I am oh so Thankful....

I am grateful for my disease.

Yes, you read that right, so very grateful.

It has taught me life lessons that God had been trying to teach me for many years and I wasn’t getting it. For instance, before I got sick, I wanted to be a powerhouse, dignified, kick ass, business woman. I was going to teach people with disabilities just long enough to get a feel of the educational system then move on to researching autism in the neuroscience field then go on to change legislation, education blah blah blah.

I wasn’t going to be a mom, I wasn’t going to stop and smell the roses, and I cared more about being known a bad ass then the people I actually helped.

I took everything for granted, thought homeless people were uneducated because they didn’t care enough to pick up a book, jobless, because they were lazy, and homeless because they couldn’t balance a checkbook.

Don’t get me started on healthcare I was ignorant as …well.. I’ll keep it clean.

I thought minorities needed to get over their fathers past and move onto the present and that if they weren’t getting what we so called privilege white people were getting it was their own fault in some way or another.

Fat people were lazy and didn’t take care of themselves. People with drug and alcohol problems lacked control. On and on and on.

I thought me and my fine brain with my superior, Mensa level IQ meant many people around me were simple, not worth my time. Belittling people to their face with a side handed shady
compliments were a pastime of mine.

I was fake, like many people I grew up around in St. George, I thought that behavior was normal. I didn’t know what it was to be completely genuine. And loyalty was expected of my friends but if I was unloyal, well, there must have been a good reason.

I was a horrible, horrible, person.

I don’t think god gave me this illness, I don’t believe that’s how it works, it’s the luck of the genetic roulette, however I do believe God does step in when he can and helps things along. He didn’t step in and help my family and I find the right diagnosis, or medicine sooner because I needed to go through hell. I needed for people to take my ego and rip it to shreds. To help me understand the realities of this world. I needed doctors to claim I had Munchausen’s and not believe the very real pain was experiencing so that later in life when someone came to me and said, “I am hurting, I’ve been through hell.” I would understand the importance of believing them. I needed night after night, day after day of excruciating pain to humble and heal the horrible prejudices that were inside my soul. I needed to have to wear diapers, pee my pants and all over floors in front of total strangers so that I could learn humility and not care what people think. I needed my heart to stop over and over and over again so that I could get chance after chance to visit the other side and be thought the things I learned over there. I needed it to happen so frequently so that I wouldn’t confuse those moments with the other moments of DHT release.  I needed to know what it was like to experience odd hallucinations and memory loss so that I would be able to understand what it was like for some many people I now work with today, from schizophrenics, to people with dementia. And I need my bad days, like I have had this past week where I am holding on with every ounce of self control not to burst into tears because of the pain so that all this comes back and I am reminded how much better I am because of this illness.

I now know being a mother and caregiver to another human is more important than any other carreer or political appointment. I now know better then to walk into someplace I volunteer and think that I have something to offer them that’s more important than what they will teach me, and I have abandoned the arrogance that would have clouded my ability to do that.

I don’t take anything for granted. I realize if it wasn’t for my dad’s hard work, and our good luck that my butt would be out on the streets.

I now realize I was a bigot, prejudice beyond belief and a borderline racist. I was so blind to my white privilege it makes me ache inside. How can anyone be so clueless?

I now believe people battling weight problems and addiction are some of the strongest people on earth. Every day they don’t reach for that poison that will ease their pain is a small miracle. And a waist size has nothing to do with how active or physically strong a person is.

My IQ dropped two standard deviations, and then according to my last test went back up a little. That was the biggest humbling experience ever. My words don’t come freely, they are trapped in my mind and I can’t get them to their mouth, like a prisoner I am trying to free them and organize my many thoughts so that I can learn more to further help others. It’s exhausting and taxing. Those that can find ways to progress and grow around those barriers are the true genius.

My family and friends taught me true loyalty. I’ve met people along the way who have taught me how to be truly genuine and the blessing that comes when you are truly one hundred percent yourself every moment of every day.

I am now a good, strong person.

And it’s all thanks to my illness and God waiting until I was ready to heal myself. 

So, if in this moment you are struggling, for whatever reason stop and think, what am I supposed to be getting? I'm not progressing because...and if you can't come up with the answer pray for it. Become vigilant in not yourself, but what is around you, the answer is there, waiting to smack you in the face. Make sure your paying attention or else you will miss a great lesson and chance to become greater.

Within the Bended Light

So there is a story going around you have probably seen about a woman named Brittney who has chosen to take advantage of the death with dignity law. There is also a beautiful letter written by another woman who is begging Britney not to commit "suicide." It's prompted me to just say this:

The beauty life on earth brings to the spirit mind and body together as one, is one that if it were to be described as an action, I would compare it to that of the combination of the force of fission and fusion. Similarly, when the mind body and spirit begin to separate it is one of the most humbling, spiritually revitalizing experiences one could have.

The way life, colors, light and emotions were once perceived seem nothing less then stunted. You look back on life and realize you've been living in the first ten min of the black and white sequence of the Wizard of OZ. The every day life you once lived, now seems so silly, dark, and broken. I miss those times I lived in-between the light and was able to witness the colors and emotions with the greatest intensity of vibrations that one could imagine.

I miss being bathed in music the way one feels standing beneath a waterfall. I miss knowing, and understanding things and having that knowledge feel like a nice warm blanket next to a winters fire. But most of all I miss the love and freedom from pain. I guess that's why I sympathize with Miss Britney, loving the thought that she doesn't have to suffer the pain and confusion that comes before the light bends. And as Kara points out there is something beautiful that comes before death within the grace of our Heavenly Father.

I don't know which one is right, all I know is this: when it comes to that time in your life, whether you have warning or not, don't drown in fear. Release yourself into the arms of His love. How do you do that? Pray, and ask. The calm and peace that will eventually come over you, maybe not at first, but eventually, will be the most beautiful, breathtaking experience you will ever have. Every strong emotion, every oz of love you have ever felt will be rolled up into one big overflowing blanket of peace, heavens love will surround you, then you'll see the colors, and the light will bend. After that I do not know, but I do know it's nothing short of glorious.

Brittney's Side          Kara's Side

When it's Time to Go

There’s another angel on the streets of heaven tonight, a little man who I knew from volunteering at Muscular Dystrophy camp.  Tonight on facebook I’m seeing many sad notes to our little guy, all sent with love and hope and condolences for his family.

The lingering clock over our heads is the hardest part of having a chronic illness. It’s something that every human has but we are more aware of it because we don’t have the pleasure of taking each day for granted. We don’t have to wait until an unexpected death of a loved one or a tragic act of terrorism to happen for us to realize this life is fragile. Our timer could erupt at any given moment.

This is a curse and a blessing.

A curse because for some you know you won’t live long enough to see certain events happen in your loved ones lives; graduation, marriage, becoming grandparents, anniversaries. And because of this you subconsciously or sometimes consciously distance yourself from others. You become one of those dooms day preppers getting your things in order, just in case.

I don’t know how to help you stop the worry and fear, but stop .

When my niece was born I was at my worst. This beautiful bundle of wide eyes and smiles was now in my life and I hadn’t loved anything that much ever.  She would stare at me with her great big eyes while she held onto my thumb and never looked away. I felt like her spirit was somehow talking to my soul and I would often find myself weeping.

Weeping because I was so grateful god saved my life all those many times my heart had stopped, thankful that I now had my pacemaker so I could have this moment with my ray of sunshine.

But I was also terrified. Terrified that every visit would be my last, because my body would give out or because I wouldn't be able to handle the pain anymore and I’d have to give up.

Those moments that should have been filled with happiness and peace were filled with frustration and anger and worry because I didn’t know if I was going to get to be with her long enough to see her grow into the sweet angel she now is.

It was a waste, I didn’t need to worry. And even if my time was to come and I wasn’t to see her grow here on earth I would still be angry I spent those moments with her with those feelings eating at me inside instead of just letting myself get lost in the beauty of her soul.

Plan if you need to, but don’t let those moments take over your life. Let yourself feel the fullness of love from the world and people around you.

 when it is your time to go you don't want to associate those sweet memories with your worries, you want to be able to take your bow and know without a doubt you loved, lived and laughed more then you ever feared. 

The Final Diagnosis!

I'm not Jinxing myself, i'm not. 

This is it. They have figured me out. 

I HAVE BEEN VINDICATED!!

Give me some Diamox and slap EA on my forehead 'cus this girls got Episodic Ataxia! Aren't those just lovely words?

After 9 years of my body getting more and more ridiculous the most amazing Nero Ophthalmologist has figured me out with help from my favorite Nero Geneticist. 2 powerful and amazingly brilliant women who put the men in their field to shame. Girl power!

Now what is it?

Episodic Attaxia is " is a group of related conditions that affect the nervous system and cause problems with movement. People with episodic ataxia have recurrent episodes of poor coordination and balance (ataxia). During these episodes, many people also experience dizziness (vertigo), nausea and vomiting, migraine headaches, blurred or double vision, slurred speech, and ringing in the ears (tinnitus). Seizures, muscle weakness, and paralysis affecting one side of the body (hemiplegia) may also occur during attacks. Additionally, some affected individuals have a muscle abnormality called myokymia during or between episodes. This abnormality can cause muscle cramping, stiffness, and continuous, fine muscle twitching that appears as rippling under the skin."

(you should see that muscle rippling it's AWESoMe!! so awesome it is almost worth the horrible pain it causes.)

They have been thinking this could be it for awhile but they had to take me off my beloved Baclofen to check if I still had a nystagmus and to see which symptoms came back.

I cried in her office I was so excited to tell her the changes i've seen, good and bad. And i'm so thankful for the hope i've been given because she was a doctor willing to listen and who refused to give up on me! The next step would be to get tested to see exactly which form of EA I have, (there are seven types) but I've decided against it. There are many reasons, one being cost, the other, is it won't change anything; but the reason why I decided not to get tested is because there's the good kind, and the not so good kind. I don't want to know my expiration date or learn that it will get worse. 

So i'm going to live my life day by day and strive to improve my quality of life with each breath I take. I'm at peace, and I'm happy and that's all that matters.

I was told it was in my head, that it wasn't real that it  wasn't as bad as I was claiming, that I wanted attention. There were days I felt alone, scared, terrified that the only way out was to end it all, but I knew. I had patience. And the pain is now managed and at a minimal because I didn't give up. Every time I wanted to I thought of my niece, of my brother and sister, of my cousins who are more like sisters, of my parents, of the education I have left. DON't GIVE UP!

And when you think you can't do it anymore just give it all over to your creator, your higher power, your peace-giver. 

This day forward I am going to refuse to let it beat me. Because I am a fierce powerful woman, who was given this oppertunity to prove that even when my own nervous system attacks me I push back and pull through. 

whatever your trials whatever your struggles you are stronger then you know. Go out there today, dominate, and kick some ass!

For more info (especially family members) Click here 
I plan on studding the genetic part more and will send all family more info once I get all the right information. 

Be Not Ashamed.....A little tale of why I overshare

Hey Friends!

Some of my family members have been getting questions about what’s been going on with me. And/OR how come I’m so open about my illness.

I’ve made the decision to be so open about what I have been going through because I want to take the stigma and shame away from having a chronic illness.

The stigma and shame is what causes a lot of the depression in our community. When things aren’t talked about people wonder if it’s normal for them to feel those feelings or experience what they are experiencing.

I have gotten over the shame and want to find the funny; because what we go through although some days is heartbreaking and irritating is pretty damn funny.

So instead of there being an army of us sitting at home in pain behind our computers I want us to unite and find the good we can bring to the plate.

We are as a whole an inspirational people, and if we keep what we’re going through a secret we won’t be able to help others who are not only experiencing similar problems, but people who are just struggling with the everyday ups and downs.

That’s why I have weird facebook status’, that’s why sometimes I over share. Because I have seen to many women and men going through what I am going through and they are ashamed about what their body has done to them. There is no need to be ashamed. 

Whether its Cancer or MS or Muscular Dystrophy or Dysautonomia etc. You are not your illness and you should not be ashamed of what you are going through.

The Best Lessons Come in Crappy Packages

I have a lot to be thankful for today. I’ve been on new medication since my diagnosis of episodic ataxia and it has been nothing but life changing. A literal fog has been lifted and everything is so clear again. I’m more active, I can stand longer, play harder, and be myself again. I had almost forgotten what that was like. This illness has been hard but it is also the biggest blessing I have had in my life. Without it I wouldn’t have been as compassionate, or understanding. I would have been arrogant, and felt little need to reach out to others for help. Before, I was too independent, to selfish, to close minded to understand what the important things in life really are.

This illness may have crippled my body at times but it has freed my soul.

I know what love is, what a true friend is and how to never take that for granted. I will now go to the ends of the earth before losing someone important.

I now understand that time is just a limit we humans place upon ourselves and although we should never take any second for granted, we shouldn’t be frustrated or rush those things that may need to take a little more time.

I have learned that family does not mean blood or family trees. I have cousins and friends, who are more like sisters, mentors who have become like uncles and parents who have become more like soul mates.

Last but not least I have learned what Gods eternal love feels like and how it can change a person. Growing up I thought there were more limits, if I was “sinful” or hanging out with others who “were a bad influence” he would slowly creep out of my life until I couldn’t feel him anymore. It has become the exact opposite. As I have embraced those who don’t live the way most deem appropriate, and ceased with judging others his love has radiated throughout my life. I am never alone on a bad night when my body is twisting and my head throbbing. I am not alone when I’m trying to push through the pain when I am with others and hiding how badly I really hurt. I am not alone when my mind is gone and I can’t remember simple things like the name of my dog or how to open a door. I am not alone when I find myself somewhere and I’m not sure where I’m at or how I got there.

Some may say why do bad things happen to good people. I’ve decided God doesn’t have control of the dice like we think he does. Sure, if he wanted he could change the outcome but then he’d be interfering with the laws of nature and free will. And as a God of science he just can’t do that, unless absolutely necessary. However he will hold our hands give us the tools and send us the people needed to get through those times.

My illness is a blessing, a nascence sure, but a blessing none the less.  If I were to say anything else I’d be kidding myself.

Stop being a whiner and blaming God or Bad Luck...YOU CAN DO THIS!

I can control my own happiness. I may not be able to control my illness, but I can control how I let the pain that travels through my body controls me.

On days I feel hopeless, I’m not afraid to cry out in prayer; and when I calm down and refuse to let my body be in control I feel at peace. Something I know that comes from God.

Just remember don’t be the man in the story who falls off his boat and is being carried down the violent river. He yells out to God to help save him. Right after he cries out a log comes flowing past him and he is able to get up on it to safety and he says. “Oh never mind God, I found a log to save me.”

You may think God gave you your trials because he’s punishing you or testing you. I honestly think God had nothing to do with giving me my illness, genetics and sience did. However God hasn't cured my illness to save me from myself. I needed to learn patience; I needed to learn to lean on Him and my family and friends. I was too independent before. I was going to save the world on my own and didn’t need anyone’s help.

How foolish.

I was missing so much. This illness has taught me so much, strengthened so many relationships, and showed me who my real friends are. It’s taught me what is really important and not to stress over stupid little things.

Believe it or not, I dare say my life is better for it.

I wasn’t given this illness because I needed to be punished, but rather to be saved from myself. I needed to realize what was really important, and what the real purpose of life is.

Not to mention, overcoming pain is much more rewarding then being patted on the back for a great presentation at work, an A in the hardest class at school, or even a raise.

Look how tough I really am world.

I’m a freakin' animal!

Today I feel Like a Ninja...

Today I feel like a NINJA.

"Why" you ask?

I dunno...I just wanna kick some butt!

...I'm thinkin this may be why:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83EEIQFNedc&feature=related

Getting back into the game...

Let’s do a little catch up!

So they took me off the carbadopa levodopa. (spelling completely) worked fabulously but made me sleep 20 hours a day. Literally 15-20 hours a day sleep.

And I ain’t no sleeping beauty, so heaven knows I was excited to get off it. 

Now I’m on Baclofen (also spelled wrong I’m sure) it’s mainly used for people with MS from what I hear but it’s used with MANY types of patients. A couple of my old students were on Baclofen pumps…if ya would of told me five years ago I’d have the same doctors and meds as my students… I probably would have thrown up.

HOWEVER I LOVE my baclofen. I’m a little worried because according to my doc I’m on the highest dosage and if my body gets used to it I may have to get a pump. Oi!

Which leads me to TERRIBLE news…my sweet, perfect, smartest damn doctor there is, left me…she moved across the country to keep reaching her academic and researching dreams.

God bless her, but I’m devastated.

I’m in good hands, with my new doc, although he’s old. I mean, so old he walked out of my room and started walking down the hall and a nurse came over to him and sweetly asked if he was confuse and told him his next patient was the other way.

“I’m not confused! I’m just going to the bathroom for cryin out loud! Eayeh!”

This would worry me but everyone I talk to says he’s a genius that has only gotten better with age. My gastro doc almost swooned when I told him. The old guy, Dr. G. was a mentor during the gastro’s residency. He told me, “Watch him when he thinks…he’ll close his eyes and do a light blinking thing. Then when he’s got the answer he’ll lift up his left hand slightly and his pointer finger towards the ceiling.” Sure enough that’s exactly what Dr G. did.

The baclofen has changed my life, I’m not even on the same playing field as I was before. Before, it was like everyone was in the football game and I was still siting in my car in the parking lot. Now I’m hangin out sitting on the bench by the sidelines with my compressions stockings; praying I’ll be able to put my cleats on soon!

I'll leave ya with some of my FAV video's...at least my fav this week:

and now lets let miss B take us to our finale...

The Traditional Holiday Stay

It's Time to CELEBRATE!
I finally BROKE OUT of the joint. I'm ready to party... as soon as I can walk!

I'm warning you i'm forgoing punctuation and spelling tonight. Sorry Scarlett frankly don't give a damn!


Last week I checked into the hospital for one very long week, full of tests and pricks. I was welcomed with four pricks to my arm to try to get an iv in my little veins; they sure don't like those needles so they suck themselves in making it impossible for nurses to place the iv.


Finally after two nurses and four pokes they called in the life flight nurse who placed it in my left thumb. That's right, my left thumb. I'll try to post pics later.


I was set up with 27 EEG electrodes atop my fine blond curls and roped to the bed. I looked like I was ready to go to a gay pride parade with my colorful wires. Which was fitting because I kept trying to repeat their motto to myself over and over again "It Gets BETTER!"

The first night was hell because my jerks and muscle pain was at a ten, which made me paranoid that i was setting myself up to be known as the whiny patient for the rest of the week. I didn't care and eventually gave in and begged for someone to help me sleep.


The next day the EEG Spec Doc came in to inform me I don't have seizures. And that they are psychosomatic and I need therapy. Then proceeded to hound my mother about my non existent horrible childhood. We kept trying to explain my main doctor asked for the EEG just to double check for herself but we knew because of the Mayo Clinic my convulsions are brought on by low blood pressure. But she just kept her ears shut and told me I need to love myself and get therapy.


My mom laughed at her. For better or for worse my self worth isn't anything anyone needs to worry about...


This is when I knew it was going to be a hell of a long week because It was obvious she didn't actually read my file she just came in gabbin proving her arrogance was a beard for her ignorance.


My main Doc, Dr S. came in a few hours later and I was terrified that there was a big misunderstanding of why I was there. There wasn't thank heavens, Doc S explained that there was a bit of an education going on and we continued on with the adventure.


The next day after a few more of my wiggly and stretchy limbs Doc Epilepsy came in and apologized,
she kept saying i'm rare, and pointed out all the obvious signs that it war neurological and not psychosomatic. Like the fact that I didn't have any reflexes during my events, my face slid and my heart was funky.


I understand why Doc Epilepsy so easily misdiagnosed me, 50% of people who come in with seizure like symptoms are experiencing psychosomatic related events. However, after I have been to five different mental health professionals (who cleared me) and been down this road before two years ago with another doctor it wasn't a welcome visit down memory lane.


But once we finally got passed the initial annoyance we were able to make some progress. Like I said, we found I have no reflexes during my events. I exercised twice and my blood pressure went from 137/85 to 63/45 the first time and 117/73 to 42/35 the second time. I know i'm awesome. BTW my heart rate was above a hundred both times.


The week was just full of boring headaches and wiggly limbs with an occasional swollen sliding lip until monday. I had to get a spinal tap or LP that night but first I had to have a blood test where I sat completely calm and peaceful.


The intern student doc that was the most hands on kept reminding me to breathe and not think of the LP. But I was wound tight, couldn't stop bickering with my mom (we clearly had spent way too much time together in that tiny room) and as soon as the end of the test came Doc Epilepsy walked in which i'm sure made my levels go way up. So much for that test.

The spinal tap went beautifully thankfully to the Chief Resident who did it. The test for the LP was so complex that not a single drop of blood is allowed or else the whole thing is null and void. Thankfully she got it with such ease I do declare her fingers must be magical.


Right after the LP they stuck me three different times, to get blood, put in an iv for liquid to help me gain spinal fluid quicker and then another whuussy but annoying prick for blood sugar. I wouldn't of minded it so much if i hadn't been pricked so mush early that day.


I kept wondering why they couldn't have spread stuff out more.


Then the nurse came into inform me she was going to give me a shot to prevent blood clots.

amyagainsttheworld.blogspot.com

I couldn't stop laughing, not because it was funny but because if I didn't laugh I was going to either cry or cuss her out. So I laughed then begged her to put it away. I was able to talk her into let it slide since my blood is so thin to begin with, that giving me a blood thinner didn't sound like a smart thing to do.


I stayed on my back for another day then was electrocuted by a test similar to a EMG without the needles. I don't know, i've done it with the needles, and I think it was almost lest painful then the darn probs they had on me this time.


I think it's hilarious that I was so worried about the LP which turned out to be cake but wasn't even concerned about the fact they were planing on shooting electricity up my nerves.


To say the least my inner idiot got punished. Just know, I may have never given birth, but there were points in that test that I would have rather been pushin out a nine pound baby.


I finally went home late that day and had to stay on my back because my head kept threatening to scream out. Migraines after LP's are sign of the spinal fluid leaking which could be very bad, so it's vital you stay laying on your back and continue to drink water.


They unofficially gave me another title to add to my weirdieness. However I won't post it until it's official. The results from the LP need to come back before we can really jump to any conclusions.


So that was my adventure during my 2011 holiday stay at the hospital. One of these days i'll be staying at a spa during the holidays and not somewhere they are electrocuting my spine right after it was stuck with a huge needle.


I do have to say one thing, my parents are absolutly amazing. They were there consistantly which was extreamly annoying but knowing that there was someone there to hit the button when I had an event put my mind at ease. They never complained just loved.

Once There Was A Snowman

I've missed winter. As I listen to Pistol Annies new album, and I listen to the wind crashing into our tree's and Christmas lights I can't help but smile. This next week is this year's dreaded hospital week. Where I'll go and be analyzed for 168+ hours straight. But at this point I don't care, I may be off my meds which makes typing this incredibly painful, but it's worth every letter to say: Life is so beautiful. It's perfect, even with Naomi.

picture credit

My Tramp Stamp

It's been ages since my last post, and things have changed a little for the better!

I'm completely exhausted right now because although things are looking up this last week has been a hellish whirlwind.

I had a Lumbar Puncture, better known as a Spinal Tap on Wed. It was the second one i've had. The first time it went off without a hitch, but of course this time I couldn't be soo lucky.

I ended up being one of the 20% with the biggest brain ache in the universe that wouldn't go away. I was of course hopped up on pain meds but not even my ridiculous high dose of Loratab could keep the little men hammering away at my skull at ease.

This is the band Spinal Tap. Yes, I know, they have nothing to do with my adventures this week, but believe it or not they are actually much less scary then a picture of the real thing....probably cus they are fictitious.

I'm a he-woman warrior though and stuck it out...that was until I got this mysterious pain that started at my sternum and flushed throughout my right breast and back.

At first it felt like bad acid re flux/heartburn mixed in with a under wire bra that was two sizes too small, but then it started radiating and I collapsed to the floor.

My eyes were bursting in pain from the headache and my heart was playing ping pong along with my blood pressure. But i could barely notice it because of pressure spiraling out of control in my chest, arm and back.

I've never been in that much pain in my entire life...and that's saying something. I really wondered if i was having some sort of heart attack.

So I finally gave in and let my parents take me to the ER. An X-ray, Cat Scan and one "blood patch" later along with a heavy continual dose of morphine my body finally calmed down from its Barnum and Bailey audition.

I was put on 24hr flat bed rest yet again, making it a total of about 48hrs just lying on my back this week.

Oi.

Thank heavens I've got my peeps JN and CG to come and keep me company at my grandparents. CG works in the death business and after my fiascos we started talking about my death, which comes up often, and my grandma informed him that when I die she has a dress that may work for me.

Yup, granma is gonna out live me.

Weirdly i'm very comfortable with that.

Best part of this week, I now have a bruise that's sort of in the shape of lips. I've always wanted a tramp stamp...

Babies!...I can't believe i'm talking about this...

Source

I just have to say how thankful I am for my life. I was watching last Friday’s Barbra Walters Special, (“The matter of life and death”) and as I listened to David Letterman admit that sometimes he finds himself sobbing uncontrollably because he’s so happy to be alive, I could most definitely relate.

This next month my only brother is having his first baby. I’m completely ecstatic! Honestly I’m not the type of girl who sits around dreaming about one day being a mother, however a couple of weeks ago I helped out in my friends churches nursery. The Kids are all so sweet, I have many friends with many babies, but usually it doesn’t really phase me and I never get baby hungry.

But there I was in nursery holding this little boy not more then a year and a half old, talking as if he’d been talking for years, telling me about how he got a bruise on his head. His big blue eyes, soft squishy skin, and cute little voice made me melt. For the first time in years I thought it would be nice to have a kid of my own. As long I was guaranteed it was just like him of course.

I’m scared to be a mother because I know that if I were a mother right now I would not be able to take care of it as I should. In fact we’ve been discussing getting me a dog, we finally found one I liked and before we went to get it my mom sat me down and crushed me with the reality of things. I couldn’t take care of it on my own, and my parents, as much as they would LOVE for me to have a dog, are too exhausted taking care of both me AND the puppy.

That hurt…not gonna lie. The feeling of being a failure has already consumed me because I’m not near where I should be with school, but this was the first time it really hit me just how much of a burden I am on my parents. They try to tell me that I’m not and assure me they don’t mind taking care of me but the truth is I’m a lot of work on my bad days. It HAS to be exhausting.

So how can I be so selfish in even entertaining the idea of being a mother. I’m excited to be an aunt because then I can still share in some of those moments with my brother and sweet sister in law. It’s still hard to come to terms with though.

People always tell me not to worry that I’ll be healthy enough someday to do everything I want to do; I believe it for the most part. I will be well enough to carry on with school and my career. I’ll live a very happy yet not so healthy- productive life.

I just don’t think it’s a reality for me to have kids in this condition. It wouldn’t be fair, the guilt would kill me and I just think it would be selfish of me. I'd have to marry rich and hire a nanny.

I love my heavenly father, I know that with his help I’ll get through all of this. It’s just moments like this, I kind of with I could talk with him face to face so he could help me feel better about whatever is supposed to be.

Small Favors of Real Angels

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Angels don't have to have wings. I don't like calling people hero's because I believe that the acts that "hero's" do should be standard behavior. However it's obvious that so many of us ignore our heroic intuition inside of us so those who do stop and listen should be noted.

My dad ran into a doctor that's one of the top cardiologists in our states biggest hospital chain. He somehow knew of my condition and asked my dad about it. He didn't have to, it must be annoying having people bum advice off you every day. But this doc didn't just listen and give advice but he offered up others doctors names who specialize in my disease. Who will hopefully really be able to help. He ended up emailing my dad the names, and a secretary to whom he called to let her know we will be contacting her soon.

It wasn't much, it only took a few minutes out of his day. But we have gone from doctor to doctor and the times we get someone who truly listens and doesn't just nod and half care, are few and far between.

I realized I can't complain any more about the docs who don't care; because I also brush aside and half listen to many of my own conversations. Hopefully now i'll be able to live as todays angel and go that small extra mile that will be able to make someones day.

It's Salt's Fault

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Part of my new life is I have to intake 10 g of salt a day. Yes...10 grams!! The average person has about 3-4.5 g a day. I also get the pleasure of drinking 2.5 liters of water a day. I'm supposed to drink Gatorade but i'd almost rather drink gator pee...I said almost.

I pour it on my food, in my drinks, and guzzle it plain because the salt tablets that have been prescribed to me cause instant up chuck.

You ever need to get poison out? Just throw one of those monsters down ya and out it'll come!

Still with all the guzzling and chugging back i'm not getting even close to the suggested amount.

My dad's threatening to install a salt lick in the back yard for me.

... he loves me so much?

The Sense of the Unstressed

The fantastic fortitude of a positive attitude still astounds me. I absolutely love it. The mind is so intensely powerful that it’s no surprise that we know really nothing of it and never will. Many believe that those with a sudden onset of a chronic illness had a trigger aka, trauma in their life which exasperated what was silently waiting to take over.

I completely agree. I’m certain I was born with this illness; the first signs were shown when I was in fourth grade, continued very silently through my adolescence and only really showed through exercise or long days sitting in the classroom. The first hit that took place that let those close to me know something was wrong was when I was twelve after several stressors. It was slight but very present. It didn’t start getting annoying and disruptive until I was a jr in high school, and didn’t show it’s dragon like face until after I graduated and I had two sudden traumas that occurred one after another. Not only my mind and mental state was in shock, my body went through a shock and caused the genetic disease waiting inside me to crawl out and burn throughout my body. Studies back me up on this state of thought, thousands of patients will attest that they too had a trauma that brought it out.

So if a sudden trauma could cause a fault in your system causing a chronic illness to peek it only makes sense that meditation, stress reduction and positive attitude will help. maybe not cure, but calm the disease. All the more reasons to do what you love, cut out the people and subjects that are toxic from your life, and live hard while parting like a rockstar.

Chi-Town Time Freak

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Vomiting is the best form of humor I’ve decided. Nothing makes people giggle more then a good story about a vomiting and accidental peeing of the pants adventure.

Glad to be a source of good cheer dear fellow.

But honestly, good golly, I’d swear there’s little men in my body just having a hey day switching those spark plugs in my brain on and off. But I digress…

The last week was a fabulous one. I visited the majestic city of Chicago.

When I was there I was surprised because I felt fabulous 95% of the time, a record for the last couple of months! We’ve decided it’s because Chicago’s at 500 ft above sea level, (much closer to sea level then where I live) and this makes me wonder if going and living my dream of settling off the coast of Oregon would be a good game changer for us.

One of the days I was on my own because my dad was preoccupied with conference calls and such so explored it on my own.

We were on the magnificent mile, and for those of you who aren’t Chi-town savvy, it’s one mile filled with shops, one sign said over 600. (most of them were in a mall.)

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I went camera crazy visited an Episcopalian church which was absolutely beautiful, I meditated and digested it’s beauty. I had a good 4 hours to myself with no problems till I stopped for a bite to eat. I ended up at Jimmy Johns. I remember ordering, paying, and then all of the sudden I was across the room holding a soda cup, and I was waiting for my sandwich, when I realized it was already in my hand.

I have NO idea how I got there or how I got my sandwich. That’s when I knew I best be heading back to the hotel.

I called my brother and stayed on the phone with him to make sure I was back to normal, then headed to the hotel room as fast as I could so that if I were to lose time again I’d be at least closer to the hotel.

I can handle a lot, But man the whole losing time thing freaks me out, it’s like a bad acid trip without the exciting colors.

The plane trip wasn’t half as hell-ish as we suspected, I was very thankful for that. I only felt like dying during the major changes in altitude. I’ve got to admit I was disappointed my pacemaker didn’t set off any of the metal detectors at the airports though. Such a bummer, I love being suspected as a terrorist.

More and more people have suspected me to be a bad girl since I chopped of my hair and colored it a dark brown almost black color. I have better street cred now, little children cry and run away when they see me. I’ve been hit on by a lot of dudes with tattoo’s which I can’t say I’m opposed and I’ve all of the sudden get more perks at the music venues. Here I’ve been going for years and stuck out like a sore thumb as a cutiesie little preppy chick and all of the sudden because I look like I’m the type of girl who hangs out in alley ways with needles in my arm they adorn me with respect and free merch. Who would of thought a change in color would do so much for a girls persona. Maybe it’s not the hair and just the fact that they can now sense i’ve been schooled in the back streets of Chicago on how to be a real woman.

I’d say ‘don’t mess with me I’m dangerous,’ but I’m pretty sure my hair and wicked street cred says that for me.

Nomi the Lonely

i love this picture it reminds me of when i was a little girl and i would sit on the shore of a lake we used to visit in my big sweaters and almost bigger bows.

When you’re struck with a chronic illness it’s not uncommon to feel a great sense of loneliness. It’s there in that great big package your body gives you along with the aches, nausea and confusing fatigue. It comes even when your family and friends surround you and often have friends around. It’s just something you have to deal with.

I’ve felt loneliness before I got sick, everyone does at some point in their life. However the years coming up to it I was too busy to get lonely I was too many quests and had too many adventures to stop and think.

But as of late my thinking has been too much, the late nights when I’m still awake and it seems the rest of the world is sleeping it’s hard not to feel lonely.

I ask myself why, because I’ve got a great family and many friends and lots of support. But I think the reason I have the loneliness is because there’s no one else who knows exactly what it feels like to go through this. It’s not a “oh sad, lets feel sorry for her.” sort of thing, it’s just matter of fact. No one does, and quite honestly I thank God. Ours is an illness that no one sees, and it’s not like cancer where people have more awareness and understanding. Plus lets face it. Dysautonomia is just weird. Especially when you’re a paradoxical mess like I am.

But I’ve decided I’m thankful for these lonely spouts.

They’ve allowed me to really understand myself more and gain the most out of my experience. I’ve always had a hold of who I am. Now days fitting in is the exact opposite of what I want to do, and I love myself for it. My very conceited cousin was telling me how hot he was the other day and I thought to myself how odd our family was because we’re all so confident. But I realize the reason why we are is that we’ve been faced with a lot of challenges. Not necessarily more then the next family but for some reason a lot of us have come out with an extreme sense of self.

Now don’t get me wrong, my cousin’s a little twit but I’m proud at the same time that even though he’s in the scary high school stage he can hold his own.

I’ve embraced the lonely and turned it into a time of meditation, further understanding of myself, my progression and trying to psyche my body into healing itself.

I’m not going to lie, my spiritual ambitions are not what they used to be. I think it comes from long absences from church because of my bad days, but I think I’ve also realized how amazing it is that I can still develop testimony by studding, reflecting, and searching for answers at home by myself. Don’t get me wrong the church community is greatly needed in ones development because we learn and lean on each other. However I’m not entirely disappointed in my self progression with studding on my own.

I guess it’s one of those “if no one was watching what would you be doing?” sort of things. I’m proud of what that answer is.

But one of the most important things I’ve learned within the last weeks, it’s okay to cry. Not for an hour, not for days at a time, but sometimes it’s okay to let loose. I’ve never been one to cry over emotions, especially self pity. But I broke down the other day to my best friends and I didn’t even know why, it was over something extremely stupid.

But it was because I just finally broke. Yeah, it sucks that I’m not able to do the things I was able to do, and that the doctors go back and forth and I miss working, I miss playing soccer, and having as much energy as I used to when playing with my babies. And I feel a guilt that I’m not there for my friends and family like I used to be.

So I cry. Just for a min. Then I remind myself that I am one strong woman. Freakishly strong in fact, and that I’m going to get through this, because when you have trials God helps give you the strength to handle it. I will find a way to defy all the odds, and day by day I will get better. Even if I don’t get better physically I will get better mentally. And I remind myself I’m not ordinary, I’ve never felt ordinary. And unordinary people do extraordinary things.

The Insanity Plea

When you are going through the hell of figuring out what the heck is happening to your body it’s a steady mission; a quest per say of which it is easy to find optimism by looking at it as an adventure. Of course it’s a crappy adventure but none the less you can trick yourself into thinking that with every new test, every new diagnosis you are just educating yourself. Educating on how the medical profession works, education on peoples body language (that may sound weird but I can now read doctors like an open book) and education in yourself.

I now am much more aware of chinks in my armor. I’m still fabulous but now that I’m more aware of myself it’s easier to admit when I’m wrong...which of course is rare, and when I should change something.

When all this started I was little miss independent. I hated getting help from others, because help was for the weak. I worked like crazy, studied like crazy, exercised like crazy, and partied crazy (well at least for my cities standards.) I only dated for the fun of it and only had one really big relationship out of high school that had absolutely no strings attached. It was much more fun moving from man to man, date to date, party to party, group of friends to group of friends. The only constant in my life was my family and an old friend Jess that came up to school with me from my home town.

Sickness humbles you; you have to admit you’re just as vulnerable as the Roman Empire. I had my ten year plan; I wouldn’t have ever seen myself here.

When you go through the hell of diagnosis you go through all the stages of grief over and over again every time the doctors change their mind or get new results from different tests.

Then you have other outside forces pulling you, like friends and families. I lost a lot of friends when I got sick. There was even one that complained that I wasn’t paying enough attention to her and her problems. Others just don’t keep up because they don’t understand what’s going on or they’re were just bummed I turned from being a crazy fun loving gal to one on a couch most of days of the week completely passed out. I’ve even had a little drama with my extended family because of it. they simply don’t understand the disease. At first this bugged me but now I’m glad. The friends I have now are few, but really very loyal. I take the relationships with the sexy man friends more seriously and I’m still a work in progress but them taking care of me doesn’t make me uncomfortable anymore. I know my family will come around, my bond with my mother is stronger then the wall of China, and the respect and love my father shows me would make any daughters heart melt.

Then when you  FINALLY get the actual final diagnosis and everything is pretty much sign, sealed, and engraved you have to go through the steps of grieving all over again.

I’ve finally found a way to deal with this.

I plea insanity.

Simple as that. I just don’t care anymore, I’m now a complete ditz, my thoughts are never completely formed and the flap between my brain and mouth that filters what I say, doesn’t really exist. At least I won’t go to hell now for lying.

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So I plead insanity, I dance in the streets, bounce in puddles, have long conversations with strangers, wear what I want to wear no matter how insane it looks, cry for no reason, take bigger risks, and many other fun things I won’t say just incase it will incriminate me later.

And you know what?

It’s AWESOME being insane!!!

Today I Discovered I am a Masochist.

I have a HUGE weakness. Here in this part of the country we have a BEAUTIFUL place, a MAGICAL place, a PERFECT place we like to call...THE PIZZA FACTORY.

The addiction started in high school it was our little hang out spot then it didn't get any better when I became friends with the owners son. Oh dear oh dear. It was bad.

When I moved away I was sadden by the thought of departing from that perfect pasta (yes it's a pizza factory that made pasta) and heavenly, succulent, bread sticks. If man and food were allowd to marry I would marry those bread sticks.

So with tears in my eyes I parted ways and never looked back.

But then the other day I was looking for a place to eat with my auntie C and as we were driving up and down the hills throughout our beautiful city I saw the clouds part, angels started singing and there it was...a Pizza Factory glistening in the sun calling out my name. I almost fainted with excitement and had to put pressure on my chest because my heart started pounding and jumping out of control.

Because of it my aunt and I have gone there not once but three times in the last week and a half.

Now many of you may be thinking big deal, that sounds wonderful. but the thing is, I think i'm gluten intolerant or something. When I eat too much bread I not only spend the next three days in the bathroom puking and other things, but I also end up having episode after episode.

So it was NO surprise when I had a big ol' doosy of an event last night. It was one of the most terrible events I've had for a couple of months. Every sensory nerve in my body was going nuts. I couldn't touch anything without stings of uncomfortable spikes pressed through my skin. I can't explain it any other way then it feels the same way for your skin as it feels for your ears to hear finger nails on the chalk board. Clothes off, I was on my tip toes with my arms stretched out and my legs spread so that nothing was touching me. Including the carpet. The only thing that seemed to help was an intensely cold shower and spending a good couple of hours out in the cold. Then the migraine and wiggly limbs came.

and it may all be because of those heavenly bread sticks. (BTW when your obsessively track what you eat and do then compare it to your episodes and events, this will allow you to connect what triggers them.) Oh dear. Yes I know. So last night I swore I would refrain, not allow myself to be weak and never go back. But then my aunt came over and she needed a fix. Oh no, I've made her an addict. She was jonesing bad, and honestly, so was I. My mom gave me that look, you know the mom look. But my cravings were pushing me, chewing at me, my heart gave out and I went. Ordered my usual salad and bread sticks. and now 'I've been going back and forth to the bathroom and I know that by the time the sun is up my brain will be extra foggy and my i'll be fighting off my wiggly limbs.

I must be a masochist. I still want another one.