It's kind of funny how an inane comment from someone can make you stop and think about things. In the past week, I got into a sort-of argument with the guy I was seeing and walked away from the whole thing. Two things that have me a bit nervous about the whole dating thing are the fact that I'm not perfectly healthy and living on disability, and the chaos that seems to be a constant in my life. I found out that neither bothered him in the slightest, nor most of the other men I've spoken to (much to my surprise), but what did throw me was the fact that he was so intimidated by my intelligence of all things. I thought that was just a high school thing. Over the past few months we'd joked about me being a geek, while he tried several times to convince me how "dumb" he is. As time went on, it became a more prevalent bone of contention. And I admit of all the things that could have been a problem and wasn't, intelligence was the last thing I ever would have thought of. Now, this doesn't mean that I'm going to dumb myself down or pretend I'm someone that I'm not, but I can't help but laugh at how arcane some men are in their thinking.
A few days later, I heard from a guy I'd lost touch with shortly before my knee surgery. After we talked for awhile and caught up on what was going on in our lives, he made a comment that threw me a bit. "Wow, things haven't gotten any easier for you, huh?" Or something to that effect. I found myself thinking about it for a bit before I responded. It's not where my life has gotten anymore difficult than usual, it's more of a new set of challenges. While it definitely has its moments, it's just life. I've learned to take things as they come, go on a kind of autopilot, and deal with the rest later. Most of the time whatever is going on isn't something I can control or change. The only thing I can change is how I react to and deal with things. Yes, I've gotten angry at times, but I've also managed to insert humor (even as twisted as it can be at times) into all of it. I also came to a few pretty big realizations.... above everything else, I HAVE to find time to take care of myself; just popping vitamins every day isn't going to get or keep me healthy. I find that as exhausting and wearing it is to be up at 4am three days a week to take my mom to dialysis, it also creates the perfect time to work out. I've returned to yoga during that short period between when I come home and before I have to head back out to pick her up. It's at least a start, but I know I need to do more. I can't deal with my family, school, and everything else if I'm not taking care of me. The end result is I'm sicker than ever and have to go in for more labs to hopefully find some answers. Now the challenge is figuring out a way to work on the balancing act. Another realization came in how I deal with stressors. I learned years ago to just shut my emotions off to get through each day when things get particularly difficult. From this comes a handful of results--I'm a bit more prone to snapping at the people closest to me, yes, I get through each day, but I never actually deal with the emotional side of what's going on. I push it aside and tell myself I'll deal with that later, but it never happens. What does happen, though, is there is only so much a person can bury before everything comes out. It's almost never a convenient time or place, but there it is. That hasn't happened to me this time... yet. Something else to work on.
Usually, winter is cold, dead, dreary, and overall depressing. Except when there's just enough snow to make everything look pretty. It's a time to basically go into hibernation, go through the motions of every day, and wait for longer, warmer days. Spring is the time for regrowth, renewed energy, and the start of changes. As we're in the 50s for most of this week, it almost seems as if spring has come early, so what better time to start growing some more than now, right?
Life is a series of trials and never ending lessons. Some people realize this while others spend almost their entire lives convincing themselves and others that there isn't anything to learn, everything is perfect, and nothing is ever wrong. Personally, I'd rather crash a few times, accept things for what they are, be happy with the tiny little blessings that can be found if you look hard enough, and never stop learning. But that's just me. Is life easy? No. But that doesn't mean that it's unmanageable or horrible, either. It's just a matter of finding a way of making it better whenever/however possible, even if it's something small. So, for today, I'm going to take my daily motivational quote's advice and take the day off. It's still early enough to find something to do that I haven't in ages.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Definition of Insanity
So I've strayed a bit from two of my original intentions when starting this blog: talk about what it's like to live and deal with chronic illness both firsthand (me), and second hand (my mother); the second intention was to find quirky, different, garden-related titles for all my posts. I'll get back on track when I stop sliding on ice or mud everytime I walk out my front door. For now, I just feel like I've been going backwards.
I've been sick my whole life. I'm not just talking the tonsilitis, strep, flu, cold, etc. Even on a good day I was tired and achy. Everyone, including my primary doctor just passed it off as growing pains. It wasn't until I came home from work almost 10 years ago and my ex had to help me up off the floor because I was in so much pain, changing out of my uniform became too much to handle. So off to the ER I went. It started a few months earlier, but continued to get worse. By the time I went into the ER, I couldn't even wear jeans, as the weight and pressure left me in pure agony. Thankfully, yoga pants were coming into style. I could barely even pull my hair out of my face my hair hurt too much. Up until that point, I dealt with the increasing symptoms as I do everything else... sometimes I'd get angry and frustrated, but for the most part, I'd just suck it up. I had a life to live and bills to pay. Other than his total lack of support that night (he had an "important" poker game, so I had to drive myself the 3 miles to the ER), I will never forget the nurse who took care of me. I needed help getting into a gown, almost went through the roof when they had to draw blood for labs, and even the tiniest amount of pressure or movement caused excruciating pain. That's when I started to lose control. There I was, in an ER, with symptoms that made no sense, barely able to move, unable to change myself, and I was scared. Like most people in a similar situation, my brain kept thinking worst case scenarios except I couldn't fathom what could cause such hell. That amazing nurse sat by my side, her hand close to mine (since holding my hand hurt as well), listening to me as I cried from fear, from pain, from the unknown. She said there was nothing she could say to make me feel better, but she wasn't leaving my side until I was ready to go home. In the field of medicine, women (and men) in general just go to work, do their jobs, and go home. Every once in awhile you get blessed with the small few who genuinely care about the patients who come through their doors.
The Lyme Disease results wouldn't be available for several days, but other tests indicated that something was wrong, but nothing indicating as to what it could be. I was given a few Percocet, sent home with a copy of my labs, and told to see my primary doctor in the next few days.
Now, I've never really cared for my primary doctor. I was nothing more than another patient number. He got the Lyme report (negative), drew more labs, and sent me home with a prescription for vicodin and a note excusing me from work. Over the next few weeks my symptoms did not improve, even though my labs did. So once again, he assumed I was there to waste his time and mine. I mean, recent lab results show I'm getting healthier, right? That means that the pain and symptoms were all in my head. After refusing to take his word for it, I demanded a referral to at least 2 other specialists and he arrogantly gave me referrals for 3 (if 3 specialists agreed with him, then what do I know, right?) Except he ended up being the ass in the end. All 3 rheumatologists looked at the labs, took a brief history, performed a physical and diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia before I left their offices. Only one out of the 3 wanted additional labs, so he was the one I still see to this day. While it is highly likely I've had FMS my entire life, it was a Parvo B19 (Fifths Disease) outbreak I contracted that set in motion years of labs, trial and error medications, one specialist after another to find the source of symptoms that didn't fit into the fms mold, and I still feel like I don't have any more answers than I had in those months. I've since tested positive for Lyme Disease 8 times, Epstein Barr Virus, constant vitamin deficiencies, and new symptoms crop up all the time. I tend to blow anything new off when it first starts (such as the hair loss, seemingly being "allergic" to the sun, excessive bruising, joint pain, numbness....etc), but when it lasts for a few weeks, I make sure to document it. And I still don't have any more answers. I know Fibromyalgia is a real and legitimate illness and there's a good chance I do have it, but there are too many other things that can't be explained by such a simple diagnosis. Ten years later, I feel like I'm back at square one, banging my head into a wall, seeing doctor after doctor, the same tests run over and over, and hearing "there's most likely something else going on causing all of this, but we just don't know what..." I am determined that by the end of this year I will have real answers instead of new symptoms and ways to treat the symptoms. As difficult as it is, finding answers and having a name (or names) for what is making me so sick so often is easier to handle than dealing with the unknown...
I've been sick my whole life. I'm not just talking the tonsilitis, strep, flu, cold, etc. Even on a good day I was tired and achy. Everyone, including my primary doctor just passed it off as growing pains. It wasn't until I came home from work almost 10 years ago and my ex had to help me up off the floor because I was in so much pain, changing out of my uniform became too much to handle. So off to the ER I went. It started a few months earlier, but continued to get worse. By the time I went into the ER, I couldn't even wear jeans, as the weight and pressure left me in pure agony. Thankfully, yoga pants were coming into style. I could barely even pull my hair out of my face my hair hurt too much. Up until that point, I dealt with the increasing symptoms as I do everything else... sometimes I'd get angry and frustrated, but for the most part, I'd just suck it up. I had a life to live and bills to pay. Other than his total lack of support that night (he had an "important" poker game, so I had to drive myself the 3 miles to the ER), I will never forget the nurse who took care of me. I needed help getting into a gown, almost went through the roof when they had to draw blood for labs, and even the tiniest amount of pressure or movement caused excruciating pain. That's when I started to lose control. There I was, in an ER, with symptoms that made no sense, barely able to move, unable to change myself, and I was scared. Like most people in a similar situation, my brain kept thinking worst case scenarios except I couldn't fathom what could cause such hell. That amazing nurse sat by my side, her hand close to mine (since holding my hand hurt as well), listening to me as I cried from fear, from pain, from the unknown. She said there was nothing she could say to make me feel better, but she wasn't leaving my side until I was ready to go home. In the field of medicine, women (and men) in general just go to work, do their jobs, and go home. Every once in awhile you get blessed with the small few who genuinely care about the patients who come through their doors.
The Lyme Disease results wouldn't be available for several days, but other tests indicated that something was wrong, but nothing indicating as to what it could be. I was given a few Percocet, sent home with a copy of my labs, and told to see my primary doctor in the next few days.
Now, I've never really cared for my primary doctor. I was nothing more than another patient number. He got the Lyme report (negative), drew more labs, and sent me home with a prescription for vicodin and a note excusing me from work. Over the next few weeks my symptoms did not improve, even though my labs did. So once again, he assumed I was there to waste his time and mine. I mean, recent lab results show I'm getting healthier, right? That means that the pain and symptoms were all in my head. After refusing to take his word for it, I demanded a referral to at least 2 other specialists and he arrogantly gave me referrals for 3 (if 3 specialists agreed with him, then what do I know, right?) Except he ended up being the ass in the end. All 3 rheumatologists looked at the labs, took a brief history, performed a physical and diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia before I left their offices. Only one out of the 3 wanted additional labs, so he was the one I still see to this day. While it is highly likely I've had FMS my entire life, it was a Parvo B19 (Fifths Disease) outbreak I contracted that set in motion years of labs, trial and error medications, one specialist after another to find the source of symptoms that didn't fit into the fms mold, and I still feel like I don't have any more answers than I had in those months. I've since tested positive for Lyme Disease 8 times, Epstein Barr Virus, constant vitamin deficiencies, and new symptoms crop up all the time. I tend to blow anything new off when it first starts (such as the hair loss, seemingly being "allergic" to the sun, excessive bruising, joint pain, numbness....etc), but when it lasts for a few weeks, I make sure to document it. And I still don't have any more answers. I know Fibromyalgia is a real and legitimate illness and there's a good chance I do have it, but there are too many other things that can't be explained by such a simple diagnosis. Ten years later, I feel like I'm back at square one, banging my head into a wall, seeing doctor after doctor, the same tests run over and over, and hearing "there's most likely something else going on causing all of this, but we just don't know what..." I am determined that by the end of this year I will have real answers instead of new symptoms and ways to treat the symptoms. As difficult as it is, finding answers and having a name (or names) for what is making me so sick so often is easier to handle than dealing with the unknown...
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
This is Only a Test
So the only thing I feel like doing right now is curling up under the blankets and going back to sleep. Lately, it feels like no matter how much sleep I get, it's nowhere near enough. My dad came home from the hospital last week and is slowly getting better. My mother has been cooking a real dinner every night since (I admit as much as it sucked, I kinda missed the Ramen Noodle or Grilled Cheese dinners for the past few months) and is also exhausted. I suggested instead of taking something out to defrost and going through the whole cooking, serving, cleaning up thing, we just do a leftover night. It's not like we haven't had plenty every night. Turns out, with exception of the turkey burgers, my dad has eaten his way through all of them... So we had tuna and soup for dinner instead.
Semester has started back up, so my weeks are busier than even I expected. Three days a week I'm up at 4am, take mom to dialysis, come home, work out, shower, maybe do something around the house, pick her up, and whatever the rest of the day brings (homework, doctors, errands, etc). The other two are spent all day on campus, but once again, I start a new semester sick. I still have to deal with that stupid traffic ticket, which by now has been so blown out of proportion it's absurd. It was adjourned twice before, once when I called to plead not guilty, and the second time was just before my father's bypass surgery. I tried Tuesday night to adjourn it because between feeling like crap, barely able to move, and only having $20 left in my bank account, it would have been a complete waste of everyone's time. So I called my rheumatologist and he faxed over a note for me under the condition that I get in to see my primary ASAP. The clerk took one look at it and not only told his nurse off, but explained to me either show up (and go to jail since I didn't even have a down payment for the fines, let alone court costs), or get a bench warrant issued. In no uncertain terms, it was her decision to determine what is and is not considered an acceptable excuse and what is not as opposed to the judge ruling on my case. She also took the liberty of telling me that I was lying about the giant clusterfuck also known as my life (since no one has that much bad luck and all) and she had no intentions of showing the paperwork to the judge. And she didn't, so a warrant was put out for me. My mother had put aside some extra money just in case something in this house broke, we were short come bill, tax, oil, etc etc etc time, or an emergency. I felt horrible borrowing from her, but the fact of the matter is, if I go to jail, my family is screwed. Neither of them can drive, my car would be impounded even if my mother was able to drive, and it would make an already bad situation worse. While I understand there are traffic laws and such for reasons, but sometimes things happen and officers should not only take that into consideration, but learn how to be decent human beings before given a badge instead of being sent out in a car, with a badge and gun, and use the badge to act like macho assholes. From the time I was pulled over until this morning (and I can almost guarantee it will continue the second I enter the court room), I wasn't treated like someone who has no criminal record, a spotless driving record, and was only trying to get my car, mother, dog, and myself home before it went into the shop, but I was treated like a low life criminal. I didn't realize that so many people know their car may not make it too far because it's so broken, but put their dog in it, and just go for a drive. Nor did I realize it's a felony (at least if you dealt with them, you'd think it was) to have car trouble and no money for a tow truck, leaving you two options: try to get the car home, or spend the day on the side of the road trying to reach someone to pick you up and get your car impounded for illegal parking. So when I stopped in this morning to post my bail (and reschedule my court date), the clerk who was so tough and heartless saw the 3" folder full of medical documentation, repair receipts, etc to prove that I wasn't lying ran and hid in her office. I guess it is pretty easy to be brave and tough hiding on the other end of a computer or telephone receiver. Or behind a badge and gun, for that matter.
But I did finally reach my primary doctor and was told to come in immediately this morning (she's always had odd hours and I can never seem to remember what they are). I walked out the door with a note to show not just the court, but my rheumatologist and a request for a series of labs I have to get done by the end of this week. She's pretty convinced that because of all the stress I've been under recently, my EBV has returned. The symptoms and situation fit and it's not uncommon that once they find the virus in your system, given the right circumstances (such as stress and/or illness), it can and does rear its ugly head again. She's also running full blood panels, RA panels, and again an ANA test for Lupus.... As much as I want answers, if she is right about EBV, there isn't anything I can do about it except plenty of rest, fluids, and wait it out. Again. Some people hate going to doctors even for cases like the flu, but as much as I hate having to go from one specialist to another to find out what is behind my autoimmune problems, just once I'd like to go to the doctor for something stupid like tonsilitis or a sinus infection. And now that my puppy has finally given up stealing my blankets and bouncing all over the bed, I'm going back to bed.
Semester has started back up, so my weeks are busier than even I expected. Three days a week I'm up at 4am, take mom to dialysis, come home, work out, shower, maybe do something around the house, pick her up, and whatever the rest of the day brings (homework, doctors, errands, etc). The other two are spent all day on campus, but once again, I start a new semester sick. I still have to deal with that stupid traffic ticket, which by now has been so blown out of proportion it's absurd. It was adjourned twice before, once when I called to plead not guilty, and the second time was just before my father's bypass surgery. I tried Tuesday night to adjourn it because between feeling like crap, barely able to move, and only having $20 left in my bank account, it would have been a complete waste of everyone's time. So I called my rheumatologist and he faxed over a note for me under the condition that I get in to see my primary ASAP. The clerk took one look at it and not only told his nurse off, but explained to me either show up (and go to jail since I didn't even have a down payment for the fines, let alone court costs), or get a bench warrant issued. In no uncertain terms, it was her decision to determine what is and is not considered an acceptable excuse and what is not as opposed to the judge ruling on my case. She also took the liberty of telling me that I was lying about the giant clusterfuck also known as my life (since no one has that much bad luck and all) and she had no intentions of showing the paperwork to the judge. And she didn't, so a warrant was put out for me. My mother had put aside some extra money just in case something in this house broke, we were short come bill, tax, oil, etc etc etc time, or an emergency. I felt horrible borrowing from her, but the fact of the matter is, if I go to jail, my family is screwed. Neither of them can drive, my car would be impounded even if my mother was able to drive, and it would make an already bad situation worse. While I understand there are traffic laws and such for reasons, but sometimes things happen and officers should not only take that into consideration, but learn how to be decent human beings before given a badge instead of being sent out in a car, with a badge and gun, and use the badge to act like macho assholes. From the time I was pulled over until this morning (and I can almost guarantee it will continue the second I enter the court room), I wasn't treated like someone who has no criminal record, a spotless driving record, and was only trying to get my car, mother, dog, and myself home before it went into the shop, but I was treated like a low life criminal. I didn't realize that so many people know their car may not make it too far because it's so broken, but put their dog in it, and just go for a drive. Nor did I realize it's a felony (at least if you dealt with them, you'd think it was) to have car trouble and no money for a tow truck, leaving you two options: try to get the car home, or spend the day on the side of the road trying to reach someone to pick you up and get your car impounded for illegal parking. So when I stopped in this morning to post my bail (and reschedule my court date), the clerk who was so tough and heartless saw the 3" folder full of medical documentation, repair receipts, etc to prove that I wasn't lying ran and hid in her office. I guess it is pretty easy to be brave and tough hiding on the other end of a computer or telephone receiver. Or behind a badge and gun, for that matter.
But I did finally reach my primary doctor and was told to come in immediately this morning (she's always had odd hours and I can never seem to remember what they are). I walked out the door with a note to show not just the court, but my rheumatologist and a request for a series of labs I have to get done by the end of this week. She's pretty convinced that because of all the stress I've been under recently, my EBV has returned. The symptoms and situation fit and it's not uncommon that once they find the virus in your system, given the right circumstances (such as stress and/or illness), it can and does rear its ugly head again. She's also running full blood panels, RA panels, and again an ANA test for Lupus.... As much as I want answers, if she is right about EBV, there isn't anything I can do about it except plenty of rest, fluids, and wait it out. Again. Some people hate going to doctors even for cases like the flu, but as much as I hate having to go from one specialist to another to find out what is behind my autoimmune problems, just once I'd like to go to the doctor for something stupid like tonsilitis or a sinus infection. And now that my puppy has finally given up stealing my blankets and bouncing all over the bed, I'm going back to bed.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
An Interesting Psychology Lesson
So my day started at 5am after MAYBE 2 hours sleep because my father had to go in for a triple bypass surgery this morning. Since he went in for an angioplasty last week and this bombshell was dropped on my mother and I, our stress levels have gone through the roof. (as if they're not high as it is). After checking into the hospital, they brought my dad in for prep and said they'd come get us to see him before his surgery. I was set on edge a bit because last week, they only sent us out of the room for him to change and all that fun stuff. Turns out that even though he showered this morning, they had to give him another one then put him under a "heat tent." Basically, it's this tent-like thing that's connected to a tube, put under the blanket, and you're encased in warm air. I wish I had one of them for any of my surgeries and so did my mom. Throwing extra warmed blankets when it's freezing cold doesn't do much after about 5 minutes. I kinda want one for the house... the hell with the wood stove or heating oil. And then it began... the waiting.
The nurse told us to expect to hear from the surgeon around 1ish (it was about 9am when they were bringing him in) and even then, we'd only be able to see him for about 5 minutes while he was in intensive care recovering. So my mother and I made the necessary phone calls, texts, emails, etc. to keep everyone in the loop. This included her son who intended to come up after work, but given what we were told, he wouldn't be able to see my father until at the very earliest noon tomorrow. The cardiac waiting room was much fuller than it was the last time and we were told that we had about an hour from the time we went in if we wanted to grab a bite to eat, coffee, etc because that was about how long it would take the OR team to set him up for surgery. Someone was playing a piano somewhere on the waiting room floor, with some music I just couldn't fathom playing in front of a crowd anxiously awaiting word about their loved ones in surgery. I tried to tune it out as much as I could. Mom played on her Kindle while I did some reading, took a quick nap until we were finally brought into the counseling room at around 1pm. The news was about what we expected, his heart is pretty week, he was still knocked out and they'd wake him up over the course of a few hours, but be prepared that he'll not only be bloated and swollen, but he has tubes, IVs, and anything else you can think of medically stuck in, on, and around him. So we went back and waited until we were allowed to see him before having to go home.
Initially, we were told it would be about 15-20 minutes while the nurses hooked him back up to the monitors, reset the IV bags, etc etc etc. Turns out it's actually about an hour at least. It did give me time to sit back and think though. The surgeon made it very clear that unless he starts taking care of himself, he most likely won't make it another 20 years. My mother is on dialysis and on the transplant team with a waiting list of about a decade. I tried not to think about it, so I began looking around the waiting room. Some of the faces had been there about as long, if not longer than we had been. One family literally seemed to eat their way through the time, another paced along the window, some mindlessly watched television, while others appeared to retreat into themselves. It was at this point that I made the comment to my mother about her kidneys. Since her kidneys began to fail, I got tested and found out I was a match, but my immune system is too deficient to donate. I won't hold my breath about some others getting tested for one reason or another, so we did what we usually do when we're at our breaking point--we began cracking jokes. I'd give her my kidney while it's still in decent shape, but I'm going to need it back when my remaining one starts to go. It turned into a fit of laughter at the visualization and the sheer absurdity. Walking into the CICU, I realized just how everyone deals with stress differently. Some pretend nothing is wrong, others eat their way through stress (something I'm making pretty good progress on working through), some internalize all of it and don't bother to deal with any of it until too much has piled up, and others still find absurd (if not inappropriate things like an organ transplant/sharing) things to laugh at.
It has been brought to my attention that there are a select few who, while knowing nothing about me except assumptions, are under the impression that I am a miserable, angry, self-destructive person. The reality is, I'm far from it. Just like everyone else, I try to make it through whatever gets thrown my way, even if it is a series of Mack trucks while working towards my future. For the most part, that is most people I know. Everyone handles life's little curveballs differently. Until you walk a mile or spend a week in their shoes, living their life, you have no right to judge others.
The nurse told us to expect to hear from the surgeon around 1ish (it was about 9am when they were bringing him in) and even then, we'd only be able to see him for about 5 minutes while he was in intensive care recovering. So my mother and I made the necessary phone calls, texts, emails, etc. to keep everyone in the loop. This included her son who intended to come up after work, but given what we were told, he wouldn't be able to see my father until at the very earliest noon tomorrow. The cardiac waiting room was much fuller than it was the last time and we were told that we had about an hour from the time we went in if we wanted to grab a bite to eat, coffee, etc because that was about how long it would take the OR team to set him up for surgery. Someone was playing a piano somewhere on the waiting room floor, with some music I just couldn't fathom playing in front of a crowd anxiously awaiting word about their loved ones in surgery. I tried to tune it out as much as I could. Mom played on her Kindle while I did some reading, took a quick nap until we were finally brought into the counseling room at around 1pm. The news was about what we expected, his heart is pretty week, he was still knocked out and they'd wake him up over the course of a few hours, but be prepared that he'll not only be bloated and swollen, but he has tubes, IVs, and anything else you can think of medically stuck in, on, and around him. So we went back and waited until we were allowed to see him before having to go home.
Initially, we were told it would be about 15-20 minutes while the nurses hooked him back up to the monitors, reset the IV bags, etc etc etc. Turns out it's actually about an hour at least. It did give me time to sit back and think though. The surgeon made it very clear that unless he starts taking care of himself, he most likely won't make it another 20 years. My mother is on dialysis and on the transplant team with a waiting list of about a decade. I tried not to think about it, so I began looking around the waiting room. Some of the faces had been there about as long, if not longer than we had been. One family literally seemed to eat their way through the time, another paced along the window, some mindlessly watched television, while others appeared to retreat into themselves. It was at this point that I made the comment to my mother about her kidneys. Since her kidneys began to fail, I got tested and found out I was a match, but my immune system is too deficient to donate. I won't hold my breath about some others getting tested for one reason or another, so we did what we usually do when we're at our breaking point--we began cracking jokes. I'd give her my kidney while it's still in decent shape, but I'm going to need it back when my remaining one starts to go. It turned into a fit of laughter at the visualization and the sheer absurdity. Walking into the CICU, I realized just how everyone deals with stress differently. Some pretend nothing is wrong, others eat their way through stress (something I'm making pretty good progress on working through), some internalize all of it and don't bother to deal with any of it until too much has piled up, and others still find absurd (if not inappropriate things like an organ transplant/sharing) things to laugh at.
It has been brought to my attention that there are a select few who, while knowing nothing about me except assumptions, are under the impression that I am a miserable, angry, self-destructive person. The reality is, I'm far from it. Just like everyone else, I try to make it through whatever gets thrown my way, even if it is a series of Mack trucks while working towards my future. For the most part, that is most people I know. Everyone handles life's little curveballs differently. Until you walk a mile or spend a week in their shoes, living their life, you have no right to judge others.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Mother Nature Certainly Has a Sense of Humour
Here it is, almost the middle of January and with exception of 3 days of frigid weather, for the most part winter hasn't made much of an appearance. It was in the 50s on Saturday (when I should have taken the outside Christmas decorations down) and 37 on Sunday with a pretty decent breeze. Needless to say, I froze my ass off, but other than putting the last of the boxes in the attic, everything is done. The past 3 days have brought temperatures in the mid 40s and very little wind. Now that I/we have to leave early in the morning for my father's heart surgery tomorrow, we're under a winter weather advisory. In this area, the storm is supposed to start as ice, snow, and rain and possibly end the same way by mid-morning. Then the temperatures are supposed to plummet. I can tell just by the overall joint aches that it is a pretty good size low pressure system on its way without having to watch the weather. Like my family (well, some of us anyway) and I haven't been tested enough, now I might have to drive to the hospital in snowy, icy conditions. Fun!
I've been trying to keep as busy as possible to keep my mind off all the chaos that went from manageable to just plain out of control. I made arrangements to have our trash picked up, vacuumed, cleaned, downloaded a few of the CDs I found while cleaning out one of the rooms, started preparing for Spring Semester (at least what preparations I could do right now), moved around a bit of wood, and made sure all of the stacks of wood are covered up so that when I have to use the wood stove, I'm not spending hours fighting with damp wood. I also prepared my bag for tomorrow. I have some reviewing to finish up from a class last semester since I had to take an incomplete and a book to read if I get through the work.
I decided that after I picked my mother up and before I went to my surgeon for another follow-up and the official clearance to return to school that returning the hamster's cage upstairs in her little corner was a good idea. I have no idea how it happened, but I managed to knock the gate I was stepping over over and had probably the slowest motion fall ever without the use of a camera trick. On top of her small and very bent cage (thanks to the dog knocking her not only off her 5' stand, but bouncing it off a table and sent it crashing to the floor), I had a half full coffee cup on the cage. I didn't want to shatter the cup on the slate floor, but more importantly, I didn't want her cage to go crashing to the floor again. She's a dwarf hamster and I'm pretty sure there's only so much she can go through before she has a heart attack. The good news is, neither the cup nor the cage smashed to the floor, but I managed to pull more muscles than I thought possible in a single incident and took a bath in cold coffee. But my knee didn't give out, which is a good sign. When I woke up yesterday morning, however, moving was not much of an option. I was supposed to go to traffic court to clear up a small stupid matter, but as the day went on, it became pretty clear that unless I was carried into the courthouse, it wasn't going to happen. After explaining the problem to the clerk, she told me to show up or have a warrant out, unless my surgeon could perform a miracle and send them notification that I was in no shape to be driving. God bless that man, he did, with a half hour to spare. So I was finally able to take something stronger than advil along with a muscle relaxer and went back to my place in the recliner with my heating pads. Today was a bit easier, but I admit I'm still pretty sore. At least I can move without wanting to cry. lol
The only thing I did accomplish yesterday was a wasted trip to campus to pick up the last textbook I needed. I fully realize that a very small percentage of the students at my school are commuters, but with less than a week to go before classes begin again (my online class starting on Sunday), the professor still hasn't decided on a textbook. My other two texts weren't even on the shelves ready to sell yet. I found them cheaper on another website and had them expedited shipped to me last week and they showed up today. I heard from another student that the texts STILL aren't stocked in the bookstore. I'm just glad I saved quite a bit of money on the texts I did get. My counseling text is a tiny, thin, workbook looking text (which was almost $100, but I found online for less than half) and my adolescent psych text wasn't much bigger, but I cringe at the thought of this semester. It's a softcover text that explains basic theories of adolescent psychology (pretty standard), but the rest of the course is the online part of the text--flash cards, puzzles, games....something you would expect in an elementary school, not a college-level class. So this should be interesting. But here goes nothing! I'll laugh like hell if we get a snowstorm the first day of class and they're canceled.
I've been trying to keep as busy as possible to keep my mind off all the chaos that went from manageable to just plain out of control. I made arrangements to have our trash picked up, vacuumed, cleaned, downloaded a few of the CDs I found while cleaning out one of the rooms, started preparing for Spring Semester (at least what preparations I could do right now), moved around a bit of wood, and made sure all of the stacks of wood are covered up so that when I have to use the wood stove, I'm not spending hours fighting with damp wood. I also prepared my bag for tomorrow. I have some reviewing to finish up from a class last semester since I had to take an incomplete and a book to read if I get through the work.
I decided that after I picked my mother up and before I went to my surgeon for another follow-up and the official clearance to return to school that returning the hamster's cage upstairs in her little corner was a good idea. I have no idea how it happened, but I managed to knock the gate I was stepping over over and had probably the slowest motion fall ever without the use of a camera trick. On top of her small and very bent cage (thanks to the dog knocking her not only off her 5' stand, but bouncing it off a table and sent it crashing to the floor), I had a half full coffee cup on the cage. I didn't want to shatter the cup on the slate floor, but more importantly, I didn't want her cage to go crashing to the floor again. She's a dwarf hamster and I'm pretty sure there's only so much she can go through before she has a heart attack. The good news is, neither the cup nor the cage smashed to the floor, but I managed to pull more muscles than I thought possible in a single incident and took a bath in cold coffee. But my knee didn't give out, which is a good sign. When I woke up yesterday morning, however, moving was not much of an option. I was supposed to go to traffic court to clear up a small stupid matter, but as the day went on, it became pretty clear that unless I was carried into the courthouse, it wasn't going to happen. After explaining the problem to the clerk, she told me to show up or have a warrant out, unless my surgeon could perform a miracle and send them notification that I was in no shape to be driving. God bless that man, he did, with a half hour to spare. So I was finally able to take something stronger than advil along with a muscle relaxer and went back to my place in the recliner with my heating pads. Today was a bit easier, but I admit I'm still pretty sore. At least I can move without wanting to cry. lol
The only thing I did accomplish yesterday was a wasted trip to campus to pick up the last textbook I needed. I fully realize that a very small percentage of the students at my school are commuters, but with less than a week to go before classes begin again (my online class starting on Sunday), the professor still hasn't decided on a textbook. My other two texts weren't even on the shelves ready to sell yet. I found them cheaper on another website and had them expedited shipped to me last week and they showed up today. I heard from another student that the texts STILL aren't stocked in the bookstore. I'm just glad I saved quite a bit of money on the texts I did get. My counseling text is a tiny, thin, workbook looking text (which was almost $100, but I found online for less than half) and my adolescent psych text wasn't much bigger, but I cringe at the thought of this semester. It's a softcover text that explains basic theories of adolescent psychology (pretty standard), but the rest of the course is the online part of the text--flash cards, puzzles, games....something you would expect in an elementary school, not a college-level class. So this should be interesting. But here goes nothing! I'll laugh like hell if we get a snowstorm the first day of class and they're canceled.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Happy New Year Indeed
New Years Eve was a laid back, quiet night. Something that was definitely in order. The guy I've been kinda seeing came up and my mom was home pretty early from dinner at her other kid's house. It took me over a week to talk her into going, given the events of the previous week, but in the end, she relented because she misses her granddaughters. She went to bed around 11 that night and was asleep before midnight. I finally turned on ABC around 1130 to catch the news and watch the ball drop (I can't stand Ryan Seacrest and neither could he), we breathed a sigh of relief the year was finally over. I knew the first two weeks of this year was going to be a bit rough, but figured it would improve after that. I'd be back in school, my mom is coming off more medication, and while my knee still isn't fully healed, it's definitely better, so I'm back to my yoga 3 days a week. Gotta start somewhere, right? Then it quickly all went to hell...
My father had to go in for minor surgery last week and was intending on staying here for a day or two, which I had no problems with. It was at best an angioplasty, at worst, a stent. The difference in time was whether he came home the same day, or stayed overnight. It's a relatively quick procedure (about an hour, hour and a half if they have to put a stent in the artery), so we left early Friday morning, checked into the hospital by 515am, and prepared for a pretty simple day. Just shy of an hour the surgeon comes out to my mother and I and asks us into a private room. We knew something was wrong considering any of the other patients families were told everything was fine in the waiting room as they learned about how their loved ones made it through their surgeries. He drew a quick picture of a heart, 3 main arteries of the heart, one on either side, and one that goes around the center of the heart. He briefly explained that his heart muscles were very week, one artery had an 85% blockage, but the artery was too weak to do a stent, the center artery was 100% blocked and they couldn't even get a wire through it, and the third was 95-98% blocked. There was no choice but to perform a triple bypass. Failing to disclose how much he had been drinking the past few years, his doctors were not prepared for the damage they found. As soon as I heard "damage, weak, triple bypass" I became numb and my brain started to just shut down. It was a difficult enough week, but now this? Not being prepared for what they found, the surgery is scheduled for later this week.
Earlier in the weak, my mother almost died during dialysis due to a weight error. Being as stubborn as she is, she refused to go to the ER, so the techs called her doctor. If he said to bring her in, she wouldn't have a choice. After about an hour, her blood pressure was finally out of the danger zone (having gone from 65/43 to 75/45), but she was in serious pain in addition to the side effects of very low blood pressure. Then came the meltdown. There was nothing she could have done to prevent her renal failure and for about the next decade (the average time on a waiting list) has to be attached to a machine 3 days a week for several hours just to stay alive while my father caused his problems and after a few hours in a hospital would be back to doing whatever he wants as if nothing happened. It isn't and wasn't fair. And there wasn't a single thing I could do or say to her to help. All I could do and did was listen. It's beyond heartwrenching seeing your family and loved ones suffer so much and not be able to do a damn thing to help them feel better. Neither of us were prepared for what happened Friday.
I have never felt rage the way I did as we learned more about my dad. I listened to him lie to the nurse pre op going over the myriad of questions required before surgery and said nothing. Then I couldn't bring myself to see him in post op/recovery. I was angry. He did this to himself, he still couldn't be honest with himself or his doctors, and once again, I'm the one who has to handle all of it with no choice. Once he got to his own room, I simply stared out the window as he kept moving around and listening to the nurses' lectures about having to lie still. Mom told him that he'd have to be restrained if he didn't listen and he told her to stfu. Mom got up to walk out. Halfway down the hallway, she turned around and went back. I was just the driver, really. After a little over an hour, I said I was going to get the car to avoid rush hour traffic. I just couldn't handle it anymore. The bombshell just became too much. I had a lot to think about, knowing he'd be staying here during recovery which would be a few months. Should I take a leave of absence from school or cut my classes down? After having to do almost everything (but mow the lawn once and move some wood), how am I going to handle this? He left to figure out some things in his life and now that he's in trouble, he's back. Then fuel gets added to the fire... suddenly the man who used to be my brother starts acting like he gives a damn. Not once in almost 7 years has he been there for my mom, asked how she was feeling, dealt with her surgeries, dialysis, bad days.. none of it. The last thing he said to me was "If i was stuck with you knowing that you were never going anywhere would drink myself to death too!" Looks like he may have his wish after all.... and intends to show up at the hospital like he's a caring family member.. the golden child...like nothing is wrong. After turning his back on his family, cutting others out of his life entirely, he has plans to show up as if everything is fine. I've been handling everything relatively well as it comes, but someone is in for a very rude awakening. You don't get to choose when you want to become part of the family and when you can't be bothered. Especially since for well over a decade, every decision that's been made has been for one person and one person alone and to hell with the consequences. It's a good thing the hospital itself is massive and there's plenty of room to walk around and burn off some energy. But just as with everything else, I'll find a way to handle it and come out the other side stronger than before.
My father had to go in for minor surgery last week and was intending on staying here for a day or two, which I had no problems with. It was at best an angioplasty, at worst, a stent. The difference in time was whether he came home the same day, or stayed overnight. It's a relatively quick procedure (about an hour, hour and a half if they have to put a stent in the artery), so we left early Friday morning, checked into the hospital by 515am, and prepared for a pretty simple day. Just shy of an hour the surgeon comes out to my mother and I and asks us into a private room. We knew something was wrong considering any of the other patients families were told everything was fine in the waiting room as they learned about how their loved ones made it through their surgeries. He drew a quick picture of a heart, 3 main arteries of the heart, one on either side, and one that goes around the center of the heart. He briefly explained that his heart muscles were very week, one artery had an 85% blockage, but the artery was too weak to do a stent, the center artery was 100% blocked and they couldn't even get a wire through it, and the third was 95-98% blocked. There was no choice but to perform a triple bypass. Failing to disclose how much he had been drinking the past few years, his doctors were not prepared for the damage they found. As soon as I heard "damage, weak, triple bypass" I became numb and my brain started to just shut down. It was a difficult enough week, but now this? Not being prepared for what they found, the surgery is scheduled for later this week.
Earlier in the weak, my mother almost died during dialysis due to a weight error. Being as stubborn as she is, she refused to go to the ER, so the techs called her doctor. If he said to bring her in, she wouldn't have a choice. After about an hour, her blood pressure was finally out of the danger zone (having gone from 65/43 to 75/45), but she was in serious pain in addition to the side effects of very low blood pressure. Then came the meltdown. There was nothing she could have done to prevent her renal failure and for about the next decade (the average time on a waiting list) has to be attached to a machine 3 days a week for several hours just to stay alive while my father caused his problems and after a few hours in a hospital would be back to doing whatever he wants as if nothing happened. It isn't and wasn't fair. And there wasn't a single thing I could do or say to her to help. All I could do and did was listen. It's beyond heartwrenching seeing your family and loved ones suffer so much and not be able to do a damn thing to help them feel better. Neither of us were prepared for what happened Friday.
I have never felt rage the way I did as we learned more about my dad. I listened to him lie to the nurse pre op going over the myriad of questions required before surgery and said nothing. Then I couldn't bring myself to see him in post op/recovery. I was angry. He did this to himself, he still couldn't be honest with himself or his doctors, and once again, I'm the one who has to handle all of it with no choice. Once he got to his own room, I simply stared out the window as he kept moving around and listening to the nurses' lectures about having to lie still. Mom told him that he'd have to be restrained if he didn't listen and he told her to stfu. Mom got up to walk out. Halfway down the hallway, she turned around and went back. I was just the driver, really. After a little over an hour, I said I was going to get the car to avoid rush hour traffic. I just couldn't handle it anymore. The bombshell just became too much. I had a lot to think about, knowing he'd be staying here during recovery which would be a few months. Should I take a leave of absence from school or cut my classes down? After having to do almost everything (but mow the lawn once and move some wood), how am I going to handle this? He left to figure out some things in his life and now that he's in trouble, he's back. Then fuel gets added to the fire... suddenly the man who used to be my brother starts acting like he gives a damn. Not once in almost 7 years has he been there for my mom, asked how she was feeling, dealt with her surgeries, dialysis, bad days.. none of it. The last thing he said to me was "If i was stuck with you knowing that you were never going anywhere would drink myself to death too!" Looks like he may have his wish after all.... and intends to show up at the hospital like he's a caring family member.. the golden child...like nothing is wrong. After turning his back on his family, cutting others out of his life entirely, he has plans to show up as if everything is fine. I've been handling everything relatively well as it comes, but someone is in for a very rude awakening. You don't get to choose when you want to become part of the family and when you can't be bothered. Especially since for well over a decade, every decision that's been made has been for one person and one person alone and to hell with the consequences. It's a good thing the hospital itself is massive and there's plenty of room to walk around and burn off some energy. But just as with everything else, I'll find a way to handle it and come out the other side stronger than before.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Fighting Fire
I can't believe it was in the 50s on Sunday and I'm looking at a local temperature of 6 right now (not including the wind chill!). The cold front came through Monday afternoon, which would explain my flare up on Sunday. By yesterday morning, I didn't have time to even think about pain. I had to get the wood stove downstairs lit and going to conserve oil until tomorrow. What's not bruised right now is sorer than anything I can remember, and what's not bruised and/or sore is burnt. I feel like I've spent the last 2 days working in some late 19th century furnace room. I stopped counting how many trips from the driveway to the back door I made carrying crates of wood to keep the house warm. Unfortunately, since the wood was delivered, we've gotten a lot of rain. I don't want to start using the stuff just outside the back door yet, since the ground isn't covered in ice and snow yet, so when that happens, I don't have to worry about sliding down hill, slipping on ice, or anything like that. Besides, I made a goal to get back into shape.
At first it took awhile to get the fire going yesterday and it was a constant battle with damp wood and keeping it burning at a hot enough temperature to not only put out enough heat, but keep creosote from building up in the chimney. By 7pm I was just about in tears. Everything hurt, I couldn't leave the stove for more than 15 minutes or the temperature dropped too low, and it was looking pretty grim. With my dad not here, one neighbor working overnights, another busy on new jobs (being a contractor getting work in the winter, one can't be picky), and another out of state for a family emergency, it was literally my mother and I fending for ourselves and I couldn't keep a damn fire burning right. So I decided to get creative. I grabbed a small cardboard box, stuffed it with paper, and chucked it in there. FINALLY success!! It only took me about a half hour this morning to get it back up to temperature. Unfortunately, I'm still dealing with damp wood, but I found a solution. The stove is set up so that I can set a few logs on top of the stove to dry. I finished writing out bills, reviewed some work for my psych class, and put a little more of my office back in order. It wasn't until mom wanted to start the upstairs fireplace that my perfect wood-drying plan went a bit awry. Early in the afternoon I had set a few pretty big pieces on the back of the stove to dry by the end of the day so that it would burn overnight. I gave a few dry pieces to mom for the fire upstairs and my perfect plan went to hell. First, I put some more cardboard in the stove hoping to dry out and burn the wood that was in there. In less than 5 minutes the fire was roaring and I watched the temperature gauge go from just the lowest "safe" point to pegged at overheating. Even scarier was seeing the chimney expand. It looked like something straight out of a cartoon. Mom came down and with the help of a squirt bottle and a LOT of praying, it was back under control. Turns out there was 1/2 a log in the back that hadn't yet caught, but was very, very dry. I won't be making that mistake again.
Then I set the fireplace upstairs so that all my mom had to do was light it. With a lifting restriction of 10lbs in one arm, I brought extra wood in (but not so much the dog would think instant snack), and handed her the fireplace matches. Somehow, she got the flue switch backwards... I'm so glad my hamster is downstairs in my room. The second she yelled my name, I grabbed my sweatshirt and started running up the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, I ran into a giant wall of smoke... and it only got worse. Panic attack #2 for the day hit as my asthma kicked in. Everything she lit up was backing smoke into the house because she closed the flue instead of opening it. It still smells like smoke upstairs. But I did learn a neat lesson--by opening the front door, it pulls the heat from the wood stove downstairs up through the entire house... instant heat!
The last 2 days have taught me that I don't need to buy a gym membership... all I have to do is carry wood from the front of the house to the back, deal with the stove (which involves countless squats), and dozens of trips up and down the stairs in a day. And my alarm is still set for 5am to get up to do my yoga routine. If I'm moving by then, that is. But the most important thing I learned is that no matter how tough something gets, I can and do find a way to take care of it. Even if it makes me look and feel like I got hit by a truck. I'll find a way to do it.
At first it took awhile to get the fire going yesterday and it was a constant battle with damp wood and keeping it burning at a hot enough temperature to not only put out enough heat, but keep creosote from building up in the chimney. By 7pm I was just about in tears. Everything hurt, I couldn't leave the stove for more than 15 minutes or the temperature dropped too low, and it was looking pretty grim. With my dad not here, one neighbor working overnights, another busy on new jobs (being a contractor getting work in the winter, one can't be picky), and another out of state for a family emergency, it was literally my mother and I fending for ourselves and I couldn't keep a damn fire burning right. So I decided to get creative. I grabbed a small cardboard box, stuffed it with paper, and chucked it in there. FINALLY success!! It only took me about a half hour this morning to get it back up to temperature. Unfortunately, I'm still dealing with damp wood, but I found a solution. The stove is set up so that I can set a few logs on top of the stove to dry. I finished writing out bills, reviewed some work for my psych class, and put a little more of my office back in order. It wasn't until mom wanted to start the upstairs fireplace that my perfect wood-drying plan went a bit awry. Early in the afternoon I had set a few pretty big pieces on the back of the stove to dry by the end of the day so that it would burn overnight. I gave a few dry pieces to mom for the fire upstairs and my perfect plan went to hell. First, I put some more cardboard in the stove hoping to dry out and burn the wood that was in there. In less than 5 minutes the fire was roaring and I watched the temperature gauge go from just the lowest "safe" point to pegged at overheating. Even scarier was seeing the chimney expand. It looked like something straight out of a cartoon. Mom came down and with the help of a squirt bottle and a LOT of praying, it was back under control. Turns out there was 1/2 a log in the back that hadn't yet caught, but was very, very dry. I won't be making that mistake again.
Then I set the fireplace upstairs so that all my mom had to do was light it. With a lifting restriction of 10lbs in one arm, I brought extra wood in (but not so much the dog would think instant snack), and handed her the fireplace matches. Somehow, she got the flue switch backwards... I'm so glad my hamster is downstairs in my room. The second she yelled my name, I grabbed my sweatshirt and started running up the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, I ran into a giant wall of smoke... and it only got worse. Panic attack #2 for the day hit as my asthma kicked in. Everything she lit up was backing smoke into the house because she closed the flue instead of opening it. It still smells like smoke upstairs. But I did learn a neat lesson--by opening the front door, it pulls the heat from the wood stove downstairs up through the entire house... instant heat!
The last 2 days have taught me that I don't need to buy a gym membership... all I have to do is carry wood from the front of the house to the back, deal with the stove (which involves countless squats), and dozens of trips up and down the stairs in a day. And my alarm is still set for 5am to get up to do my yoga routine. If I'm moving by then, that is. But the most important thing I learned is that no matter how tough something gets, I can and do find a way to take care of it. Even if it makes me look and feel like I got hit by a truck. I'll find a way to do it.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
A New Year, a New Plan
Like most everyone else, the end of a year/beginning of another is marked by celebration and a laundry list of resolutions. I stopped making resolutions years ago, but have made a list of goals instead. Resolutions are promises that for all the good intentions, are meant to be broken. Goals, however, are a motivating factor in keeping up with changes throughout the entire year. In the last few years, I've returned to school, earned 2 degrees (working on a 3rd now), began to read more, curse less, and take things a day at a time. It's not a secret that 2011 was a pretty tough year. The beginning of 2012 looks to be the same for a little bit. A few family members need surgery and things are going to be tough for awhile. I'm prepared for that.
This year comes a new set of goals. The biggest is learning different ways in which to manage stress. While I cannot control other peoples' actions, it's up to me how to react to that. If it means cutting a few ties (which for the most part, I already have with a few) people, than that's one step I can take. I don't need to surround myself with people who cause nothing but stress, pain, and anger. As hard at it's going to be, I'm also going to try to take at least a half hour a day to myself just to clear my head. This excludes showers, driving, or other necessary actions.
Healthwise, I'm at a weight now I never thought I'd see again. Between stress, medication, and injury, I've put on more than just a few pounds. I can't promise myself that I will return to where I was a few years ago, but I plan on making small changes to help get there. I know I'm going to wake up in pain everyday, some days far worse than others, but I will at least try to do something on even the worst of days. I know what foods and drinks cause flares and that's easy enough to control. I can't, however, control the weather. As each year passes, I become a better barometer and it just plain sucks, but I know there's nothing I can do about it. The main goal by the end of 2012 is to quit smoking for good. I figure that as I learn new and different ways to control my stress, cigarettes will be a bit easier to give up, since that is one of the bigger reasons for continuing to smoke.
It might not be much, but it's a start. And even a small start is better than nothing at all. By the end of this year, I should be one semester away from my Bachelor's degree, be in better shape than I ended 2011, be smoke free, and be ready to set a new set of goals for improvement for next year.
This year comes a new set of goals. The biggest is learning different ways in which to manage stress. While I cannot control other peoples' actions, it's up to me how to react to that. If it means cutting a few ties (which for the most part, I already have with a few) people, than that's one step I can take. I don't need to surround myself with people who cause nothing but stress, pain, and anger. As hard at it's going to be, I'm also going to try to take at least a half hour a day to myself just to clear my head. This excludes showers, driving, or other necessary actions.
Healthwise, I'm at a weight now I never thought I'd see again. Between stress, medication, and injury, I've put on more than just a few pounds. I can't promise myself that I will return to where I was a few years ago, but I plan on making small changes to help get there. I know I'm going to wake up in pain everyday, some days far worse than others, but I will at least try to do something on even the worst of days. I know what foods and drinks cause flares and that's easy enough to control. I can't, however, control the weather. As each year passes, I become a better barometer and it just plain sucks, but I know there's nothing I can do about it. The main goal by the end of 2012 is to quit smoking for good. I figure that as I learn new and different ways to control my stress, cigarettes will be a bit easier to give up, since that is one of the bigger reasons for continuing to smoke.
It might not be much, but it's a start. And even a small start is better than nothing at all. By the end of this year, I should be one semester away from my Bachelor's degree, be in better shape than I ended 2011, be smoke free, and be ready to set a new set of goals for improvement for next year.
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