What makes you happy? I'm talking about the kind of happiness that brings joy, contentment, frustration, anxiety, panic, hilarity, relief, and excitement. If you have children or grandchildren, you probably answered my question with their names. But what if you didn't have any kids or grandkids? What would make you truly happy then? Your spouse/significant other? What if you didn't have one of those either, what would make you genuinely happy? Just think about it for a little minute ...
Thanks to my RSD and so many nerve blocks using fluoroscopic imaging and the bleeping x-ray machine, I am unable to have any children of my own, let alone grandchildren. Hence my love, adoration, obsession, and affinity for Kiva, my niece, and my nephew. But the latter 2 live 9 hours away and I only get to see them a couple of times a year. Kiva is the rock on which I build my dreams ... But she's a dog, and there is only so much that a dog can do. Human interaction is a necessity in life for all humans. Divorce and RSD separated me from my spouse. It was my decision and it was the right decision for me to make. I am practically a shut-in for 7 months out of the year, unless I go someplace warm, so where do I go to find the kind of happiness that helps me to forget about my pain, puts a genuine smile on my face, lets me be goofy and crazy, and brings joy back into my life?
I'm an RSDer, a daughter, a sister, a sister-in-law, an aunt, a niece, a cousin, a friend, an advocate, a smart-ass, a realist, a woman, a broad, a lady ... and a Coach!! In the last 20 years, every time I have tried to quit, retire, or take a hiatus, I have been miserable, depressed, in amplified pain, and a bitch to be around. When I am able to shun the pain and discomfort and don the Vera Bradley lanyard with my coach's whistle and stopwatch on it, I am a reborn member of the human race. Even if I'm not the "Head Coach," even if most of the girls on my team have never ever even touched a volleyball before they step onto my court, even if I don't get paid to do it, I am a Coach. I belong with personalities that match my own. I belong in a place where I can make a difference, even if it's only in 1 person's life. I am a Coach and coaching makes me happy ... and it's noticeable to everyone in my life!! I am not an individual. I function best when I am a part of a team, regardless of the type of team. When I am part of a team, I feel valuable and I have motivation to be an outstanding member of that team. Whether it's with my family team, my team of friends, being in a relationship, working on a team to raise awareness for RSD, working within a team of coaches, or leading a team on the court, it's the "team" that keeps me going.
Yesterday at practice 2 of my girls got their underhand serves over the net. Just one time each, but the shock and elation of both of those serves brought me to my knees with joy. The mom that "bullied and accosted" me last week about the amount of running that I made the girls do instead of giving them skill training came up to me after practice and informed me that she had been working with her daughter ... and making her run when she would make a dumb mistake. She told me that she had watched the whole practice this time and that the method to my madness was made evident to her. She apologized and that mom got a high five from this coach. Another mom takes her camera to every game, even if her daughter isn't playing that day. She emails us coaches the pictures almost right away. We have about 28 girls for 3 teams, and the stands have been full of black and yellow clad fans ... and that was just for our 2 away games that we've had so far. The girls are starting to see what it means to be a member of a team. I ... am ... happy!!
I have faith that I will forever remain "Coach." Pain be damned, it's just who I am. RSD, you may have taken the girl out of the court, but you will never take the court out of the girl. Nice try, you bat rastard, nice try!!
Raising Awareness for RSD (and Ziggi's)
The Power of Orange
Friday, August 31, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Sometimes Avoidance Is Key
I have an aversion to folding and putting away laundry. I have this large laundry basket bulging and brimming and spilling out clean clothes all over my bedroom floor. I looked at it for a few minutes today. Then I sat on the foot of my bed and looked at it for a little while longer as I tried to find the nerve to tackle it. Then I laid back on my bed and stared hypnotically at the twirling ceiling fan. I woke up an hour later and decided to write/blog instead of taking the chance that being in the presence of Apparel Mountain would render me unconscious again.
My couch still needs to be vacuumed, my dishwasher still needs to be unloaded and reloaded, the weeds in my gardens aren't going to pull themselves, and now I am forced to switch up my game plan for practice. (Our school is still in the final stages of construction and the gym is being used as storage for things like desks, chairs, bulletin boards, tables, boxes of books, carpet, lighting fixtures, all things not conducive to volleyball.) So ... there's a local-ish beach volleyball club that has been allowing us to use their courts when we can't get onto a regular one. On one hand, I love it!! Beach volleyball is just plain fun when you know what you're doing!! On the other hand, it is not the foothold where one instills the initial skills needed to play the sport. And on that same 2nd hand, I really don't enjoy finding sand "where the sun don't shine" when I get home. If I were able to enjoy a beautiful ocean while embedding sand in hidden crevices, I wouldn't complain. But this is Colorado, and until the San Andreas Fault collapses, there is no ocean.
Usually motivation isn't quite this difficult for me to muster, but I did a dumb thing yesterday. It was totally random and to a Normie-Girl it wouldn't even register on pain or paranoia indexes. While getting ready for our games yesterday, I was using my hair straightener because, really, you don't want me to not, and I pinched the ring finger of my right hand. Right away the ring, middle, and pinky fingers started to flame and throb and turn red and ... wait for it ... I didn't even burn myself, just got a little pinched!! The only telltale sign that there was an issue is a tiny little blood blister on the pad of my finger ... and it still freaking hurts!!!!!!!! Honestly, I'm a little intimidated by my ability to do dumb stuff like that, and I'm afraid that if I get on a roll again, and start moving too fast again, I'll do something dumb again, and put myself into a deeper flare than the one I'm already experiencing. FU RSD!!! I hate this bat rastard of a disease!! I want my real life back!! I want to not have to be paranoid of "possibilities" all of the damn time!! <sigh> ok, I feel a little better now, thanks.
I have faith that by the time practice is over tomorrow, it will take me the whole entire 3 day weekend to recover. I have faith that I will spend my spoons on the girls and not my tedious household chores. I have faith that I will continue to rifle through Apparel Mountain for clean clothes, and on the off-chance that I need something to be ironed, I have faith that I will spray it down with my water bottle and stick it back in the dryer for another round ... or 2. (To the people that just called me "lazy," I salute you with my throbbing middle finger. You couldn't tolerate half of the pain and discomfort that I deal with on a daily basis!!)
My couch still needs to be vacuumed, my dishwasher still needs to be unloaded and reloaded, the weeds in my gardens aren't going to pull themselves, and now I am forced to switch up my game plan for practice. (Our school is still in the final stages of construction and the gym is being used as storage for things like desks, chairs, bulletin boards, tables, boxes of books, carpet, lighting fixtures, all things not conducive to volleyball.) So ... there's a local-ish beach volleyball club that has been allowing us to use their courts when we can't get onto a regular one. On one hand, I love it!! Beach volleyball is just plain fun when you know what you're doing!! On the other hand, it is not the foothold where one instills the initial skills needed to play the sport. And on that same 2nd hand, I really don't enjoy finding sand "where the sun don't shine" when I get home. If I were able to enjoy a beautiful ocean while embedding sand in hidden crevices, I wouldn't complain. But this is Colorado, and until the San Andreas Fault collapses, there is no ocean.
Usually motivation isn't quite this difficult for me to muster, but I did a dumb thing yesterday. It was totally random and to a Normie-Girl it wouldn't even register on pain or paranoia indexes. While getting ready for our games yesterday, I was using my hair straightener because, really, you don't want me to not, and I pinched the ring finger of my right hand. Right away the ring, middle, and pinky fingers started to flame and throb and turn red and ... wait for it ... I didn't even burn myself, just got a little pinched!! The only telltale sign that there was an issue is a tiny little blood blister on the pad of my finger ... and it still freaking hurts!!!!!!!! Honestly, I'm a little intimidated by my ability to do dumb stuff like that, and I'm afraid that if I get on a roll again, and start moving too fast again, I'll do something dumb again, and put myself into a deeper flare than the one I'm already experiencing. FU RSD!!! I hate this bat rastard of a disease!! I want my real life back!! I want to not have to be paranoid of "possibilities" all of the damn time!! <sigh> ok, I feel a little better now, thanks.
I have faith that by the time practice is over tomorrow, it will take me the whole entire 3 day weekend to recover. I have faith that I will spend my spoons on the girls and not my tedious household chores. I have faith that I will continue to rifle through Apparel Mountain for clean clothes, and on the off-chance that I need something to be ironed, I have faith that I will spray it down with my water bottle and stick it back in the dryer for another round ... or 2. (To the people that just called me "lazy," I salute you with my throbbing middle finger. You couldn't tolerate half of the pain and discomfort that I deal with on a daily basis!!)
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The Little Girl Who Cried Wolf
Last night was, for lack of a better term, brutal. It had absolutely nothing to with RSD at the time, but the after effects are all RSD related!! Kiva and I had our date night last night. We had pizza, ice cream, took a walk, watched a movie, and we were in our beds by 11. We had a great night!!! The chaos began at 11:30.
Kiva had already tucked me in and had returned to her own bed. I was just about to turn off the light on my nightstand when she started in with her guttural growl. Before I could angle my body over the edge of the bed to see what she was going on about, the growl turned into a full blown German Shepherd "alert" bark as she sprang into a full run to the living room window. I grabbed my machete (yes, I have a machete) from under my bed and quickly followed her. I flipped the porch light switch to "on" and joined Kiva on the couch to examine our outer world through the window. Nothing. Not a cat, not a raccoon, not a burglar, not a lost drunk (yes, we've had those before), just silence and darkness. I turned the porch light off and we returned to the bedroom.
By 12:40 my heart rate had returned to it's normal thumping and I was able to turn off the light and attempt to find some form of sleep. At 1:45 she did it again. It started with the low, guttural growl again, but I didn't hear it, I felt it. At some point during that hour, she had rejoined me on my bed and had laid her head on my tummy as I slept. Before I could roll onto my side to turn on the nightstand light, she launched off of the bed in full blown "attack" mode. Machete in hand, I was hot on her heels. I turned the porch light on again, joined her on the couch again, and, again, nothing. I looked at her, scratched her by her ear, and said, "Spunkin, you have got to quit doing this! Back to bed!" The timer had turned off the tv in my room so I changed my bedtime movie and reset it for another 2 hours, not knowing if or when I would be able to fall back asleep. I put the machete back under my bed and opted for a little iPhone solitaire to calm me down again. The last time I remember looking at the clock, it was 2:30.
At 3:57 deja vu struck like lightening. Kiva was already at the living room window and I can only assume (you know what that means) that her 1st intention was to check it out before she woke me. Again I grabbed the machete. Again I turned on the porch light. Again I joined her at the window. Again nothing!! All of these quick movements getting out of bed were starting to cause a small skin flare that encompassed the right side of my body. The nerve sweats started kicking in before I had even returned the knife to it's holster. I turned on my ceiling fan, opened one of my bedroom windows, restarted the tv timer again, and Kiva was snoring on her bed before my head hit my pillows.
4:30. Light off. Still awake. Playing solitaire. Listening to my bedtime movie. Let the growls begin ... again!! I was about to scold that dang dog of mine when I heard a commotion through my open window. Without turning the nightstand light on, I pointed to the bedroom door and told Kiva to "GO!!" She unleashed the fury of her most relentless bark as she Usain Bolt-ed to the front window ... again. As I was reaching for my very large knife (again) I heard something metal clank on the sidewalk in front of my house. My heart began to hammer against my chest. I could feel sweat on my forehead. I was genuinely scared. This time I also grabbed my phone and started dialing 9-1-1. I flipped on the porch light, flung my front door open, brandished my pretty machete, and yelled, "What the hell???" (Kiva was still growling and barking and trying to get through the front window, like she does with the mailman.) In the time it took those 2 moronic males to say, "Oh shit!" Kiva had jumped over the arm of the couch and was literally standing on my feet, at the screen door. The 9-1-1 dispatcher had answered and I informed her that 2 "men" were trying to break into my car. Hearing all of the commotion on my end, she asked me if my dog was contained. HAHA!! I had to laugh. The 2 idiots OJ'd back up my street and around the corner. 2 cop cars showed up, 1 stayed with Kiva and me and the other took off in the direction of fools-r-us.
Needless to say, I have been up ever since. Very little sleep, stress induced skin flare, elevated heart rate, muscle spasms ... these things do not make for a happy camper. But the correlation between my dog and the story of the little boy who cried wolf just makes me giggle a little.
I have faith that Kiva will continue to protect me and alert me when something is not quite right in our world. I have faith that, although I have not heard from the police yet during actual daylight hours, they will catch the perps with the help of my descriptions. One officer said, "You're lucky to have a dog like her." I replied, "I know."
Kiva had already tucked me in and had returned to her own bed. I was just about to turn off the light on my nightstand when she started in with her guttural growl. Before I could angle my body over the edge of the bed to see what she was going on about, the growl turned into a full blown German Shepherd "alert" bark as she sprang into a full run to the living room window. I grabbed my machete (yes, I have a machete) from under my bed and quickly followed her. I flipped the porch light switch to "on" and joined Kiva on the couch to examine our outer world through the window. Nothing. Not a cat, not a raccoon, not a burglar, not a lost drunk (yes, we've had those before), just silence and darkness. I turned the porch light off and we returned to the bedroom.
By 12:40 my heart rate had returned to it's normal thumping and I was able to turn off the light and attempt to find some form of sleep. At 1:45 she did it again. It started with the low, guttural growl again, but I didn't hear it, I felt it. At some point during that hour, she had rejoined me on my bed and had laid her head on my tummy as I slept. Before I could roll onto my side to turn on the nightstand light, she launched off of the bed in full blown "attack" mode. Machete in hand, I was hot on her heels. I turned the porch light on again, joined her on the couch again, and, again, nothing. I looked at her, scratched her by her ear, and said, "Spunkin, you have got to quit doing this! Back to bed!" The timer had turned off the tv in my room so I changed my bedtime movie and reset it for another 2 hours, not knowing if or when I would be able to fall back asleep. I put the machete back under my bed and opted for a little iPhone solitaire to calm me down again. The last time I remember looking at the clock, it was 2:30.
At 3:57 deja vu struck like lightening. Kiva was already at the living room window and I can only assume (you know what that means) that her 1st intention was to check it out before she woke me. Again I grabbed the machete. Again I turned on the porch light. Again I joined her at the window. Again nothing!! All of these quick movements getting out of bed were starting to cause a small skin flare that encompassed the right side of my body. The nerve sweats started kicking in before I had even returned the knife to it's holster. I turned on my ceiling fan, opened one of my bedroom windows, restarted the tv timer again, and Kiva was snoring on her bed before my head hit my pillows.
4:30. Light off. Still awake. Playing solitaire. Listening to my bedtime movie. Let the growls begin ... again!! I was about to scold that dang dog of mine when I heard a commotion through my open window. Without turning the nightstand light on, I pointed to the bedroom door and told Kiva to "GO!!" She unleashed the fury of her most relentless bark as she Usain Bolt-ed to the front window ... again. As I was reaching for my very large knife (again) I heard something metal clank on the sidewalk in front of my house. My heart began to hammer against my chest. I could feel sweat on my forehead. I was genuinely scared. This time I also grabbed my phone and started dialing 9-1-1. I flipped on the porch light, flung my front door open, brandished my pretty machete, and yelled, "What the hell???" (Kiva was still growling and barking and trying to get through the front window, like she does with the mailman.) In the time it took those 2 moronic males to say, "Oh shit!" Kiva had jumped over the arm of the couch and was literally standing on my feet, at the screen door. The 9-1-1 dispatcher had answered and I informed her that 2 "men" were trying to break into my car. Hearing all of the commotion on my end, she asked me if my dog was contained. HAHA!! I had to laugh. The 2 idiots OJ'd back up my street and around the corner. 2 cop cars showed up, 1 stayed with Kiva and me and the other took off in the direction of fools-r-us.
Needless to say, I have been up ever since. Very little sleep, stress induced skin flare, elevated heart rate, muscle spasms ... these things do not make for a happy camper. But the correlation between my dog and the story of the little boy who cried wolf just makes me giggle a little.
I have faith that Kiva will continue to protect me and alert me when something is not quite right in our world. I have faith that, although I have not heard from the police yet during actual daylight hours, they will catch the perps with the help of my descriptions. One officer said, "You're lucky to have a dog like her." I replied, "I know."
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Happy Adrenaline Strikes Again
The half-pint in the black shirt: "She's weird."
The belle in the purple tank: "But she's funny."
The snarky little miss in pink: "I don't like her. She doesn't do anything but talk."
The wide-eyed doe in yellow" "um ... She heard you."
Me: "Why yes, yes I did." (and then I winked at the snarky one)
I absolutely love Day 1, after the butterflies flutter by, that is. First impressions are so important in sports and it is at this time in their lives when they learn it ... aaaaaaand usually the hard way. The only "competition" that most of these girls have seen has been sibling rivalry. If you want to impress the coach, aka make the team, you don't take to the court passively. You run. You take every word, that the coach says, to heart and apply their words the next time it's your turn. You don't roll your eyes at the coach. When the coach asks a question, you reply enthusiastically. And when the coach asks you your name, you don't turn to the girl next to you and have her answer for you. Aahhhhhhhhh ... the joys of middle school volleyball. (Let me go on record right now and say that I am so glad that I'm not the "adult in charge" this time around. No busy work, just volleyball!! ha cha cha!!!!)
Practice ended at 5 and the pain remained at bay until almost 9:30!!! Happy adrenaline is a wave I wish I could keep riding, but RSD always brings me crashing back down to reality, at some point. I was so exhausted that I forgot to take my bedtime meds until after I was already in bed. As soon as I got up to take them, Kiva decided that she should probably go outside one last time ... to bark at the raccoons in the alley. Aaaaaand then I was awake ... and so were the neighbors. As soon as we got back in our beds, I remembered my meds ... again. My body said, "screw it," the exhaustion took over, and I was asleep before Memphis Raines played "Low Rider."
My body decided I had to get up at 5 which did not coincide with my having set the timer on Bertha for 6:30 ... so I had to wait for my coffee this morning. I'm not a fan of that. It only took 3 hours for me to be able to walk upright and another hour after that I was able to talk myself into the shower. Cheers to volleyball season ... and remembering to take my K-spray!!!
I have faith that today's practice will better than yesterday's practice. I have faith that the girls will learn and accept that I may be a dork, but I am the coolest dork that they'll ever meet. I have faith that my body will continue to fight me, but my will is strong and I will keep fighting back every step of the way. I have faith that, despite the exhaustion, I will remember to take my meds before bed. I'll defo be needing more downtime during the season, but it will all be worth it as my heart continues to overflow with the joys of coaching volleyball again!!
The belle in the purple tank: "But she's funny."
The snarky little miss in pink: "I don't like her. She doesn't do anything but talk."
The wide-eyed doe in yellow" "um ... She heard you."
Me: "Why yes, yes I did." (and then I winked at the snarky one)
I absolutely love Day 1, after the butterflies flutter by, that is. First impressions are so important in sports and it is at this time in their lives when they learn it ... aaaaaaand usually the hard way. The only "competition" that most of these girls have seen has been sibling rivalry. If you want to impress the coach, aka make the team, you don't take to the court passively. You run. You take every word, that the coach says, to heart and apply their words the next time it's your turn. You don't roll your eyes at the coach. When the coach asks a question, you reply enthusiastically. And when the coach asks you your name, you don't turn to the girl next to you and have her answer for you. Aahhhhhhhhh ... the joys of middle school volleyball. (Let me go on record right now and say that I am so glad that I'm not the "adult in charge" this time around. No busy work, just volleyball!! ha cha cha!!!!)
Practice ended at 5 and the pain remained at bay until almost 9:30!!! Happy adrenaline is a wave I wish I could keep riding, but RSD always brings me crashing back down to reality, at some point. I was so exhausted that I forgot to take my bedtime meds until after I was already in bed. As soon as I got up to take them, Kiva decided that she should probably go outside one last time ... to bark at the raccoons in the alley. Aaaaaand then I was awake ... and so were the neighbors. As soon as we got back in our beds, I remembered my meds ... again. My body said, "screw it," the exhaustion took over, and I was asleep before Memphis Raines played "Low Rider."
My body decided I had to get up at 5 which did not coincide with my having set the timer on Bertha for 6:30 ... so I had to wait for my coffee this morning. I'm not a fan of that. It only took 3 hours for me to be able to walk upright and another hour after that I was able to talk myself into the shower. Cheers to volleyball season ... and remembering to take my K-spray!!!
I have faith that today's practice will better than yesterday's practice. I have faith that the girls will learn and accept that I may be a dork, but I am the coolest dork that they'll ever meet. I have faith that my body will continue to fight me, but my will is strong and I will keep fighting back every step of the way. I have faith that, despite the exhaustion, I will remember to take my meds before bed. I'll defo be needing more downtime during the season, but it will all be worth it as my heart continues to overflow with the joys of coaching volleyball again!!
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Another One Bites the Dust
Three years ago I was able to cross something off of my Bucket List. Two years ago I drew a line through another list item. Today I get to cross yet 1 more thing off of that list. It all seems pretty surreal to this RSDer, considering the nature of the main activity, but it feels so damn good to feel empowered to the point of acting on it.
Three years ago, while I was the head coach (only coach) for 22 middle school volleyballers, my brother, Houdini, stepped up to be my assistant coach for our tournaments. He took time out of his crazy busy schedule (getting his teaching degree and coaching a Jr. Varsity v-ball team at a local high school) to help me take 3 teams into two weekend tournaments. I cannot begin to tell you how proud (and relieved) it made me feel to be able to walk into a gym with him and know that he had my back and would coach my B and C teams with the same principles that I used. (After all, guess who he had for his first coach ... heh heh ... yup!!) It was tough for him to have to "dummy-down" his skill levels for my girls, but he did great!! I mean, there's a pretty big gap between junior high ball and junior varsity ball ... big gap!! Huge!!! But having him as my assistant coach got crossed off of the list, right then and there!!
Two years ago, Houdini and I played on a rec league volleyball team. He always played to my left so that he could take the serves that were aimed in my direction. Even with my RSD, I can pass, I can set, I can hit, I can serve underhand only, I can tip, but I cannot serve receive, serve overhand, or dive for a ball. Towards the end of our season, our sister, the Bombshell, was in town with her family and she and her husband took the court with us!! I played in a competitive match with both of my siblings!! We lost 2-1 but I didn't care. (That kinda pissed off the b-i-l, but...) I was on cloud nine, having just done something that I'd always hoped to do, but never thought it would ever happen. <BAM> one more thing crossed off of my list!!
To some, these might seem trivial. To me, they were priceless!! Being 12 and 14 years older than the Bombshell and Houdini, respectively, I was the one who taught both of them to play when they were very, very young. I coached both of them when they were in high school, but we had never taken the court together. When I contracted RSD in 1991, they were 10 and 8. They watched me fight to be able to coach so that I continue to be in their lives. Volleyball was our connection while the years and pain put barriers between us.
2 years ago I retired from coaching because of my health. Today I come out of retirement and become Houdini's assistant coach for his charter middle school's inaugural volleyball season. Now I get to have his back!! I am scared, nervous, jittery (no, it's not the caffeine), excited, paranoid, and hopeful. I feel genuinely needed for the first time in quite a while!! He informed me last night that he now knows how I felt when I had 22 girls all by myself. He's got 28 and a gal that he teaches with as the other assistant, though she's never coached a day in her life. Houdini's exact words were, "Jenn, I need you. I need you help me teach the basics, and help me transition down to this level." How could I say, "no"?? It's volleyball!! And it's my brother!! And it's volleyball!!
I had faith that this day would come!! I didn't know how I would be able to respond to the calling, but I knew it would happen. I have faith that I will help my brother to the best of my ability. I have faith that I will fill the volleyball sized gap in my heart with these crazy kids and this wonderful sport. Pain be damned, I'm coaching again!! Can I get a "WOOT WOOT"?????
Monday, August 13, 2012
Soul Searching: The Results Are In
There comes a time in every dog's life when their human decides to go soul searching. This last weekend was my time. Mommie made lists. A lot of lists. When all was said and done, it ended up being six notebook pages, front and back, of pros, cons, and lists. (When I sniffed the kitchen trash this morning, I found her used up notebook underneath her first round of coffee grounds.) The best part of the weekend, for me, was when Mommie would tear out a page, crinkle it all up, and throw it ... until she opted for a trash bag instead of my retrieval efforts ... I smelled that bag in the trash too. <sigh> ... it was fun while it lasted.
Mommie has decided that it is in both of our best interests if we: continue growing our own food; continue to spearhead her physical therapy; grow our own herbs; not get cable tv during football season; stick to raising awareness for RSD and not focus on on raising money; create a fan page on Facebook for me; finish our book; take more short walks together; start looking for a new couch/sofa-surfboard; remove all mouse turds; and just remain the Dynamic Duo. I have no idea what any of this has to do with searching her soul, but it all sounds good to these pointy, floppy ears.
As she explained it, these things will make our lives cheaper and easier. Really Mommie, that's all you've got? Cheaper and easier? The word "elaborate" comes to mind here. And then she did just that (she's convinced that the only reason that she got a dog in the first place was so that she didn't look crazy when she talked to herself out loud). Ok, here's the breakdown:
She said that if we grow our own food and herbs, it will be cheaper than always having to go to the store and to the herbologist. As summer ends and the weather gets cooler and it becomes more difficult for her to get out of the house, it will make it easier and less stressful when she runs out of something. So we are going to build a make-shift greenhouse with all sorts of veggies and roots in it. This should go well ... oi vey!!
The whole physical therapy thing boils down to a swimsuit, or lack thereof. She was contemplating going back to the therapy pool at the hospital and then transferring over to the YMCA to continue PT on her own. The RSD in her right leg is causing the muscles to shorten and warm water therapy is the best when it comes to elongating those muscles, but that means that she would have to buy a swimsuit and that's not in our budget. I think it's because she thinks that no one wants to see her 43 year old, skinny butt in something as revealing as a swimsuit ... but I digress. So we will take more short walks around the block followed by me helping her with her stretches and more baths ... for her, not me!!
Next ... she already has a game plan in tact for football season, so there is no need to shovel out more dollars on cable tv. We do just fine with Hulu, Netflix, and the 5 local networks. Day games at Auntie ColoAngel's house, night games at the GingerBar, and "bad day" games at the Castle where Mommie's parents live. My Mommie is so smart ... she only goes where there's good food. I taught her that!!
Something that causes my Mommie a hell-a-ton of stress is having to ask for money ... for any reason. She swallows her pride often enough to ask her parents for help, but when it comes to raising money for a cause, she just can't do it without feeling like a "humiliated ass," as she calls it. Her line of thinking is that if she can't afford to donate, what gives her the right to ask for other human's hard earned cash ... answer: not a damn thing!! So she will continue to focus our efforts on raising awareness for RSD. We'll leave the fundraising to the rich people that can afford it!!
Mommie wants a new couch that also converts into a sofa surfboard. The couch that we have now is so comfy, I just don't understand why she wants a new one!! Oh wait ... never mind ... I do know why. The couch that we have now is a woven red fabric/mohair (my hair) blend. No matter how often Mommie vacuums it, it just takes one Happy Nappy from me to reupholster it. I can see how that would be nerve-racking for her. And we need to be kind to her nerves. Let the search begin!!
This morning, finally ... after weeks of procrastinating, Mommie created my Facebook Fan Page, Kiva's Korner. All for me!!! I get to tattle on her, make jokes about her, post pictures of myself, and maybe even learn to write my own meme's. This leads straight into the need to finish the book that Mommie and I are writing together. Hopefully we can make enough money with it to afford trips so that we can include "The Adventures Of..." to my page. Mommie wants to travel Route 66 with me ... just think of all of the stories that I could tell about that adventure!!
The last bit of soul searching that Mommie did was to realize that she can no longer ask a guy, any guy, to take us on in a relationship. She doesn't want to risk someone else caring about her and being forced to sit and watch and feel helpless when she has a flare or needs to recover. She sees the looks on their faces and she might as well have just asked them for money, because the "humiliated ass" feeling comes back and clobbers her over the head with a 2x4. It's not to fair to ask anyone to have to witness how pathetic she gets, and it's not fair to her to see them miserable because of her. So we will remain the Dynamic Duo with some stellar friends, an amazing family, and (Mommie says) batteries. (I don't get that last one, maybe you humans will.)
I have faith that Mommie and I will do what we need to do for us!! I have faith that I will back her up on her PT and protect her while she flares and recovers. I have faith that Mommie won't try to make me eat the veggies and herbs as we grow them (thank God). I have faith that we will find a new couch before winter hits. As much as I love the vacuum (no really, I do) I know that it hurts Mommie every time she has to drag it out and use it. Now, I'm gonna go search the world wide doggie web for meme's for my wall ... tee hee ... this is gonna be fun!! Peace out, humans!!
Mommie has decided that it is in both of our best interests if we: continue growing our own food; continue to spearhead her physical therapy; grow our own herbs; not get cable tv during football season; stick to raising awareness for RSD and not focus on on raising money; create a fan page on Facebook for me; finish our book; take more short walks together; start looking for a new couch/sofa-surfboard; remove all mouse turds; and just remain the Dynamic Duo. I have no idea what any of this has to do with searching her soul, but it all sounds good to these pointy, floppy ears.
As she explained it, these things will make our lives cheaper and easier. Really Mommie, that's all you've got? Cheaper and easier? The word "elaborate" comes to mind here. And then she did just that (she's convinced that the only reason that she got a dog in the first place was so that she didn't look crazy when she talked to herself out loud). Ok, here's the breakdown:
She said that if we grow our own food and herbs, it will be cheaper than always having to go to the store and to the herbologist. As summer ends and the weather gets cooler and it becomes more difficult for her to get out of the house, it will make it easier and less stressful when she runs out of something. So we are going to build a make-shift greenhouse with all sorts of veggies and roots in it. This should go well ... oi vey!!
The whole physical therapy thing boils down to a swimsuit, or lack thereof. She was contemplating going back to the therapy pool at the hospital and then transferring over to the YMCA to continue PT on her own. The RSD in her right leg is causing the muscles to shorten and warm water therapy is the best when it comes to elongating those muscles, but that means that she would have to buy a swimsuit and that's not in our budget. I think it's because she thinks that no one wants to see her 43 year old, skinny butt in something as revealing as a swimsuit ... but I digress. So we will take more short walks around the block followed by me helping her with her stretches and more baths ... for her, not me!!
Next ... she already has a game plan in tact for football season, so there is no need to shovel out more dollars on cable tv. We do just fine with Hulu, Netflix, and the 5 local networks. Day games at Auntie ColoAngel's house, night games at the GingerBar, and "bad day" games at the Castle where Mommie's parents live. My Mommie is so smart ... she only goes where there's good food. I taught her that!!
Something that causes my Mommie a hell-a-ton of stress is having to ask for money ... for any reason. She swallows her pride often enough to ask her parents for help, but when it comes to raising money for a cause, she just can't do it without feeling like a "humiliated ass," as she calls it. Her line of thinking is that if she can't afford to donate, what gives her the right to ask for other human's hard earned cash ... answer: not a damn thing!! So she will continue to focus our efforts on raising awareness for RSD. We'll leave the fundraising to the rich people that can afford it!!
Mommie wants a new couch that also converts into a sofa surfboard. The couch that we have now is so comfy, I just don't understand why she wants a new one!! Oh wait ... never mind ... I do know why. The couch that we have now is a woven red fabric/mohair (my hair) blend. No matter how often Mommie vacuums it, it just takes one Happy Nappy from me to reupholster it. I can see how that would be nerve-racking for her. And we need to be kind to her nerves. Let the search begin!!
This morning, finally ... after weeks of procrastinating, Mommie created my Facebook Fan Page, Kiva's Korner. All for me!!! I get to tattle on her, make jokes about her, post pictures of myself, and maybe even learn to write my own meme's. This leads straight into the need to finish the book that Mommie and I are writing together. Hopefully we can make enough money with it to afford trips so that we can include "The Adventures Of..." to my page. Mommie wants to travel Route 66 with me ... just think of all of the stories that I could tell about that adventure!!
The last bit of soul searching that Mommie did was to realize that she can no longer ask a guy, any guy, to take us on in a relationship. She doesn't want to risk someone else caring about her and being forced to sit and watch and feel helpless when she has a flare or needs to recover. She sees the looks on their faces and she might as well have just asked them for money, because the "humiliated ass" feeling comes back and clobbers her over the head with a 2x4. It's not to fair to ask anyone to have to witness how pathetic she gets, and it's not fair to her to see them miserable because of her. So we will remain the Dynamic Duo with some stellar friends, an amazing family, and (Mommie says) batteries. (I don't get that last one, maybe you humans will.)
I have faith that Mommie and I will do what we need to do for us!! I have faith that I will back her up on her PT and protect her while she flares and recovers. I have faith that Mommie won't try to make me eat the veggies and herbs as we grow them (thank God). I have faith that we will find a new couch before winter hits. As much as I love the vacuum (no really, I do) I know that it hurts Mommie every time she has to drag it out and use it. Now, I'm gonna go search the world wide doggie web for meme's for my wall ... tee hee ... this is gonna be fun!! Peace out, humans!!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Just One More Burp
You know that kind of heartburn that you get that's not exactly in your stomach but hasn't quite made it up to your chest either? The kind that causes your neck and shoulders to stiffen up and the only ounce of relief that you get is when you burp? Yup, that's me today!! I've tried milk, lukewarm water, Pepto, and Tums. But if I could just get that one good, loud, juicy burp from the diaphragm, I know I'd feel better instantly. I've had a few baby burps that have helped a little, but if I could just get that one.....
Now don't start spewing the names of the medications that help you through your bouts with this, because it was about like pulling teeth to get me to take the Pepto, as well as the Tums. I ... don't ... do ... pills ... anymore!!! I even try to avoid Tylenol and Advil like the plague. Only as a last case scenario will you ever catch me poppin' a damn pill. 14 years of pills and booze have left me with a mild case of cirrhosis of the liver ... and that dang liver never lets me forget what I did to it. Talk about holding a grudge, sheesh!! You'd think that I'd have enough on my plate with the pain and recovery process, but nooooooooo!!!! Usually, the milk is the cure when I get these "attacks" but the acid from my belly is making everything taste sour. I had to have Houdini come over this morning to smell my jug of milk just to make sure that it was me and not spoiled cow juice. Yeah, um .... it's me!!
Dear Body,
I am truly sorry for all of the vile things that I did to you before I wised up, got sober, and started paying attention to you. The doctors are really trying their best with us and we need to keep fighting the pain, so you need to force this heartburn crap out into the light of day. Please body, just one more raunchy burp and I promise to shut up about it.
Very Truly Yours,
the Crazy Cripple
Meanwhile I'll keep the faith that it will get better. My tummy knows (cuz it can smell) that the chicken in the crockpot is done and awaiting to be made into soup and enchiladas. I have faith that just one more burp will cure me of the pressure in my chest so that I can finally take that first puff of k-spray and start working on the RSD pain. Kickoff is in 32 hours and I'll be damned if I'm gonna miss it!! Straighten up and fly right, bod!! C'mon now, work with me please!!
Now don't start spewing the names of the medications that help you through your bouts with this, because it was about like pulling teeth to get me to take the Pepto, as well as the Tums. I ... don't ... do ... pills ... anymore!!! I even try to avoid Tylenol and Advil like the plague. Only as a last case scenario will you ever catch me poppin' a damn pill. 14 years of pills and booze have left me with a mild case of cirrhosis of the liver ... and that dang liver never lets me forget what I did to it. Talk about holding a grudge, sheesh!! You'd think that I'd have enough on my plate with the pain and recovery process, but nooooooooo!!!! Usually, the milk is the cure when I get these "attacks" but the acid from my belly is making everything taste sour. I had to have Houdini come over this morning to smell my jug of milk just to make sure that it was me and not spoiled cow juice. Yeah, um .... it's me!!
Dear Body,
I am truly sorry for all of the vile things that I did to you before I wised up, got sober, and started paying attention to you. The doctors are really trying their best with us and we need to keep fighting the pain, so you need to force this heartburn crap out into the light of day. Please body, just one more raunchy burp and I promise to shut up about it.
Very Truly Yours,
the Crazy Cripple
Meanwhile I'll keep the faith that it will get better. My tummy knows (cuz it can smell) that the chicken in the crockpot is done and awaiting to be made into soup and enchiladas. I have faith that just one more burp will cure me of the pressure in my chest so that I can finally take that first puff of k-spray and start working on the RSD pain. Kickoff is in 32 hours and I'll be damned if I'm gonna miss it!! Straighten up and fly right, bod!! C'mon now, work with me please!!
Monday, August 6, 2012
Oh Ye of Little Faith
Last week I was, for lack of a better term, verbally assaulted via Facebook messaging. I was accused of not having RSD because of the fact that, lately, I have managed to stay pretty active. I was called an "f'ing liar," and "a hypocrite." Did I mention that this was from a fellow RSDer?? Yup!! It was!! And how did I react?? HAHA ... oh boy!!! <sigh> I prayed for her. Simple as that. And then I deleted her. Funny thing, she found me through my blog, sent me a friend request about a month ago, I accepted, she asked me for advice, I gave it willingly, and she tried to throw it back in my face. I gotta tell ya, after 21 years of dealing with the nay-sayers, the doubting Thomases, and the poo flingers, I've gotten pretty good at deflecting their crap. Yes, I get a little upset at first but then Rational Brain takes over and puts things into perspective for the rest of my personalities. And the first thing that Rational Brain said to the Roundtable was, "This girl was only diagnosed 18 months ago." 18 months into my RSD, I probably wouldn't have believed me either, but I would definitely have glommed on to any advice from veteran sufferers, if there were any veterans for me to glom on to 19-20 years ago. So I had to make my own path.
Yes, I try to dwell on the things that I can do and suck every bit of enjoyment out of them along the way ... because those are the brief and few and far between moments that get me through the conjoined bad days and pain spikes. But ... I had to learn how to do it, and it most certainly did not happen over night. Trial and Error and Time have been my greatest teachers. They are the ones that taught me how to be prepared, mentally and physically. They have also taught me how to manage, maintain, and recover. It takes me a week to prepare for a weekend and then it takes another week to fully recover. Let's drift back to the Spoon Theory, shall we?? (http://butyoudontlooksick.com/navigation/BYDLS-TheSpoonTheory.pdf) I hoard my spoons, even if I have to beg, borrow, and steal them from weeks in advance. I deplete my supply, every last one of them, for a day or 2, and then I crack jokes about myself from the confines of my sofa-surfboard while shedding tears, grimacing, and creating a new spoon mold and making metal out of mettle so that I can do it all over again in the future.
The thing is ... no one really sees me in my recovery process because I isolate. Another thing that Trial and Error and Time have taught me. Seeing the pathetic pity look on people's faces while I'm trying to fight to stay positive doesn't work for me. If I'm in recovery mode, I look pretty damn pathetic all on my own. Case in point, last week. After my reunion and Cruise Night (Friday and Saturday), I couldn't shower until Thursday. I didn't trust myself to step safely over the side of the tub. I lived on tv dinners, cereal, frozen burritos and shakes because I couldn't stand up long enough to cook ... or clean up the kitchen. I had both sides of my sink full of coffee cups, plates, bowls, and silverware because I couldn't even stand up long enough to load the dishwasher. My kitchen trash was overflowing because my legs couldn't carry me back to the alley to put it in the bin. I was lucky enough to be able to brush my teeth, make my bed, change my sweats, and get the dirty clothes in my hamper though. I had moments of malcontent, but I fought to stay positive ... and it worked!! Because this last weekend I was able to go with my ColoAngel and The GingerFam to watch the 1st Broncos scrimmage of the year ... and our boys look GOOOOOOOOD!!!!! And now I must recover ... again. I will tell you now that there was a lot of walking involved (and stairs) and I am definitely in some nasty pain today. But it was worth it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat!!
I have faith that the newbie RSDers will come around, in time, and want to take advantage of their good days too. I have faith that if they seek me out for advice on how to do that, I will give it, gladly. I have faith that I may not be able to shower until tomorrow, at the earliest, but I have the warmth of great memories to keep my stinky self company during my isolation ... and Facebook too!! And now I will get back to sofa-surfing and forging more spoons for my next round of activities ... whatever they may be!!
Yes, I try to dwell on the things that I can do and suck every bit of enjoyment out of them along the way ... because those are the brief and few and far between moments that get me through the conjoined bad days and pain spikes. But ... I had to learn how to do it, and it most certainly did not happen over night. Trial and Error and Time have been my greatest teachers. They are the ones that taught me how to be prepared, mentally and physically. They have also taught me how to manage, maintain, and recover. It takes me a week to prepare for a weekend and then it takes another week to fully recover. Let's drift back to the Spoon Theory, shall we?? (http://butyoudontlooksick.com/navigation/BYDLS-TheSpoonTheory.pdf) I hoard my spoons, even if I have to beg, borrow, and steal them from weeks in advance. I deplete my supply, every last one of them, for a day or 2, and then I crack jokes about myself from the confines of my sofa-surfboard while shedding tears, grimacing, and creating a new spoon mold and making metal out of mettle so that I can do it all over again in the future.
The thing is ... no one really sees me in my recovery process because I isolate. Another thing that Trial and Error and Time have taught me. Seeing the pathetic pity look on people's faces while I'm trying to fight to stay positive doesn't work for me. If I'm in recovery mode, I look pretty damn pathetic all on my own. Case in point, last week. After my reunion and Cruise Night (Friday and Saturday), I couldn't shower until Thursday. I didn't trust myself to step safely over the side of the tub. I lived on tv dinners, cereal, frozen burritos and shakes because I couldn't stand up long enough to cook ... or clean up the kitchen. I had both sides of my sink full of coffee cups, plates, bowls, and silverware because I couldn't even stand up long enough to load the dishwasher. My kitchen trash was overflowing because my legs couldn't carry me back to the alley to put it in the bin. I was lucky enough to be able to brush my teeth, make my bed, change my sweats, and get the dirty clothes in my hamper though. I had moments of malcontent, but I fought to stay positive ... and it worked!! Because this last weekend I was able to go with my ColoAngel and The GingerFam to watch the 1st Broncos scrimmage of the year ... and our boys look GOOOOOOOOD!!!!! And now I must recover ... again. I will tell you now that there was a lot of walking involved (and stairs) and I am definitely in some nasty pain today. But it was worth it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat!!
I have faith that the newbie RSDers will come around, in time, and want to take advantage of their good days too. I have faith that if they seek me out for advice on how to do that, I will give it, gladly. I have faith that I may not be able to shower until tomorrow, at the earliest, but I have the warmth of great memories to keep my stinky self company during my isolation ... and Facebook too!! And now I will get back to sofa-surfing and forging more spoons for my next round of activities ... whatever they may be!!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
It Is What It Is
Well, I survived my Way Back Weekend. Not with flying colors, but I did survive. The pain, however, was brutal!! Last week, I had somehow managed to to trigger my sciatic and it was causing residual RSD pain and iciness in my leg. I had taken small, protective measures that I knew would get me through the weekend but what led up to the pain apex on Saturday was crippling and not entirely my own fault. I had spent time with some of my faves hanging out on the street corner, gawking at the sweet hot rods that were cruising Main Street. I got a visit from my folks and the Munchkins on that street corner (haha ... keep your jokes to yourself), and I got to hear a few tunes by my fave local band. But what ended my night early should have never happened. It is what it is and I can't apologize for it because I have no control over it. Not very often do I come across an individual whose mere presence affects my nerves and pain levels. I don't see them as "bad people" and I have no idea why they have this affect on me, but there it is. First of all, my hands start to go into tremors and then they close in on themselves and seize up ... still shaking and twitching. I have only noticed this happen with 2 different individuals over the last 3-4 years. But on Saturday night, while enjoying the band, I had stepped outside of the bar with my buddy, Bert, for some fresh air and a smoke (yes, I get the irony) and my weekend came to an abrupt halt. There was typical Longmont chaos at the foot of the stairs where some drunk chick had passed out and all of the intoxicated drama queens were hovered above her while they awaited the arrival of the ambulance. My buddy and I went and stood on the other side of the steps, away from the commotion. I was leaning against a handrail and had a potted tree on my right and Bert was on my left to protect me from the crowds walking into the building. From amid the chaos walked the latest nerve-jumper ... and she came to stand right in front of me, pinning me in my little protected corner. She stood less than a foot away from me and all I could smell was the alcohol oozing from her pores and riding on every breath. She tried to hug me and <ZING> my fingers began to twitch. I couldn't back away, I was trapped. I knew what would happen to my body next and I knew that I had to get out of there while I could still drive. I slid my skinny frame between her and the tree and when she tried to hug me again, I raised my hands to hold her off and my hands had already folded in on themselves. I never even felt it happen. I practically ran to the parking lot and somehow managed to unlock the Buttmobile and get in. Ah crap!! I had just left my best friend in the bar!! I kept thinking what a horrible friend I was as I tried to text her, using my knuckles, to tell her what happened. As I was about to tap "send," she called me. She was with her brother and he was taking her home. She has her own issues with the nerve jumper, I don't blame her for leaving either!!
I coped for as long as I could on Sunday and Monday, but I finally caved in yesterday and opted for a massage from my amazing new massage therapist whom I will nickname "Gem." I just love this girl!! Straight away, she went to work on my right hip and leg. Within minutes, her comment was, "No wonder your sciatic is acting up. It's pinched between the knots in your hip." Yes, knot(S) in my hip muscles (Luxor-something and something-else-I-can't-pronounce-Major). After about 20 minutes of hip work, I felt this rush of heat soar down the outside of my leg and into my ankle and foot. I was so stunned at the returned feeling that all I could say was, "Hello, Big Toe." Gem busted out laughing. 40 minutes on my hip and leg. 20 minutes on my neck and shoulders (because that's where my stress hides). And today my nerve pain is back down to my new "2"!!! However, my muscles feel like they've just endured a week of volleyball 2-a-days ... But ... I'll take it!!!
I really don't understand how an individual can affect my nervous system in this manner. It's not that I hate the people, it's just that they give me this uneasy feeling that, unfortunately, affects my health. I can't tell them that it's not personal, because it is my health, and to me, that is personal. So I will continue to remove myself from situations that cause me harm. RSD is a fickle bitch and pissing it off only hurts me!!!
It's sad that such a great weekend (pain and all) had to end like that, but at least it was bandaid-ripping quick. I had so much fun seeing the old faces, hanging out with the Good Folk, and seeing my Munchkins that I am able to get passed the rest!! I have faith that the sore muscles will heal and, now that my nerves have been eased, I also have faith that I can get back to what's left of my summer!! Maybe I'll even find a way to take a nice loooooong drive to see what I can put in the rear view mirror ... now that I can sit normally again.
I coped for as long as I could on Sunday and Monday, but I finally caved in yesterday and opted for a massage from my amazing new massage therapist whom I will nickname "Gem." I just love this girl!! Straight away, she went to work on my right hip and leg. Within minutes, her comment was, "No wonder your sciatic is acting up. It's pinched between the knots in your hip." Yes, knot(S) in my hip muscles (Luxor-something and something-else-I-can't-pronounce-Major). After about 20 minutes of hip work, I felt this rush of heat soar down the outside of my leg and into my ankle and foot. I was so stunned at the returned feeling that all I could say was, "Hello, Big Toe." Gem busted out laughing. 40 minutes on my hip and leg. 20 minutes on my neck and shoulders (because that's where my stress hides). And today my nerve pain is back down to my new "2"!!! However, my muscles feel like they've just endured a week of volleyball 2-a-days ... But ... I'll take it!!!
I really don't understand how an individual can affect my nervous system in this manner. It's not that I hate the people, it's just that they give me this uneasy feeling that, unfortunately, affects my health. I can't tell them that it's not personal, because it is my health, and to me, that is personal. So I will continue to remove myself from situations that cause me harm. RSD is a fickle bitch and pissing it off only hurts me!!!
It's sad that such a great weekend (pain and all) had to end like that, but at least it was bandaid-ripping quick. I had so much fun seeing the old faces, hanging out with the Good Folk, and seeing my Munchkins that I am able to get passed the rest!! I have faith that the sore muscles will heal and, now that my nerves have been eased, I also have faith that I can get back to what's left of my summer!! Maybe I'll even find a way to take a nice loooooong drive to see what I can put in the rear view mirror ... now that I can sit normally again.
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