21 Year Milestone ... YAY ME!!

Happy Anniversary to you ... Happy Anniversary to you ... Happy Anniversary to my RSD (you bat rastard SOB)... Happy Anniversary to you!!

Wow, 21 years ago this evening a tornado touched down in Longmont, CO and cut the power to most businesses in Old Town.  I was waitressing just off of Main Street at a restaurant called The Steak Out.  The twister took our electricity but, since the kitchen operated on gas, we stayed open and served by candlelight.  I was in the waitress station, leaning against a prep table, in the dark, talking to the other server while she was making salads by the light of cafe candles.  She opened the short refrigerator under the table, and somehow, when she shut the door, my right thumb got caught in the magnetic seal between the door and the frame.  I screamed.  She tried to get the door open again to no avail ... so I yanked my thumb out.  I was 22 years old and, at that moment, my life changed forever.

I had to learn how to shower and dress 1 handed.  (buh-bye all clothes with buttons and shoes with laces!)  My Mom and a couple of my female friends were able to help me do my hair, put on make-up, and don jewelry once and a while, seeing as I was right handed (still am, for that matter).  My Dad, being a Workman's Compensation and Social Security Attorney, was able to get the needed referrals to get me in to see a hand specialist in Denver within the 1st month.  When the doc asked me to take off the watch that my Mom had helped me put on my left wrist earlier that morning, I tugged on the leather band with my teeth.  He looked at the x-rays that I'd had done at the local clinic, checked the swelling, the atrophy, the discoloration, the lack of movement, and my amount of salty tears.  Then he uttered those 3 letters, R-S-D.  My Dad's face got all scrunchy and his shoulders slumped.  He had already been introduced to the disease courtesy of another client.  He knew that the prognosis was not good.  But ... I was one of the lucky ones that received an early diagnosis.  Where I was unlucky, besides getting the Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy in the first place, was that ... I was a waitress making $2.11 per hour plus tips.  By law, we were only required to claim 6% of our tips (for taxes) or the total amount of credit card tips, whichever was greater.  My bi-monthly w/c checks were $122.50.  Needless to say, I screwed myself, because when I was finally granted Social Security Disability in 2005 (on my 5th attempt), my monthly checks were less than $600 a month.  How in the hell was an adult supposed to live off of that??

The disease spread, encompassing my body from my neck to my toes.  I have had over 500 nerve blocks since June 1, 1991 and been on a plethora of medications.  I fought, I tried to give up, I fought, I cried, I got drunk, I stayed drunk, I got sober, I've stayed sober, I got off of the life robbing painkillers and muscle relaxers, I fought fought fought tooth and nail to get to where I am today.  And today, 21 years later, I value my RSD anniversary more than I value my own birthday and my sobriety date combined.  THIS is the day that I need to celebrate because this is the day that has made me who I am.  I have RSD but RSD does not have me!!  I have been let down and abandoned by a lot of people over the years.  Either they don't know how to cope with a person with an invisible illness like RSD or they haven't realized what this disease and this day mean to me.  This is MY day to show the world that I am a survivor, a warrior, an advocate, and the 8th wonder of the world.

I have faith that I will hold my head high and shout "F.U. RSD" all ... day ... long!!  I have faith that, even if I get bailed on this year, I will stick my bee-stung middle finger in the air to salute RSD before I curl up on the couch with my orange clad security blanket (I call her "Kiva") and watch movies about survivors and fighters as I sip (ok, chug) copious amounts of coffee!!  After all, I Am The Warrior!!!! (bang bang)

A Memorial Day Retrospective

Do you celebrate Memorial Day with more than a bbq?  I do!  I come from a long line of military expertise.  My Dad was a Captain in the Army (Korea), my Granddad was a Captain in the Army Air Corps (WWII), my Great Granddad (and a few of his brothers) were among the first Native Americans to serve with the US Marshall's Service, and a few Great Uncles served as Colonels in the Air Corps/Air Force, and Army.  Heck, I was even born in an Army hospital.  I say "thank you" when I see a man or woman in fatigues or dress uniforms, I know the words to Taps and I sing along quietly when I hear it played (unless my nephew puts his hand over my mouth and says, "No no no" ... he likes music but doesn't like it when you sing along), and I always have flags visible in my house.  I have a flag for my porch ... but ... um ... it takes more knowledge of tools to get the bracket in place than I have in brain ... it's like math, but different.  I love the military background that my family offers me!  It makes me who I am!

But a few years ago, while mourning loss and celebrating life on Memorial Day, I realized that I, too, am a Vet ... of sorts.  I am a warrior in the battle against RSD.  With the experience that I bring to the table, I'd even go so far as to refer to myself as a "General."  Not only am I a warrior, but I live in the trenches on the front line.  No, I didn't fight for the freedom of our nation, but I do fight for the freedom from pain.  After serving in the ranks for over 20 years, on Memorial Day, I reserve the right to mourn the loss of the life I once had and the life I never had.

Surviving RSD takes the fortitude of a warrior ... a soldier.  We endure boot camp through hours upon hours of physical, occupational, and psychological therapy.  We fight for our rights within the medical and legal systems.  We have days of victory and days of defeat.  We storm the beaches on our good days and hole up in the MASH tents on our bad days.  When our emotions are in a state of flux, our bodies wage war against us.  But we Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome.  It is a never-ending and vicious cycle, and not everyone is cut out for this kind of battle.  RSDers have 1 choice, man-up or surrender.  Normies have a choice too, if they are willing to stay the course.  They can assist, they can watch, the can retreat, and they can take up arms in the fight.  In all honesty, I don't blame them when they retreat.  RSD is an ugly war, especially if you care about someone who is fighting and can't stand to watch the fallout that always ensues.  It takes an army of support to help us succeed ... let me rephrase that, it takes an army of Normie's support to help us succeed.  We, the RSDers, form our own troops of support, compassion, and understanding.  But it's the Normies that can fight in ways that we cannot ... the physical ways.

I have faith that I will continue this battle until the war is won.  There are no Peace Talks.  No Treaties are available with RSD.  It is a war that will rage on ... and on ... and on.  I have faith that I will recover from my most recent barrage of emotion and pain.  After all, this Friday I will celebrate 21 years of surviving the beast, RSD.  I invite you all to join me in this celebration.  Go to https://www.facebook.com/events/279720672122191/ and help Kiva and I spread awareness and have some stylish fun doing it!!