Muddy Pajamas

I just got back from my nightly walk around the block with the most spoiled bichon this side of the Mississippi. I was proud that I was finally feeling better after a week of torment due to a disco ball and loud music that was part of a fantastic wedding celebration. Today, I actually attempted a trip to the Y (they closed early) and got flowers and statues for our yard. The little two year-old neighbor actually asked if I would play tag with him. I kept humming “Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog,” a top hit by Mickey Mouse that my grandson sang for me. I wrote my blog and dined on Wendy’s. Life was good.

My walk though brought the current reality smack into my face. There was a slight breeze finally cooling the hot, humid day. I just figured out last week that breezes are one of the triggers for my Mighty Three and tonight sure proved my hypotheses accurate. I was able to at least stay on the sidewalk for a portion of the journey, but as I rounded the corner, my path spread much wider. Yesterday’s storms left much of the ground marshy and muddy. I worried that I would be unable to finish my voyage, but I wondered the reactions of my neighbors one block away. At 11:00, they were probably beginning their bedtime routines and would be aghast to see a muddy stranger complete with pajamas and a hyperactive dog. I gathered my confidence and tried to go up the driveway, but it was on an incline and my steps were hardly traveling where I would like. Einstein knew that house was not ours and his job was to always get the adult on the other end of the leash to the correct home.

He did his job, and I’m home now, still contemplating my walk. I had my little pity party with a scoop and a half of chocolate ice cream. I’m a big partier. Mentally reviewing my blog from earlier today, I admit that multiple pieces of myself were crushed, demolished and destroyed. With Bob out-of-town, I sit on my couch, my dog almost glued to my side, and wonder what is happening to me. My ankle is throbbing and already getting swollen. That marshy ground is murder on old joints.

I’ve followed doctor orders and gone to internationally known specialists. I try to watch the stress, diet and physical expectations. Even so, I still visit the ground and sometimes even get muddy. However, I’m fine. I’m about to head to bed and read a new download on my Kindle. I’ll pray that my bed stays rooted to the floor. I’ll also try to make a positive attempt to thank God that I finally made it home safely and even have a great story to tell. I’ll end my monologue with my new mantra (besides I’m a grandma!) of Life is Good. Happy dreams.

Ways God Reminds Me Through My Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
• I get to have lots of pairs of pajamas.

KEEP READING IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN MY BLOG FROM EARLIER TODAY! I ACTUALLY WROTE TWO POSTS TODAY.

Passion

Happy Memorial Day! I’m not sure if that is the correct terminology for it seems far too flippant for a day meant to remember those who died protecting our freedoms. However, it’s an important enough holiday that I don’t feel it should be ignored or overlooked. Memorable Memorial Day makes me fear the reason for it’s “memorable” status of not to be forgotten. Too often, that may have a negative connotation. Somber Memorial Day has us dressed in black and not toting the red, white and blue clothing and decorating our homes with waving flags. Face it, how many of you do NOT have on this triad of colors. Well, I’ll just start with have a happy day on this national holiday granting most people a day off of work.

I’m finishing up a bulletin board for my church based on next week’s training of the HEROES program, a vital project for trained Stephen Ministers to assist the families of our deployed troops. When I was talking about this program earlier in the month, I brought up the need for all of us to have heroes. As the people gathered with me described others worthy of hero status, their eyes began to sparkle, their bodies became taller and their voices began to boldly proclaim individuals who have been a focal point for their lives. Famous people quickly joined the list: Ronald Reagan, Dolly Parton, Madame Curie, George Patton and Jackie Robinson. Other monikers could be found in good ol’ Wikipedia, but lacked instant recognition: Irena Sendler and Jimmy Doolittle. The last group were only known to the speaker: a sixth grade teacher, a Boy Scout Master, a youth minister and a family who fought leukemia that was attacking their young son. Although conversation started as a trickle, we could have stayed all afternoon detailing people deserving of the title “hero”.

I concluded our meeting by reminding all of our Stephen Ministers of the characteristics and personal traits that illustrate a hero. All of the people surrounding me easily fit each adjective through their dedicated service to people in need. How powerful to realize that even the everyday tasks diligently performed can change the direction and speed of other’s lives.

While we were cleaning up, our pastor came to me to point out my clear passion as I talked to others. According to him, this passion is boldly apparent in the things that I write and discussions that I lead. He hears that inner emotion that bursts from my soul when I express items that are near and dear to my heart. I’m not timid or apprehensive to lay it all out on the table for others to examine. Such investigation is short, for my words are plain and my heart is open.

Passion is more than my love of a warm brownie with cold ice cream dripping with fudge. It’s not that cuddly blanket that wraps my body as I read that special book for hours on end. It’s past that feeling of wearing new shoes while sporting this outfit I got for a deal envied by the Vegas high-rollers.

Passion is my daughter, grown into a dedicated wife, loving mother and true Christian in word and deed. It’s my husband and my demand for better care for those individuals wracked with chronic pain through brain injury. Passion is those grandsons. (Check out my Facebook for a thunderous t-ball hit! Makes a grandma proud!) It’s my love for all kids and the urgency to provide them safety, nourishment, love and a chocolate chip cookie. Passion means the pride deep in my gut for all those military who serve our country 24/7. It’s the urgency of the disintegration of my pain as it tries to dissolve my spirit with each ache, tumble and that goofy Monkee walk that is now my gait.

Where would we be without passion? A dull lump mechanically completing required tasks while coasting through our days on autopilot. Not me! I have this marvelous blog that allows me to express my inner thoughts and needs, describe my soul and share my life. The remarkable part is that people actually take time to read these thoughts. There are over 2,000 hits in 10 countries. Wow! After a lifetime of being the little sister, I have a spotlight. I can finally weep against childhood abuse, divorce, miscarriage, degenerative discs, extra bones, fibromyalgia and the mighty three. Meanwhile, I brag about family, church, home, love, friends, support and Skype. I’m a grandma you know.

This blog has taught me that I am a plethora. I am not just a teacher. I am not just a person with the mighty three. I’m not just a wife or mother. I’m not just a Cub fan. (Hey, they actually won yesterday.) I have so many tiny pieces that must intricately join to form ME. I have to learn to mold my spirit when one piece shatters and another erupts. I must be brave enough to let other parts blossom while I bid good-bye to a favorite few. God holds them all together as He uses my passions to frame my soul. Life is good!

Ways God Reminds Me through Chronic Pain the Life is Good:
It lets me discover my passions.

Life is Good

This is on is one of the very rarest of times when I sit at my computer with no ideas flowing through my empty head about the topic of this blog. Have no fear for I am one of the gold-ribbon, red starred, gold trophied jabberers of all time.


I’ve postponed a slight controversy that I have held with my wonderful daughter, my strongest critic yet my biggest fan. She has been perplexed about the correct ending for each day’s entry and has come to feel that “Benefit of The Mighty Three” limits my content. Since returning from Mayo, my outlook on my reflection and feelings of some self-worth has improved. I usually try to listen to her comments since they are said with love and conviction. For the last month or so, I have tried to vary the closing of my blogs. A few of the newer titles include:

• Benefit of Feeling Cruddy from the Mighty Three and Beyond
• Benefit of Having Chronic Pain and the Mighty Three
• Today’s Benefit of Having a Life with Chronic Pain
• Today’s Benefit of Having Chronic Pain as Part of My Life
• Today’s Benefit of Living with a Body with Chronic Pain

I wonder how many of you even noticed the slight alteration to this ending let alone agree with the underlying belief of my daughter. Stephanie is concerned about my negative attitude towards myself and tries to encourage me to demonstrate that I am more than a body wracked with continual ouches.

My perspective is that I want to proclaim that even with an uncooperative mind and body, life is good. God is with me. I don’t need to play hostess to a 24/7 pity party, even though I do that very well. I choose my attitude and that makes a huge difference in my life. It was initially quite difficult for me to admit to myself that I deserved to take the year off of work because I was truly disabled. I didn’t require excuses or apologies. I was and am disabled and I have that cute little blue placard for my car to prove it.

My disability is different than many others for it is invisible to many when you just take a snapshot picture of my daily life. I’m not in a wheelchair, and I don’t always use my cane. I walk upright – well, usually upright. A video would frequently show a wiggle to my zigzagged journey down the road. There’s also inside chronic pain everywhere from my lovely back filled with titanium to my brain filled with cobwebs and everything in between. Right smack dabbed in the middle of my round frame is a heart filled with the love of Christ. And He loves me back. And that, my friends, means life is good.

So, how about this ending?

Ways God Reminds Me Through Chronic Pain that Life is Good:

• It gives me the opportunity to write to you dear blog readers to hopefully get you also to believe that life is good!

I DON'T KNOW WHY THAT EXTRA LINE IS AFTER THE FIRST PARAGRAPH, BUT I GIVE UP FOR NOW! I LOVE COMPUTERS!

Einstein is Sharing His Duct Tape with God

It’s ironic how the day after I brag about the gorgeous, deep blue sky accentuated by the whitest clouds this side of Albuquerque, the weather makes an about face to show its more masculine side. Gray is much more the color of the day as bursts of thunder make you shudder in reply. It’s that kind of villainous thunder that you know is soon to erupt, but you jump 37 feet in the air despite the warning. I’m hoping my vertical reactions will help me lose some pounds, but the orange soda I’m guzzling probably evens out any aerobic benefits.

In some ways, I’m surprised that I can hear the thunder at all for my migraine is pounding louder than a big brass drum. It’s managed to keep me confined at home for I won’t risk hurting others by stubbornly going behind the wheel. My bravery consists solely of creeping downstairs to cling to our family room couch. Yesterday, I was the one twisting away even without the help of Chubby Checkers. My surroundings are spinning now with the TV passing by about every 3 seconds or so. At least things are on an even plane so my walking creates less tumbles and crashes.

Poor little Einstein is really having a rough go of it. With the somehow innate abilities for canines to recognize discomfort in their owners, Einstein attached himself to my thigh with duct tape and Velcro. He wasn’t going anywhere. I felt guilty as I tried to gaze in those big, black eyes only to see about nine or ten faces. I haven’t seen that much of a kaleidoscope effect since looking at our communion glasses one sunny Sunday. Although I have tried to encourage him exploring any other section of the house, he remains devotedly at my side. I suppose he is another example of God’s unconditional love. Einstein wants me to know he is ready to help at a moment’s notice during my time of need even when I turn from that assistance. Could God feel dejected when I try to push him away in a similar fashion? I think He is more like my pooch, patiently waiting for me to call Him to my side. I did try to take my dog out for a bathroom break, but when he saw that rain pounding down on the ground’s surface, he decided to cross his paws instead. Wise choice! I wasn’t crazy about heading out either.

So the two of us sit on the couch, waiting for the Mighty Three to ebb somewhat. Shamefully, I admit that I am back on narcotics again. I have been prescribed a new pharmaceutical miracle that is supposed to help take the edge off. In the past two weeks, I have taken two other pills. They stop the spinning from 900 mph to a more reasonable 850 mph. I needed to skip yoga today, for I didn’t trust myself driving or even need to pretend to willow like a tree bending in the wind. I’m more like a pinball crashing against the sides while played by some huge, neurotic teenager with anger issues.

At least God is along for the ride, probably just as confused about the end result of a pinball game as He is about his invention of the hippo. I’m tightly holding on with God on my right side and Einstein glued to my left thigh. It makes typing somewhat cumbersome, so I’ll end this post with well wishes for you all.

Today’s Benefit of the Mighty Three:

•  They let you see God in a whole new perspective!

I See You God

It was such a great day yesterday. I saw God everywhere. It wasn’t in a big burning bush or a poof of gray smoke coming off a mountain. Even so, He was there. Let me explain.

It was so much fun looking around the neighborhood as I drove for my triathlon training. There were little peeks of color in almost every front yard. You could see the petunias, geraniums and impatiens in every color of the rainbow. It was almost as if they were looking out to check on who was driving through the neighborhood while showing off the beauty given to them by God. They were smiling everywhere in small pots on front steps, huddled around a tall Ash tree, and lining the way along paths to welcoming front doors. God placed that color there to bring us smiles when our lives might need brief reminders on who is in control.

When I made it to the Y, I was pushing myself to make some big steps in my training schedule. I was precisely on my tinetable, but I personally needed to leap ahead and make new records. That I did! While I was peddling away on my recumbent bicycle and jabbering away to newly made friends, I realized how God has placed so many people in my life to demonstrate his unconditional love. Thanks God!

Those happy faces located by creative individuals with great visual imagery have fascinated me. You know the kinds. They were popular images just a few years ago. The eyes might be windows and the mouth was a sidewalk. They were not meant to be smiley images: it all depended upon your outlook. I have searched away for these simple smiles but have been eluded despite my desperate hunts. Well, I found one while swimming at the Y, pretty remarkable when you recall my severely myopic view of the world. Then I found another, and another. and another. It was as if God was reminding me to smile. I love it!

I was pretty pooped while driving home and drooling over thoughts of plopping on the couch as a comatose figure. My vertigo had really given me problems in yoga. I needed to keep my ears out of the water because I have found that even the smallest droplets can transform me into a flaying body splashing away. I glanced at a passing truck that was advertising for new employees. The small sign on the back of the truck read, “Looking for Good Drivers.” A quick scan and limited brain cells had me misread the words. I thought I saw the caption as “Looking for God . . .” I checked again and saw my error but liked my version better.

God is out there. I firmly believe in His presence, but it’s so much fun to see noticeable signs. Yesterday, the sun was actually visible in a deep blue sky punctuated by those fluffy, white clouds, but thunderstorms are threatening for this afternoon. The wonderful news is that God has signs enveloping us in all sorts of weather. He lives inside us, but how comforting it is to see His touches around us.

Benefit of the Mighty Three:

• Your life slows down enough so you can capture those touches of God.

A Wonderful Wedding Celebration

Bob and I were fortunate to attend a wonderful wedding celebration yesterday evening. As I reflect over the beautiful events, I notice many experiences worthy of print in my little blog.

1. Although Jesus was not physically present in this union as He was in Cana, His presence was so obviously with us that it was spellbinding. You could feel the Holy Spirit during the actual ceremony and also throughout the fabulous reception. God is good!
2. It makes me wonder how we were included in this small gathering of loved ones. A large portion of the guest list was packed with close aunts and uncles thrilled to see the union of this couple. I had met the groom at our church many years prior and later had the privilege of training him as a Stephen Minister. What spark was placed in our friendship to be allowed to be part of this important gathering? I always loved to hear this young man express his feelings for “Big John” could hardly ever be classified anything close to as verbose as I, but when he spoke, “things” were said. His wisdom and love of Christ reflected off each carefully selected word. This is one person who could actually have me turn quiet to ponder his thoughts. One never knows how your words and actions get embedded in the hearts of others. I’ve noticed that through my many students, peers at work, neighbors and friends in church and the community. God places so many people in your path. May they always be blessed encounters!
3. The world did not come to an end at 6 PM.  You probably already noticed that fact. I loved the words of the groom’s father as he stated, “God didn’t even send me a text.” and “Maybe somebody forgot to tell Jesus.” Although many of us laugh at the precise time of Christ’s return, the pastor proclaiming this remake of Left Behind at least got people talking. I have to ponder if we truly believe that Jesus will return at any time. Although I don’t believe Revelations predicts a particular moment of the reckoning, I wonder if my doubt troubles God. Am I really ready? Are you?
4. It’s wonderful to see the love in a big family. It’s wonderful to see the love in a family blessed with a single child. It’s wonderful to see the love in a couple. It’s wonderful to see love.
5. There were many scenes embedded in my heart as my own Kodak moments. Although my camera remained at home, these poignant pictures are clear images of some of life’s special moments. My shots include the look on the groom’s face as his future wife walked down the aisle. I shuddered at the powerful toast of enduring love he gave his new wife. The quiet comfort of daddies and their little girls went so far beyond the traditional Father-of-the-Bride dance. I saw content as the groom’s dad held a tired junior bridesmaid on his lap. The classy uncle hugged his daughter in a captured moment of the world’s ownership. A close friend watched his love of his life gaze in adoring love at a (hopefully soon) future daughter-in-law. My tender husband relieved moments of his own girl’s wedding not that long ago.
6. I have never, may I repeat never, had so much food at one sitting. We would finish up delicious food only to see the waiters coming with more food. As that piled plateful was consumed, along came more platters. As I mentioned my bursting stomach to others at my table, another round came through that I somehow managed to eat. And it went on, and on, and on. What a true rendition of gluttony! But boy was it good!
7. God placed with us new faces with souls so bursting of God’s love you could feel the tremors deep in your own heart. Possibilities and promises of a future full of witnessing the power of prayer left us awe struck. May all of us use the many blessings God has carefully stitched in our souls.

The evening came to a close as my husband and I slowly strolled to our car. We could hear the music still loudly playing as others partied in celebration of this new union. We were content! We had been fortunate to be witnesses of strong love, great food, friends from of old and new bonds already strongly attached to our hears. Truly, God is good!

Advantage of The Mighty Three:

• Your weaving path makes it easier to find bells to share with unions of the future.

Walking My Pooch

I just got home from an extended walk with my pooch. My aim was to merely take a short stroll around the block that normally takes about ten minutes. Instead, my little adventure took close to an hour AND I didn’t even fall down.

First, our weather has finally taken a Chicago change. The gray and gloomy sky is momentarily absent. We have had so much rain lately; even my dog is growing webbed feet. I thought that I saw Noah moving in down the street. The additional animals should be very interesting. The warmer temperatures are not coming alone for the humidity level is zooming to join the space shuttle Endeavour.

Back to my walk, I ran into (please don’t take that literally) several neighbors really needing a time to share. One neighbor has lived in her home for sixteen years and her children have finally reached an age to be considered adults. However, her home will go on the market tomorrow as the dissolution of her 30-year marriage is evident. Long kept hurts and lengthy unemployment created stress that can quickly crack even the longest of marriages. My neighbor desperately needed a time to vent, and I walked by at just the right time. Einstein was the best-behaved dog I have ever seen as he actually patiently waited for our conversation to wane.

Turning the corner, I saw the sister of a darling woman who lives down the street. The neighbor’s younger sister, a remarkable 80 years old, came to town to care for her older sibling. Two large tumors needed to be removed, so her family came rushing to the scene. The visiting sister has some obvious medical and physical concerns of her own. You can almost feel the rhythm of the pain as you walk by.

How unusual to see two different family units: one breaking into two while another has two coming into one. We never know precisely what’s going on behind closed doors and brick walls. I don’t think any life is carefree and without concerns. Our weather here alone should prove that this is not paradise. We are not the only home in Chicagoland that has some sort of difficulties and hurdles to leap. It all depends on how we deal with those problems as well as whom we go to for help.

I’m making a quick stop at the local Jewel today to purchase two bouquets of flowers. Both households where I lingered to converse could use a small token reminding them that people outside their walls care for them. God might have sent me a bonk on the head to let me know there are other people in this universe who also have ailments. I’m not totally unique, at least when it comes to aches and pains. When you look around, there are many others who could use that bouquet of flowers, time to talk, or a batch of homemade brownies. (I’m a little hungry; can you tell?) The slow walk did me good too!

Benefit of Having Chronic Pain and the Mighty Three:

• You have time during the day to talk with neighbors needing a few moments of your time.

Other Shepherds Have Bullhorns

My head has been trying to be a one man’s band lately. The bass drum and cymbals are having a good time having a jazzfest at my benefit. With that in mind, it forces me to ponder the identity of my shepherd. Sure, I can give you the answer that I would like people to assume of me, but there are many times that my actions are not a mirrored reflection of my heart.

There are many secondary shepherds who have purchased those fancy, shmancy bullhorns. They are doing all that is feasibly possible to gain my attention, which admittedly isn’t hard for my ADHD characteristics. Medicine is pushing its way toward the front as my body crumples. I don’t understand how my shuddering frame can still gain weight when forced upon a glaring scale. Although Mayo did its best to warn me about this villain ready to pop from any medicinal capsule, the pharmaceutical market sure is loudly blaring its perfect power. Just take one of these pastel pills and you can stomp out that percussion unit and enter a nirvana with a land of happy grandchildren, good books and low-fat chocolate that really tastes good.

My computer also resembles its shepherd tendencies. The shiny frame might be lacking the wooly covering, but I spend a ridiculous amount of time pouncing on the keyboard. I’m hardly as tech-savvy as my wonderful daughter who can locate the answer to the most intricate trivia known to mankind in about 3.4 seconds. I must admit that her time has lengthened now that she is the mother to two active toddlers. I do look for answers online and use the computer to ease my growing curiosity and loss of memory skills. Facebook has multiple games to capture my attention and prevent me from using the same time in study of the Bible. I just need one more chartreuse sheep or complete one more quest before I log off. There are lots of blogs to read, pictures to check and websites begging for my money.

I hope by now that you have got my basic idea. I ignore the calls of my real shepherd. I can’t blame the incessant calls of other distractions for it is I who drool at the computer while clutching bottles of medicine. It’s so easy to succumb to these other shepherds. I’ve got to try harder. It’s ultimately up to me.

Benefit of Having The Mighty Three:

• I can focus on the beauty of Christ if I stop to look.

Who is Your Shepherd?

We were able to make it to make it to church. Although I used the revolving door approach, leaving the sanctuary whenever the organ played, we are working hard to return to a healthy routine. My head still goes nuts with the organ’s vibrations, and the horrible vacuum of headphones worsen the impact. I loved the baccalaureate service as it shuttled multiple memories that continually washed over me in gentle waves of thought.

The sermon’s base from the book of John used the comforting parable of Jesus as the shepherd, caring for our every need. Pastor led his words to urge the congregation to know the shepherd better. We must know His voice, calls and warnings. Shifting that perspective, I ponder about the identity of our hidden shepherds. We easily listen to colorful advertisements with famous athletes encouraging our use of particular antiperspirants, insurance and painkillers. An actor from the newest thrilling drama reports the best cologne, mortgage company and retail store. We must intrinsically know the current fashion trends, music preferences and even nutritional mandates. This information should naturally meld with our souls and not require careful study. I recall the looks of shock when teachers donned a favorite sweater that had aged past its time of fashion. Vocabulary needs revisions to avoid being out of sync. Why is it fine, or more accurately vital, to follow the whispers of celebrities while the time worn pages of the Bible often lack any scrutiny? We don’t spend the same care or time with Biblical foundations as we spend pouring over the private lives of those with whose faces fill the big screen. Admit it, we spend more time watching TV or playing games on the computer than we spend reading or studying the Bible. The sheep on Farmville don’t compare with their literal brothers in the Holy Book.

Grace, a wonderful friend from church and fellow Stephen Minister, suggested a new name for my dear hubby and I. “Rock and Roll” really fits our current status. Bob uses his revised scooter to more quickly travel while avoiding walking on his no weight-bearing cast.  I fall with the gentle ease of a rock. I think this loving term might stick.

Today’s blog is just something to ponder. I readily admit that I don’t spend the care I should for my Biblical health. I pray continually and my monologue to God is quietly shifting to a dialogue, yet my pages in my Bible need to be more worn on both good and bad days. A few pages are tear stained, but most lack any true scrutiny. It would be scary to graph my time on my computer with my time with God. I pledge I will try to lean more on knowing my true shepherd.

Today’s Benefit of Having a Body with Chronic Pain:

• My increased amount of “free time” should more easily provide time in the Bible. I have to more clearly know my shepherd.

Hero

I’m sitting in our living room with my spoiled dog squished by my side. He’s convinced there is room for both of us; however, he feels that I could be doing a lot more sharing to add to HIS comfort. According to Einstein, my primary purpose is to please this hunk of white fur.

I’m in the midst of writing about heroes for a special brunch tomorrow. As I look over quotes of people’s definitions of a hero, I find that we all want someone who will do anything for us at any time. A hero will get up from a nap, dash from dinner without dessert and even change routes right in the middle of racing to a good sale at Kohl’s while holding a 30% coupon.

I am pretty sure that we all hunt for that hero. Often, we place that crown on a deceased parent, remembering the many sacrifices made on our behalf. Our spouse is far too close, and far too human, to deserve that recognition. We need that hero to get us that cold drink while we are comfy on our family room couch. We beg for that hero to finish the last 47 loads of laundry while making a home-cooked meal complete with a scrumptious chocolate dessert. A hero takes our Visa bill and rips it in pieces after talking to our boss to set a few matters straight. He will whisk us off to a hidden paradise with white sand and those cute umbrella drinks. Children suddenly are neatly groomed while sitting near us to catch our clever words.

My hero isn’t here right now. I’m the one who better take the hound for a walk. That hero hasn’t taken away the vertigo or the headache. Those new pills in a cute shade of yellowish/orange bring on the nausea much better than take away any pain.  My husband is resting, and I quietly admit of the fatigue encompassing my body. It’s tired of the twisting and turning that accomplishes little in the comfort category. Where is my hero to take away all the pain that overflows our rooftop?

Since the hero hasn’t shown up, I think I will take a stroll with the dog to examine nature in our neighborhood. I’ve ignored the Y in fear of my physical body’s reaction to new medication and old pain. I admit the comments and concern of kind people around our block have cast a spell of timidity on me. I don’t want the stares or gawks. I hear the whispers as others explain that pain not alcohol have changed my gait to that of a new sailor on a rolling ship.

Meanwhile, Einstein still is sitting by the back door, looking more and more pathetic as the clock slowly flips. I guess part of a hero is getting up and completing a difficult task even knowing that it won’t all be a barrel of fun. So off I go, thinking of the many people who bring me that fun in other ways at other times.

Benefit of Feeling Cruddy from the Mighty Three and Beyond:

• It can make you be your own hero if you try hard enough!

Equal Time for All Three

I'm not sure how best to blend all of my personal feelings about the last few days. I’ve continued to battle the pains associated with the conditions that daily plague my body. I’ve devoted long hours, especially during these past months, to learn techniques and methods meant to help me deal with all that is connected with The Mighty Three and beyond. None of that helped!

Let me start with my wonderful sister and brother-in-law stopping by on Saturday. It was great to see them since they reside about three and a half hours away. We gathered in our new kitchen to catch up on grandkids and grandsons and a soon to come grandchild and then ended with our grandbabies. We even got to Skype a new addition. The scariest part of the afternoon was when the hubbies began a side conversation about the best locations for ridiculously humongous hamburgers. You know the kind. They’re delivered with business cards of local cardiologists right underneath piles of French fries. My husband was totally aghast to learn that his brother-in-law had never consumed a White Castle’s hamburger. Off I flew to remedy that situation. We only serve the finest at our home.

Since Einstein also had a few fries along with his food, he soon requested an excursion through the neighborhood. The temperature was comfortable, but slight drizzle continually to fall. It came along with some wind well known in Chicago, but it hardly broke any records. It did break me though.

Wind is one of the triggers for my vertigo. As soon as I set foot across my threshold, my weaving became pretty apparent to my family members. I tried to slide inside but needed the help of our door to the garage to keep my vertical. I thought that people were too busy with their conversations to notice that my eyeballs were rattling around in my head. No such luck! One glance at my brother-in-law showed his quiet concern. I am a person with vertigo. I can’t deny this or pretend that I can bury it deep inside. I can’t pop a pill and make it go away. I can’t schedule times with and without vertigo. I wobble. I can’t stand up. I lose control.

On Monday, the stuttering was in full force. It is starting to seem that each of my maladies feel deserving of a National Day in recognition of power and stealing control. I couldn’t get my words out. I had no control. My disability was pretty darn obvious and was constraining me from working. It’s hard to lose control and be different from others. It’s hard dealing with The Mighty Three. Although they are not readily apparent if I’m viewed on a good day while I am seated, watch out for days like this blog is describing. I have a hidden handicap with the strength of our recent tornadoes and floods.

Today was one of those days when my migraine decided that it needed some attention also. I wanted some hole to swallow me up as long as it was dark and quiet. I had fabulous plans but that didn’t mean diddle. Forget my Y class. Hold the laundry. Trips to anywhere were off. At least I didn’t fall down when I sat still.

A trip to the grocery store was not the wisest decision I have ever made, but my husband and I have grown to like eating. Although we were not there long, there are lots of times my body must turn while walking the aisles in search of supplies. The visually stimulating environment was one that Mayo warned was one of the hardest. I asked for help putting groceries in the car and was glad to see my vehicle parked in the garage. I needed the help of narcotic medications that were forbidden just a few weeks ago. I didn’t even care. I just had to stop this spiral causing lack of control. I challenge you to go to the grocery store without turning your head or body. It doesn’t work.

After resting, I managed to head to the Y for twenty laps in the pool about 6 PM. Now, lots of people like to stop off for some exercise right after work and kids have lessons to learn how to swim. The pool was crowded which means extra noise and splashing. Neither of those things is good for The Mighty Three. Since other individuals were there to see the famous triathlete, I even needed to share my swim lane. I could almost hear the music of impending doom like on the movie Jaws.

Things were going relatively well until . . . The Splash. I have noticed these last few weeks that I can’t get water in both ears at the same time or the vertigo gets extreme. That’s what happened. Once I got splashed, my body decided to go in wobble mode. That’s pretty horrible in the water. Remember that vertigo is hard to hide. Instead of just crossing the lane line while walking, I knocked against the lane markers. Then I flipped and forgot which way was up or down. I thought the lifeguard was going to go into shock. He could tell it wasn’t a seizure, but he was unsure of what was happening with me. I quickly left the pool. I kind of left it in shame despite my usual self-assured manner.

Walking Einstein tonight continued to be tough. To get right to the point, I zigged and zagged. The warm and humid night was not what my overly tired body needed. I totally lost my balance and control resulting in a close examination of the grass and tree bark.

I made it home. Although The Mighty Three are having a party right now, tomorrow will be better. I long to walk in a straight line without my head pulsing to some unheard Latin beat. I will hide from the wind and keep both ears covered with Seran Wrap. I will overcome. My nightly prayers will be earnest, honest and open. I will try to listen for I know life is good.

Benefit of Having a Blog and The Mighty Three:

• You write more when The Mighty Three are visiting which gives your readers plenty to attempt to decipher.

I'm a Mom

What a nice and relaxing Mothers’ Day. The entire day was simple and exactly what I wanted. The night before, Stephanie Skyped and allowed me to open my presents early. She sent a darling 31 bag with caricatures of Teddy and Ollie. Underneath these pictures, it states, “I’m a grandma!” a common quote I daily, um hourly proudly state. I also got a small book of photos of my favorite subjects. You can figure out on your own the identity of the people pictured. She also gave me my new pearl for my add-a-bead necklace. I’m amazed at the amount of pearls that now wrap around my neck. What a fabulous tradition that started so innocently when I was a single mom, before I realized that the cost of pearls would skyrocket.

Bob later presented me with a classy pedometer for use with my triathlon training. Even better than that he told me that he was proud of my daily efforts to improve my physical condition. He has seen me arrive home after struggling to finish my daily quota and then spend the evening trying to ignore a growing migraine or reposition my body to ease aches and pains. He understands the tough battle of my silly triathlon. AND he is proud of me!  What a wonderful gift right there.

Today, Bob and I continued a lengthy Scrabble game, in which I am kicking his tush. We just spent some quiet time together, a valued treasure to all relationships out there. It was nice to see some smiles cross my husband’s face. They have been far too few and too infrequent for a long time.

After a quick stop to pick up some items needed by Bob, we headed to a local winery for a special wine and cheese event. We were each able to choose three wines and three cheeses to enjoy along with warm breadsticks, fruit and one of the best chocolate truffles I have ever had the chance of enjoying. It was a wonderful hour spent in a relaxing location with no phones, no computers, and no TV’s. I would highly recommend it to others. I know it won’t be our last time there.

So I sit back now, content and comfortable. It was a perfect day because of the wonderful family who somehow manage to love me everyday. Moms can compare length of labor, hours of nausea and moments of hormonal overload. I could maybe even win in a few of those categories, but the end result is truly a gift from God. Then, an additional blessing came my way through a son-in-law who is a perfect fit for our family followed by my two darling grandsons who allowed my precious daughter to join the ranks of motherhood.

So, a quiet day is almost complete and I now I simply sit reviewing the past 24 hours. I’m known in my church to repeatedly proclaim, “I’m a grandma.” I must also remember to even louder announce, “I’m a mom.” Life is good!

Today’s Advantage of Living with Chronic Pain:

• Life slows me down enough to relish my blessings of motherhood.

I Shuffle When I Shuffle

I’m trying to decide the speed of the past week or so. In some ways, it appears that adjectives like zip, fly and expeditious (I admit I used the thesaurus on the last one, but it sure sounds mighty impressive.) fit my life. When examining the quantity or quality of my accomplishments for the world, community, family or self, the grand total would be zilch. That investigative result sounds like the time is speeding at break neck levels. However, when I crosscheck that with other facts, like the quantity and quality of my whining about poor health, discomfort, immoral scales and obesity, the speed slams into reverse. Either consideration breaks down into minimal blogging.

Now that it is 2011, I can proudly yet cautiously declare that I have moved into the age of the, umm, 90’s. I previously have looked at primarily the younger generation as opting to ignore much of nature’s finest by continually having earphones almost superglued in place. The consistency of music, movies, friends voices and beyond blocks out a more simple existence. Quiet time vanished into technological needs to stay abreast of everything. As I take walks through our neighborhood, I love to decipher the various bird songs and wonder about the communication line for our spoiled pups rather than blocking out that reality.

Meeting the physical and emotional attributes of a triathlete, I determined I needed some sort of listening device to increase my coolness factor while I was peddling away on my recumbent bike. I had already fashioned a method to wetting my shirt without the awareness of others to mirror a sweaty, perspiring body after a healthy workout. I wear the required sweatpants and shirt with my hair at an appropriate disheveled level. I took the big step and ordered a Shuffle in a cute blue. My supposed goal was to provide white noise in a gym echoing with basketballs, loud music and the grunts of guys using weights higher than my six pounders.

Guffaws would be volumes louder if they heard my song selections, but I do look the part. I’m actually ahead of schedule in all three areas of my lazyman triathlon, but I have come to crawling through the parking lot to reach my vehicle thereby eliminating any cool factors. My body creaks and whines a lot louder, and I have yet to hear anyone refer to me as buff. I have four and a half weeks to go! This stubborn, old lady is determined if nothing else. (Bob calls it stubborn instead.)

So, I dash off this post before my daily trek to the Y. I’ll listen to the tunes of Harry Chapin, Three Dog Night, Amy Grant, Carol King and Jim Croce to name just a few. (At least it isn’t Lawrence Welk, Mitch Miller or Les Brown Band of Renown. Boy, that’s kind of scary that I came up with those that easily.) I’ll walk that track and then blend into the other adults swimming laps in the pool with grace or at least minimal splashing. I’m determined to get healthier, in large part for two of the most handsome grandsons in the world. Wish me luck.

Benefit of Having a Body with Chronic Pain:

• I have lots of time off to go to that Y. Since not many others are around. I can take my 7.3 minutes to swim a half lap.

They Should Be Illegal

They should be illegal. There I was today, proudly stretching through my yoga routine when I made the fatal error of looking in the mirror. You will never believe the horror that confronted my eyes. The yoga exercise room has a full wall of mirrors for people to examine their body positioning and make any appropriate alterations in their form. That idea sounds well in concept, however they were not with me today.

As I completed my warrior pose and looked ahead at my strong form, I was shocked at what met my eyes. I looked straight ahead into the eyes of a complete stranger. This person had arms that drooped down at least 25 inches from the skeleton. What makes it worse is that the rumpled, white flesh actually shook. It was like chalky Jell-O right before me. As I looked lower on this bulky frame, I saw rolls of blubber bounce around the waistline. Who was this stranger looking at me?

That unknown person sitting in MY chair was not I. I acknowledge that my body lacks any svelte tendencies, but the blubber that confronted me could not be clinging to me. Oh no! What has happened?

I’ve begun an important campaign urging all Americans and prayerfully all the citizens of the world-at-large to prohibit the further production of mirrors. Any mirrors currently placed inside the unknowing walls of homes, offices, motels and dance studios must immediately be destroyed. These boxes of reflections are transforming our images. I’m unsure of the process, but it must immediately be stopped!

Please help me in this vital campaign to save the world of disturbing visions. We can win this fight is we work together to rid the world of these startling images. Go forth and save the world.

Advantage of Having a Body with Chronic Pain

• You get to save the world from disturbing reflections that are in error to reality.

Best Medicine

Another day is drawing to a close, and I regret to write that it was not the type of day I had hoped. Bob is still feeling tired and past ready rip off his cast. My vertigo paraded its power. We were unable to attend church which is a high priority for my hubby and I. We both need it to remind us how blessed we are. That Holy Spirit is having trouble getting through our tough skulls.

Bob somehow managed to let Einstein out this morning. My head was still under covers as I fiercely clutched the pillow. The bed flew through the room preventing me from taking a step across the room. The action ride haunts my mind as I quietly beg the flipping to end.

It would be great to say that I woke up and started my day, shaking the weird dream from my mind, but it didn’t work out that way today. I finally wobbled down the stairs, unsure of how the day would unfold.

Skype is great medicine. Teddy is remarkable as he told us about his latest endeavors at the Red Sox game and his first T-ball practice. Wonderful pictures, posted by my daughter, are online for friends to see what I mean. God gives us grandbabies to blanket us with the love of the Holy Spirit.

My grandson had boosted my spirit, and I felt more confident that I could make it down a few driveways, so I headed outside with Einstein. Perhaps the word “down” is not optimal here, but at least you get my idea. I used the walker again today to help guide my path. Bob thought I could attach the leash to the walker after duct taping my arms to the front. Although that would be amusing to our neighbors, I lacked enough bravery to go with the idea. I might consider a flashier approach, perhaps in costuming. My goodness yesterday was a royal wedding. My jeans and a trench coat just wouldn’t do. I could maybe wear a pair of roller-skates while fireworks blast from the ends of the walker. Einstein could also be dyed some neon color. Wow!

That still fprobably wouldn’t work. My white pooch was impatient enough to hit the trails immediately so the pyrotechnics would have to be put on hold. I staggered down the sidewalk with the walker. It was a beautiful day but windy, so I tightly tied my hood to attempt to keep the air from my ears. We made it! Einstein was a good guy and did his duty. The two little youngsters next door who have fallen in love with our four-legged pooch met us. I wish that we had crossed paths prior to our walk because he sure got his exercise with the help of a two and three year old in pursuit. They all had fun and then reluctantly went in their respective houses.

It was an LO night for dinner: leftovers. Our microwave heated everything up in style. There was an actual meal with meat, veggies and potatoes. Everything went well until it came to clean up. My body said enough even without those gorgeous fireworks. Reality slapped me in the face. I just needed to empty the dishwasher, place dirty dishes in place and clean up the mess on the counter. However, my body came to a complete halt because the mighty three came blasting back. Migraine, vertigo and tinnitus were back!

So, here I sit on my couch, typing away on my laptop. I keep waiting for the brain gymnastics to come to an end. The inside movement is puddling and I’m trying not to disturb it.

I’m convinced tomorrow will be better. Bob has an early doctor appointment to start our day. His cast will be removed and replaced with Cubbie blue on the request of Teddy. Later, I’m heading to the Y for yoga even if I have to crawl there. I wonder if I would creep in a wobbly fashion. There are lots of little ones in my life to encourage my progress. God has placed them in my path to gently remind me of my inner strength given through the grace of the Holy Spirit.

As I soon lay my head on my claw-scarred pillow, I can smile when I drift off to sleep. My day was filled with pain, confusion and even some anger because my body refused to follow my simple requests, but tonight I can quietly say my prayers to a God who listens and understands. We can have a dialogue discussing my pain. I wonder what He will say.

Benefit of Having a Body with Chronic Pain:

• You find the small things in life (yep, that means little kids for me) to encourage your daily walk through pain.