Well, it's been several weeks since I began my personal remodel. How's it going? Mostly good and for that I rewarded myself with a new African violet. I'm up to two now. My last collection of violets got a case of the aphids and went the way of compost, but I digress.
Mostly good is how this rehab thingy is going. I bumped my every other day walks up to 20 minutes a today. Anna (my shepherd for those of you just joining us here) and I crawled through the fence up the road and took a sweet walk on the trails which belong to the big housing development behind us. There are a few occupied homes planted in the old farm field, most of them are empty. Along with the houses there are these 6 miles of mowed walking trails. I don't know if anyone actually walks them; I think more wheelers than people use them. I didn't feel the least bit remorseful trespassing for my walk. Not today. The sun was out and it's 54 degrees on a beautiful late October day. I came home and stretched then meditated to some music. Good on me.
This whole remodel is, like any remodel, work. Tearing up the old and laying down the new takes time and if you want it to last you do it right the first time. Isn't that what our dad's told us? This is all slow going and I guess that's alright. I mean, I am supposed to be slowing things down a bit, learning how to do what I do differently, learning how to conserve energy in little ways throughout my day so that I have something left at the end. I've been pretty good about this slowing down thing and you know what? I get more done. It's like the tortoise and the hare. Slow and steady wins the race.
Still, I find it tempting to go fast. Fast is how I've run for so long that slowing down seems like stopping. Yesterday, at work, I went fast and hard. By the end of the day my hands hurt, my feet hurt, my hips hurt and I found myself holding my breath, a lot. Phooey.
Slowing down, I guess, and somebody who understands that law of physics will explain it to me, doesn't happen all at once. Well I guess it could but I think they call that a crash and I don't want to crash anymore. My slowing down is going to be a bit of speeding up and then slowing down. Keeping up momentum without the crash. Slowing down, without losing momentum.
Peace,
Karen
Friday, October 21, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
That's Enough Now
Really? Really? What's with the ground wanting my boys? First Mike does a somersault with his bike on and now this - Steven rides a ladder down two stories of house and stops his fall with his face. I mean come on already. If I were Danny I'd be putting on a bubble wrap suit.I don't know if you all have been thinking some negative waves or if you drank out of the same glass of bad juju but I'm sayin' "THAT'S ENOUGH NOW." And I mean it. I say it with a foot stomp and furrowed brow and crossed arms in that quite creepy voice you know I use when I'm mad and have had enough.
Did you not hear me say Super Karen is gone? The new Karen is all soft and squishy. Steven, even you saw that today when I could not look at the inside of your lip more than once without getting the squigglies in my belly. Do not do this to your mommy or your wife. Enough is enough.
Love Karen/Mom
PS: That goes for you too Kris and Mandy. Do NOT make me go there.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The Sound of One Hand Typing...
I find this new mishap to be ironic in a twisted, painful sort of way. Karen and both know enough to be thankful my injuries aren't worse; past experiences have made that clear too many times.
"What is he talking about?"
This morning I took a spectacular header while riding my bike to work. It was the sort of thing that would have been impressive to watch but no one was around and it was dark out. Well okay, there was this old guy who runs with another guy, early in the mornings. We sometimes pass each other on the deserted streets and exchange quick breathless pleasantries as we go our respective ways. If you want to know how I looked in mid-air, flying ass-over-teakettle, ask the old guy. In fact, if you find him, thank him for me. All I know is I experienced a sudden hard jolt and my bike took on a personality.that must be like what bull riders know just before they get stomped into smithereens by a ton and a half of wild rage. My flight might have been one of those things you see on YouTube and laugh at. Even the part where the guys lands all wonky and lies there, twisted and broken. Except I didn't get to say "Hold my beer and watch this!"
Due to street construction in town I have to make a detour across the grounds and parking lot of the old high school. The whole area was converted from pavement and sidewalks into a large flat field. It is used now by youth football for a practice field. My usual routine is to ride up the cut in the curb that used to be the entrance to parking lot, ride across the grass and get back on to the street leading to downtown and work. This morning, in the dark, with mist on my goggles I looked away for just a second and Wham! hit the curb at a great rate of speed and got to do a somersault with my bike on.
I think I landed on my left shoulder and rolled over, finally landing on my side. My feet had kind of twisted out of the toeclips and my bike lay across me. I pushed it off and lay there gasping for air. This is when the old guy came to see if I needed help.
I lay there a few moments just trying to get a breath. In my head I was trying to take a mental inventory of pain and injury. I knew I was a hurting unit but I had no clear idea what was wrong. Finally I sat up. The old guy steadied my bike for me and I stood up. My left arm wasn't working well and pushed kickstand down with my right hand. Then he and I walked over to the street.
"I was trying to hit the old driveway."
"You missed it by a couple of feet."
"I looked up and saw you and Bam!"
Then I had to sit down on the curb for a few minutes to clear my vision and try to catch my breath. Every breath hurt, my shoulder throbbed, my back ached. Movement sent sharp shooting pains through my arm. the kind of pain that takes your breath away. I didn't have any breath to spare.
"You going to be okay?"
"Yeah. I'll get to work and take some ibuprofen."
So I walked my bike across the playing field and onto the street. Trying to support my bike while walking was not fun so I tried riding again. Once I put the chain back on the chainring, life was better. Riding was easier than walking my bike. The bike, an old Schwinn mountain bike, was not damaged. Just mis-aligned the handlebars a bit. That would help explain the red rashes and bruises on my thighs.
I was only 15 minutes late to work. I told my partner "I'm f-d up." Then I took 800 mg of ibuprofen and made the call I should have made while lying on the playing field. Later, on the way to urgent care, Karen properly read me the riot act about not using my cell phone but truthfully I never even thought of it.
So, after seeing the Doc and getting x-rays I am told I have a shoulder separation and a crack in one rib. Some of the other ribs don't feel so great either, but they didn't take pics of them. After pain meds, an arm sling, a work restriction and a visit to the friendly chiropractor, I am home, resting, with ice, in the loving care of my patient and long suffering wife.
Stories like this open the victim (me) up to well meant jibes and friendly ridicule. I know that. It all comes with the territory. But here at Whiskey Jack Flats, we have been reading Eckhart Tolle lately and now I kind of wonder why I had this accident. Of course it was dark out and the mist blurred my vision a bit and I got distracted by the guy on the street and...
In The Power of Now, Tolle addresses our pain body. Without getting into the whole explanation here, I will just say that his opinion is that sometimes we attract accidents because our 'pain body' is hungry for attention, for energy. One of the ways to avoid the pain body or lessen its' negative effects is to be present; to be more conscious and aware. When we are exposed to something negative and we are not guarding ourselves by being present, our pain body will attract that negative energy and Bam! Maybe you hit a curb.
Karen and I have been working hard lately to be better people, to be more aware, more thankful, more present. And our work has been paying off. I have never felt happier or more in love than at this time in my life. But if life is so good, then, why the accident. Did my pain body hit me with a wake-up call and leave me gasping for air?
Even though my life has never been better I still do have things that bother me. We all do. Last night I had a visit from good old bad head for the first time in months. And now I am trying to type with one arm in a sling. Pain body or bad karma or just an old fool on a bike in the dark? Dunno. The result is the same. The lesson, if there is one, is to stay present; be mindful and aware and try to keep the good ju-ju flowing. Life can't help but be better if you do at least that much.
Peace and love to you all. Thanks for all the messages of love and support. I will try to pass that energy on.
Mike
"What is he talking about?"
This morning I took a spectacular header while riding my bike to work. It was the sort of thing that would have been impressive to watch but no one was around and it was dark out. Well okay, there was this old guy who runs with another guy, early in the mornings. We sometimes pass each other on the deserted streets and exchange quick breathless pleasantries as we go our respective ways. If you want to know how I looked in mid-air, flying ass-over-teakettle, ask the old guy. In fact, if you find him, thank him for me. All I know is I experienced a sudden hard jolt and my bike took on a personality.that must be like what bull riders know just before they get stomped into smithereens by a ton and a half of wild rage. My flight might have been one of those things you see on YouTube and laugh at. Even the part where the guys lands all wonky and lies there, twisted and broken. Except I didn't get to say "Hold my beer and watch this!"
Due to street construction in town I have to make a detour across the grounds and parking lot of the old high school. The whole area was converted from pavement and sidewalks into a large flat field. It is used now by youth football for a practice field. My usual routine is to ride up the cut in the curb that used to be the entrance to parking lot, ride across the grass and get back on to the street leading to downtown and work. This morning, in the dark, with mist on my goggles I looked away for just a second and Wham! hit the curb at a great rate of speed and got to do a somersault with my bike on.
I think I landed on my left shoulder and rolled over, finally landing on my side. My feet had kind of twisted out of the toeclips and my bike lay across me. I pushed it off and lay there gasping for air. This is when the old guy came to see if I needed help.
I lay there a few moments just trying to get a breath. In my head I was trying to take a mental inventory of pain and injury. I knew I was a hurting unit but I had no clear idea what was wrong. Finally I sat up. The old guy steadied my bike for me and I stood up. My left arm wasn't working well and pushed kickstand down with my right hand. Then he and I walked over to the street.
"I was trying to hit the old driveway."
"You missed it by a couple of feet."
"I looked up and saw you and Bam!"
Then I had to sit down on the curb for a few minutes to clear my vision and try to catch my breath. Every breath hurt, my shoulder throbbed, my back ached. Movement sent sharp shooting pains through my arm. the kind of pain that takes your breath away. I didn't have any breath to spare.
"You going to be okay?"
"Yeah. I'll get to work and take some ibuprofen."
So I walked my bike across the playing field and onto the street. Trying to support my bike while walking was not fun so I tried riding again. Once I put the chain back on the chainring, life was better. Riding was easier than walking my bike. The bike, an old Schwinn mountain bike, was not damaged. Just mis-aligned the handlebars a bit. That would help explain the red rashes and bruises on my thighs.
I was only 15 minutes late to work. I told my partner "I'm f-d up." Then I took 800 mg of ibuprofen and made the call I should have made while lying on the playing field. Later, on the way to urgent care, Karen properly read me the riot act about not using my cell phone but truthfully I never even thought of it.
So, after seeing the Doc and getting x-rays I am told I have a shoulder separation and a crack in one rib. Some of the other ribs don't feel so great either, but they didn't take pics of them. After pain meds, an arm sling, a work restriction and a visit to the friendly chiropractor, I am home, resting, with ice, in the loving care of my patient and long suffering wife.
Stories like this open the victim (me) up to well meant jibes and friendly ridicule. I know that. It all comes with the territory. But here at Whiskey Jack Flats, we have been reading Eckhart Tolle lately and now I kind of wonder why I had this accident. Of course it was dark out and the mist blurred my vision a bit and I got distracted by the guy on the street and...
In The Power of Now, Tolle addresses our pain body. Without getting into the whole explanation here, I will just say that his opinion is that sometimes we attract accidents because our 'pain body' is hungry for attention, for energy. One of the ways to avoid the pain body or lessen its' negative effects is to be present; to be more conscious and aware. When we are exposed to something negative and we are not guarding ourselves by being present, our pain body will attract that negative energy and Bam! Maybe you hit a curb.
Karen and I have been working hard lately to be better people, to be more aware, more thankful, more present. And our work has been paying off. I have never felt happier or more in love than at this time in my life. But if life is so good, then, why the accident. Did my pain body hit me with a wake-up call and leave me gasping for air?
Even though my life has never been better I still do have things that bother me. We all do. Last night I had a visit from good old bad head for the first time in months. And now I am trying to type with one arm in a sling. Pain body or bad karma or just an old fool on a bike in the dark? Dunno. The result is the same. The lesson, if there is one, is to stay present; be mindful and aware and try to keep the good ju-ju flowing. Life can't help but be better if you do at least that much.
Peace and love to you all. Thanks for all the messages of love and support. I will try to pass that energy on.
Mike
Friday, October 7, 2011
Old Cliches Die Hard
Old habits die hard. There ya have it. My opening line is a cliche. Merriam Webster says a cliche' is a phrase that has become overly familiar or common place kinda like a habit. It just rolls off your tongue without much thought and so it is with a habit.
Habits, whether good or bad, just cruise around in your hippocampus making ruts akin to the Oregon Trail. Once they are there they are there. We get into the groove of our habit and mindlessly go about it's particular task. We get in a rut. We become cliche'. The good news is we can get out of a rut. Brain researchers tell us that we can create new pathways that can bypass those old roads. We just have to make a conscious effort to do it. And there's the rub, "WE HAVE TO BECOME CONSCIOUS"
Personally, I thought I was doing pretty good at being conscious or as we say it being present. Not. At Mayo we worked with some meditation, guided imagery, deep breathing and a professional who teaches a technique to rid the body of tension. In class I discovered that I "wear my shoulders like earrings", I hold my breath a lot and when I walk my upper body is ahead of lower body. In other words I was getting a head of myself. I didn't even know! During meditation my mind was our for a walk without me.I wasn't being present. I was unconscious of my actions and those very actions were causing some undue stress on my body. I had me some habits to rehab.
But there's that cliche' "old habits die hard". In truth habits never actually die they just get replaced by other habits. It's like the Oregon Trail which is still there, still visible though eroded, softened with time. We've learned new ways of travel since then, built new roads. Still the trail is there to remind us where we came from and how far we've gone. We'd never take our new car out on those trails and still we travel them in our minds. What's up with that?
I'm in the process of building some new roads and like any construction project it takes time and effort. I have an ornery crew on this project. They like to do things they way they've always done things. There's a lot of mind to change. Luckily I don't have to engineer this project. Mayo did all that. The map is there the paths are laid out and I just have to follow them and lay in new road an inch at a time.
Peace
Karen
Habits, whether good or bad, just cruise around in your hippocampus making ruts akin to the Oregon Trail. Once they are there they are there. We get into the groove of our habit and mindlessly go about it's particular task. We get in a rut. We become cliche'. The good news is we can get out of a rut. Brain researchers tell us that we can create new pathways that can bypass those old roads. We just have to make a conscious effort to do it. And there's the rub, "WE HAVE TO BECOME CONSCIOUS"
Personally, I thought I was doing pretty good at being conscious or as we say it being present. Not. At Mayo we worked with some meditation, guided imagery, deep breathing and a professional who teaches a technique to rid the body of tension. In class I discovered that I "wear my shoulders like earrings", I hold my breath a lot and when I walk my upper body is ahead of lower body. In other words I was getting a head of myself. I didn't even know! During meditation my mind was our for a walk without me.I wasn't being present. I was unconscious of my actions and those very actions were causing some undue stress on my body. I had me some habits to rehab.
But there's that cliche' "old habits die hard". In truth habits never actually die they just get replaced by other habits. It's like the Oregon Trail which is still there, still visible though eroded, softened with time. We've learned new ways of travel since then, built new roads. Still the trail is there to remind us where we came from and how far we've gone. We'd never take our new car out on those trails and still we travel them in our minds. What's up with that?
I'm in the process of building some new roads and like any construction project it takes time and effort. I have an ornery crew on this project. They like to do things they way they've always done things. There's a lot of mind to change. Luckily I don't have to engineer this project. Mayo did all that. The map is there the paths are laid out and I just have to follow them and lay in new road an inch at a time.
Peace
Karen
Thursday, October 6, 2011
It's a Bird. It's a Plane. It's......
It's a bird or a plane. It's not Super Karen. Super Karen and her cape got left behind in Rochester. I don't know if she's wandering the streets looking for some action or if she is just withering up in a corner of the Generose building with a host of other super persona? All I know is I'm done with her.
Oh, she was great while she lasted. Super Karen could get anything done and then more. She was a fast flying mover and shaker wandering around town using her cape like an apron and picking up projects and strays. No was not in her vocabulary not even when she knew darned well she could not leap that tall building in a single bound. She was more powerful than a speeding locomotive until one day she crashed. Still, in super hero form, she drug herself from the wreckage and limped on hoping to find her strength but it seemed as if someone had slipped her a kryptonite mickey.
Super Karen, as it turns out, wasn't so super. While she looked mild mannered on the outside her inside was a mess. This internal mess was a contributing factor to her fibromyalgia said the doctor. Lose the cape or keep on spiraling into the ground became the choice. Ask for help. Delegate responsibility. Put on the suit of moderation and join the mere mortals on the ground but keep the cape and....
Old habits die hard. True cliche'. I'm glad I left my cape in Rochester. In the past week there have been times where I'd want to take up a crusade but that's not my job anymore. The world is not mine to save. I've been great with giving advice to others about taking care of themselves first and everyone else second. I've used the airplane analogy of putting your oxygen mask on first and then your neighbors a gazillion times. However, I've neglected to hear it myself. I've neglected myself and as a result have not been the best I can be to myself and others. That's all about to change.
So, stay tuned for The New Adventures of Mild-mannered Karen Forbes.
Peace out People
Karen
Oh, she was great while she lasted. Super Karen could get anything done and then more. She was a fast flying mover and shaker wandering around town using her cape like an apron and picking up projects and strays. No was not in her vocabulary not even when she knew darned well she could not leap that tall building in a single bound. She was more powerful than a speeding locomotive until one day she crashed. Still, in super hero form, she drug herself from the wreckage and limped on hoping to find her strength but it seemed as if someone had slipped her a kryptonite mickey.
Super Karen, as it turns out, wasn't so super. While she looked mild mannered on the outside her inside was a mess. This internal mess was a contributing factor to her fibromyalgia said the doctor. Lose the cape or keep on spiraling into the ground became the choice. Ask for help. Delegate responsibility. Put on the suit of moderation and join the mere mortals on the ground but keep the cape and....
Old habits die hard. True cliche'. I'm glad I left my cape in Rochester. In the past week there have been times where I'd want to take up a crusade but that's not my job anymore. The world is not mine to save. I've been great with giving advice to others about taking care of themselves first and everyone else second. I've used the airplane analogy of putting your oxygen mask on first and then your neighbors a gazillion times. However, I've neglected to hear it myself. I've neglected myself and as a result have not been the best I can be to myself and others. That's all about to change.
So, stay tuned for The New Adventures of Mild-mannered Karen Forbes.
Peace out People
Karen
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Happy Anniversary
October 4th and 50 degrees out. Trees are at peak color and today promises to be gorgeous. The skies will match the color of the bluebirds which have been migrating through our yard. Eight years ago I was waiting as fast as I could for the sun to rise and the day to begin so I could take my best friend as my husband.
The day was not unlike today. Clear, blue and warm. Friends and family trickling in. A flurry of activity. Laughter swirling through the house and yard. We sat our guests on hay bales out under the creaking tin roof of a hay shed. Cornstalks, pumpkins and canoe paddles were the alter. Clouds of tulle hung from the beams and held strings of tiny white lights. Green fields ringed with fall colors were the backdrop as Mike and I exchanged our vows. Our simple ceremony was christened with tears of joy as friends united their lives.
We celebrated into the night. A tall tower of logs and wood, later to be named "The Burning Tower of Doom", was lit. We danced and ate and drank into the night until Mike, Al and Steven brought everything to a close and sent people to their cars when they started singing dirty Irish drinking songs.
Our honeymoon began the next day. We rented a log cabin on a private lake in Ely. The days were perfect, like today, blue, clear, warm, full of color. As I think back to that day eight years ago my eyes well up and my heart swells. I am as happy today as I was on that day. Our honeymoon has never ended.
Mike is on his bike heading to work. I'll tackle my first day back to work in 6 weeks. I know we both would rather be back at that cabin but the cabin's been sold and we have this life we've made to attend to. Tonight we will be together to celebrate what we have and what we have worked darned hard to make. Small tokens and cards will be exchanged after a meal we will have cooked together. Small tokens of thanks to one another and in appreciation of another year of caring, love, understanding, patience, laughter and love and we will once again celebrate that day.
Happy Anniversary Sweetheart thank you for being my life.
Love, Karen
The day was not unlike today. Clear, blue and warm. Friends and family trickling in. A flurry of activity. Laughter swirling through the house and yard. We sat our guests on hay bales out under the creaking tin roof of a hay shed. Cornstalks, pumpkins and canoe paddles were the alter. Clouds of tulle hung from the beams and held strings of tiny white lights. Green fields ringed with fall colors were the backdrop as Mike and I exchanged our vows. Our simple ceremony was christened with tears of joy as friends united their lives.
We celebrated into the night. A tall tower of logs and wood, later to be named "The Burning Tower of Doom", was lit. We danced and ate and drank into the night until Mike, Al and Steven brought everything to a close and sent people to their cars when they started singing dirty Irish drinking songs.
Our honeymoon began the next day. We rented a log cabin on a private lake in Ely. The days were perfect, like today, blue, clear, warm, full of color. As I think back to that day eight years ago my eyes well up and my heart swells. I am as happy today as I was on that day. Our honeymoon has never ended.
Mike is on his bike heading to work. I'll tackle my first day back to work in 6 weeks. I know we both would rather be back at that cabin but the cabin's been sold and we have this life we've made to attend to. Tonight we will be together to celebrate what we have and what we have worked darned hard to make. Small tokens and cards will be exchanged after a meal we will have cooked together. Small tokens of thanks to one another and in appreciation of another year of caring, love, understanding, patience, laughter and love and we will once again celebrate that day.
Happy Anniversary Sweetheart thank you for being my life.
Love, Karen
Monday, October 3, 2011
It's All In My Head
I just wasted a lot of time over on Wordpress trying to set up a new blog. I wanted a space of my own to write about fibromyalgia called "It's All in My Head". After trying to get the name I wanted, and didn't, after trying to decide on a layout and a picture and and and...stressing about it I'm back here. And why not? This is where our people are. This is where Mike and I took our journey through cancer. This is where YOU supported us and YOU are part of WE. We did it together and that's how we got through cancer. We invited you into our lives and you came. You stayed through thick and thin. What I have is fibromyalgia. That means WE have fibromyalgia and this is where I belong to talk about it.
Almost everyone I've talked to has someone in their life who has this condition. I've had it since Halloween of 1999. Trick or Treat baby! Back then a significant riding accident injured almost my entire spine and turned on my pain. Over the years other physical and emotional injuries as well as surgeries and stress have aligned to ramp my central nervous system into high alert and fibromyalgia.
As with most "fibro" patients it took a long time to get a diagnosis. My primary doc knew there was something wrong she just didn't know what. After many visits with different providers a local doc was able to say it was fibromyalgia. That was in 2004. It was a huge relief to finally have a name and acknowledgement for my pain. Still, I know that I didn't totally buy into the diagnosis until this past week at Mayo Clinic's Fibromyalgia program. Why? That's a good question. I'm not really sure? Perhaps it was still the underlying or maybe I should say undermining collective conscious belief that fibromyalgia is a garbage can diagnois for "we don't know what is wrong with you." Maybe it was because before January I only had a couple of flares a year and the pain was so minimal in between that I disregarded it. I used to say it was no big deal. I had fibro but only a couple of times a year before that. Or it could be and probably was that I just didn't want to accept it as the chronic condition it was.
In January of this year I began to exercise to get into shape for what was shaping up to be an active summer. In my third week of exercise a flare, which has lasted for 10 months, was triggered. Along with the chronic pain came a host of other symptoms: fatigue, difficulty with sleep, moodiness, anxiety, headaches, stiffness, tingling in my face, legs and hands, heightened sensitivity to noises, bright lights, touch and odors, dizziness and my favorite and most amusing symptom - the loss of my brain or fibro fog. Concentration was difficult. I'd see words I wanted to say skate on by and not be able to retrieve them. I'd forget what I was saying in mid sentence. I couldn't organize a thought if I only had one.
I understood the pain was fibro and went to my primary doc for help. I just wanted something for the pain. Something to knock it down for a few days so I could regroup and then go on. No pain meds were forthcoming. We tried several meds for the fibro - gabapentin, neurontin and finally the newest fibro approved drug Lyrica. The flare continued and in a desperate move I asked to be referred to Mayo.
So, there was a lot of info from the Mayo trip. I came home with hope and a sense of possibility. I'm ready to walk this walk and share my fibromyalgia with you. (oh stop! it's not contagious and you know what I mean) What I'm saying is this will be a lot like the cancer part of this blog - good, bad and ugly because this is part of my/our life and to isolate it off onto another blog is to isolate myself. I can't do that because I need the support I've found here at Whiskey Jack Flats. Don't worry though, the blog won't all be about the fibro! Who wants to hear about that all the time. Mike has access to this blog and lately I've been doing a little channeling of my hero Erma Bombeck which I hope will show up here. We have a life to live for crying out loud.
As for "It's All In My Head", well mostly it is and you can just think on that one for a while. It will become clear later!
Peace Boyz and Gurlz!,
Karen
Almost everyone I've talked to has someone in their life who has this condition. I've had it since Halloween of 1999. Trick or Treat baby! Back then a significant riding accident injured almost my entire spine and turned on my pain. Over the years other physical and emotional injuries as well as surgeries and stress have aligned to ramp my central nervous system into high alert and fibromyalgia.
As with most "fibro" patients it took a long time to get a diagnosis. My primary doc knew there was something wrong she just didn't know what. After many visits with different providers a local doc was able to say it was fibromyalgia. That was in 2004. It was a huge relief to finally have a name and acknowledgement for my pain. Still, I know that I didn't totally buy into the diagnosis until this past week at Mayo Clinic's Fibromyalgia program. Why? That's a good question. I'm not really sure? Perhaps it was still the underlying or maybe I should say undermining collective conscious belief that fibromyalgia is a garbage can diagnois for "we don't know what is wrong with you." Maybe it was because before January I only had a couple of flares a year and the pain was so minimal in between that I disregarded it. I used to say it was no big deal. I had fibro but only a couple of times a year before that. Or it could be and probably was that I just didn't want to accept it as the chronic condition it was.
In January of this year I began to exercise to get into shape for what was shaping up to be an active summer. In my third week of exercise a flare, which has lasted for 10 months, was triggered. Along with the chronic pain came a host of other symptoms: fatigue, difficulty with sleep, moodiness, anxiety, headaches, stiffness, tingling in my face, legs and hands, heightened sensitivity to noises, bright lights, touch and odors, dizziness and my favorite and most amusing symptom - the loss of my brain or fibro fog. Concentration was difficult. I'd see words I wanted to say skate on by and not be able to retrieve them. I'd forget what I was saying in mid sentence. I couldn't organize a thought if I only had one.
I understood the pain was fibro and went to my primary doc for help. I just wanted something for the pain. Something to knock it down for a few days so I could regroup and then go on. No pain meds were forthcoming. We tried several meds for the fibro - gabapentin, neurontin and finally the newest fibro approved drug Lyrica. The flare continued and in a desperate move I asked to be referred to Mayo.
So, there was a lot of info from the Mayo trip. I came home with hope and a sense of possibility. I'm ready to walk this walk and share my fibromyalgia with you. (oh stop! it's not contagious and you know what I mean) What I'm saying is this will be a lot like the cancer part of this blog - good, bad and ugly because this is part of my/our life and to isolate it off onto another blog is to isolate myself. I can't do that because I need the support I've found here at Whiskey Jack Flats. Don't worry though, the blog won't all be about the fibro! Who wants to hear about that all the time. Mike has access to this blog and lately I've been doing a little channeling of my hero Erma Bombeck which I hope will show up here. We have a life to live for crying out loud.As for "It's All In My Head", well mostly it is and you can just think on that one for a while. It will become clear later!
Peace Boyz and Gurlz!,
Karen
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Woowoo Baby Woowoo
Well my wiener is gone. This morning at 6:30 with Mike in attendance I removed my suprapubic catheter or what came to be known as my wiener. The cath/wiener was put in during surgery to allow urine to pass from my body and give my bladder and it's parts a chance to recover from the reconstruction.
For the past 10 days I've been retraining my bladder to function as it once had. The cath was a safety valve of sorts. A way to release any residual urine. When not in use my wiener was coiled up in my undies. Now, I have to tell you, I have a better understanding of why guys are always messing with their junk. My wiener, which hung to my knees, and yes I'm bragging, was just never where I wanted it to be or stay. After careful adjustment it would fall down my pants leg when I stood up. It would get caught here or pinched there. When it was loose, like in the shower, it was anyone's guess where it would be swinging or dangling. Also, because there was a balloon at the end that was in my bladder it caused tremendous bladder spasms nearly all the time. That was the annoying part.
Not all was annoying, however. It was nice to hook a bag up to it at night and not have to get up to pee. For a while I could choose between standing and sitting to go. It was hilarious fun to whip it out of my fly, shake it at Mike and yell, "woowooo baby woowooo" as I walked down the hall after him. It made my kids giggle when I asked them if they wanted to see my wiener. Oh, and did I say I was well hung? Turns out size does matter!
I remember back to when Mike was having radiation and had his hemorrhoid from hell. For a time he had to wear feminine hygiene pads. This gave him a glimpse of what it was like to be a girl. Well this was my brief chance to experience what it might be like to be a guy. If it's all the same to you I'll choose to remain a girl. The wiener was just too much to be in charge of, especially when I still had working girl bits.
And work they do. All has progressed as expected. I reported to the nurse yesterday and she gave me her blessing to take out my cath this morning. Mike snipped off the end. We drained the water from the balloon which held it in place and with a gentle tug slipped it out. The only sensation was of relief. Now a small gauze bandage covers the hole where once was my wiener and I'm back to being all girl except, thanks to Dr Gephart, I'll never have to wear a feminine hygiene pad ever again. "Woohoo baby whoohoo!"
Peace,
Karen
For the past 10 days I've been retraining my bladder to function as it once had. The cath was a safety valve of sorts. A way to release any residual urine. When not in use my wiener was coiled up in my undies. Now, I have to tell you, I have a better understanding of why guys are always messing with their junk. My wiener, which hung to my knees, and yes I'm bragging, was just never where I wanted it to be or stay. After careful adjustment it would fall down my pants leg when I stood up. It would get caught here or pinched there. When it was loose, like in the shower, it was anyone's guess where it would be swinging or dangling. Also, because there was a balloon at the end that was in my bladder it caused tremendous bladder spasms nearly all the time. That was the annoying part.
Not all was annoying, however. It was nice to hook a bag up to it at night and not have to get up to pee. For a while I could choose between standing and sitting to go. It was hilarious fun to whip it out of my fly, shake it at Mike and yell, "woowooo baby woowooo" as I walked down the hall after him. It made my kids giggle when I asked them if they wanted to see my wiener. Oh, and did I say I was well hung? Turns out size does matter!
I remember back to when Mike was having radiation and had his hemorrhoid from hell. For a time he had to wear feminine hygiene pads. This gave him a glimpse of what it was like to be a girl. Well this was my brief chance to experience what it might be like to be a guy. If it's all the same to you I'll choose to remain a girl. The wiener was just too much to be in charge of, especially when I still had working girl bits.
And work they do. All has progressed as expected. I reported to the nurse yesterday and she gave me her blessing to take out my cath this morning. Mike snipped off the end. We drained the water from the balloon which held it in place and with a gentle tug slipped it out. The only sensation was of relief. Now a small gauze bandage covers the hole where once was my wiener and I'm back to being all girl except, thanks to Dr Gephart, I'll never have to wear a feminine hygiene pad ever again. "Woohoo baby whoohoo!"
Peace,
Karen
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Senna, Sue, Tiara
We are home and when I say it's good to be home I mean it. The trip was long and hard and when I say hard I mean hard. Turns out I have a mid line episiotomy! Figured that out on Thursday night in the hotel when I unexpectedly was able to pass my water (how do ya like that antiquated term?) There was the wiping thing and then there was the holy cow thing. On both parts.
Now here is where I do one of those writing tricks and show you what a great guy Mike is instead of telling you he is. He looked. And there it was. Something I have never thought of having or thought I would have again, an episiotomy. For the few of you who don't know what I'm talking about Wikipedia says it's: a surgically planned incision on the perineum and the posterior vaginal wall during second stage of labour. See how old the procedure is? They even spell it in Old English. Trust me when I say there were NO stages of labor involved here. Just a surgeons need to get into an area that there was no other way to get to.
I'm forty-freaking-nine! I have not had one of these since Danny was born and he's pushing thirty. I guess I didn't think about it. I didn't ask about it and I didn't expect one but there on Thursday night was one AND I was going to have to ride the 350 miles home on it. If I hadn't had such bad gas cramps the entire way it might have been all I thought about but who knew I'd thank god for gas cramps. We made it home and to bed. This morning the first thing I did was sit in a bath tub full of warm water and Dreft soap. Ahhhh....it made things so much better. I even forgot for a while.
Until the "other" call of nature beckoned me. Suddenly the one thing I was hoping for turned into one of those "careful what you wish for" deals. This would be my first number two since Tuesday. I'd been taking something called Senna to help keep things soft and encourage my bowels to move naturally over night. This had been night four and I had NO idea what this was going to be like. Then I had a flashback to my postpartum days. I waffled. I want to....I don't want to...I want to...I don't want to...I have toooo......
In the end, you knew that was coming, in the end I was successful and called the one person I knew would totally join me in my enthusiasm. Sue. She woohooooed on the phone. We traded a coupla war stories and congratulated each other on little achievements. We are proud of ourselves and I say all this with a used Tonic bottle filled with ice and water keeping the girl bits cooled down and while wearing a tiara.
You'd like to know about the tiara huh?
Maybe later.
Peace,
Karen
Now here is where I do one of those writing tricks and show you what a great guy Mike is instead of telling you he is. He looked. And there it was. Something I have never thought of having or thought I would have again, an episiotomy. For the few of you who don't know what I'm talking about Wikipedia says it's: a surgically planned incision on the perineum and the posterior vaginal wall during second stage of labour. See how old the procedure is? They even spell it in Old English. Trust me when I say there were NO stages of labor involved here. Just a surgeons need to get into an area that there was no other way to get to.
I'm forty-freaking-nine! I have not had one of these since Danny was born and he's pushing thirty. I guess I didn't think about it. I didn't ask about it and I didn't expect one but there on Thursday night was one AND I was going to have to ride the 350 miles home on it. If I hadn't had such bad gas cramps the entire way it might have been all I thought about but who knew I'd thank god for gas cramps. We made it home and to bed. This morning the first thing I did was sit in a bath tub full of warm water and Dreft soap. Ahhhh....it made things so much better. I even forgot for a while.
Until the "other" call of nature beckoned me. Suddenly the one thing I was hoping for turned into one of those "careful what you wish for" deals. This would be my first number two since Tuesday. I'd been taking something called Senna to help keep things soft and encourage my bowels to move naturally over night. This had been night four and I had NO idea what this was going to be like. Then I had a flashback to my postpartum days. I waffled. I want to....I don't want to...I want to...I don't want to...I have toooo......
In the end, you knew that was coming, in the end I was successful and called the one person I knew would totally join me in my enthusiasm. Sue. She woohooooed on the phone. We traded a coupla war stories and congratulated each other on little achievements. We are proud of ourselves and I say all this with a used Tonic bottle filled with ice and water keeping the girl bits cooled down and while wearing a tiara.
You'd like to know about the tiara huh?
Maybe later.
Peace,
Karen
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Surprise!
Suprarpubicatheteristicexpialidocious!
Even though the sound of it
Is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough
You'll always sound precocious
Suprarpubicatheteristicexpialidocious
Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay....
So surgery went as expected. All five hours of it. My pelvic organs were repaired, removed and reattached. If you want the big words here ya go. I had supracervical hysterectomy, bilateral salpingectomy with ovarian preservation, an abdominal sacrocervicopexy, align pubovaginal sling, a colpoperineorrhaphy and (here comes the surprise I told you about) a suprapubic cystotmy under direct cystoscopic guidance.
Sounds impressive huh? Oh, what is that suprapubic surprise thing? Well, after all of that fixing up, things down in the nethers are pretty swollen so peeing is out of the question for now and my bladder needs retraining. That's right I'm in potty training. Anyhow, what I have is a catheter that exits my body just above my pubic bone. It's how I...um...go now until I can go on my own. Neat huh? Told Mike that it's too bad we can't go on a canoe trip. We'd make good time without me having to answer the call of nature all the time.
So, there you have it...SURPRISE! Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay....
More later when there aren't so many pain meds on board.
Peace and love and things and stuff,
Karen
Even though the sound of it
Is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough
You'll always sound precocious
Suprarpubicatheteristicexpialidocious
Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay....
So surgery went as expected. All five hours of it. My pelvic organs were repaired, removed and reattached. If you want the big words here ya go. I had supracervical hysterectomy, bilateral salpingectomy with ovarian preservation, an abdominal sacrocervicopexy, align pubovaginal sling, a colpoperineorrhaphy and (here comes the surprise I told you about) a suprapubic cystotmy under direct cystoscopic guidance.
Sounds impressive huh? Oh, what is that suprapubic surprise thing? Well, after all of that fixing up, things down in the nethers are pretty swollen so peeing is out of the question for now and my bladder needs retraining. That's right I'm in potty training. Anyhow, what I have is a catheter that exits my body just above my pubic bone. It's how I...um...go now until I can go on my own. Neat huh? Told Mike that it's too bad we can't go on a canoe trip. We'd make good time without me having to answer the call of nature all the time.
So, there you have it...SURPRISE! Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay....
More later when there aren't so many pain meds on board.
Peace and love and things and stuff,
Karen
Monday, August 15, 2011
Our Mother of Marble - aka Mayo Clinic
"It's a clinic named after one of the best condiments ever!" says my eldest son. "How could anything go wrong?"
Well, I'm not sure how to wade into this so I'll start by going around the edge. I'll tell you what I know about Rochester at this point and what I know about Mayo Clinic. First things first, the big building on the hill is a nunnery. Our friends John and Sue (who just had cancer surgery here....Sue not John) took us up there today. I did not see a nun so I can't say with 100% certainty but it looks pretty sister-like.
I know you can sit in a green space in the middle of downtown and eat Moussaka and I know that you can buy a good Chicago Italian beef sandwich from a street vendor at the foot of the Marble Mother herself. I know that there is more marble in one city block of Rochester than I've ever seen in a mile of any other city. I know that a falcon can snatch a pigeon right before your eyes on a busy street and I know, while we are on the subject of birds, that if you see a flock of starlings you should quickly roll up your car windows because the rain on your roof is not rain. Mike had a deposit left on his left thigh.
I also know that one Dr John B Gebhardt will be doing some 5 hours of pelvic reconstruction on me tomorrow morning bright and early. Seems I've had some pelvic demolition going on. So, He and his crew will be going in to fix 'er up. I say He, with a capital, because He has shirts with his monogram on the cuff, right next to his initialed cuff links. He's big time. He's the best of the best this Dr John B Gebhardt.
I'm going to spare you the details of exactly HOW they did the tests to find these things out. Suffice to say: 1) I feel like I'm peeing razor blades tonight and 2) I know what the inside of my bladder looks like. I was able to see the beautiful web of veins that supply blood to my bladder AND I got to watch my ureters at work. Not for everyone I know, but I was gonna have something for the discomfort. After all the testing we had a mini conference with Dr G and his team and the day, date and time was set.My blood work is done. Mike and I attended a pre-surgical class on what we will just keep a secret for an upcoming blog.
One last thing I know is that the entire Mayo experience has been so vastly different from any other clinic visit that I've ever had I can't help but feel secure. I'm confident of my surgical team and confident I've made the right decision. I have Mike at my side and he has been and will be my strength.
See you all on the other side.
Peace and love to you all,
Karen
Well, I'm not sure how to wade into this so I'll start by going around the edge. I'll tell you what I know about Rochester at this point and what I know about Mayo Clinic. First things first, the big building on the hill is a nunnery. Our friends John and Sue (who just had cancer surgery here....Sue not John) took us up there today. I did not see a nun so I can't say with 100% certainty but it looks pretty sister-like.
I know you can sit in a green space in the middle of downtown and eat Moussaka and I know that you can buy a good Chicago Italian beef sandwich from a street vendor at the foot of the Marble Mother herself. I know that there is more marble in one city block of Rochester than I've ever seen in a mile of any other city. I know that a falcon can snatch a pigeon right before your eyes on a busy street and I know, while we are on the subject of birds, that if you see a flock of starlings you should quickly roll up your car windows because the rain on your roof is not rain. Mike had a deposit left on his left thigh.
I also know that one Dr John B Gebhardt will be doing some 5 hours of pelvic reconstruction on me tomorrow morning bright and early. Seems I've had some pelvic demolition going on. So, He and his crew will be going in to fix 'er up. I say He, with a capital, because He has shirts with his monogram on the cuff, right next to his initialed cuff links. He's big time. He's the best of the best this Dr John B Gebhardt.
I'm going to spare you the details of exactly HOW they did the tests to find these things out. Suffice to say: 1) I feel like I'm peeing razor blades tonight and 2) I know what the inside of my bladder looks like. I was able to see the beautiful web of veins that supply blood to my bladder AND I got to watch my ureters at work. Not for everyone I know, but I was gonna have something for the discomfort. After all the testing we had a mini conference with Dr G and his team and the day, date and time was set.My blood work is done. Mike and I attended a pre-surgical class on what we will just keep a secret for an upcoming blog.
One last thing I know is that the entire Mayo experience has been so vastly different from any other clinic visit that I've ever had I can't help but feel secure. I'm confident of my surgical team and confident I've made the right decision. I have Mike at my side and he has been and will be my strength.
See you all on the other side.
Peace and love to you all,
Karen
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Super Monarchs
When my kids were young we could hardly wait for this day! We'd wander the ditches close to our home collecting the long thin black and yellow tiger striped lava in quart jars filled with milkweed leaves. Once home they were carefully transferred to a screen covered aquarium and fed daily rations of fresh leaves. My kids watched as the pillars rapidly grew into fat little sausages. One morning they would awake to a milky green chrysalis dotted with gold hanging from the screen top.
Days would pass and the chrysalis would begin to darken. Then clear to reveal the black and orange of a developing monarch. We kept the monarchs we hatched in our screen porch. Dozens of them fed on sugar water. Some, most, would even come to your extended hand if you had a small pool of the sugar water cupped in your palm. What we didn't know then that we do now is these butterflies were the super generation of monarchs.
Monarchs take five generations to migrate back to Minnesota from Mexico. The pair coupled on the branch are five times removed from their parents who were a super generation. What this means is this: the monarchs we raised and the offspring of this couple will fly all the way back Mexico! Super Monarchs!
I didn't see the the pair finish their coupling or fly away. A male bluebird had taken to hunting in our garden and my attention followed him. I am sure I will see their young appear soon and maybe I will, for old times sake, take some of the young in and bear witness to the birth of something super. Or maybe I will just watch and know of this spectacular event. In any event, the monarchs are back. Enjoy.
Peace,
Karen
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
The Hand Off
Well I don't know if I feel like a football or a hot potato? I've been handed off again.
Dr John (good looking) Liveringhouse has, in the fashion of Dr Sherry Billups and Dr Mark Colliton, thrown up his hands and yelled, "NOT IT!" I'm maxed out on stomach meds and he's at a loss so I'm shufflin', being shuffled, off to Our Mother of Marble, Mayo Clinic. Oh to be so complicated!
Well that will be me waiting for another call and then trying to sort out how, where and when this visit is going to fit into the grand scheme of two other appointments and a "maybe" surgery.
In the meantime keep your eyes on the ball.
Peace,
Karen
Dr John (good looking) Liveringhouse has, in the fashion of Dr Sherry Billups and Dr Mark Colliton, thrown up his hands and yelled, "NOT IT!" I'm maxed out on stomach meds and he's at a loss so I'm shufflin', being shuffled, off to Our Mother of Marble, Mayo Clinic. Oh to be so complicated!
Well that will be me waiting for another call and then trying to sort out how, where and when this visit is going to fit into the grand scheme of two other appointments and a "maybe" surgery.
In the meantime keep your eyes on the ball.
Peace,
Karen
Monday, July 18, 2011
No Further or Farther Ahead.
The test results are in. I have acid reflux of a medium form. DUH!
I needed those ucky tests for that? So the nurse on the phone took an update on how I was doing and will relay that to Dr Liveringhouse who will have some kind or seance and give a message from the other side to the nurse who will call me and tell me......what? I duuno?
More tests? Tuff it out? Why can't there be a diagnosis, a plan, a cure? How long does this have to go on really?
After a while you just start to feel nuts about it all. If it's only a mild case of acid reflux why do I feel crappy all the time OR is it just all in my head? And it does start to feel that way, like it's all in my head. Maybe I am nuts. Who knew I'd know? But I do know. Huh.
So, we have another hurry up and wait and feel crappy while doing it. I'm tired. Real tired. Really honestly tired. I feel no further/farther ahead than I did 3 months ago.
Anyhow, I'll let you know when I know something....anything. Frustrating.
Peace,
K
I needed those ucky tests for that? So the nurse on the phone took an update on how I was doing and will relay that to Dr Liveringhouse who will have some kind or seance and give a message from the other side to the nurse who will call me and tell me......what? I duuno?
More tests? Tuff it out? Why can't there be a diagnosis, a plan, a cure? How long does this have to go on really?
After a while you just start to feel nuts about it all. If it's only a mild case of acid reflux why do I feel crappy all the time OR is it just all in my head? And it does start to feel that way, like it's all in my head. Maybe I am nuts. Who knew I'd know? But I do know. Huh.
So, we have another hurry up and wait and feel crappy while doing it. I'm tired. Real tired. Really honestly tired. I feel no further/farther ahead than I did 3 months ago.
Anyhow, I'll let you know when I know something....anything. Frustrating.
Peace,
K
Monday, July 11, 2011
Starbucks
When it comes to chain coffee shops my list would look like this Dunn Bros, Caribou and Starbucks bringing up the rear. You'd think the first Starbucks was founded in Colorado instead of Seattle, Washington. I say this because on the Sucking Wind Tour (See July 3rd post if you don't know what I'm talking about) when we were in search of coffee, Starbucks was the only game in town.
Now Starbucks is not the top of my list but when you need coffee...you NEED coffee. An hour into our trip, just on the edge of the beautiful Colorado Rockies, in a town named Silverthorne we stopped for a coffee. At a Starbucks. I ordered what I call a safe coffee, a soy latte with vanilla. Linda got some kind of juice and we each had a sweet treat. With coffee in hand we headed out the door to sit outside. I need to say at this point we could see another Starbucks across the street from where we were sitting.
Now I don't care how bad the coffee is, when you have a view, a real honest, hang your mouth open view, it doesn't matter. I swear it could have been pig swill in my cup. I didn't taste it because I was drinking in the view. And what a view it was. There before us was a picture postcard. A long sloping valley running up to the feet of tall snow capped mountains. And we would be threading our way between them to Breckenridge where there would be more snow and more mountains, and more valleys and more Starbucks.
Even in Aspen, Starbucks was the coffee house of, well not choice, it was just the only coffee shop. It would not be until Linda and I arrived at the airport on the day of our departure that I found....a....CARIBOU! I sucked down a milk chocolate coffee cooler - no whip- faster than a camel can spit! The barista put stickers on one of my cards, swiped the other as I proudly paid. I felt a sense of community. I was home. This is where I knew the menu. I could order maple brown sugar oatmeal or an apple sausage bagel or a depth charge. And, AND there was the cute little caribou on my cup not the creepy girl goddess on the Starbucks cups.
Linda didn't seem to really care about coffee. She's more of a black tea drinker though at Starbucks in Breckenridge I did get her to order a passion fruit tea and she not only dug the striking violet color of it but she actually liked the flavor. So, Starbucks, Caribou, Dunn Bros did not matter one iota to her. And this is probably a good thing. She seemed less stressed about the whole choice and after all we were on vacation. I just wanted to stay awake for it!
Peace and good coffee
Karen
Now Starbucks is not the top of my list but when you need coffee...you NEED coffee. An hour into our trip, just on the edge of the beautiful Colorado Rockies, in a town named Silverthorne we stopped for a coffee. At a Starbucks. I ordered what I call a safe coffee, a soy latte with vanilla. Linda got some kind of juice and we each had a sweet treat. With coffee in hand we headed out the door to sit outside. I need to say at this point we could see another Starbucks across the street from where we were sitting.
Now I don't care how bad the coffee is, when you have a view, a real honest, hang your mouth open view, it doesn't matter. I swear it could have been pig swill in my cup. I didn't taste it because I was drinking in the view. And what a view it was. There before us was a picture postcard. A long sloping valley running up to the feet of tall snow capped mountains. And we would be threading our way between them to Breckenridge where there would be more snow and more mountains, and more valleys and more Starbucks.
Even in Aspen, Starbucks was the coffee house of, well not choice, it was just the only coffee shop. It would not be until Linda and I arrived at the airport on the day of our departure that I found....a....CARIBOU! I sucked down a milk chocolate coffee cooler - no whip- faster than a camel can spit! The barista put stickers on one of my cards, swiped the other as I proudly paid. I felt a sense of community. I was home. This is where I knew the menu. I could order maple brown sugar oatmeal or an apple sausage bagel or a depth charge. And, AND there was the cute little caribou on my cup not the creepy girl goddess on the Starbucks cups.
Linda didn't seem to really care about coffee. She's more of a black tea drinker though at Starbucks in Breckenridge I did get her to order a passion fruit tea and she not only dug the striking violet color of it but she actually liked the flavor. So, Starbucks, Caribou, Dunn Bros did not matter one iota to her. And this is probably a good thing. She seemed less stressed about the whole choice and after all we were on vacation. I just wanted to stay awake for it!
Peace and good coffee
Karen
My sister Linda at Starbucks in Silverthorne, Colorado
Me at Starbucks in Silverthorne, though you can't prove it because I cut the all the logos out of the pic!
The Blog I Can't Write.
This is how they do a pH study of your lower esophagus.
I The smile is for the camera only.
This is the little box that was attached to the wire that was in my nose.
This is how it all was attached.
This is the blog I said I'd write but can't. The pictures tell it all. It was as unfun as it looks. And I don't want to talk about it or relive it. So you can just imagine what it was like and you are probably right.
The results of the endoscopy came back and I don't have cancer, pre-cancer or Barrett's Esophagus. I do have esophagitis. No treatment until the other test is back at the end of this week or the beginning of next week. I'll post the results of the pH test when I have them.
Peace,
Karen
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Snapshots from "The Sister Trip"
Three years ago my sister Linda started a new tradition: The Annual Sister Trip. The plan? Each year we would take a week out of our busy schedules to have a sisterly adventure in a place we would take turns choosing. In 2009 Linda picked Sedona, Arizona. This trip would also come to be known as The PT Cruiser Tour because the rental place made a mistake and the Cruiser (a total misnomer) was the only vehicle left. Below are a few pictures from that trip.
Something other things we learned on our first trip: 1) The gas tank on the Cruiser is on the drivers side. 2) Additional gravity fills the gas tank faster. 3) My sister is awesome at multi-tasking (note the use of sign language while simultaneously filling the tank.
Sedona was a great trip.
Next it was my turn to choose. When Linda first conceived this Sister Trip idea it was with the understanding that we could go absolutely anywhere and she would foot the bill. She stressed ANYWHERE. In 2010 I picked. We went to....Minnesota. There was a long silence on the phone when I told her I wanted to take her to the North Shore. "There are waterfalls! There is this big lake that looks like an ocean! There are mountains! There are hiking trails! There is canoeing and fishing and.....and...I get to pick."
She was a total skeptic, until she got there.
This is the cabin at Briar Patch Inn where we stayed.
Notice the Cruiser.
Notice the Cruiser.
We discovered a few things on this trip: 1) Linda should not listen to her younger sister about where you can drive a Cruiser 2) The PT Cruiser is not an off road vehicle and cannot be taken on the same trails a Pink Jeep Tour. 3) Linda should not listen to her sister.
These are some of the scratches she put in the Cruiser.
We did a fair amount of hiking as would become the case on trips to follow.
Sedona was a great trip.
Next it was my turn to choose. When Linda first conceived this Sister Trip idea it was with the understanding that we could go absolutely anywhere and she would foot the bill. She stressed ANYWHERE. In 2010 I picked. We went to....Minnesota. There was a long silence on the phone when I told her I wanted to take her to the North Shore. "There are waterfalls! There is this big lake that looks like an ocean! There are mountains! There are hiking trails! There is canoeing and fishing and.....and...I get to pick."
She was a total skeptic, until she got there.
 | |||
This is how she looked for most of the trip.
Because this was not the size of waterfalls she expected!
We did a first ever for Linda - an overnight hike on the Superior Hiking Trail. It changed Linda's mind about the term "hike".
We stayed at a nice little cabin on Lake Mitawan near Isabella. It had a very nice "biffy".
I started a tradition within a tradition. The ceremonial wearing of the sunglasses.
This was the Just Chix No Dix Tour.
This brings us to our latest trip; one we were not really sure would happen because I've been under the weather since January. (that's a separate blog) It was Linda's turn to pick this year and Breckenridge, Colorado was the destination. At an elevation of around 9,000 feet, Breck as it is know to locals sits in a valley surrounded by the Rocky Mountains.
During the winter, which seems to run all year round up there, Breck is a down hill skiers heaven. In summer Breck is....a down hill skiers heaven? There was still a lot of snow up in the mountains.
Our cabin was located in Blue River, just south of Breckenridge
and just north of Hoosier Pass, at about 10,000 feet.
I got a kick out of all the Continental Divides since I live on one in Minnesota. Ours are not as boastful about the elevation.
This year Linda partook of the Ceremonial Wearing of the Sunglasses this time. Clearly I was cooler. Even the shirt says so!
As before, we did some hiking, though I have to tell you it was a little more challenging for two reasons: 1) Everything is on a slant in the mountains. 2) They have no air. For this last reason I am here-fore naming this trip: The Sucking Wind Tour
I promised my sister I would post pics on our blog and tell our story. So, over the next few days and weeks I'll post a pic and tell you all about The Sucking Wind Tour. Was it fun? Stay tuned and read!
Peace,
Karen
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Seven Plagues of Egypt - Part II
Warning: Contains Graphic Material and A Lot of TMI
Read At Your Own Risk
When I say it's been a long winter and spring I mean it really has been. The weather just can't seem to get itself in a group. We've seen 70. We've seen it come and go. Mostly we've seen frost, wind, torrential rain and clouds. If my tomato plants had legs they would have migrated by now. I'm shocked the humming birds aren't wearing fleece. It's been disappointing.
So has my health. If you go back to my March 4th entry you'll see where it all started but hasn't ended. I've never felt well since I bought the Gazelle. I still have that fibromyalgia flare going on. Since the antibiotics my entire digestive system has hunkered in the bunker for some kind of jihad. I have been and continue to be doctored to death. Okay not death but you know what I mean. I'm at Target pharmacy so much they think I work there now.
Here's where I'm at. On April 19th I had an endoscopy and a colonoscopy. Word on the street is that I wasn't sedated enough for the endo and in the words of good Dr Roy, "You were pretty anxious." This translates into I was trying to talk with the tube in my throat and tried to pull the tube out. All he found there was some inflammation. On the other end of thing he said everything looked okay. Still, I didn't feel okay. I still had stomach problems: heart burn, the feeling of something stuck in my throat all the time, bloating, burning across the bottom of my rib cage, feeling like my stomach was hollow and empty right after I ate. And did I say heartburn? Like, kill a healthy horse heartburn? In the lower unit I for the first time in my life was constipated. I also felt like I wasn't completely empty when I could go.When I could go it felt as if my innards were all gonna come out and not in places it was supposed to. When I could go it felt as if my innards were all gonna come out and not in places it was supposed to. Plus there was this terrible pain. I went back to my doc. I was referred to a Digestive Clinic in St Cloud.
(Did I say that during this whole time I still had that fibro flare going on and my BP remained elevated?)
Dr Liveringhouse, who I need to say is very good looking and kind, gave me the once over. I need to say here that if you are going to have someone look at your nether parts you may want to get yourself an old, significantly unattractive Dr to do it. He pronounced that I had a "significant rectal fissure" and GERD (gastro-esophageal reflux disease). I left with a prescription for mega dose of Prilosec and some ointment that I needed to put where the sun don't shine three times a day. For the constipation I was told to take Mirlax daily. *refer to post of April 18
A week later there was no improvement on the GERD. I still felt like I had sticks in my throat. We switched meds to Protonix. A week later we doubled the dose. Now, I'm being scheduled for a repeat endoscopy down in St Cloud with Dr Goodlooking. He's also going to stick something he said was like a long strand of spaghetti down my nose and into my stomach to see what the PH is doing or not doing. This stays in for a day with one end taped to my face and the other end hanging out with my digestive juices.
On the other end. Things are better and I have an appointment with a gynecologist whose name I can't pronounce due to the amount of consonants. He's supposed to determine if my bladder and uterus have migrated south.
The fibro continues to rage. We had a week long bout with my insurance company over whether or not I could take Lyrica which is a new med that has had really good results with fibro pain. Also, because I am complicated and the stomach thing may well be a weird manifestation of fibro my Dr is working on a referral to Mayo. So, I'm waiting to hear when the pilgrimage to the Holy City of Health will happen. In the meantime I'm hopeful about Lyrica. It would be nice to have less pain and to feel like me again. You remember me right?
Peace and Health to You
Karen
.
.
Read At Your Own Risk
When I say it's been a long winter and spring I mean it really has been. The weather just can't seem to get itself in a group. We've seen 70. We've seen it come and go. Mostly we've seen frost, wind, torrential rain and clouds. If my tomato plants had legs they would have migrated by now. I'm shocked the humming birds aren't wearing fleece. It's been disappointing.
So has my health. If you go back to my March 4th entry you'll see where it all started but hasn't ended. I've never felt well since I bought the Gazelle. I still have that fibromyalgia flare going on. Since the antibiotics my entire digestive system has hunkered in the bunker for some kind of jihad. I have been and continue to be doctored to death. Okay not death but you know what I mean. I'm at Target pharmacy so much they think I work there now.
Here's where I'm at. On April 19th I had an endoscopy and a colonoscopy. Word on the street is that I wasn't sedated enough for the endo and in the words of good Dr Roy, "You were pretty anxious." This translates into I was trying to talk with the tube in my throat and tried to pull the tube out. All he found there was some inflammation. On the other end of thing he said everything looked okay. Still, I didn't feel okay. I still had stomach problems: heart burn, the feeling of something stuck in my throat all the time, bloating, burning across the bottom of my rib cage, feeling like my stomach was hollow and empty right after I ate. And did I say heartburn? Like, kill a healthy horse heartburn? In the lower unit I for the first time in my life was constipated. I also felt like I wasn't completely empty when I could go.When I could go it felt as if my innards were all gonna come out and not in places it was supposed to. When I could go it felt as if my innards were all gonna come out and not in places it was supposed to. Plus there was this terrible pain. I went back to my doc. I was referred to a Digestive Clinic in St Cloud.
(Did I say that during this whole time I still had that fibro flare going on and my BP remained elevated?)
Dr Liveringhouse, who I need to say is very good looking and kind, gave me the once over. I need to say here that if you are going to have someone look at your nether parts you may want to get yourself an old, significantly unattractive Dr to do it. He pronounced that I had a "significant rectal fissure" and GERD (gastro-esophageal reflux disease). I left with a prescription for mega dose of Prilosec and some ointment that I needed to put where the sun don't shine three times a day. For the constipation I was told to take Mirlax daily. *refer to post of April 18
A week later there was no improvement on the GERD. I still felt like I had sticks in my throat. We switched meds to Protonix. A week later we doubled the dose. Now, I'm being scheduled for a repeat endoscopy down in St Cloud with Dr Goodlooking. He's also going to stick something he said was like a long strand of spaghetti down my nose and into my stomach to see what the PH is doing or not doing. This stays in for a day with one end taped to my face and the other end hanging out with my digestive juices.
On the other end. Things are better and I have an appointment with a gynecologist whose name I can't pronounce due to the amount of consonants. He's supposed to determine if my bladder and uterus have migrated south.
The fibro continues to rage. We had a week long bout with my insurance company over whether or not I could take Lyrica which is a new med that has had really good results with fibro pain. Also, because I am complicated and the stomach thing may well be a weird manifestation of fibro my Dr is working on a referral to Mayo. So, I'm waiting to hear when the pilgrimage to the Holy City of Health will happen. In the meantime I'm hopeful about Lyrica. It would be nice to have less pain and to feel like me again. You remember me right?
Peace and Health to You
Karen
.
.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Polyethylene, Desitin and Propel
I have not had a tube of Desitin in my house since Stevie wore short pants. The last encounter I remember having with a tube of the sticky, white, medicinal smelling stuff involved Dan, Kris and the painting of a dark brown wicker changing table. We never did get all out of the cracks - no pun intended. Having said that, there I was today, in Walgreens purchasing a tube, for myself.
See, I'm preparing for tomorrows colonoscopy and EGD or in longer form esophagogastroduodensdope - save that one for your next scrabble game. Some unwanted and very annoying GI symptoms have triggered a "look see". So, tomorrow at 9 am I'm going to have things scoped out. Dr Roy, the same surgeon that found Mike's cancer, will be performing the procedure. He's a down to earth, good looking, in a younger Brett Favre kinda way, guy. Why him? Simple! If any man is going to go where no man has gone before, well, I want him to be good looking. Also, if I have to get any kind of disquieting news. I want the man telling me to at least be worth looking at!
Anyhow. Desitin.
There is this prep you have to go through before the "look see." Suffice to say that constipation won't be a problem for the next 24 hours and the Dr will be able to "see himself" in my most darkest recesses. To make this happen there are some little pills and a lot of fluid with polyethylene glycol added to it. One is supposed to mix this in 64 ounces of Gatorade and 2 hours after the little pills drink a glass every 15 minutes until the end result (again no pun intended) is clear. Yup.
Here's where we need to talk about how much I like Gatorade. Not so much. I'd drink pond water first. I said this to our friends John and Sue. Sue has just gone through the same procedure, I don't know about the attractiveness of her surgeon, but I do now know Sue and John are both liars. "Oh, get Propel! It's way better than Gatorade" they both said. Pond water is better than Gatorade so what should this have told me? But, I was convinced and bought some Berry flavored Propel energy drink, dumped in my synthetic, probably petroleum based, cleansing powder and set the timer on the stove.
In 45 minutes I had four glasses down and was completely nauseated. I poured glass 5. It sat on the counter as I walked around it, up to it, away from it. I contemplated pouring it down the drain; lying to my Dr and telling him I drank it all and this is the best we could do. Instead, I drank it, gagging the whole time. I reread the instructions. It seemed to say if the other end ran clear I could stop and it seemed about to....run from the other end.
Sue was not the only person I took advice from. My sister complained about her butt. Said it burned something fierce after her prep. This I knew how to handle. On my first of MANY trips to the bathroom I applied Desitin to the soon to be affected area. I got an 'attagirl' from my friend Tammy for being proactive on this account. I note that Tammy is a friend with a special kind of fortitude. She offered to come Potty Bomb my toilet while I am at Same Day Surgery tomorrow. I declined. I like her too much. I also, on my sister's advice bought some aloe infused baby wipes.
It's been a couple of hours now. I've stopped drinking the Propel and now that I write the name of that drink I am sure John and Sue were fucking with me. My nausea has subsided and I have no burning in the lower unit and as they say "all's clear."
Now it's just a waiting game. Tomorrow I will know something. Today what I know is this:
1) I will never be a professional athlete or probably any kind of athlete because I can't stand sports drinks.
2) Next time I do this prep I am going to mix the polyethylene glycol in scotch.
3) Desitin is the best invention in the world and my kids should be thankful beyond belief that I used it on their little bottoms back in the day.
4) Tomorrow a potato chip will never have tasted so good.
and 5) Don't be so trusting of Sue when she is on pain meds. It brings out her mean streak.
Peace boyz and gurlz!
Karen
See, I'm preparing for tomorrows colonoscopy and EGD or in longer form esophagogastroduodensdope - save that one for your next scrabble game. Some unwanted and very annoying GI symptoms have triggered a "look see". So, tomorrow at 9 am I'm going to have things scoped out. Dr Roy, the same surgeon that found Mike's cancer, will be performing the procedure. He's a down to earth, good looking, in a younger Brett Favre kinda way, guy. Why him? Simple! If any man is going to go where no man has gone before, well, I want him to be good looking. Also, if I have to get any kind of disquieting news. I want the man telling me to at least be worth looking at!
Anyhow. Desitin.
There is this prep you have to go through before the "look see." Suffice to say that constipation won't be a problem for the next 24 hours and the Dr will be able to "see himself" in my most darkest recesses. To make this happen there are some little pills and a lot of fluid with polyethylene glycol added to it. One is supposed to mix this in 64 ounces of Gatorade and 2 hours after the little pills drink a glass every 15 minutes until the end result (again no pun intended) is clear. Yup.
Here's where we need to talk about how much I like Gatorade. Not so much. I'd drink pond water first. I said this to our friends John and Sue. Sue has just gone through the same procedure, I don't know about the attractiveness of her surgeon, but I do now know Sue and John are both liars. "Oh, get Propel! It's way better than Gatorade" they both said. Pond water is better than Gatorade so what should this have told me? But, I was convinced and bought some Berry flavored Propel energy drink, dumped in my synthetic, probably petroleum based, cleansing powder and set the timer on the stove.
In 45 minutes I had four glasses down and was completely nauseated. I poured glass 5. It sat on the counter as I walked around it, up to it, away from it. I contemplated pouring it down the drain; lying to my Dr and telling him I drank it all and this is the best we could do. Instead, I drank it, gagging the whole time. I reread the instructions. It seemed to say if the other end ran clear I could stop and it seemed about to....run from the other end.
Sue was not the only person I took advice from. My sister complained about her butt. Said it burned something fierce after her prep. This I knew how to handle. On my first of MANY trips to the bathroom I applied Desitin to the soon to be affected area. I got an 'attagirl' from my friend Tammy for being proactive on this account. I note that Tammy is a friend with a special kind of fortitude. She offered to come Potty Bomb my toilet while I am at Same Day Surgery tomorrow. I declined. I like her too much. I also, on my sister's advice bought some aloe infused baby wipes.
It's been a couple of hours now. I've stopped drinking the Propel and now that I write the name of that drink I am sure John and Sue were fucking with me. My nausea has subsided and I have no burning in the lower unit and as they say "all's clear."
Now it's just a waiting game. Tomorrow I will know something. Today what I know is this:
1) I will never be a professional athlete or probably any kind of athlete because I can't stand sports drinks.
2) Next time I do this prep I am going to mix the polyethylene glycol in scotch.
3) Desitin is the best invention in the world and my kids should be thankful beyond belief that I used it on their little bottoms back in the day.
4) Tomorrow a potato chip will never have tasted so good.
and 5) Don't be so trusting of Sue when she is on pain meds. It brings out her mean streak.
Peace boyz and gurlz!
Karen
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Full Circle
Spring is getting a "do-over". We have 6-8" of new snow outside this morning. Just another fine example of Minnesota weather. But it is only weather.
Yesterday I attended a visitation for Jack Reynolds. He died recently of brain cancer. Jack and his wife, Patty, along with Tom and Yvonne Sunnarborg, started Cancer Connections years ago. Yvonne was one of my first visitors when I had my first cancer back in '91. She is a breast cancer survivor. Jack survived Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Together these couples started a much needed support group to help the rest of us in our journey with cancer. They poured their hearts and souls into the group and kept it going for a long time. Sadly, but with complete understanding, the group has not been in existence for quite a few years. I am sure it took quite a toll on their own lives.
I remember Jack as always smiling and upbeat and fun to be around. He helped many of us so I was shocked and saddened to see his obituary in the paper the other day. I had no idea cancer had returned to his life.
In some ways this has been a tough winter. Jack's passing this week. Dann, a friend from school-also brain cancer and another friend of Jack's, died this winter. Muriel's daughter Margie, had lung cancer last year and now she has been diagnosed with brain cancer. My sister-in-law, Judy, with breast cancer. And Sue, with colon cancer. It is getting to the point where we do not want to hear anything more unless it is good news. Who could blame us? The truth is, we have no choice.
When Karen and I lived in the tipi we learned the power of the circle. We experienced the old saying-"That what goes 'round comes 'round". Pain kept coming back around and around until we converted it to joy. Joy just kept going 'round and 'round by itself. A day like today with wet snow, or worse, rain, would not have been fun in the tipi. I do appreciate a hard roof over my head but I think Karen would agree that we both miss the tipi, miss living in the circle and power it contains.
Given what is happening to friends and loved ones lately I am beginning to wonder if Jack ever felt like he survived so he could help others. It makes me wonder about my own life and why I am alive. It makes me wonder if I am not coming full circle.
For the memory of Jack and Dann and the continued support for Judy, Sue and Margie-
Peace and love to you all,
Mike
Yesterday I attended a visitation for Jack Reynolds. He died recently of brain cancer. Jack and his wife, Patty, along with Tom and Yvonne Sunnarborg, started Cancer Connections years ago. Yvonne was one of my first visitors when I had my first cancer back in '91. She is a breast cancer survivor. Jack survived Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Together these couples started a much needed support group to help the rest of us in our journey with cancer. They poured their hearts and souls into the group and kept it going for a long time. Sadly, but with complete understanding, the group has not been in existence for quite a few years. I am sure it took quite a toll on their own lives.
I remember Jack as always smiling and upbeat and fun to be around. He helped many of us so I was shocked and saddened to see his obituary in the paper the other day. I had no idea cancer had returned to his life.
In some ways this has been a tough winter. Jack's passing this week. Dann, a friend from school-also brain cancer and another friend of Jack's, died this winter. Muriel's daughter Margie, had lung cancer last year and now she has been diagnosed with brain cancer. My sister-in-law, Judy, with breast cancer. And Sue, with colon cancer. It is getting to the point where we do not want to hear anything more unless it is good news. Who could blame us? The truth is, we have no choice.
When Karen and I lived in the tipi we learned the power of the circle. We experienced the old saying-"That what goes 'round comes 'round". Pain kept coming back around and around until we converted it to joy. Joy just kept going 'round and 'round by itself. A day like today with wet snow, or worse, rain, would not have been fun in the tipi. I do appreciate a hard roof over my head but I think Karen would agree that we both miss the tipi, miss living in the circle and power it contains.
Given what is happening to friends and loved ones lately I am beginning to wonder if Jack ever felt like he survived so he could help others. It makes me wonder about my own life and why I am alive. It makes me wonder if I am not coming full circle.
For the memory of Jack and Dann and the continued support for Judy, Sue and Margie-
Peace and love to you all,
Mike
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Orcs are just outside...
They started banging on the windchimes at 4 am; hammering on the perfectly tuned to the key of C chimes, transforming them into clang,bang,banging tuneless chunks of metal. All we need now is the booming bellow of the drums as they pound on the doors. A storm is approaching...
Truly, a winter, no wait, this is spring. A spring snow storm is forecast for today and tomorrow. Snow, maybe lots of snow and wind, but we already know about the wind. Winter is sneaking in behind spring to deliver a last, one hopes it is the last, sucker punch. There is nothing we can do about the storm except prepare as we are able and wait for it to arrive and then, for it to leave. I have to travel to the Cities today and that might be interesting in all sorts of ways that may not be fun. But really, it is just bad weather and it will pass. This is after all, spring. That is what the calendar says.
There is this other storm coming though. One that possesses a much greater potential for true devastation. Like the spring blizzard that we know is coming, we wait and prepare...
The orcs of cancer are pounding on the doors of friends and loved ones. My sister-in-law Judy, has breast cancer and is going in soon for a masectomy. One of my best friends was just diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer. Sue and John are still in the discovery stage of their journey, finding they have more questions than answers. Karen and I know, we remember, what that is like. There is no way to avoid the fears. You have to face them. You have to be angry and cry and curse and rage at the injustice of this most terrible of afflictions. And then, you have to wipe your eyes, bite your lip and start moving.
Movement is the answere. Sue's friend in Wyoming told her the key is Relentless Forward Movement. When I told that to Karen, she nodded. She understood. From years of raising and working with horses, she knew that was wise advice. I am paraphrasing but basically it goes like this "As long as you keep their feet moving you have a chance. When the feet aren't moving, you can't tell what the horse is going to do. Anything can happen then."
So we all keep moving. Terry and Judy, Sue and John. Their daughters, their friends and family, You and I, all of us, keep moving. Keep working on helping to make them better. Send prayers. They are cheap, easy and effective and you don't need a computer or phone to do it. Send love. Send peace. But whatever we do, we need to keep moving. Relentless Forward Movement will be our mantra, and as long as we are fighting the orcs, it can be our battle cry as well. Maybe we can get flags and T-shirts, too?
So, I am going to move now, into the kitchen and scare up something for breakfast. Then I will move to work and later today, I will be moving through the storm to get to the Cities. The key is I will be moving and I will pass through the storm and come out on the other side, tired but safe and alive. This is what we want for Judy and Sue. We need to help them move through the storm to come out on the other side.
The orcs are still banging around on the windchimes like meth-crazed monkeys with crowbars but we are not afraid. We are Relentless Forward Movement.
Peace and love to you all.
Mike
Truly, a winter, no wait, this is spring. A spring snow storm is forecast for today and tomorrow. Snow, maybe lots of snow and wind, but we already know about the wind. Winter is sneaking in behind spring to deliver a last, one hopes it is the last, sucker punch. There is nothing we can do about the storm except prepare as we are able and wait for it to arrive and then, for it to leave. I have to travel to the Cities today and that might be interesting in all sorts of ways that may not be fun. But really, it is just bad weather and it will pass. This is after all, spring. That is what the calendar says.
There is this other storm coming though. One that possesses a much greater potential for true devastation. Like the spring blizzard that we know is coming, we wait and prepare...
The orcs of cancer are pounding on the doors of friends and loved ones. My sister-in-law Judy, has breast cancer and is going in soon for a masectomy. One of my best friends was just diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer. Sue and John are still in the discovery stage of their journey, finding they have more questions than answers. Karen and I know, we remember, what that is like. There is no way to avoid the fears. You have to face them. You have to be angry and cry and curse and rage at the injustice of this most terrible of afflictions. And then, you have to wipe your eyes, bite your lip and start moving.
Movement is the answere. Sue's friend in Wyoming told her the key is Relentless Forward Movement. When I told that to Karen, she nodded. She understood. From years of raising and working with horses, she knew that was wise advice. I am paraphrasing but basically it goes like this "As long as you keep their feet moving you have a chance. When the feet aren't moving, you can't tell what the horse is going to do. Anything can happen then."
So we all keep moving. Terry and Judy, Sue and John. Their daughters, their friends and family, You and I, all of us, keep moving. Keep working on helping to make them better. Send prayers. They are cheap, easy and effective and you don't need a computer or phone to do it. Send love. Send peace. But whatever we do, we need to keep moving. Relentless Forward Movement will be our mantra, and as long as we are fighting the orcs, it can be our battle cry as well. Maybe we can get flags and T-shirts, too?
So, I am going to move now, into the kitchen and scare up something for breakfast. Then I will move to work and later today, I will be moving through the storm to get to the Cities. The key is I will be moving and I will pass through the storm and come out on the other side, tired but safe and alive. This is what we want for Judy and Sue. We need to help them move through the storm to come out on the other side.
The orcs are still banging around on the windchimes like meth-crazed monkeys with crowbars but we are not afraid. We are Relentless Forward Movement.
Peace and love to you all.
Mike
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Relativity
This is not about Einstein, or physics. Nothing about the speed of light or the mass of a photon. It is about gravity; not the force that holds us down, but gravity as in something that is serious, or grave or deadly.
There have been plenty of examples of gravity lately, of those things that are serious; things that lead to the grave. The fighting in Libya where people are dying to be free. The unimaginable horror and devastation that hit Japan. My mind cannot conceive of what these people are suffering. I see brief news clips on-line, or hear stories on the radio but...I distance myself, on purpose. That is a hard admission to make. Taken the wrong way my admission might paint me as some kind of uncaring bastard. I mean, those people really have it rough. What do I have in my life that is more important than reaching out to help those in need?
This is where the relativity comes in. A couple weeks ago my sister-in-law was told she has breast cancer. No one needs cancer. I think I said something to that effect in a blog, long ago. Judy definitely does not need this shit. Terry and Judy were instrumental in my recovery. They journeyed to Bemidji to spend time with us and Terry was a rock when Karen needed one in the long wait for me to come out of surgery. They put us on umpteen prayer chains and checked in on us the whole way. Terry had a pacemaker installed not long ago. They are happily retired, living life and now this.
The past month has been tough for Karen. She was diagnosed with diverticulitis and it has been difficult watching her struggle with the pain and discomfort. She is better now but still wary of what she eats, for fear of triggering another attack.
And we are waiting for news on a dear friend who will be undergoing a biopsy soon. The very word-biopsy- conjures up all the worst we can imagine. So now we are hoping and praying for the best possible report.
So, while all these terrible events are happening on the other side of the world, we have been dealing with things that are in our face, up close and personal. It isn't that none of us involved don't care. It is just that we have these other things that are happening to us, or to our loved ones; our relatives.
I think it is human nature to judge what is happening against what is happening to us, or has happened to us in the past. We gauge our discomfort relative to past experience or what others have experienced. We tend to focus on ourselves and our world because it is immediate and, it is about us. I spent a lot of time this winter focused on what I wanted. I had to have a kind of wake-up call to make me pay better attention to the other very real needs of my life with Karen.
I have been thinking about this for a while. Maybe I should have thought about it more before I put it on the blog. Maybe I should have kept it all to myself but now it is out there. I am not really sure where I am going with this but I think it comes down to these things. Reach out in prayer and peace to those people in Japan and the Mid-East, who are struggling and suffering. Help in whatever ways you are comfortable with. And don't forget about those loved ones and friends that are close to you. Sometimes the best thing we can do to help is to work on those things are closest in our lives. Making our own personal worlds better, making them places of love and peace, does have an impact far beyond what we can see or know.
Peace and love to you all.
Mike
There have been plenty of examples of gravity lately, of those things that are serious; things that lead to the grave. The fighting in Libya where people are dying to be free. The unimaginable horror and devastation that hit Japan. My mind cannot conceive of what these people are suffering. I see brief news clips on-line, or hear stories on the radio but...I distance myself, on purpose. That is a hard admission to make. Taken the wrong way my admission might paint me as some kind of uncaring bastard. I mean, those people really have it rough. What do I have in my life that is more important than reaching out to help those in need?
This is where the relativity comes in. A couple weeks ago my sister-in-law was told she has breast cancer. No one needs cancer. I think I said something to that effect in a blog, long ago. Judy definitely does not need this shit. Terry and Judy were instrumental in my recovery. They journeyed to Bemidji to spend time with us and Terry was a rock when Karen needed one in the long wait for me to come out of surgery. They put us on umpteen prayer chains and checked in on us the whole way. Terry had a pacemaker installed not long ago. They are happily retired, living life and now this.
The past month has been tough for Karen. She was diagnosed with diverticulitis and it has been difficult watching her struggle with the pain and discomfort. She is better now but still wary of what she eats, for fear of triggering another attack.
And we are waiting for news on a dear friend who will be undergoing a biopsy soon. The very word-biopsy- conjures up all the worst we can imagine. So now we are hoping and praying for the best possible report.
So, while all these terrible events are happening on the other side of the world, we have been dealing with things that are in our face, up close and personal. It isn't that none of us involved don't care. It is just that we have these other things that are happening to us, or to our loved ones; our relatives.
I think it is human nature to judge what is happening against what is happening to us, or has happened to us in the past. We gauge our discomfort relative to past experience or what others have experienced. We tend to focus on ourselves and our world because it is immediate and, it is about us. I spent a lot of time this winter focused on what I wanted. I had to have a kind of wake-up call to make me pay better attention to the other very real needs of my life with Karen.
I have been thinking about this for a while. Maybe I should have thought about it more before I put it on the blog. Maybe I should have kept it all to myself but now it is out there. I am not really sure where I am going with this but I think it comes down to these things. Reach out in prayer and peace to those people in Japan and the Mid-East, who are struggling and suffering. Help in whatever ways you are comfortable with. And don't forget about those loved ones and friends that are close to you. Sometimes the best thing we can do to help is to work on those things are closest in our lives. Making our own personal worlds better, making them places of love and peace, does have an impact far beyond what we can see or know.
Peace and love to you all.
Mike
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Seven Plagues of Egypt
Just call me Job. For the past month and a half I have had one thing or another and I have to point out it all started with trying to get into better shape.
I bought a Gazelle, which is a gliding thing with no electrical parts (just in case we end up back in the tipi). It's kinda like cross country skiing with out the skinny little skis to fall off of. I could have gotten a Nordic Track, and there are a lot of free ones on Craig's List, which should be a clue as to how much fun they are, but in all the times I've tried them I've injured myself. So, it's a Gazelle.
Now, maybe I should have gone slower or maybe all this was inevitable anyhow but, I got on that thing and went to town. Seven days later I found myself in the worst Fibromyalgia flare in the history of me. This was not only painful but pissed me off. I bought the Gazelle to help get into shape. To help alleviate pain. To help get strong and there I was flat on my back. A trip to the doctor and a prescription later I was on the way to recovery. Oh, and no Gazelling for 10 days. I did research, I contacted my physical therapist friend. I needed to start out slower on the exercise thing. WAY slower.
At day eight of my exercise ban, just when I was getting excited about getting back on and gliding into health, I got the flu. Again, flat on my back. Chest congestion, coughing, nausea, high fever, headache, skin hurting flu. That hung out for about a week. Then, well, you know, the monthly girl thing showed up.
Finally, eleven days and a ton of research ago I put on my exercise clothes, dialed ZZ Top into my IPod and got back on the horse or antelope if you will. I put in my ten, yes you heard that, ten minutes and stepped off. Okay, so it was going to be really slow, still, I did something. The next morning I woke up, at two in the morning, with abdominal pain.
A trip to the Walk-In Clinic at Sanford Health and a CT scan later showed I had diverticulitis. Antibiotics, 2500 mg a day of antibiotics, was prescribed as was a clear liquid diet for 48 hours, advance your diet as tolerated and eat plenty of fiber. I was out flat again. A week off work with no energy to do anything but watch Ice Road Truckers and when that was done start Ax Men on Netflix. One day into work. Then flat out for two days again. The antibiotics made me sick to my stomach and gave me a metallic taste in my mouth. I called MY doctor this time. Her nurse, god bless her she's my hero, said, and I quote "root beer". Root beer turns out to be the antidote for the nausea caused by the one antibiotic (Flagyl). In 24 hours I was feeling better!
Yesterday I woke up with "that little itch" down in the nether-parts. I zoomed to Walgreens before work and picked up the supplies. Later, in the day, as I had a few bites of a co-worker birthday cake I noticed my tongue felt like fur. So did the roof of my mouth. I went to the lavatory, swished and stuck my tongue out. THRUSH! I called my doctor. She called a prescription.
Today is my last day on antibiotics. I'm looking forward to feeling better. Still, I have this sense of what next? I said to Mike last night as we shook hands good night....oh wait let me digress a moment. Here are the avenues of pleasure that have been cut off to me: alcohol, food, sex, and now kissing because of the thrush. My knitting friends reminded me I still have that. So, as Mike and I shook hands good night I mentioned that at least I haven't had an allergic reaction to the medications. But today's not over. I'll keep you posted! In the meantime, just call me Job.
Peace,
Karen
PS: There may be a Gazelle posting in Craig's List Bemidji
I bought a Gazelle, which is a gliding thing with no electrical parts (just in case we end up back in the tipi). It's kinda like cross country skiing with out the skinny little skis to fall off of. I could have gotten a Nordic Track, and there are a lot of free ones on Craig's List, which should be a clue as to how much fun they are, but in all the times I've tried them I've injured myself. So, it's a Gazelle.
Now, maybe I should have gone slower or maybe all this was inevitable anyhow but, I got on that thing and went to town. Seven days later I found myself in the worst Fibromyalgia flare in the history of me. This was not only painful but pissed me off. I bought the Gazelle to help get into shape. To help alleviate pain. To help get strong and there I was flat on my back. A trip to the doctor and a prescription later I was on the way to recovery. Oh, and no Gazelling for 10 days. I did research, I contacted my physical therapist friend. I needed to start out slower on the exercise thing. WAY slower.
At day eight of my exercise ban, just when I was getting excited about getting back on and gliding into health, I got the flu. Again, flat on my back. Chest congestion, coughing, nausea, high fever, headache, skin hurting flu. That hung out for about a week. Then, well, you know, the monthly girl thing showed up.
Finally, eleven days and a ton of research ago I put on my exercise clothes, dialed ZZ Top into my IPod and got back on the horse or antelope if you will. I put in my ten, yes you heard that, ten minutes and stepped off. Okay, so it was going to be really slow, still, I did something. The next morning I woke up, at two in the morning, with abdominal pain.
A trip to the Walk-In Clinic at Sanford Health and a CT scan later showed I had diverticulitis. Antibiotics, 2500 mg a day of antibiotics, was prescribed as was a clear liquid diet for 48 hours, advance your diet as tolerated and eat plenty of fiber. I was out flat again. A week off work with no energy to do anything but watch Ice Road Truckers and when that was done start Ax Men on Netflix. One day into work. Then flat out for two days again. The antibiotics made me sick to my stomach and gave me a metallic taste in my mouth. I called MY doctor this time. Her nurse, god bless her she's my hero, said, and I quote "root beer". Root beer turns out to be the antidote for the nausea caused by the one antibiotic (Flagyl). In 24 hours I was feeling better!
Yesterday I woke up with "that little itch" down in the nether-parts. I zoomed to Walgreens before work and picked up the supplies. Later, in the day, as I had a few bites of a co-worker birthday cake I noticed my tongue felt like fur. So did the roof of my mouth. I went to the lavatory, swished and stuck my tongue out. THRUSH! I called my doctor. She called a prescription.
Today is my last day on antibiotics. I'm looking forward to feeling better. Still, I have this sense of what next? I said to Mike last night as we shook hands good night....oh wait let me digress a moment. Here are the avenues of pleasure that have been cut off to me: alcohol, food, sex, and now kissing because of the thrush. My knitting friends reminded me I still have that. So, as Mike and I shook hands good night I mentioned that at least I haven't had an allergic reaction to the medications. But today's not over. I'll keep you posted! In the meantime, just call me Job.
Peace,
Karen
PS: There may be a Gazelle posting in Craig's List Bemidji
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Whiskey Jack Savage
On Monday, Mike and I along with John and Sue (aka Tibby) Tibstra took ourselves out into the sub zero weather for a little walk along the river in the snow. Songs were sung - we talked album - trail was broken - we each took turns though I think John "Legs" Tibstra did more than his fair share. Sue and I being low slung vehicles mostly pushed snow aside with our thighs. Still we kept up with those who had a little more clearance and were exceptionally good sports, if not a tad competitive, when the boys decided flat land was enough and UP was the chosen route.I took my snowshoes off and used them kinda like crutches. Sue grabbed onto anything to help haul herself up to the top where John stood laughing. Mike brought up the tail, no doubt to make sure all the party made it safely up.
Were we cold? Nope. Wringing sweat bombs is what we were. Layers were shed and what Tibby calls *"black loads" were thrown into the washing machines back home. We drank sweet cranberry-apple tea, ate chocolates from the local candy shop and sang on the way home. Maybe there is a record deal in our future.
Our little trip was just what we all needed. A little hard work and a lot of fun for a bunch of old folks. But, the questions that is still out there is, can we walk today? Mostly. It's tomorrow I worry about.
Peace,
Karen
BTW...we are thinking about naming the band Whiskey Jack Savage
*a black load is just what it sounds like since almost all our longies are black.
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