Dear Facebook..

Standard

Visceral hypersensitivity. I was told about 6 weeks ago I have this. It is directly related to IBS, and is easier for me to just call it severe IBS. Technically it isn’t.

Link below.

http://gut.bmj.com/content/48/1/125.full

Read.

Learn.

Understand.

I have this. It is very much related to everything else I deal with. I still have the other stuff. That did not go away either. I am treating them. Working on them. Dealing with them daily. I am glad I am feeling better than I was before. That being said…

It pretty much will control my life until I get it under control. Even then, it will control nearly everything I do. What I eat. Where I go. WHEN I go. What I do when I am there.

woman-frustrated-frustration-angry-argh-laptop-notebook-600x400 There is no quick or easy fix. For any of these. It takes time. Healing. Finding the right diet balance. Maybe the right medication. Maybe a nice mix of both.

Elimination. Additions. Testing. Food journals. Successes. Failures. Relapses. Anger. Frustrations. None of this is easy, or fun. I know I am no longer fun either. I can see it in your face. Hear it in your voice. Notice it in your absences.

How will I get back to normal? I won’t know until I get there…

I am not asking for you to be sorry for me, just to understand me. If you don’t want to know how I am, don’t ask. I will tell you. Sometimes I politely say “Fine” because I know that is what you want to hear.. but I would prefer you just don’t ask me. We can still talk and hang out, but understand that if I don’t come, I am not rejecting your invites to be a jerk. Why stop inviting me? Because I am no longer fun.

I want to go. I want to be fun. I want to be there. My wants don’t control my body anymore. You think it is a choice? You think I do this to myself? No. Educate yourself.

So…

Quit being a jerk to me about it. If you can’t handle it, then don’t pretend to still be interested in my friendship. Walk away. I would rather lose you than think you are on my side, when really you are behind my back mocking me. Talking about me. Saying those terrible things that just aren’t true because you are ignorant to what is happening. Just walk away. Walk away and stop being fake. You’re not doing anyone a favor. Not me, and not you.

Advertisements

I’m Just That Kind Of Person…

Standard

I often think about writing motivational speeches to myself, even with the knowledge that is total bs, just in hopes that I’ll actually believe myself one day.

12.21.TrulyMotivationalSpeech_670556961 Not the standard “you can”, “you are”, “just keep swimming” speeches, but intense, long ones with specifics about my life. I am aware “positive thoughts bring positive forces” is actually only your perspective of a situation. Someone trying to merge in front of you on the freeway would be nothing to bother with one day, but on a bad day it could result in the morning being even more ruined!!! Bad things happen all around us every day, and so do good. It just depends on what you think of that moment. See? Some kind of motivating blah blah, though these are already my daily goings about.

My problem is that even when written by me, taking about my goals… I’ll still think it’s total bs. I’m just that kind of person.

Lucky, Lucky Me…

Standard

This morning I woke up incredibly sore. My 4 year old had climbed into my bed during the night, no doubt to waking up feeling strange since I moved her sister into another room yesterday. Now my two that are currently home are not sharing a room. This is a huge relief for me, as bedtime and punishments are going to go much smoother. My punishments of sending to the room are more of my girls taking a breather. The corner and chores are for REAL punishments; but I digress.

I woke up with sore arms, legs, back, and neck. I am sure I had slept funny, since I was knocked out by medications instead of falling asleep on my own. I have to ensure I am in a good position before I nod off, otherwise I will likely stay with my head slightly tilted, and wake up with a stiff neck. This is also partially due to the disks being destroyed in my neck. Almost anything can cause my neck to twinge and ache, unless I am careful.

Looking at the clock it was 7am. I needed to be to work in an hour, and have a 25 minute drive. CoolClock I immediately decided that my hair and face were last on the list of things that needed to be done today. Getting out of bed, I put my aching feet on the floor. They screamed at me to get back in bed; feeling like I had stepped on a pile of broken glass, as well as swelling and burning. As usual, I ignored them and did that funny walk I have to do into the bathroom. Flipping on the light I could see that the small amount of makeup I had applied yesterday was all cleanly washed away by the hours of tears I had shed. My eyes were only slightly swollen and red, so a tiny bit of concealer and some mascara would hide that away. It took less than 30 seconds for my face, and less than a minute to pull my hair into a messy, curly ponytail. Good enough for me.

I yelled out to my already awake and playing kids to get their own clothes on, and settled into finding mine. Of course, today was a plain jeans and t-shirt day. Easy to find ones that fit right now, as I have dropped 20 lbs since I suffered through the bowel obstruction a few weeks ago. Not anything that changes how I look to those around me, but enough that I can feel my clothes getting a bit more loose. Good for when my skin is ultra sensitive, as it is today. Throw on my favorite striped hoodie, and I am good to go. I was already sore, exhausted, and my heart hurt. What a typical day for those of us who suffer from any type of chronic illness. After using the bathroom, we can add a sore ass to that pain. I sure do love fissures, don’t you?

Going into the hall I could see my 7 year old all ready to go, tying her shoes as fast as she could. She knew mom meant business. She knows that I am entirely heartbroken over what happened to my pet Bobbi The Rabbit. The youngest, however, was still pantless and dancing around in her own special amusement. Pretty typical of my carefree curly headed baby girl. At 4 years old, she towers over all of the other kids her age, and looks more like she would fit into the first grade. This causes her to be clumsy, and fumble over herself constantly. This also means that she has more accidents, and accidentally causes harm where if she were a normal sized 4 yr old, no harm would be done. Throwing a pair of cropped pants her way, I insisted she hustle, or get left. The good thing about curly hair is that it always looks intentionally messy. No need to fight this girl on her crazy locks. Let it go, and let’s go.

After dropping my girls at the daycare, I hurried down the highway towards the freeway that would lead straight to the office. Recently I had my car worked on, due to a hole in my radiator, and had found to have random car troubles since. I did find it peculiar that there was a small puddle under my car this morning, though I figured it was just from the sprinklers. I took a few photos just in case. Back to driving down the highway, I happened to look down and notice my thermostat was going crazy. hqdefault I flipped on the heat. Nothing. Cold air. GREAT! This means I was COMPLETELY out of fluid. This is a double concern because I filled the car to the brim no less than a week ago, and obviously because of the puddle. My car was about to blow. FANTASTIC! It was a good sign that no smoke was coming out of the car, as that would mean it had likely blown a gasket, or another radiator hole. There was a McDonalds no more than a block away.

After popping in the hood I was able to confirm my suspicions. There was fluid leaking near the radiator, which looked like it was at the end of it’s ropes, and my overflow was empty. I had 20 minutes to get to work, and it was very apparent that was not going to happen. Just like any child in a stressful and binding situation… I called my mommy. I called her and belted out my frustrations, my complete unwillingness to work with the mechanic’s shop again, and begged for some help. I always seem to end up having one of my amazing crisis’s on her day off. Lucky, lucky me. I get to wait in the McDonald’s for as long as needed until my mom can come get me and whisk me off to work. Luckily I have a friend whose husband is a mechanic, and would take a look at it for me later today. Lucky, lucky me.

So, here I am on my lunch break. Trying to keep my head in the game, and not think about all my ailments. Not think about the isolation that I feel, and the unhappiness that is always lingering around me. I have multiple client accounts to work on today, which only three out of the 10 accounts that need vital attention are actually mine. As an escalation and client concerns manager I deal with this daily. I do not mind having to do this as part of my job, as I am quite good at it. Anything that I can successfully do at this point makes me incredibly happy. That being said, on days where everything continuously blows up in my face, it can be stressful. That has been the last month for me. Lucky, lucky me.

I don’t want to deal with any aspect of my life right now. I have the urge to just run away, and let someone else deal with it. To hide away from the world, and not even have anyone know who I am and what I am. I don’t want to take my meds, because I don’t want to have these illnesses. I don’t want to have to make the hard decisions. The little decisions. ANY decisions. It would be nice if I could get a break. One that happens not only because I am too ill to get out of bed. Though I appreciate the breaks from the running around of my children and life on those days, I would love a break on a good day. I would love to get out and just do things for me! On a good day! Instead I am at the point where my anxiety is high, and I want to run. Run away.

Lucky, lucky me.

Waking Hours

Standard

I woke up this morning to my teenager tapping me on the arm and wiggling me around. I had asked her to make sure I woke up to my alarm, as I tend to sleep through all 9 that I set. I have a hard time sleeping, but when I sleep, I sleep hard. It was 6:15am. I did NOT want to get up. Of course I moaned and groaned about it, slipping in and out of sleep, for another 30 minutes until I finally dragged my ass out of bed. Usually I get the girls dressed, get myself dressed, then do my hair and makeup with whatever time I had left. I decided that today I was too lazy to go up and down the stairs so much, so I would do hair and makeup first.

Once my eyes got used to the light, I stood in front of the mirror. Mascara smeared below my eyes from yesterday, and my hair all over the place. I washed my face, wiped all the left over makeup off that I was too lazy to address last night, and stared at myself again. “My hair is a wreck”, I thought. I had mildly wet/damp hair when I went to bed the night before, not even bothering to pull it up or deal with what it would be tomorrow. Standing there now I decided I should have rethought this. I could put my hair up in a ponytail or bun, but that would risk me getting a headache I always gets from pulling my crazy locks up. My natural hair has a lot of volume and a kind of beachy waves meets afro curls kind of thing going on. “Hair cream?”
I ran my fingers through the mess on top of my head, hanging upside down for good measure, like we have all seen women do, and rubbing in the hair cream as much as I could. Standing straight again I looked myself over. Still a mess. I no longer cared. Applying a small amount of powder to my skin, brown liner and powder to my eye lids, and a bit of mascara I threw on my glasses and headed downstairs.

There was my 7 year old, short blond bobbed hair a mess and no shoes or socks, playing MineCraft like always. I became the meanest mommy on the planet when I shut the game off without even addressing her defiance. The hair and shoes battle was mighty, but I won! On most levels. She didn’t speak to or look at me until I dropped her off in front of her school 20 minutes later. The littlest was so proud of herself for finding a purple dress that looks like a shirt and skirt, but is one piece before I had to ask her to do so. She is not allowed to wear dresses or skirts without anything underneath, and was EXTRA proud of the jean shorts she hid under the frills of the outfit. She paired it with black boots, and her adorable little curls. Her light brown skin dawned a bandaid on her leg, a few uncovered scratches, some random food on her cheek, and the typical bruising an extremely active (yet clumsy) 4 year old has. She looked like a perfect little bruised up doll!

Turning to find my own clothes in the pile of laundry sitting in a basket in my living room, I noticed some teenage angst stewing on a chair at the dining table. “I hate my fat butt!”, she told me. I couldn’t help but laugh, but I understand where she is coming from. From the time I was a young teenager I have been graced with a curvy body as well. People thinking I was 17, sometimes even 18, from the age 13 and up, I was deemed a full grown woman before I even knew how to handle that or my own body. She is no different. She complained in that awesome teenager tone about going up three pants sizes in one summer, though she has not gained that much weight. Sifting through the laundry for my own clothes for the day, I just shook my head because I know exactly how she feels, but I also know there is nothing that can be done about it.

I have been trying to complain less to people I know, though my pain levels and misery hasn’t really changed. I recently went to a new gastroenterologist who told me I have both IBS, as well as a section of my lower intestines that is damaged. I have developed both hemorrhoids and polyps on the inside of my gut which are the cause of the bleeds. HE gave me the choice to either go have the section of my intestines removed, which can cause risk of incontinence, or to do a non invasive scoping. The scoping will consist of them going in, finding an issue area and literally putting a tiny rubberband around the polyp. This will then cut off circulation and cause it to fall off. We will go in every three weeks and do this. There is slight risk for hemorrhaging, as well as infection, however it is SIGNIFICANTLY lower than if we did surgery. I obviously chose the banding procedure. So lovely.

On a positive note my leg is healing well, and I am out of the boot. I am now driving again (2 weeks!) and am in the brace. My Dr said that he doesn’t need to see me again for the break unless something else happens, or if the physical therapist thinks that I need to go back. The pain is still in my leg, and I have a funny limp now, but that might go away after time. We talked about both my right and my left leg, as I tore ligaments in both while only breaking the right. I still have stronger pains in the my ankles than I ever did before the accident, and he said that after damage like this, I can expect to have stronger pains for about 18-24 months. Sometimes the pain sticks around. It is impossible to tell. I am, however, free to return to the cycling and elliptical exercise if I wish. I can swim, walk, etc without the brace, if comfortable. I just need to cry not to trip over my own damn feet and cause another accident. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

As I sit down at my desk, I am reminded of the shoulder pain that has not gone away, and the new shoulder pain on the left side of my body. I don’t want to go see another orthopedic surgeon about my issues with my shoulders, as now I have had my ankles, knees, hands, elbows, guts, spine, neck, and shoulders addressed. The major ones causing me to see a specialist and rack up even more past due medical bills. I am just not excited to do either. I figure I will give it time to see if it resolves, and if in a few months they are STILL this bad, I will go in to see my Rheumatologist specifically. At least he will be educated enough on my body to send me to someone legit, like he did with my gastro. I hated my last gastro! Reaching for the mouse hurts. Typing hurts. Moving my arm around back and forth from the mouse to the keyboard hurts. What is new about pain, right? New pain doesn’t always equate to new symptoms, however.

I keep thinking about chronic illness as a whole. When you have a chronic illness you really have to monitor your body, food, activities, and life. It is much harder to “be up for anything” because anything could literally knock me on my ass and cause me to be bedridden for a month! I have been very good about my activity limitations, and though I want to get out there more, I keep coming up with excuses. Yes, they may be legitimate reasons, but they feel like excuses.

My leg is broken.

I am flaring.

I am too tired.

I want to use my energy for something else.

The kids will wear me out.

I can’t afford it right now.

I can’t risk getting hurt.

All of these are legitimate, but all of these can be applied to ANY situation I want to get out of. Yes, I need to be careful, but I feel like my careful has become “hermit-full” and is no longer me just trying to keep my body together. I woke up this morning, and made choices on how I was going to begin my day. I actually feel pretty decent, minus the shoulder pains. I can walk; I have a limp, but I can walk! I can drive! I can move, and get around. I can still laugh and smile! I can still be just as fun. I am still me inside, I swear it! I just need to stop making excuses.

I truly have to find some extra motivation every day. Motivation to get up, dressed, makeup, hair, etc. Sometimes my day ends up like today. Messy hair, half assed makeup, and simple jeans/plain t-shirt/tennis shoes combo. Other days can end up with a bun, others I can go to work looking like I just came from the salon. But I know my body more than I used to, and each day I can motivate myself to do what is within my limits. I choose what those limits are used for. The dishes can wait. The laundry can sit in the livingroom. The bathrooms can get wiped down tomorrow. Today I am going swimming with my kids.

I woke up today, which is more than I can say for so many who suffer from medical ailments. What are you going to do with your waking hours?

You’re Not Preferred..

Standard

So here I sit. It is past 2am, I am in desperate need for a shower, and my mind is racing a million miles per hour.

My leg is almost healed, and though I am supposed to be going to physical therapy twice a week, I have yet to do so. I want to get my car back down to me (it is getting registered by my lovely mom right now since I work the hours to get it done) and then make the appointments. My ankle is still achy, and feels tight. My toes are half numb all the time, but apparently that is normal with this kind of break. Could take years to get the feeling back, if ever. I am still wearing my boot to work, but wear an athletic brace at home. I am still very inactive, and because of this I have gotten even FATTER! I am not really concerned about how I look right now, as I am more worried about getting my health back on track. I eat decently healthy most of the time, but am VERY inactive due to the illnesses/flares I have endured lately as well as the broken leg. I haven’t been this fat in over 10 years. SO strange to have my clothes not fit me again. To be the fat one waddling around the office. I am not really self conscious, because once again, I am more worried about other things. The time will come when I can be more active, and my useless piled on weight will start to fall off again. Now is not that time.. but I have been thinking a bit..

When I was thinner, just about 18 months ago, I actually looked pretty good. I was larger than I wanted by about 20 lbs, but I looked great for having 4 kids. I was then, as I am now, pretty confident in myself. There was only one problem: Him. Jeff. I remember feeling so good about myself, and often times very sexy. I would walk the halls at work, and know I was attractive. I would go home, let my hair down, wash my face and STILL feel so beautiful and attractive. Then the conversation would come up, and I would be reminded that he wanted me thinner. man-checking-out-other-woman He was interested in thinner women. I was LARGER than he preferred, “but he loved me anyway”. I have never understood the ‘love you anyway’ concept in a relationship. If you love someone, you love them how they are. You do not prefer a better version of them. Especially a version you have never seen, or maybe they have never been!! Knowing your sexual and emotional partner prefers someone who is smaller than you are, especially when going through health issues (I was two years into my dilemma) is incredibly hurtful. I remember standing in front of the mirror, tears streaming down my face, as I poked at the soft spots I knew he was referring to. I had given birth to, and fed 4 babies with my body. I was going through the worst pain and misery I had in my entire life with my health, and I wasn’t good enough in his eyes.

“I prefer…” – This can be such a crushing moment for anyone. Male or female. A woman tells a man she prefers men who are hairless; to her wolf like mate. “I prefer hairless men… but I love you anyway.” – This stands that there is STILL a preference, a BETTER version, if you will, of the person standing before them. “I prefer women with larger breasts… but I love you anyway.” – Here stands a crushed woman, knowing that he would much prefer her body be so different, instead of cherishing and loving every inch. We all have “preferences” of the kind of mate we go after, but if you are pursuing a person who does not fit your most wanted qualities, what are you doing? Now, that is not always the case. Sometimes someone is not your type, and yet you fall madly for them for the wonderful person they are. What then? Do you inform them of your preferences and let them know you “love them” despite them being somewhat unattractive to you? I know it is such a fine line to cross, but it is one that in a relationship you do not want to barge through. It has been over 15 months since we split, and here I am, still wounded knowing a man I was with did not accept my body as it was. Nor did the man before him post baby. I can’t help but to wonder what kind of men I get myself involved with that would be so unaccepting and unloving of such a beautiful thing as a mother’s body.

So here I sit, 2:30am on a Monday morning. I need to be up for work in 6 hours, and I still haven’t showered. Thinking on what my body means to me and to others. I look at my swollen belly, my oversized arms, and my “thunder thighs” and can’t help but to think what a mess they would think me to be. How judged I would be by those who I have shared my bed with. How they would likely scowl and make jokes of my current health problems.

art-SHE-fat-20130606193605324870-620x349 “She’s gotten so fat!”

“Wow! I really dodged a bullet there!”

“Ew! Look at that! Good thing I am not with her anymore! DAMN!”

“No wonder she is still single! GROSS!”

Once again, looking over my body, I can’t help to see what I am. A tough girl. A very, very tough woman. I am what I am right now, and I accept what I am. I prefer to look over myself and think:

“I live through this pain every day. My body carries a heavy weight right now, both physically and emotionally. My body is strong in all it’s weakness. I am amazing. I am beautiful. Each and every inch of me is perfect just as I am right now. One day at a time.”

I don’t look in the mirror and see my fat. The rolls on me even seem foreign and strange to me some days. What I see is beautiful me. I see a strong woman who is fighting with all that she has for herself, and her family. For her health and her love. Getting my life as collected as possible, all while fighting a painful and hard battle. I do not see someone who needs to change. I see what I am today made by my decisions thus far. I do not see someone who is unattractive and unwanted. I see a beautiful, strong woman who can take anything that is thrown her way! Anything that tries to knock her down is thwarted, and she rises. The pounds on the scale do not bother me like they did when I was with him. I weighed myself multiple times a week when we were together. I measured, sucked in, cried… sobbed even… and felt awful about myself almost daily. I was “not enough” – “not preferred” but tolerated. Waiting for me to change into the women he thought I should be, while I accepted him (Not gracefully, I must admit. I suck at relationships) just as he was. There was no “preferred” him I wanted. There was just… him. As much as he thought otherwise, I assume from his want for me to be different, I loved him as he was. Every inch, pound, hair, and big nose on him. Perhaps that is why his words of hurt have lingered for so long… but perhaps it is part of why I am what I am today. Why I can look in the mirror now and say, “Fuck that dude. You are awesome!” – And poke myself in my jiggly belly, because I know that tomorrow is another day, and everything about me today is perfect. Every flaw. Every stretch mark. Every little imperfection anyone else would see. I am me, and I am awesome.

I Am Literally Broken…

Standard

As someone with chronic illness, I often refer to myself as broken. My immune system does not function properly, and this makes me feel broken. It is broken. I am broken. I suffer from both osteo and rheumatoid arthritis. Celiac disease, pelvic congestion disorder, ovarian cysts, chronic sebaceous cysts, fibromyalgia, and was recently told to go get tested for both crohns and ulcerative colitis. A few weeks ago I spent the night in the ER due to unmanageable lower abdominal pain. I figured it was an ovarian cyst or two being a huge pain and refusing to pop, or had popped and was doing something crazy inside to cause the pain. The only reason I went in is that it had suddenly worsened and had no reaction to any of the pain meds I fed it. I had been having severe but manageable abdominal pain for about 4 days, and was eating as raw as I possibly could, but this was FAR more than anything I had experienced in this location for years! This, however, was not a cyst. It was not my bladder or my kidneys. It was not anything they could find in my blood, minus some inflammation. Nothing else was going on that they could find, and like I said, they suggested I get tested for crohns and ulcerative colitis. curled up in pain The pain was awful. They sent me home with lortabs and a suggestion to see my Dr. I knew it was pointless right now, and I hate my gastroenterologist. I figured if it kept going like this for more than a week, I would have no choice to go. It has since calmed down, and though I plan on finding a new gastro, I have yet to do so.

Over the last few weeks I have had my moments of pain, of good days, terrible days, and everything in between. I have been in and out of team lead meetings, rewriting training manuals, etc. It has been full of team lunches, fun work games, taking kids out to the park, bbqs, and other things that reminded me that though I am sick, life is great. I made the decision to send my oldest off to her grandparents house for the summer. She has been doing typical teenage girl things; screaming, crying, fits, boys, friends, breaking rules, etc. She was a bit upset with me, but right now I feel it really is the best choice for her at this time. Her family was so excited to be able to see her, and my little girls could really use a break from the overly reactive bigger sister. We love our sissy girl, but a summer of 9 hours a day at home alone, no supervision and a boyfriend within walking distance? I think not. I just couldn’t.

This week has been full of escalations, meetings, and investors coming through the office. I have been backed up with client meetings but doing a pretty good job. I am proud to say I have saved the company I work for over a grand this week alone, and resolved multiple client concerns. I really like being the escalations manager, and though some clients I talk to frustrate me, I am really good at hiding it and keeping my cool. I leave work feeling like I have accomplished so much when I have made a client happy and saved our company having issues. On that note, I am still getting new clients for me to manager sent my way now and then. After my Welcoming Call on Wednesday, I rushed into a team meeting I was late for. We are reworking the way our department functions on a daily basis which is going to allow us to be more productive and possibly grow at a faster rate. I hit right at the end, got the general gist, but had to rush off to another client meeting.

Empty office room This meeting was to be between myself, another Account Manager, an upset client and her partner. There was some difficulty with her site, and we have been trying to get things worked out. Unfortunately the Account Manager I was to work with left earlier in the day with kidney stones. Poor guy has been suffering from them for months, and has even looked like death before being rushed off to the ER. As I left my boss’s office, feeling confident in my cute new skirt, wedged shoes and blouse combo… something happened. I partially tore some ligaments in my left ankle over a month ago and was still healing. As I turned to walk to my desk this ankle gave underneath me. Twisting and tearing, I could hear the pop, and went to catch myself with my right foot. As soon as my right foot hit the ground it slipped out from under me and I heard a loud crack. I hit the ground with more force than I thought I would, and pain shot through both of my legs. Coworkers started running over and asking me if I was alright; offering to help me up. I pulled my legs out from under me, and I could feel the damage. It all happened so fast, but I shooed most of my friends away, telling them I was fine and smiling as they walked away. I started to direct my boss on how to handle the call I was obviously going to miss, but was quickly shut down. They were all so blown away that I was on the ground, both legs swelling up before their eyes, and still making sure all my meetings were covered. Even “Jackass” told me to stop worrying about my clients and worry about myself. They have me covered! The rest of the crowd started to dissipate.

I turned to my Princess Friend, looked her straight in the eye and said, “I am not ok. I am almost positive I broke my leg and sprained my other one.”

It was a process to get me into a chair, rolled into the elevator and out the door. I was in excruciating pain, but I did not falter. I did not cry out, I did not scream, I did not shed a tear. My coworkers clapped as I was rolled past their cubicles, and I told them to knock it off! I couldn’t help but laugh as I told them all it wasn’t funny! Such a pain, those coworkers of mine, but so wonderful. A few of the stronger men followed and walked with me out to the car. Pushing Chair They lifted me into my Princess’s passenger seat, as she had insisted on being my personal ambulance. She was so upset that I had never reached out to her when I was in the ER for my intestinal pain, as she never wants me to have to suffer alone. She would have come running at the drop of a hat to make sure that I was ok. So she was to be my savior for the day, take me to the ER, and be there every step of the way. And she was. SO MUCH!

Once at the ER we were in the door fairly quickly, examined, and into Xray within 45 minutes of arrival. The Xray tech was named Jeff and was really actually pretty funny. He responded very well to my sarcasm, and was wondering why I was not showing that I was in pain at all, though looking over my swollen and broken looking legs you could tell that I was suffering. I had just had Princess help me pee (that was funny), was given two lortabs, and sent on my way. The back and forth banter between Xray Jeff and I was a nice distraction from the growing pain inside. PLEASE JUST LET THE TABS KICK IN! – The Xrays were NOT fun at all, and in an all joking manner he called out in triumph when I cringed during one of the Xrays. He felt like he had broken down my wall of pain mastery, and saw what was really going on inside! It was actually sort of cute, and I found myself wanting to talk more to him. I didn’t follow through, mainly because I was in too much pain to appropriately flirt, and was almost positive I was not going to be able to walk for awhile. This can put a damper on any type of new found friendship. So lame.

Once back in the room, Princess and I arranged for my girls to be picked up and we tried to call my mom. My mom had told me she was coming down the next day to help me clean my house, so it was almost perfect timing for me to injure myself. Having her come down that night instead of the next day would be very likely and so helpful for me. The doctor popped his head in the door and announced that my ankle was in fact broken. He pulled up the Xrays and showed me the snapped fibula bone. xr-ankle-FweberB-ap-250-label The gap in my ankle bone and the tibia, which may be a problem, but we will have to wait for the swelling to go down. Princess continued to ask him question after question about my illness and how it will relate to healing. What I need to do. How I am going to get around with not one, BUT TWO legs I can’t use. He suggested I at least try to use crutches and just figure out how to utilized my severely sprained ankle. He then left the room, and never returned. Princess was fuming.

You know, I am really lucky to have such wonderful people in my life, and Princess has always been so good to me. She knows what it is like to have chronic illnesses; having celiac disease and asthma, she is more understanding than most of my friends. She is protective, caring, and more than happy to go out of her way to help those she loves. I just happen to be someone she loves, and I love her back. She went on and on to me about making sure I see both the orthopedic surgeon asap, as well as my rheumatologist as soon as I can. She was so very concerned that I was not going to get the treatment that I need, and that I would not heal properly. She wanted to take care of me, and I let her. I never let anyone take care of me, so it was about time I let go and let someone. I did.

After I was set up with a boot on the right leg, and a stirrup splint on the left, we headed out to fill my prescription of pain meds. I stayed in the car while Princess ran inside, texting me for info she needed. She returned with a bag of gluten free goodies, and my drugs. I can honestly say that this was the nicest thing anyone has done for me in as long as I can remember. As broken and hurt as I was, I had been surrounded with loving and caring people. My coworkers are awesome people, and took great care of me. I have been getting emails, texts, and other inquiries from so many people asking how I am, it really makes sitting at home with two out of commissions legs, unable to walk.. so much better.

There is so much more that has happened, even since Wednesday when I took this crash, but I am not going to go into that. Here I sit alone today, kids at daycare (thanks to Princess stopping by to pick them up on her way to work), watching Netflix and eating gluten free Oreos substitutes. Another good work friend is coming over to bring me lunch, and tonight Princess and Lovely are going to come to help me shower. We will see how that goes. Keep your fingers crossed, as these breaks have cause a flare up in all my joints, my muscles are killing me, and my sinus infection is going nuts. 105-0504_img_2 My mom helped me arrange my livingroom into a basic living space, surrounded by pillows! The coffee table is pulled over and up against the couch, where I am going to be living for the next few days, maybe even weeks, depending on how much time I need to rest myself in order to heal and return to life.

My feet are both bruised. Legs will both randomly go numb. Since some of the swelling has gone down, when I move I can feel the bones shift and pop. My throat is dry, I am exhausted but can’t sleep. We have made arrangements for my youngest to go with her dad for the entire weekend, and for my middle child to stay with me. She can help me get water and other random things I will need that I can’t get myself. Middle child is pretty good at taking care of herself, and my mom bought some items that are easy for her to get so she can feed herself this weekend. Monday morning I am going to see the Dr, which my mom will return to take me there. I am both excited and nervous. I don’t want another exam, Xrays, etc. They are going to hurt, and I am already so tired. My wrists and arms hurt from having to be utilized more often than they used to, lifting my body to and from the wheelchair.

To sum it up, right now my life sucks. I am broken. I am emotionally, physically, and mentally broken right now. Everything is falling apart, but I am keeping myself together as much as I possibly can. I have so many people who love me, care about me, and want to help me. The only thing is… they can’t fix me. I appreciate their love and support more than I can express, but at the end of the day I am literally broken.

I am so, so, so broken.

Giving Up For Today…

Standard

Today my anxiety is through the roof. I’m both physically and emotionally in pain. My heart aches, and my head aches. I’m so stuffed up I can barely breath, and I can’t keep from crying.

sleeping positions in periodsMy life is in shambles, and I have no idea how to put it back together. I’ve never felt so helpless, and I don’t know how to handle this feeling. I think I’ll give myself today to let it all out, and see if I can think straight tomorrow. I’ve given up on my relationship with “Rain”, and I’ve given up on today. I am not sure what else I’ll give up on, but right now I want to give up all together.

I really dislike how diagnostics, chronic pain, and chronic illness make you so emotional. I wish I had more control, but I don’t.