Hollerday Battle Picking

It's Thanksgiving Week and I have so much for which to be thankful.  I have coffee, I have an absolutely amazing and supportive family, I have a dog that adores me as much as I adore her, I have coffee, I have some of the best friends on the face of the earth, I have a roof over my head, I have coffee, I'm still sober, I have RSD, I have great doctors, I have a vehicle that is dependable, I have food in my fridge, I have coffee, I have toilet paper, I have a heated mattress pad and electric blanket, I have great neighbors ... and yes, you read that right, I said that I am thankful for my RSD.

Next year I will have had RSD for half of my life.  For almost 22 years I have lived with intense, burning, freezing, zapping, aching, and nauseating pain 24/7/365.  I have experienced insane swelling, lovely shades of red and purple appendages, protruding veins, mild seizures, muscle spams, Etch-A-Sketch Brain, and tremors.  I have never known remission, like some of my fellow RSDers have.  Apparently, I'm a lifer ... a 5-Star General in the war against pain, having never received the coveted demotion.  I have been forced to prioritize on a level that very few can even fathom.  Don't get me wrong, I am not thankful for the pain, nor the other side effects of the disease, but I am thankful for what RSD has taught me.  I have learned to think ahead, to plan for the unexpected, to breathe, to be grateful for the little things, to use my imagination, and most importantly, I have learned to prioritize.  

Picking my battles was never something I did when I was younger.  Even in the first years of my RSD, I continued to do what I wanted when I wanted.  I was 22, sue me.  I also caused my RSD to spread, so I don't recommend that.  I did more than my fair share of drugs, prescribed and otherwise.  I was in so much pain that I did everything I could think of to go numb (to no avail), when what I should have been doing was practicing patience and acceptance ... and breathing.  Absolutely nothing outside of a cure or remission will completely take the pain of RSD away.  We are given medication to lessen the pain and make our lives a little more livable.  And we are given free will as to how we handle the rest.  I have made the conscious and mature decision to become a Battle Picker where my RSD is concerned and surprisingly, it has trickled over into the rest of my life.  Factor in the Spoon Theory and I have every tool for living at my disposal.

"Patience" ... I can't do that right now, but if I lay low for a little while, I might be able to do it later.

"Acceptance" ... I used to be able to do that and now I can't.  That doesn't mean that I can't find another way to do something similar.  Even if doesn't bring me as much joy, there is still joy to be had.

"Breathing" ... If I hold my breath, I cut off my own circulation and the pain spike gets worse or spreads.  If I continue to breathe thru the pain, the spike doesn't last as long.

By picking my battles and thinking in terms of "how many spoons do I have for today?" I can map out a day and sometimes even a week.  But I have to be able to plan, to save, and to rest.  I know my body well enough to know how much stress, physical and emotional, that I can tolerate at any given time.  So ... as we enter into this season, I will begin making my Hollerday lists to reduce my emotional stress levels and plan for my physical ones.  My spoons are always limited, so if Mom wants to go shopping, I need to have a couple stashed for her.  If Houdini decides that he can afford the time and we can drive to Kansas for the Munchkins' birthday, I need to have spoons ready for that.  The Bombshell and her fam will be here for Christmas, so I absolutely can not afford any more pain spikes or that will take spoons away from the Munchkins, and that is just unacceptable for me.  Even if it means saying "no" to something fun that I want to do, I must always remember what the activities are for which I am saving my spoons.  Hence the lists, because I don't trust my Etch-A-Sketch Brain to remember everything.  (ie: a night of dancing with the Fun Folk or <look at list> Small Business Saturday shopping with Mom?  I can't do both, so which is more important?  DUH!!  Mom!!)

I have faith that I will honor my priorities, painbedamed.  I have faith that I will take extra care when devising my lists this year because I am also dealing with a sprained knee, so my spoons are even more limited.  I have faith that I will do the majority of my shopping on Cyber Monday because being a pinball in a crowd of insane shoppers on Black Friday is only a recipe for more pain spikes and flares.  I have faith that I will get to see most of my fave Twigs (the name I've given the extended family) on Thursday and that is always a hoot and a half.  I have faith that these are the things on which I will focus today, instead of the screaming pain in my knee and the freezing vice flare that it's causing in my lower leg and foot.  

Yup, Happy Hollerdays!!

Managing Spoons

The official countdown has begun.  2 weeks from today I get my bi-annual Ketamine Nerve Block Series.  Unfortunately, it's always the last few weeks before my blocks that are the toughest to manage.  Add to it the temperature changes of fall, the stress that accompanies Championship Week in volleyball, and the fact that we're supposed to get the "s" word anytime between tonight and Saturday, and I might as well not even get out of bed.  (My body is saying "snow on Friday night."  I am not amused.)  People have asked me why I don't get blocks more often and the answer is simple ... I hate them.  I hate how the drugs make my head and tummy feel.  I hate that I have to be knocked out for the procedure.  I hate that I have to get nine inch needles stuck in both sides of my neck, both armpits, both sides of my spine, and the inside and outside of both hips.  I hate that it takes me about 5 days to completely recover from this 3 hour "vacation."  I hate that parts of my body go completely numb and I hate that I have no control over them.  (seriously, you try sitting on the toilet while someone holds you upright because you can't feel your own ass and because of that, you fall over into walls, sinks, bathtubs, doorknobs ... it's pretty friggin degrading.)  So I schedule my block series every 6 months.  And twice a year, for a few weeks, I just have to suck it up and deal.

My Littles had their last match on Monday.  They lost but the B and A teams both won.  The "A" Team win gave us the home court advantage for the 1st round of playoff matches to take place today.  For me, this is a blessing and a curse.  (I'm about to do Spoon Math.  Are you ready? ... If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go tohttp://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/ and read The Spoon Theory.)  Ok, I am only in possession of about 9 spoons today.  I have already showered, dressed and eaten, but I didn't shave, I only did the bare minimum on my make-up and hair, and I threw some leftover pizza in the microwave.  Cost: 2 Spoons.  I have to drive 25 miles to school, but I have access to the elevator once I get there, so that takes stairs out of the equation, but the elevator dumps me out in one of the middle school hallways where I get mauled and hugged by my favorite Littles.  Cost: 1 Spoon.  Then The Amazing Dad and I have to set up the net, bleachers, chairs, and ref stand.  Cost (even with his help): 2 Spoons.  ~this is where I am able to take one puff of K-Spray~  Between warm-ups and the match itself, I donate 2 more Spoons to the cause.  (Not only physical exertion but all of the emotional highs and lows as well.)  This leaves me with 2 usable Spoons for the rest of my day.  I still have to drive 25 miles to get home and I still need to eat, get into my pj's and put my pain riddled body in bed, which will gobble up those last 2.  Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I'd say that I've planned my Spoons out pretty well.

I have faith that I have done everything in my power to be present in today.  I am fulfilling my responsibilities and I am doing the 1 thing that I love most ... coaching volleyball.  I have faith that the Skank is going to try to mess with me as much as possible for the next few days, and I have faith that, regardless of what she does to my body, my soul and my spirit will both continue to soar.  I also have faith that it's entirely possible that I'm talking out of my oostakaka right now.  I'm trying to be optimistic, but, at the same time, I'm a realist.

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!!

Prepping for the Way Back Weekend

So I've been taking some flack (ok, a lot of flack) about the sparsity of my blogs this summer.  In my defense, things have weird around here.  While I was sick with bronchitis, we had this "monsoon" type season here in Colorado.  The storms were blowing in and out of here like a 4 year old that just discovered the automatic doors at the grocery store.  And speaking of insanely cute toddlers (like the segue?) the Munchkins have been here all month!!  But this erratic weather caused a Vortex Flare in the lower half of my right leg.  (Vortex Flare - when one centralized spot on an appendage goes into muscle spasm and feels like there's a black hole inside the bone of that appendage that is sucking everything into it with more power than a Dyson vacuum.)  As my upper respiratory system began to heal, I realized that this "flare" in my leg was a little different this time.  It seems that every few years my RSD likes to remind me of it's diabolical existence by taking my baseline up a notch.  It happens.  I have to accept it.  I have to accommodate it.  I don't, however, have to like it.  So I called my doc and he upped my Ketamine nasal spray to a 4% solution.  If you've been paying attention, you know how much I dislike how K makes me feel, but I love the relief that my body gets ... and now I have to take more of it.  Watch me not do the Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy Dance.  And did I mention that the Munchkins are still in town?? ;)


In the winter and spring I would launch and crawl out of bed and to the coffee pot, crack open my eyes, and write a blog.  Nowadays it's roll over until gravity finds my feet, grab on to Kiva's collar to pull myself into a sitting position, prop my hands against the wall for balance and stand up ... ish.  I'm not entirely sure that "up" is the appropriate word since I started resembling the old woman from Sleeping Beauty more than Frankenstein.  But the Frankenstein Crawl still applies to how I manage to get to Bertha (my coffee pot).  Then I have to sit ... and stretch ... and allow my mind time to focus itself away from this crazy leg pain.  After I am finally a little more mobile, I have to go outside and water my veggies and fruits and flowers ... My new watermelon plant is looking fab, as is my new cucumber plant.  I've already sampled from my red bell pepper plant and also my green bean plant.  I'm a little disappointed in my tomato-growing skills though.  The first to sprout  had these funky brown spots on the bottoms of them, and just now I am starting to see 1 or 2 healthy ones turn red.  I planted them in a terrible spot.  They just aren't getting all of the sun that they need.  But now I know better for next year, right??

Yesterday I treated myself to a Spa Day, of sorts.  I went to the ColoAngel Spawn who chopped, come to find out, 4.5 inches off of my hair!!  I absolutely love my new easy-do!!  After that I met the Ginger Mama for mani/pedi's and some good laughs.  It was either all of that or a massage, and given the weekend with which I am faced, my hair and nails won out.  What's going on this weekend, you ask?  Well let me tell you ... This afternoon my family is having our annual Fam Pics taken by Auntie Marna (that's what the Munchkins call her and I love it because it's not really her name!!)  Tomorrow (Friday) is my "unofficial" 25th high school reunion.  Yes, I am that old.  And then on Saturday night it's the annual Cruise Night on Main Street.  Way back when, when I was in high school, and way before that even, Main Street in Longmont was the place to be on Friday and Saturday nights.  Some people would drag up and down the street for about 14 blocks, some would park their hot rods in the Big R parking lot with their hoods up, showing off their mad mechanic skills and motors, some guys would stand on street corners holding up hand made signs that said "Show Us Your Tits!!" to all of the females driving by.  (Let's just leave that one alone, shall we?)  Hell, there's even a family legend that says that, while in college, Dad (from Kansas) tracked Mom (from Longmont) down on Main Street during summer break.  But about 15-20 years ago, the cops pulled the plug on it because the kids were getting more and more stupid ... and dangerous.  So now we get 1 Saturday night a year to relive those old high school memories while dragging Main.  And I'm pretty sure that the last time that my hair was this short, was when I actually was in high school.  So I'm taking this Way Back Weekend to whole new level ... and fighting my pain singlehandedly!!  Hopefully I will find many reasons to have a natural smile on my face, but I've got my happy/no-pain mask ready, just in case.

So please forgive my inconsistencies in my blogging ventures.  I still have faith.  I have faith and hope in abundance right now.  I will get accustomed to my new "1" on the pain scale, I will see some fun ol' faces all weekend long, and I will give myself time to recover next week.  This is my life and this is how I have to live it.  Give and Take ... one spoon at a time!!

Girl Meets Girl

I will never understand the humans.  They come in all shapes and sizes and some of them make absolutely no sense when they open their mouths.  Last night, while I was chillin with my Mommie who was in spoon-recovery mode from the zoo, Mommie's Mommie brought over dinner and also brought this small blonde human with her.  I had heard about this Girl Munchkin, I had seen pictures, and I knew her scent immediately.  It was Mommie's niece, my female human cousin.  All she wanted to do was pet me ... and see all of the rooms in our tiny house.  I was not amused, but I was polite-ish.  I knew that Mommie's RSD pain was up a little bit, so I tried to not cause her any more stress ... I think deserve an Academy Award for my portrayal of a dog that doesn't mind mini-people.

I have to admit though, she is cute.  Every time my Mommie stroked my head and said, "good girl, punkin," the tiny human repeated the action and the words.  She also seemed very concerned about where my Mommie and I took our Happy Nappies and then she asked if she could come back and take a Happy Nappy with us some day.  "Hey kid, this is my Mommie!  Back the truck up!"  I hear that there's another tiny human that I have to meet as well.  The boy.  As long as I have someone to love on me too, I'll do my best to not get snippy.  Mommie seemed to have her hands full with the girl and me, so she may need to recruit help when they add the other one.


It's not that I don't like kids, because I do, but they are loud and squealy and I've been hurt by them in the past, before I came to live with my Mommie.  I'm just leery of them, is all.  I don't want my tail and ears pulled again.  I don't want to be hit again.  But I got over my fear of older men in baseball hats, so I can overcome this fear too ... with Mommie's help, of course.


I have faith that I will be forced to deal with these miniature humans again again over the course of my life.  I have faith that, some day, I will come to love them as much as my Mommie does ... maybe when they're normal-sized.  I have faith that I will teach them how to play Marathon Ball and Tug.  And I have faith that I will always be my Mommie's girl and I know that she would never let anything bad happen to me.  After all, I got chicken last night after they left!!  If Mommie's gonna give me the good stuff every time I have to see the Munchkins, I may grow to love them by tomorrow!!



 

Reporting Live from the Doghouse

When her eyes are open, she's awake, right?  At least that's what my keen canine senses told me this morning.  How was I supposed to know that she wanted to try to sleep in?  She's almost not sick anymore and I thought we were back to life as usual.  If you haven't figured it out by now, this is Kiva.  I am writing today from the doghouse as punishment for whining in my Mommie's face at 4:30 this morning to tell her to get up.  She thought it was a potty emergency, so when she opened the back door for me and I didn't go outside but turned around and followed her back into the house, she gave me "the look" and I knew I was in trouble.

Let's backtrack a few days, shall we?  Mommie's Munchkins are in town.  Those amazing little 2-year-olds that rock her world.  They hung out quite a bit last week and Mommie was loving every minute of it.  But she has the hardest time managing her spoons appropriately when she has to get 6 months worth of cuddles, kisses, and face time in before they disappear into Kansas-land again.  Not to mention the fact they came to Colorado complete with sniffles, sneezes and laryngitis ... and my Mommie blatantly disregarded it.  With it being summer, I totally get how everyone thought that the kids just had allergies.  They had the classic signs.  <sigh> But alas, it was, in fact, summer colds.  Now ... Pop Quiz:  A "cold" to a Normie is ___________ to my Mommie.  If you answered "Bronchitis," you get an A+ ... if you answered "Zombie Virus," you get an A-.  Yes the coughs and hacks and wheezes that cause spasmodic body convulsions which insight pain flares are back.  OH ... OH ... OH ... Squirrel ... AND ... the fires in Colorado are almost all contained!!  Thanks, in part, to our summer monsoon weather that has replaced the oven in which we were all living.  Whereas this is good for the firefighters, the lawns, the farmers, Mommie's gardens, the pads of my feet, and the humans that don't like the 90+ temps, this has been harsher than normal on my Mommie.  She says that her RSD is morphing again.  Just when she gets used to certain flares that arise at certain times throughout the seasons, the Skank rewrites the weather and the pains change ... and require getting used to all over again.  Damn you RSD!!  Leave my Mommie alone!!

I tried to be her nurse over the weekend.  I growled at her when she did things that caused her to overexert herself ... like vacuuming, working in the gardens, standing up and cooking, making her bed, and showering.  When she'd sit down I'd lay across her feet so that she couldn't get back up again.  Uncle Houdini randomly appeared and disappeared to check on us, Mommie's Mommie brought over hamburgers and salads and juice and fudgecicles and a big bag full of medicines from the pharmacy.  We have watched movies; caught up on our Hulu tv shows; played stupid FB games like Bingo, Slingo, some monkey game, and Solitaire; and Mommie even did a little reading.  But RSD and "colds" don't go well together.  There is way too much going on in her body for her mind to be idle.  She needs to stay focused on something so that she can keep herself distracted from the pain as well as the added discomfort.  The Vortex Flares that have been gracing her legs with their presence every afternoon seem to be the only thing that has successfully taken her mind off of her weighted chest, bouts of coughing and her fiery throat.  I could be wrong, it's happened before, but I don't think that she likes feeling like this.

This morning, God bless her, my Mommie snapped.  Her patience is shot.  It was really only a matter of time.  And since I'm the one that is with her 24/7, I'm the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.  Maybe I should've just let her sleep in this morning.  But her eyes were open almost all night long.  I thought that she was ready to get up.  Maybe if I'd have gone outside, even to just monitor the fence-line since I didn't have to do my business, I could have helped her fight it off a little while longer.  I know that she is babysitting the Munchkins again tonight, so maybe I'll just leave her alone so that she has time to kick Coach Crankypants to the curb before she has to leave.  Maybe I'll rebuild my fort with the sofa cushions so that she can have some "alone time."  Maybe I'll go hang out on the back stoop and watch the birds and squirrels.  Hey, I said "maybe"!!

I have faith that Mommie will feel better.  I have faith that Coach Crankypants' appearance will be short lived.  I have faith that I have done my best to try to help my Mommie and I know that she knows this.  I love my Mommie but I don't like this look-alike ... at all!!  I have faith that the snarkiness will continue, but this too shall pass.  Even the Eternal Optimist needs Oscar the Grouch days.  My Mommie will be back ... I just know it!!

Big, Brown, Comfy Chair

I have this chair in my house that I refer to as the "spoon sucker."  It's a chocolate colored, oversized, pillowy, plush chair with a matching ottoman.  Everyone, and I mean everyone, who has spent time in this chair has succumbed to it's valium-inous wiles and slept like Rip Van Winkle.  People like CaliAngel, ColoAngel, Houdini, my Team, my Mom, me, Kiva, ... and the list goes on.  I only bring this up because I've spent the last few days in an RSD-induced, nauseous haze and after one nap in my big, brown, comfy chair, I finally feel a little better.  

The thing is, you need to willing to give into it in order to sit in it.  Resisting the chair is futile ... kinda like the Borg.  (oops, did I just let out my inner geek??)  If you're exhausted but need to keep up the energy, this chair is not right for you.  If you're trying to clean the house and need to sit for 2 minutes, do not sit in this chair.  If you need to sit down while folding laundry, this is not the chair in which you should sit and still try to be productive.  If you're eating soup and sitting in this chair, you will soon be wearing soup.  If you need to find a comfortable place to curl up with a good book, you'd have better luck reading in bed with the lights off.  If you just want to get caught up on this week's episodes of Glee and Bones, do not sit in this chair ... you'll only end up dreaming of singing scientists and dancing dead people.  If you think that you can wear dark colors while sitting in this chair and come away unscathed by dog hair, you're an idiot.

Needless to say, I have spent most of the day fighting the invisible restraints of the spoon sucking, big, brown, comfy chair ... and failing.  But my stomach does feel better, so I've got that going for me, which is nice.  I have faith that I will continue to be one with the chair until I'm back to par.  I also have faith that my fur-lined (on the outside) sweats will be my badge of honor today since I'm kinda cranky when I don't feel well and, regardless of my crankiness, I can show ... I mean know that my dog still loves me.  Sweeeet dreamssssZZZzzzzzzzz  

March Madness (in more ways than one)

It was a gorgeous weekend along the Front Range!!  Wow!!  What a way for my own March Madness to begin ... The Bombshell is on Spring Break this week and is in town with my most favoritest Munchkins in the whole wide world.  My University of Colorado Golden Buffaloes won the PAC12 Championship and are going to The Dance!!  My KU Jayhawks didn’t fare quite as well in the Big12 as I would have liked, but they are still going Dancing as well!!  My Team and I spent some time working in his yard on Saturday (he was in shorts and a t-shirt; I was in sweatpants, a tank, a long sleeved t-shirt, a sweatshirt, took the sweatshirt off, took the t-shirt off, put my arms through the t-shirt sleeves and the rest of the shirt behind my shoulders, put the t-shirt all the way on, went back to just the sleeves, and finally needed the sweatshirt again … ah!!  The benefits of layers!!)  The people that report on the Skank are predicting temps in the 70’s all week, with minimal wind and no snow.  They are also predicting that the nightly lows will not go below 40.  March Madness has officially started … and I feel confident enough to make plans … for the whole week!!  Are you kidding me??  It’s friggin March, the worst month of the year, for me, for the last 20 years!!  Thank you, Skank!!  I usually just have to rely on NCAA basketball to help me weather the storms, but she has given this crazy cripple something else to look forward to … in MARCH!!

I know that I still have to contend with my Frankendusa persona in the mornings, so any plans that I make will have to start after 10a.m.  I know that I do not have my summer-stamina yet, so I’ll schedule a daily “rest” from 2-4.  I know that I’m prone to overdo it once and a while (shush!! to those of you that know me personally!!), so I will take my meds and my Go-Bag with me wherever I go this week.  I know that I get to spend happy face time with my fam, so I'll keep my camera handy!!  I know that I’ll have to continue dressing in layers, I have to do that even in the summer.  I know that I can open up the doors and windows and blow the stink of winter out of the Chalet and the Oasis.  I know that Thursday I will watch the CSU Rams take on Murray St just before I go ape-s#*t when the CU Buffs take on UNLV in Albuquerque.  I know that, pain levels (and bball scores) permitting, I can have one helluva week!!  Bring It!!

Have I begun making plans outside of basketball??  No, not yet.  But the possibilities are almost mind-blowing considering the time of year.  The snow will come back, it always does and March is our snowiest month of the year.  But I can tell you that I am gonna work this damn “heat-wave” like I’d work my last piece of Nicorette gum.  There will a price to pay.  There always is when you’re an RSDer.  But acceptance is key!!  I am aware of all of the negativities that can come with overdoing it.  I can make the necessary arrangements for next week so that, God forbid, I should work myself back into a flare this week, I will have nothing to do but rest and recover!!  I like to call it, “Spoon Management.”

I have faith that I will make the most out of the gorgeous week ahead with most of my favorite people in the world.  I have faith that I will stick to my schedule and rest daily.  I’m sure I will have a setback or 2 (they’re inevitable) but I have faith that I will take the necessary precautions to diminish the severity of the setback(s).  Bring on the vitamin D, God’s Prozac, the sunscreen, the capris and (dare I say it) the shorts, the flip-flops, the ball caps … and if Kiva’s lucky, she might get a walk or 2 out of the deal as well!!    

Who Saved Whom?

On November 30, 2007 my Mommie saved my life.  She adopted me!!  I had been severely abused and I trusted no one.  The nice people at the Humane Society tried their best with me, but, towards them, I was all but responsive and pleasant.  I had just been returned for the 3rd time and they were talking about sending me to the “farm” because I couldn’t be reintegrated into society.  <enter the tall blonde lady with a cane>  She saw me cowering in the back corner of my cell.  I had no roommates and no toys.  I did have a blanket, food and water though.  I also had a card on my cell door that read “At Risk.”  Every other human that came through the doors, looking to adopt a new family member, took one look at that card, not me, and kept walking.  Not the tall, blonde lady.  She fell to her knees and cried.  All she could say to me was, “You too??”

I skulked to where she was kneeling and let her scratch my nose and ears through my chain link cell.  A blue shirted volunteer walked by and stopped short when she saw us exchanging affection.  The volunteer exclaimed, “Don’t do that!  She may bite at you!”  The Lady scratched my cheeks and said to me, “I’ll be right back.”  She used her cane to pull herself to her human feet (at the time I didn’t know why she needed the cane ... now I know that I hate RSD and what it does to her).  I have no idea what they were whispering about to each other, but The Lady looked down at me, winked, and said, “See you in a minute, Kiva.”  And then she was gone.  I whined.  The blue shirted volunteer grabbed a leash off of a hook on the wall and opened my cage.  I bolted for the back corner again.  She affixed the leash to my collar and drug me out of my cell, through 2 sets of double doors, around the big desk where the other blue shirted volunteers were working, through another set of swinging double doors, and before I knew it, we were outside … and so was The Lady and her cane!!

That was how my Mommie saved me!!  It has taken a lot of work on both of our parts over the last 4 years, but every second of her love has made my life wonderful.  She even taught me tricks using homemade doggie treats as training incentives.  She takes me to Dr Don when I don’t feel good, she gives me baths, she gives me special oils and runs humidifiers for my itchy dry skin, and she only buys the best foods for me from specialty stores.

Come to find out, I saved her too!!  My Mommie can’t work and has to stay home a lot.  I keep her company and I help to keep her at her personal “normal level of sanity.”  (If you know my Mommie, you know what that dorky level is!!)  She works with me as therapy for my abuse and abandonment issues and also for physical therapy for her hands, arms, hips, and legs.  I’d say “feet” but I don’t help her with those … I like to step on them and whack them with my tail.

Last night my Mommie ran out of spoons, even her Reserve Spoon.  After work, my Daddy picked us up at the Chalet and brought us to the Oasis.  By the time we walked through the door, all Mommie could do was collapse on the couch.  This is when she needs me most.  She needed me to cuddle with her and help keep her calm while Daddy put chicken, pork chops and sausage in the smoker so they could have dinner for a few nights and Mommie can just "chill" for a couple days.  I guess I’m the only living thing on the planet that can make her stay put and rest when she wants to get up and help Daddy.  I helped my Mommie rest long enough to recover a spoon so that she could eat dinner and go to bed.  (Yes, that takes one whole spoon!)  Today I will help her to recover a few more spoons and, if I have to, we’ll do it again tomorrow.  Rest, Mommie.  I will take care of you.

I have faith that Mommie will be back to her old self very soon.  Even the strong ones need someone strong to be strong for them sometimes.  I have faith that she will rest today so that she has the energy to face her days again, starting tomorrow!!  Mommie knows what she has to do, and so do I.  Have no fear, I, Kiva the Wondermutt, am on the job!!  Down, Mommie!!  Down!!  Good girl!!