ever lose all my hair, I'm going to have a ball and post selfies like crazy. I'm not going to cover it up or hide it, and I'm going to be happy that I'm still around to love my kids and grandkids. Well, ok, I'll wear a hat in the sun and bitter cold wind, but you can bet it will be a ~fun~ hat.

a day in the life

These are highlights. This is how blogging has helped me get through the 'brain crash', which happened in 2004 during Bell's Palsy (which is totally nontypical but may be related to being a carrier, as we shall see) and grew increasingly worse until it started getting better around 2012-13, and is still improving. Between the confusion of brain fog and memory deficit (which was a new thing to my eidetic memory), I was unable to keep things straight for a long time. Being able to go back through private blogs not only helps me remember stuff, but why I made decisions this way or that. Blogging made it possible for me to watch my progress through a plan to get healthy again, physically and mentally. It's been nearly ten years since the brain crash (first signs in Sept 2004, but puzzling because no visible signs of stroke, tumor, illness, or trauma.) Life still goes on. I'm so glad I kept a daily log because I honestly don't remember most of this until it is triggered by reading it back to myself, then I go Oh, yeah... For the curious, I'm a Lymie (first infected in high school) with Epstein Barr (from a wild mouse bite, yeah I was stupid and picked one up by the tail when I was a kid) and had a bad Bartonella infection as a kid, very ill with the measles in high school (probably responsible for surgically corrected arrhythmia years later), nasty car accident, autoimmune flare ups, severe fibromyalgia, a nasty months long systemic CMV infection in 2007, declared completely disabled in 2008, but because I'm a stubborn aspie, I'm doing everything in my power to get back off disability. It's a slow climb up a steep mountain, but I believe blogging is the key to planning, the climbing gear, if you will. They say life sucks and then you die. Well, I want my life to suck as long as possible.

August 18, 2007

•  
  

       Boy.  That was a tough 5 minutes after they pulled out.  Me and Twinkles bawled our eyes out before we went back in the house.

  My sploit is off to Texas today to her new life with her fiance.  Time to start her new job, look for an apartment, get married…

  This was a small part of the loading process…  Boy, my camera is getting bad.

  

  Of course, the sploit wasn’t weepy one bit.  Look at that grin!  She has techno-JOY!!!!  Ok, private joke.

  

  It was a little early for Twinkles, but she was a real trooper, walking in the door at 6 a.m. in time for bacon and good-byes.

  

  Thodin.  The yucky green car that has been part of our driveway for years…  Today is probably the last day I’ll ever see Thodin again.  I think they have plans to trade it in later.  For some reason, this picture gets me more than all the rest.  I have so many memories of moving the sploit to college and back in Thodin.

  

  “Ready, Houston…”

  

  One more quickie pic of my baby….  *snif*

  

  Backing out…

  

  Now Twinkles is crashed on the couch until it’s time to go to work.  I’m feeling a weird sort of blue on my big stupid pills.  The chicken is cackling.  The dryer is going.  I am trying very hard not to think about how badly I wanted to be able to go on this caravan trip with them.

  *sigh*

August 18, 2008

• Finally starting to feel a little more normal, yay!  Finished the antibiotic this morning.  The body spasms are quieting down.  Have been sleeping a LOT.  Just about caught up on the usual chores. 
• Watched the Two Coreys season finale this morning, had it dvr’d.  I couldn’t believe all the pills Haim was on.  They didn’t name them all, but after dumping several other bottles, he argued to keep the vicodin (label said to take 4 a day) and the xanax.  Geez, dude.  I can barely handle 1/2 a vicodin at a time, and I have serious medical issues.  Any time I’m offered xanax and valium I turn them down, point blank.  I fear how hard I’ll work suddenly moving furniture around by myself if they knock the pain away and I have no inhibitions.  Good way for me to wind up in the ER.  You know, I never realized until I watched this season of the Two Coreys that I really am a seasoned drug abuser, under the guise of fibro and lupus.  I’ve been fighting to get off the meds for several years now, and dealing with withdrawals and the shock and recovery my body has to go through on top of being ill, and I’m convinced that the world of chronics and terminals is a serious issue of medication abuse, sponsored by pharmaceuticals, insurance, and the poor doctors caught in the middle.  When I’m on all the same medications that serious drug addicts wind up going into treatment for…  Just because I have an excuse to take them doesn’t mean it’s ok. 
• Scoped out a few sites on epstein barr.  Good lord.  No wonder my doctor was so quick to give me that handicap tag.  I didn’t realize how complicated that one is, and it’s just one of many wrecking me up through my life.  I know I seem pretty aggressive sometimes about digging up info on stuff, but in some ways I’m still pretty naive.  Here I was apologizing to my attorney for wanting to start up a disability case last November when I was so ill I could barely stand up and walk a straight line.  I blame the Asperger’s, I guess it just takes awhile for things to process and really hit me.  I fought the disability for so long, not realizing how much support I would have had even 20 years ago.
• Haven’t talked to my dad in nearly two weeks.  Keep thinking I should call and make sure he’s still ok with Mom’s care at the nursing home, but something in me keeps resisting.  He was calling me nearly every day and sometimes crying and angry, and I had to keep smoothing things out.  Scott’s mom is now driving herself all over creation every day, gets the boot off her broken ankle in about a week.  She has stopped calling me every day.  Well, I take that back.  She called me a few days back to ask if our land line phones were out from the rain and I said yes.  She called back the next day to ask if I’d called in to report yet and I said no.  (I’m very literal.  If she’d wanted me to do the calling, all she had to do was ask.)  Then she called me the next day about the wiring in their air conditioning, and once she found out Scott was available he started getting all the phone calls. 
•   I don’t do phones well.  I don’t do other people’s ‘panic’ well.  I’ve had to get through so much on my own without any kind of support at all, it’s incredible.  It wears me out terribly, as an aspie, to have to handle other people’s stuff.  I feel like I’m still recovering from all that constant problem after problem after problem this last month.  On top of my own problems.

August 18, 2009

Family meeting at the nursing home set for Sept. 1st.  I have so many feelings conflicting around even just the need for this meeting.  I don’t even have to take sides to dread this.  I’m not even on a side.  I see both sides, I see that both sides have blinders on and won’t budge, and I see that it all boils down to me being the main arbitrator because I’m legally in charge of both parents.  I just wish my dad would stay home more.  He’s a good guy, but he just needs to relax and have more of a life than hanging on every breath Mom takes.  If I had known Mom would make it this long, I really should have gotten a lawyer on this years ago.  And her own private room.

Scott picked two Walmart bags of tomatoes last night, half from the big Shop of Horrors bush under my kitchen window, the other half from the bush that fell over two months ago in the flower bed.  When the coffee kicks in (not sure it this will work, the first cup wobbled me back into bed) I wanna get a cookie sheet out and roast a whole bunch to freeze back in little bags for future batches of settler’s beans and spaghetti sauce.

@ 11:30 a.m.

What a long day.  I’m in slo-mo.  It’s so bad that I wrote down that I took a pill, and 15 minutes later could have sworn I never actually took it.  Just writing it down doesn’t mean I took it… dang it.

And I can’t go back to bed because I finally wandered in there and stripped it.    It’s a good thing I’m so far ahead on food, because I don’t think I could cook a meal from scratch today.  I’d wander off in the middle of something and forget I was doing it.

 @ 1 p.m.

I’m willing to entertain the notion that I’m having some depression.  Took 4 hours to get that cookie dough mixed.  My brain shuts down completely every time I think about either 1- my next doctor appt, 2- the nursing home meeting, or 3- the disability hearing.  Ugmo.  Eating a warm cookie.  It’s helping.  Put half the dough into the freezer for another day. Watched a new episode of The Universe, they finally made a new one.  I would sure love to lose myself in just thinking about stars and galaxies. Decided to throw a good *what the heck* to the wind and threw mine and Scott’s pillows in the wash.  Scott’s is line dry only, but I’m going to throw it in the dryer anyway.  If he winds up sleeping on a ball, it might prompt him to go buy a new pillow after two years of saying he’s going to buy a new pillow.  I have no idea how old this one is, but it’s gross, and I’m tired of waiting.

August 18, 2010

• Today is chiro and the grocery store.  This will force me to get a shower.  I’m having the hardest time getting more than 2 showers a week in this month.
  That meaty soup yesterday turned out really good.
  No brain yet this morning.  See ya.

August 18, 2011

I scanned the crap outa the wedding book before Scott took it back this morning with our order, which is now only for show so other people ordering pix won’t think we’re awful parents, because we could easily print them out on our own photo paper now.  We’re just getting 3 pix, of the whole family, the 3 generations, and bride’s parents with the couple. As we were going through the book and noticing all the other family photos, Scott couldn’t help noticing how often *** and her current guy showed up, and how few pix we were in, and it became obvious that Twink didn’t make it clear with the photographer exactly who the family ~was~….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My perfect bow made it in the album.

August 18, 2012

I really think this weird bladder spasm thing is my lower back kicking off again. Been having problems with it ever since all the mess started up with Andy, then gram, then Scott’s stuff, and now I’m having trouble moving and bending again, and starting to get pains down my legs. Might have to start back weekly with chiro. Also thinking about getting back into core strength training for my spine. (retrospect edit- it did turn out to be severe fibro and was only relieved with many weeks of ASTYM therapy over several months- I can't even begin to describe the pain and the way it referred around nerve centers)

August 18, 2013

Day 7 of norco withdrawal +_+ 

I think the worst should be about over. Been a zinger week, nothing like going through opiate withdrawal on prednisone and round the clock benadryl. I’ve lost 3 pounds, at least. Hitting coffee a little early. 

Tonight is utterly sleepless, only 1 1/2 hours so far. Slept real good earlier in the week, surprisingly, probably all the extra benadryl, even though I was wired to the gills. 

August 18, 2014

*** got back home today, will probably retire now. Scott took his mom and Twink out to see him come in. *** got married Saturday, and after they were pronounced and kissed they locked light sabers. I heard her blade was red, which is Sith, lol.

I finally got a couple of weekends off in a row, and dang if I didn’t get in my bedroom with a forklift. Got that stupid dresser and armoire OUTA there. Scott says I can have a new dresser any time now, so maybe over this next week I can finish up the piles of stuff that have been amassing again since Twink got pregnant. I’ve been using a broken drawer on the floor for at least two years. Was supposed to get a new dresser a long time ago, but Twink getting pregnant and piling in here (rather her here than some place stupid!) and then moving around and then popping the kiddo early practically on top of me having surgery, and then keeping us busy every weekend (and more) since then, this whole last year has been like riding out a string of tornadoes. We’re exhausted. Anyway, I caught a second wind and boy howdy, my bedroom is getting a very badly needed makeover.

My nerves are quietly going into shock. Here we are again, a year later, not sure whether my blogs will disappear. Was hoping to have a little money this fall, but still not sure yet about Xanga renewing. I need to get this book wrapped up. I’m glad I didn’t meet my last two deadlines because I am really liking the conversations I’ve had about breaking it down some more, stretching it out, filling it in. Work of art. I need to do it justice. It’s not just another story being tossed out there, it’s my histoire philosophique. It’s me putting Camus and Lewis onto the same gourmet sandwich. I really do believe I can pull this off, but in the middle of all this other duress and another blog salvage…? I’ve always said I do love a challenge. My whole life has been like the Tour de France.