Category Archives: Writing

Health, Writing

Summer Vacation!!!

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summer school exhaustion

This was how I felt by the last day of summer school — white knuckling it — and so left my room like this:

classroom mess

Ok, maybe not quite that bad, but I certainly did not leave it in any shape for the start of school.  I will deal with that when I return for the year.  I am on vacation!

peace out

A kid asked if I will miss her and I said, “Probably not.  I’ll only be gone a week.”  She looked a bit wounded, but, come on.  I couldn’t muster the energy to come up with a creative response and I don’t lie to my students.  I should have said something like, “Probably as much as you’ll miss me,” but my brain was sluggish…due to her and her cronies exhausting me.

My dream goal five years from now is to be able to summer in Colorado or somewhere else cool (literally not hot like Texas.)  I will rent a cottage in the mountains and write for three months straight.  It will be a true retreat and I will return refreshed, enlightened, and ready to teach because I have truly had a break.

cottage in mountains

This is a real goal, not a far-fetched pipe dream.  I became a teacher so I could read and tell stories all day and have the summers off.  I have not had the summer off for the last 14 years.  Not cool.  I do get to do the story part, though.

For this vacation, I am writing, beginning The Artist’s Way 12 Week Course by Julia Cameron, dancing, swimming, and taking naps every day.  So far, my vacation has been a blast and I am appreciating every single second that I am not at work.

Health, Writing

HEB Jungle

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HEB jungle

It has been one week since my pain left my joints.  I have finished my cleanse and am now following a strict diet that does not include any inflammation-causing ingredients…mostly consuming fruits, veggies, lean meats, and drinking tons of water.  I still walk with a limp, tire easily, get cramps and twinges of discomfort, and have swelling that has not gone away entirely.  I am feeling a little more hopeful, though.

The other day I stood up and my hip caught, causing shooting pain all the way to my head.  I doubled over on the bed and wept ferociously.  All the terror of an impending lifetime of crippling pain overwhelmed me and I just broke down.  My poor fiance witnessed my hysteria, tried to console me, and quite heroicly never said another word about it once I was all better.  Such a gentleman.  I have to accept that it will not be all smooth sailing.  I am sure my road to recovery will be arduous and fraught with setbacks, as all roads to recovery seem to be.  Why would I expect it to be otherwise?  But I can’t give up at each obstacle or I’ll never get to the good stuff.

Yesterday, my daughter left me in charge of my granddaughter in the car while she shopped.  She thought we should drive around the parking lot in the air conditioning so I wouldn’t have to walk and we could stay cool in the Texas heat.  Instead, we went on an adventure…something I never would have done a week ago.  Charlotte and I created a pram out of one of the smaller carts and explored the jungle that is HEB’s outdoor garden center.  We touched each and every flower, bush, and plant that looked safe.  We wheeled under hanging plants and looked at them from below.  We weaved in and out of potted trees and stood underneath giant fans that made the shaded area quite comfortable, despite the 95 degree Texas heat.

We got thirsty and enjoyed refreshments next to a beautiful large-leafed plant that looked very exotic.  Charlotte stared at it the entire time she drank her bottle.  For the first time in a very long time, I did something that involved walking, entertained my grandbaby successfully, and spent time outside in a nature-like setting.  This was big for me.  The warmth, good bottle, and spirit of adventure took their toll and left us both quite spent, but it was good fun.  Charlotte is a good recovery partner.  She does not judge my need for breaks, does not hurry me along, goes right along with my crazy ideas, and takes naps.  My kind of girl.

HEB jungle sleepy

Health, Writing

Knock on Wood

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charlie2

I am not superstitious, but I hesitate to write this post the way people are afraid of speaking blessings out loud because the devil might steal them or people knock on wood that they have been spared.  Part of me is thrilled.  Part of me is scared.

The thrilled part would like to announce that, as of today, I am pain free.  Gone is my cane.  Gone is my limp.  Gone is the agony with every step that dictated all my plans and efforts on a daily basis.  I am on day 5 of my cleanse, and as promised, my pain is gone.  My healer actually said it might take the full 14 days, but I’m not going to look a gift-horse in the mouth.  I am not comfortable, per say, but I am free of pain.  What I feel now is weakness in muscles that have not been used properly for far too long.  There is also tightness and difficulty with movement in my joints, like they are unaccustomed to moving.  Much still needs to be done to recover fully, but to be given a day off from pain.  My eyes fill with tears of joy and relief as I write this.  I must re-learn to walk properly, use mindful walking, and not overdo it.  I must walk before I run, metaphorically speaking…or perhaps quite literally.  I never thought I would do either again in this lifetime.  I have dreams of running the same as dreams of flying.  Both are desires my body has not been capable of lately.

Now the scared part must rear its fearful head.  What if this reprieve is temporary?  How many days do I have?  One, two, a week?  What if it is only a side-effect of the cleanse and as soon as that is over my pain returns?  Perhaps I will be like Charley in Flowers for Algernon, all too aware of my impending decent back to my normal, which is unacceptable.  I want this to be my new normal.  I am not able to just stay in the now and appreciate a day free of pain.  I want to forecast the future and in the process drive myself crazy.  I know I am supposed to stay in the present, focus on the here and now, be content with this moment of pain-free existence that is enveloping me in peace.  Perhaps admitting my fear gives it less control over me.

Health, Writing

Swimming Sanctuary

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pool1

Just now posted, but actually occurred on July 3rd.

I believe I was 9 years old when this above ground pool was installed in my grandparents’ backyard.  That would be 32 years ago.  It has been lovingly maintained and swam in every summer since then.  I lived in that pool when I was a child.  That is where I became a mermaid, baptised myself 40 million times, and then had my official baptism as a teenager.  I also lived in that barn in the background when I was a small child and then again when I had small children.  So much history when your family is large and stays put.  My grandfather built his home, that barn, every shed, this pool with his bare hands and a can-do attitude.  He still doesn’t understand how people have become so lacking in self-sufficiency.  We are all idiots in his mind.

I have had chronic pain for over a year now.  In the past it would come and go, but this last year has brought nearly constant agony.  Unable to do most exercise, I have longed for this pool to be swim-ready for months.  They installed a new ladder/step contraption to help the elderly and disabled get in easier. It is right in the way of where I normally dive in and do my turn-arounds between laps.  I felt crushed that something was different, that the water canvass of my childhood had been marred.  All the while, my grandmother was singing its praises and declaring how much easier she can get in and out, so I held my tongue, fought back my disappointment, and willed myself to accept the change as a positive for others, if not for me.

pool2

And, oh, the deliciousness of that first dive-in, that cold relief to my always overheated body, the compress of pressure that soothes my aching joints…I was transported to a more carefree time when my only concern was how long I could hold my breath under water.

My pain is lessened in the water.  I can stretch a little more, use my muscles a bit more freely, do some exercise that would otherwise be too excruciating, and relax.  To relax with chronic pain is a rare commodity.  Sleep is the only other respite and even then is interrupted by unbearable twinges that become part of gruesome nightmares and wake me in agony.

For the brief time that I am in the water, I am saved.

Health, Writing

Toxic Emotions

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burst into tears

So far today, I have burst into tears five times for no apparent reason – twice while driving.  I know it has to be a combination of illness and this dramatic cleanse, but I still feel a little out of control and it is disconcerting.  Emotional outbursts were not listed among the side effects of this process, but it only makes sense.  If my body is rapidly ridding itself of toxins, that will probably mess with hormones, serotonin levels, you name it.  I will be patient, make no major life decisions in the next two weeks, and warn those closest to me.

I wish I could take off work, especially my night shifts this weekend.  I was told today that I will be extremely fatigued for the next two days.  Great.

On a bright note, my latest colonic was apparently extremely “productive” and my healer says I should be feeling better by Sunday.  Woohoo!  Here’s to hope, a step by step process to wellness, and someone to guide me out of this dark abyss I have been wallowing in.

Health, Writing

My Cleanse

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water bottle

This afternoon I began a cleanse under the care of a local healer whose methods I trust and have experienced firsthand.  Her name is Karen Million and she works out of Lake Travis Wellness Center.  http://www.laketraviswellnesscenter.com/

I began seeing her many years ago for pin and stretch massage therapy to help with a Salsa injury.  Her technique was horribly painful, but she had me back to dancing in no time and her explanations of how the body works changed my whole perspective on healing.  From day one, she told me my entire body was inflamed and I needed to be detoxified.  I listened politely, but secretly poo-pooed her advice in that area.  It all sounded like quackery to me.

Fast forward to now.  She has continued to heal my muscles and joints when I am in the most pain, and has continued to assert that the underlying cause of my pain is inflammation that needs to be managed.  My fibromyalgia, arthritis, injury proneness – all point back to toxic inflammation throughout my body.  Long story short, I bit the bullet, agreed to more of Karen’s draconian healing methods, and have embarked on a cleansing journey.

Parts of this will probably be unpleasant:  no food for 14 days, daily colonics, some nasty tasting herbs and vitamins, most certainly pain level increases as my body pulls toxins from my organs and they try to lodge themselves elsewhere in my body, fatigue, and flu-like symptoms.

The rewards will hopefully outweigh the yuckiness:  by the end I should feel better, have lost some weight, have less joint pain, be rid of some nasty toxins and parasites, and have decreased my overall inflammation.

I am ready for a change.  I want to dance again.  I want to walk without limping.  I want to be able to manage household tasks without breaking down in tears from exhaustion and pain.  I want to feel sexy and strong.  It is empowering to take this step.  I feel hopeful for the first time in a long time that my ailments are fixable.  So long tea and soda.  So long junk food.  Reverse osmosis ice water is my new best friend.

Health, Writing

Playing Nurse

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evil nurse

Everyone around me is sick – my fiance, my daughter, my granddaughter…even my cat.  I kid you not, two kids threw up in my classroom today.  Germs are having a heyday right now for some reason.  Hopefully, my body has recuperated from my last illness enough to fight off these latest bugs.  It must be a variety of illnesses, because everyone’s symptoms are different.  Some of them have sore throats, congestion, fever.  Others have laryngitis, bloodshot eyes, lack of appetite. Then there are those throw-uppers.  What’s that about?

Needless to say, I find myself suddenly in the role of nurse…not my finest hour.  There is a reason I did not go into the medical profession.  Whatever that spark of empathy is that medical personnel have that makes them want to help people with snotty noses, whimpering in pain, or vomiting their guts out…I did not get that gene.  I was not the cookies and kisses and booboo bunny kind of mom with my kids.  They went to their dad for that nurturing.  I was the “you’re not bleeding, you’re ok, can you bend it?, here’s some ice, please make it to the toilet next time” kind of parent. It meant I was calm in a crisis and could get them to the emergency room if need be while their dad was paralyzed by empathetic grief-pain, but it never endeared me to anyone as a good nurse.

I’m trying to do better.  I made my fiance dinner (which he did not eat despite repeatedly saying he was hungry and needed nourishment).  I offered to take his puppy Aiko to get her shots so he wouldn’t wear himself out.  He refused and took her, wore himself out, and could barely crawl back into bed.  I had to practically force my daughter to let me take her to the doctor because she was beginning to look like a skeleton, had eaten nothing in days, and was not getting better.  She wanted to just stay in bed and get progressively worse until she shriveled up and died…despite the fact that she is nursing my granddaughter and kind of needs to live.

That is when it hit me.  I can’t nurse well because people suck at being patients.  You are suppose to do what the nurse says, take your medicine, drink your fluids, stay in bed, and follow doctor’s orders.  I get sick a lot and deal with chronic pain, fibromyalgia, arthritis, injuries (due to clumsiness and overdoing it) and I am a very good patient.  I take every last dose of antibiotics if (GOD forbid) I am prescribed them.  I do every last painful stretch or exercise any physical therapist assigns me.  Even when I was at my worst and had to go to the hospital with food poisoning, they were surprised that I only needed one bag of fluids.  A nurse told me to push fluids, so I continued drinking even though every single sip was torture.  I follow directions.  I can’t help these people get well.  I can’t fix their ailments.  I guess all I can do is try to offer some comfort.

My fiance wants to know what I am doing right this second.  He said he wants me to come hold him while he sleeps.  Um…we are going to have to find a compromise.  This nurse might be able to offer a foot rub.  Then I’ve got to get back to my real imaginary job…writing.

clipboard

Health, Writing

Romeo & Juliet

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r and j

Today in summer school I am teaching Romeo and Juliet to a group of teenage girls.  My presentation is not the romantic drivel most of them have heard before.  We examine the play through different lenses and it becomes a fabulous cautionary tale.  Each scene is analyzed for thinking errors on the part of the characters:  Romeo’s impulsivity, all-or-nothing thinking, keeping score, and catastrophising; Tybalt’s overgeneralizations, one-upmanship, and uniqueness (thinking he is better than everyone else); Friar Lawrence’s magical thinking, grandiosity, sneakiness; etc.

The girls open to a whole new perspective when looking at these characters’ flaws and seeing their own behaviors in comparison.  This is a school in a residential treatment center, so the young ladies I am working with have seen some stuff in their lifetimes.  Many of them have attempted suicide (often over a lost love), have run away from their parents or their problems, have had numerous sexual encounters in over their heads and unprepared for the emotional fall-out at such a young age, and have been betrayed or misled by the adults in their lives who should have been better role models.

My favorite discussions with them involve re-imagining the scenes using healthy thinking, coping skills, support from trusted people, accessing available resources, etc.  If just one person had done something different in this play, something productive, something thoughtful and helpful, it might not have ended in such tragedy.  There are always more options.  “To be or not to be” (to quote Hamlet) could be a much longer list.  To be healthy, to be at peace, to understand, to be open…not to be afraid, not to be alone, not to be abused, not to be so hard on yourself.

Juliet was 13 for goodness sake.  So much more happens in life after 13.  I’m in my 40’s, have been through a marriage, divorce, children, grandchildren, and have just now found my Romeo. Building a good life takes time, learning from experiences, and resilience.  I wish for each of my students today a new critical perspective that makes each of them a “master of her own fate.” *

*from Invictus by William Ernest Henley

juliet  #

#from Gnomeo & Juliet (Juliet kicking ass)

Health, Writing

Campylobacter Disaster

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cambylobacter

I have never been as sick as I was a few weeks ago.  I picked up the campylobacter bacteria somewhere (possibly cleaning up after the new puppy, eating farm fresh eggs, or that delicious vegetarian ramen at a location that will remain nameless because they are awesome and there is just no way to know for sure.)  I am fairly certain that I was already in the throws of a stomach virus that had been going around the hospital where I work when I picked up the bacteria.  That spiraled me into horrific gastric pyrotechnics, delirium, fever, muscle weakness and pain, colitis, joint pain, constant nausea for several weeks straight, a fall that resulted in an injured ankle, and the need for an emergency room visit for antibiotics and hydration.  Not fun.  Those tiny little organisms can wreak havoc.

Now that I am mostly recovered from the affects of the illness, I am getting antsy.  I am still limping from the twisted ankle, so I can’t start jumping on my trampoline, dancing Salsa, or walking.  The county health department asked me to wait another week before swimming in a public pool, just to be safe.  Sunday, July 5, I am going for a swim.  Until then, I am going to continue stretching and walking as much as my ankle will tolerate.  At least I am off the cane I was having to use for a week.