Hey, Hey We're the Monkees

Yesterday, I laughed at my unusual walk with Einstein. A few wispy clouds danced through the skies on a pretty summer day. If you had taken a quick snapshot of my stroll, all things would have appeared appropriate. You might even have doubted why I would be entitled to time off work for disability. The movie shot provided all of the information.

My concentration was not on the manicured lawns, busy birds, or dogs barking in territorial greeting to my pooch. Instead, my focus was staying within the boundaries laid by the sidewalk. My goals were to avoid walking on the grass, wandering out in the street, or landing on my tush. That seems all well and good until you place my vertigo squarely on top of my mission.

The top half of me resembled a robotic face staring in the distance. I avoid turning my head as much as possible for such twists only heighten the vertigo. By staring at an object in the distance, my vision tricks my body into thinking that all things are staying static. Meanwhile, I’m tripping over cracks and even my dog when he slows to closely examine anything.

The interesting aspect of my walk is below my waist. A doctor at Mayo even videotaped me to record this interesting gait. A remarkable new friend from the PRC dubbed it “The Monkees” walk and would loudly sing the words as I stumbled through the halls. We would soon be giggling away making others wonder the content of our dangling water bottles.

I’ll try my best to transfer the walk to a written description but worry that you will be more confused than when you started reading. Stand up and do the steps as I illustrate the moves.

1. Step forward with your left foot.
2. Take your right foot forward but cross it over your left foot.
3. Step forward
4. Now take your left foot and cross it over your right foot
5. Step forward
6. Continue in this pattern
7. Start singing the theme song to The Monkees

The words seem pretty appropriate. For those of you to young to remember this classic television program, I’ve included the first verse and refrain.

Here we come
Walking down the street
We get the funniest looks from
Everyone we meet.

Hey, hey we're the Monkees,
and people say we monkey around.
But we're too busy singing,
to put anybody down.

Here’s even a link so you watch and listen to this unique introductory theme song. http://vodpod.com/watch/1311915-the-monkees-intro-tv-theme-song

I must also mention that my musical skills are severely lacking. I admit to singing off key and off beat, but loudly enjoying it. People either look in horror or decide to join the fun. My congregation has asked me to lip sync. Could there be a correlation? I can’t imagine the faces of world-renowned surgeons as our voices reverberated off the walls of Mayo, but I personally think that many wanted to join us. (Thanks Linda S. You helped me fight through some tough days up at Mayo!)

The whole basis for today’s post is to try to bring some humor into your everyday tasks to brighten up your tasks. Although this can’t be used as an avoidance technique on a continual basis, it sure brightens up some pretty dark days.

So cars looking on my walk could at a glance assume all was well with the world. At closer inspection, my steps could frighten or alarm those concerned copilots. If they slowed and rolled down their windows, they would be even more shocked for they could hear those famous words, “Hey, hey we’re the Monkees.”

Ways God uses Chronic Pain to Show Life is Good:
- It lets you sing long forgotten TV theme songs as you laugh through your journeys.

Lazy Day of Summer

There must be a reason for the age-old expression Lazy, Crazy Days of Summer. That’s pretty much what is happening at this address. It has afflicted both Bob and me. Merely getting up, dressed and making the bed is considered major effort deserving of one of my sister’s cookies. As long as my head is very still, the vertigo is pretty much under control. I can’t bend past 45 degrees, turn my head quickly or go into a dark place. Even large rooms make me sing all sorts of tunes. Outside is generally classified under large places, so I pretty much stay plopped on my couch.

I do declare since writing my last post, I have made two real meals in our kitchen. On one of the instances, I even made a meatloaf. That’s big time. I did sit on the floor as Bob dished it up, but I am becoming used to this angle. I feel the vertigo fast approaching, so I have beat the “issue” by sitting down quickly on my own accord.

We did go get new phones. I’m the proud owner of a white iPhone. When they say this is a smart phone, believe them. I’m kind of afraid of it still. We worked through the Mobile Me and now sync items among the two computers and two phones. It only took three trips to the mall to get this all accomplished. There’s a great single guy there with an August 5 birthday if any of you are looking for companionship.

I received a photo scanner for Mothers’ Day. I hope to get out pictures from the past and gather them on some kind of disc. It’s something I wanted, but now the task seems somewhat daunting. I do that frequently. I start out all gun ho, ready to solve all the world’s problems, and then I slowly tucker out and stop any of my great ideas. I’ve noticed that I’m much quicker to give up than I have been in the past.

It’s not quite 5:00 here. I’m hoping to get out a little and maybe find a geocache and fish for a short time. Neither of those activities requires a great deal of energy, so we’ll probably do just fine. There’s always the opportunity to stop at a place with wonderful calorie laden delights too!

I love to look at how so many people have expressed their concern for me. I haven’t written lately because I felt this site was getting too many negative and grumpy posts. My daughter is doing her best to bring smiles my way. She is tending to Skype much more frequently because her little guys and she make grand medicine. My sister sent yummy, home made chocolate chip cookies and included a bag of M & M’s. That’s perfect. I’ve gotten some cards of encouragement and lots of prayers. I need to shake off this funk and go face the world. I don’t like living live a zombie. My hermit skills have improved too rapidly. It’s hard to go out to face the unknown fearing a fall with my vertigo. Bob is generally pretty zipped from physical therapy and spends a great deal of time napping to refresh his body. His balance and coherence is going down fast. I’m ashamed to be like this though, so maybe that’s a step in the right direction. It’s hard to refrain from melting into a small pool as my body huddles in disgraceful failure. Thanks for reading these words for they give me an inspiration to honestly express my memoir that people actually read. I am amazed at the number of hits. Hopefully I can write an adventure tomorrow. Thank you God. Life is Good!

A Way God Proves Life is Good through my Chronic Pain:
- People care and work to show me that letting my body slowly melt away isn’t the best way to prove that Life is Good.

Pass Go but Don't Collect $200

Just sitting around home with little done under work completion. By little, I mean close to none. With the new medication, by headache is thankfully improved. It’s still here with me but not as strong as it has been. I continue my walk with a “swagger” and have remained upright all day. I need to make one huge clarification on remaining upright. My chances of standing are extremely limited. A fabulous side effect of my new and improved medicine has me passed out most of the time. “May cause drowsiness” is interpreted as “will knock you on your keister for 3.5 months”. All you need to provide is a pillow, and I will be snoring away within 2 seconds. I’m frustrated with this drugged feeling, but my hubby is a fan since I no longer am sitting on the floor. My mental functioning is really slow too. Ask me a simple question and you probably will get a response within a week or two. You might not be able to understand my slurred speech, but I will tell you all you would ever want to know. I’m eternally grateful for spell-check and the cute little device on computers that underlines errors in red. I’ve seen a whole lot of red in this paragraph.

I’m hoping that the side effects will diminish some by tomorrow. We get to go purchase our new phones and I want to get other things as well. Our three year-old neighbor turns three on Saturday so I need to shop. A grand nephew will be one. Shopping for little ones is one of my favorite activities. If that bulletin board at church isn’t put up soon I might need to be changing denominations. Yikes! There finally are some things on my “To Do” list, so I am praying to get back to “normal” whatever that entails.

I’ve been nicely questioned about my demeanor compared with those Mayo days. The best way that I clarify things is to compare my life to a real world Monopoly game without all that money. I landed squarely on “Return home and do not collect $200”. Ok, I did that, but I have landed there 18 times in a row. I’m still moving and trying. I’m glad that I’m allowed to stay in the game with my cute little dog, but I yearn to go around the corner. I don’t know how to do that. Bob and I had always planned to travel and see the unknown at this point in our lives, but we realize that goal is too tough right now. We haven’t given up, but it’s darn tough to keep trudging through. I’m glad we have each other. Maybe tomorrow we can slip over this hump in front of us. We’ll find out tomorrow.

So keep on trucking. (Boy, that is an old saying!) We love you! I continue to be in awe with the number of people who have hit this site. Wow! Check the very bottom of this page. I ought to add some pretty pictures or something. Until then, remember that life is good.

God reminds Me through Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
I have lots of dreams for the future.

It Still Hurts

I sincerely feel that the mountainous obstacle facing people dragging a chronic illness is the cyclical pattern of any dream of release. We have all gone from specialist to specialist, gimmick to medication to gimmick again, traditional to holistic with the wide-eyed fear of a scared dear in our headlights. We often dread climbing aboard any new rollercoaster for it’s routed deep within our psyche. Hopeful expectations are raised with each new doctor or technique, but such dreams of release are generally dashed upon the rocks of reality.

These words might seem too closely bound to allegory to honestly portray chronic illness in current society. Our country spends stupendous amount of sums on medications that have been strictly enforced through strong American regulations. Side effects must be extremely minimal for the United States to sanction use. Adjectives like superior and life saving are surely attached to each pill or capsule swallowed in expectation to rid oneself of any hidden or visual disease.

Ridiculous! Let me phrase my thoughts in far simpler terms. Ralph gets an illness. He goes to a doctor. He gets a pill. He doesn’t get better. He goes to a specialist. He still doesn’t get better. Illness is now chronic. It’s been part of Ralph for at least 6 months. Ralph’s friends tell him of new doctors. He sees some of them. They offer new techniques. Stand on your head and whistle Dixie backwards. Ralph struggles until he can whistle better than anyone in American history. Ralph still has chronic illness. Ralph is told to change his diet. He now consumes only rutabaga and endive. Ralph still has chronic pain. Ralph is fortunate to go visit some of the best doctors in the world. He follows their advice to a T. He still has chronic pain. He cries. He goes to a local doctor. His emotions are flat. He just wants to feel better. He sits. He sits alone. He sits alone on his couch writing a blog. He wants others to understand something he can’t understand himself.

Surprise, surprise! I’m Ralph. I have drawers of medication that have been started and stopped and restarted with different dosages. I’m considered disabled. Sure, I get to stay home from work and avoid obnoxious administration, but I still have my chronic illness. I’m beginning to hate those two words even though I raised Stephanie forbidding her to use “hate” in any of her conversations in my effort to have the next generation wear lenses of pink. I hate it.

I still have chronic pain. Americans start with the term “acute” and switch over to “chronic” at six months. There needs to be a new term at a year or 5 years or more. My pain has been with me too long, and it’s not getting better. I try to laugh at my walk that resembles a drunken penguin, and I can generally at least smile at my tread. My words come out a stuttered mess, which is harder to accept. I fall. I look up into the eyes of people nearby and can’t express my feelings of the crushing pain in my head that made my body so furious that it dashed me to the ground.

Come sit with me. Don’t fret over me sitting in a puddle because that is where I fell. Don’t rush to me with names of new doctors because I’m tired of telling my tale again. I really can’t be expected to believe my pain will have any lasting relief for it’s been by my side too long. Let me wallow around and then come sit with me. I’ve learned to splash in the puddles, and sometimes that is ok. Puddles aren’t bad. I’ll soon stand up and change my clothes as I walk with the use of some device and swallow pills again. I’ll sleep too long because the medication makes me tired so come climb in my bed and snuggle in with a good joke.

My pain is no better. I’ve scheduled appointments with two different neurologists to discuss the frequency and duration of my migraines and vertigo. I have charts and graphs supplied by the finest. I’m a graduate of Loyola and mighty Mayo. I still can’t walk up to my bedroom tonight for my hips ache so strongly from my arthritis and fibromyalgia. I’ll soon ride up in style in our stair chair and lay next to my soul mate of two decades. He went to get the mail one day and never came back. Instead, I have a bitter gent who’s crumbling with his own pain and fights to help me without knowing how. Walking is a struggle, but we pray to walk down some beach leaving our pain behind somehow, somewhere, someday.

This is my life. I have chronic pain as does my husband. We want to improve our health, but we don’t know how. Medical teams don’t know how, so they prescribe a pill. It’s what we do in America.

So, don’t tell me I look better. Hogwash. I’m a fat, old lady that hurts. Don’t give me new names of doctors or techniques because I have files of recommendations still to fill. Instead, come sit with us. Hold our hands when it hurts, which is pretty much 24/7. Ask us about those grandbabies that are blessed distractions. They make us ignore our discomfort. We still want and need our friends, but we don’t know how. You probably don’t know how either or you still wouldn’t be sitting there reading this lengthy post.

Then pray for us. We need those supplications, and I’ll soon add my own. God knows my voice, and I’m trying to learn His. If I stop talking long enough, I’ll feel the Holy Spirit wash through me and leave behind a sense of peace. May you also have that peace knowing life is good.

Today's Way Shows Me Through Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
- God gave me a hubby who can share my puddles.

Chocolate Stops Chafing

I’m a prisoner locked in my own home, unable to go outside. The chains are this horrific migraine and stifling vertigo. I now am captive to the narcotics, currently the only option to reduce this horrid feeling. I need to get out of my funk, but I need your assistance as well as help from above. I don’t mean that last sentence to be as cynical or sarcastic as print implies, instead it’s an honest appeal for aid.

I shouldn’t complain about my prison for it has air-conditioning, a welcome addition to any local abode this time of year. My bed, couch and chair are comfy, each taking equal time positioning my tush. The refrigerator has lots of goodies, a look at my waistband could tell you that. Reading is unfortunately hard because the lines are swirling on the page, but my Kindle allows me to greatly increase the size of font. My thumb is getting buff since I need to keep changing pages much more frequently.

I forgot to brag about my newest piece of apparel. I was presented with a light turquoise t-shirt, the reward for surviving my lazyman triathlon. I now need a similar task to keep me motivated to head to the Y in my attempts to have more than my thumb in the buff category. A hefty kick in the wazoo would help too.

Right now, all of that physical exercise is on hold. The Monkee walk (Linda and my PRC fans understand) continues. Even to open the door to the big outdoors drops me to the floor. Going from an enclosed space to a larger area has always been hard for my vertigo. Up at Mayo, the vertigo zapped me when going from the hallway to the larger elevator waiting area. You can just imagine what happens when going from my home to outside. My legs become rubber (definitely not the buff look I am hunting) and the rest of me get small tremors. Forget any expressive language for the head decides stuttering is more appropriate when I crawl.

So, I stay inside, almost glued to a designated spot. I don’t even attempt to change to a new room without Bob at me side for I have learned a crash will be coming without his help. His poor arms are bruised as I clutch them in fear of falling. He doesn’t complain. This is our life.

Shucky-durn, I didn’t get to see my nephew and his family today,when O’Hare was a quick summer stop on route to see my sister. His son is almost one year and would have surely brought a smile or two my way. Bob and I both have limitations to our travel, particularly in the driver mode. We’ll need to suffice with the great pictures that will be online.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to get out of my funk. I’ve been here all day and feel guilty that “perky” and “inspiring” have slipped through my grasp. I saw “cute”, “vivacious” and “energetic” run from our home. Objectively, I’m blessed with a wonderful home, but I know it’s adhered as my permanent location against any of my will. My lack of freedom rubs against me. Just knowing I have a limitation and lack any control chafes my spirit. Chafing is uncomfortable in June.

So, it all comes down to the following:
1. I still have my vertigo and migraine.
2. I am seeking information from new medical professionals.
3. Medical appointments are being made.
4. Bob and I are both “discouraged”.
5. We love each other and appreciate your support.
6. Life is still good.
7. Chocolate chip cookies would help.

Another Way God Uses My Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:
• It allows me to blatantly beg for yummy calories online.

It's Not Worth the Change

After writing all of thee blogs, I’ve realized the amount of time I spend slouched on our family room couch with my computer resting upon my lap. I always check the email, play on the computer and try to jot down my reactions from the day. My husband does similar actions at his end of the couch. You can feel the electricity of the moment as we hammer away. They call us Mr. and Mrs. Excitement.

I talked to multiple doctor offices today in regards to Saturday. This morning, the migraine was still awful, and my head continued to swirl away. An associate of my pain doctor called to check on my revolutions and prescribed strong medicine to fight the vertigo. I tried these pills about a year ago but needed to stop due to the many side effects. We’ll see how it goes now. I have to rid the vertigo that knocks me on my tush and makes me immobile for four or five days so I need to balance a happy stomach with a quiet brain.

I tried to use the walker today because my path was far from stable. My knees kept buckling so much that even this modification was not good. Late this morning, I decided to head upstairs to rest in a horizontal position. My brain decided not to waste the extra effort so it dropped me to the floor after taking maybe two steps. At least it felt good having my face on the cool floor. Bob tossed me a pillow, but it couldn’t be used. My head couldn’t lift to that angle. The chill of the floor felt good against my throbbing head. It was also a great way for me to get a different view of the room and search for escaped Legos following the boys’ trip.

The stuttering has also arrived, but I try to ignore this debilitating condition. It is just one more aspect of my severe migraines, but it drains every ounce of my self-esteem. It hinders my ability to express myself to others, and I hate that!

The medication put me to sleep, so my afternoon was spent with me snoozing away. The actual headache is better even though it left a hole for its return. The tinnitus split in half and is far less audible. It now reverberates on both sides of my cerebellum. This tone can be ignored.

Reading is suddenly much harder for me. The words tend to wander around the page in the same fashion as my ambling treads. Usually I fight this movement by giving a “teacher look” to the given text, but the letters are not listening to me this time even with a font size of 379. Not being able to read would be unbearable.

My spinning has slowed to that of a Russian ballet company. It would be wonderful if I could walk fifteen feet and remain vertical with ease. The pounding is continuing. Bob once again found some interesting wives’ tales on the computer. You know the kind. I must sit on the roof singing the Star Spangled Banner backwards while juggling four milk bottles. I feel that we have gone full circle and I’m back to the start explaining my plight to a series of doctors who advise multiple medications with no impact on my pain.

So here I go with glasses of cold water, acupuncture needles, ginger and a stiff neck. I fear little will be gained, but they are each accomplished in the lingered hopes of a life without vertigo. These new steps help ease Bob’s pain at least, but I hate the drop after a hint of success.

The pain will gradually ease until another round comes dashing inside me. This is not pessimistic; I have lived with this constant repetition for about 3 ½ years. Now the faces of the physicians are starting to spin faster than the furniture in the room.

Ways God Shows Me Through Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
- I get to find loose change under the couch and aquarium.

Still Swirling

I feel like I’m living in a vacuum with the air pressure shoving in my head at the temples. A strong vise has me in its grasp. The cold hole from yesterday’s spike is still quietly taking claim of my disheveled brain. I feel one step off. With my usual two steps off, I’m sure that makes an unusual sight. Someone could film an interesting video, but no paparazzi followed me today.

I still have my vertigo, but it has leveled off and is spinning at a far more respectable pace. The tinnitus is loud but at least just one tone from the back of my skull. The headache remains at a 12 but I want to refrain from the narcotics as much as possible. I used my “bad day box” and had to laugh at the bubbles I blew. I am bubble-disabled and frequently can’t create any soapy spheres from the sticky stick with a circle at the end. I have a 3 out of 10 average if there is a breeze that will help me out. That’s pretty good batting for my poor Cubbies. I just need to focus on that.

I received many nice comments about my posting yesterday. I think it helped explain a section of my life that is usually clouded from view. I don’t want to focus on my pain for the Mayo police may come down and bop me on the head. “No pain talk!” is an important rule at the clinic.

I’m using a walker to help move around. The canes didn’t give me enough support. You might have heard some loud thuds just a few hours ago. That was my thighs or tush meeting the floor or the corner of our bedpost. At least the bruises that are blooming on my body are pretty colors and generally too high for others to see since they are covered by my capris. Our home is not filled with priceless china and crystal, so the cane didn’t do too much damage as it continually was flung from my hand.

I was unable to go to church services today, but the prayers were going strong. At one bad dent in the day, I could feel God holding me in his open hand as I huddled in prayer. The Holy Spirit fills these walls. For that I am very thankful.

Each day will slowly get better than the prior. I will soon get back to all my fat jokes drawing extra humor from my poor memory. I’ll also list Einstein’s antics on walks through the neighborhood and record my lost culinary skills. Yet, no matter what the day of your reading, I will still loudly proclaim that thank God, life is good.

Ways God Proves through My Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
- I have a fabulous bed and couch where I lay huddled while God gently holds me in his open palm.


Thanks for the comments on yesterday's post. I actually have 3 comments right here. Wow! Thanks.

The Mighty Three are Today's Victor

This blog won’t be listed under the top ten with comedic value. It’s been a rough day for me and dusk is still not here. Please skip this entry if you like to read lighthearted entertainment and find comparisons to your own daily experiences. My intended audience is far different. I need to be able to express my physical sensations to any medical personnel who might find this helpful. I want to write while memory is still somewhat fresh. Some of you have questioned me about the actual physical traits of the Mighty Three. Today is a perfect example of the onset of my handicapping conditions.

I woke this morning with the dread of multiple workers coming to our home. Men were working on some finishing touches in the kitchen and our cleaning lady was soon to cross our threshold. Teresa is super at transforming our home into a more hospitable setting, but I always feel the need to straighten prior to her arrival. I was at my dresser putting away my many jewels when an icy pick was shoved into my head. This dreadful sensation was in my temple near my hairline. I still feel the path it took to kill any positive thoughts for the next few hours.

I immediately fell to my knees. The violent vertigo had entered my soul and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to call to Bob, but my voice was much too feeble. I honestly thought that I was going to quickly die with some sort of hidden brain embolism or another medical horror. I prayed to God for help with the pain as the pick continued to burn inside. Things were spinning with such force; I couldn’t locate the way to my bed mere feet from where I crouched in fear. Bob and I know to travel with a phone and I pushed any button possible in an effort to find him. I needed to tell him that I loved him one more time before I died.

I’m unsure of the length of time I shuddered in a fetal position. My entire body ached due to my inability to stand or move. Bob somehow managed to get me in bed as he fumbled to call someone in my medical team. I could go by ambulance to the hospital, but I knew they would only fill me with strong narcotics that would let me sleep through one more attack, but provide me with no long-term assistance. Neither of us wanted that. The pain doctor on call advised me to see a new neurologist and provided the name to call on Monday.

Bob and I were alone in our bubble of chronic pain, both realizing that there was little either of us could do. My poor husband provided cold cloths as he held my head. He wanted to do more but the phone number with the all the answers continued to elude him. God gave me peace, but the pain still wracked my head and the vertigo sensations had never been as strong. My arms and legs tingled in response to the pain. The weight of the sheet was much too heavy as I remained locked in my bubble. Although serenity blanketed most of my thoughts, I worried what tribulations laid around the corner.

I would be curious for Bob to express his feelings at the time, but those emotions will remain stored inside him. The look in his eyes and gentle words of relaxation finally allowed me to doze. I knew by experience that a migraine would soon engulf me but there was nothing I could do to hide from my future. I tried to sleep because only there could my world be ripped from reality. I can walk in my dreams and run and sit and stand erect. Stuttering is extinct. I clench these moments and grasp for sleep knowing my escape route is hidden when I slumber.

When I finally woke, the vertigo had lessened. A cold emptiness remained where that icy pick had stabbed me. The migraine was coming. I felt its strength increase in each breathe I took, like the ocean tides crashing to shore. High tide would soon be there. I ate some food, quickly heated in the micro, so I could take narcotics and lessen the nausea soon to arrive.

My day was ruled by pain, crushing my sense of being. Nausea and diarrhea soon swallowed my body everywhere except the cold hole in my temple. To touch my hair brought agonizing nerves quickly to center. I felt like a mass of blubber lacking any control or emotion. It was almost like I looked on from above as I shuddered in the bathroom, afraid to move or even breath.

I’m better now. I’m sitting on the couch, my head carefully placed upon the cushion, as I attempt to describe the day. There’s a well-worn path to the bathroom as my symptoms have not totally subsided and my head feels detached while it floats overhead. The narcotics have dulled the pain, but the frosty path of that ice pick still clearly fills my head. I know death is not approaching any faster today than usual. I feel spent and exhausted as the throbbing still continues. The rest of my body is still fighting to not be forgotten. My husband finally dozes, angry at his inability to rid the pain. The need to “do something” is not quenched.

I don’t write this in hopes of sympathy or expressions of awe. These words are honest, expressions previously hidden from others. Doctors have urged me to be open about this part of my life instead of just crazy escapades with the dog or grandchildren. They hopefully will help me describe what happens when the Mighty Three attack my soul to yet another new doctor. God willing, they will spark a new idea so others won’t know by experience how I spend too many days. There has to be some way to reduce the throbbing in my head.

Yet tomorrow will be better. My stomach will still want sympathy, and I will thrill at times outside of the bathroom. An empty ache will fill me, and there’s lots of me to fill. Through it all, God will be with me to hold my hand and protect me from fear. Your prayers will blanket me with tenderness as I slowly return to my usual self.

Thanks for reading these words. It brings me comfort to know that others want to shield me from the Mighty Three. Your prayers will go far in that direction. God bless YOU for your efforts and time spent with me. Just look around the corner to see that life is good.

Ways God Reminds Me that Despite Chronic Pain, Life is Good:
-You receive a sense of serenity when God visits.

Come on people. Somebody out there has to comment. Just click on the title and a box appears.

Little Earthquakes

It’s just a ho-hum day sitting at home not doing anything. I don’t mean anything special; I mean not anything at all. My hubby is in the same mood, so we make quite the pair. It’s the kind of day I wouldn’t want to paint the house for watching the paint dry might be far too exciting of an escapade for either one of us. We’re not feeling the best, but nothing major for either one of us. So, we sit. I think we do that pretty well though. Einstein gets us moving to walk around the block once in a while, but that does it for any exercise or even movement.

I got to Skype my two little grandsons. They have a wee bit more enthusiasm than we do, but you probably figured that out before you even read this posting. They do bring the glitter back to our eyes. What I would give to see the eldest at a t-ball game tomorrow, but that must be postponed until next year.

We admit we might have a good case of funk-itis, but my stomach feels that it should be defined with a bit more clarity. I just tried to go with Bob to walk Einstein around the block, but a weird earthquake hit the Chicagoland suburbs. It practically wiped me off my feet as the earth wiggled and shook. It was mighty strange though how the epicenter of this quake was so compact that it was just under my feet. I was wobbling pretty well out there. Since I almost knocked down my hubby, we decided the heck with the dog. We needed to be inside.

The calendar remains pretty empty. Random squares are filled with doctor appointments, but the rest have us pretty open. God finally gave us free time to explore the world, some money, but questionable health. Hopefully, Bob’s days with the boot are almost to an end which will make moving around a bit more comfortable and God willing, some days of adventure in our near future.

The strangest thing is happening to my back. I have muscle spasms that began at the base of my neck and have now moved to my wing bone. (I don’t think that is the formal medical term, but you know what I mean.) This has happened to me before, but I am doing my best to avoid muscle relaxants. I wanted Bob to try to massage that area a bit to see if it would help reduce the pain and get rid of this knot. Instead, he just stared at my back, transfixed with the strange movements. This is a quote from him, “But it is the strangest thing just to watch it move.” At least it helped pass the time for him.

So, we pray tomorrow will have less spinning, stronger stomachs and more focused brains. These are the days that grant me leave from work and sympathy from friends, so I must make the most of them. I wish I knew how to better explain them to medical professionals so they could better understand the plight of the Mighty Three. I’m ready for some relief anytime but need to be thankful that my health hung in there long enough to enjoy the visit by my daughter’s family. We have much to be thankful for. Life is good.

Ways God Reminds Me through Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
- My earthquakes don’t cause the damage as those in California.

A Little Pat Does Wonders

I’ve been a wee bit busy with my daughter’s family in town, resting because her family is in town and bragging to everyone that my daughter’s family is in town. They flew home yesterday despite the tears of my eldest grandson which matched my own. I adore my little grandbabies and would do anything for them.

My body is recouping for I never say, “Not now” or “Can we wait to later?” when these darling boys request anything. I know time is short when they visit, so I try to enjoy every moment. How fun to experience all those zoo animals, time at the pool and adventures at the mall with the viewpoint of people less than three feet. Both guys love our saltwater tanks and were anxious for the fishees to wake up each day. They both are so very different in many ways. My daughter claims the eldest, who is free (or you might say three) is an OCD rule follower. The little dude, all of 18 months feels the sky is the limit and promptly tries to climb there to prove it.

It would be so nice if we could live our days modeling youngsters. I know eating behaviors and patience might need a bit more refining once we reach the age of 40, but our love of life needs to be way more obvious. We must love the same book on the 153rd reading and not be afraid to keep trying a task until it can be mastered. We have to dance with gumption and sing loud and clear. The simple things in life must provide us with joy and fascination. If we are tired, we should sleep. If we are hungry, ask for food. If we just want a good snuggle, find someone you love and let him or her know it. It was so nice to be reminded out of the clear blue that God loves me and get the sloppiest kisses outside of Einstein.

I must admit I am tired and didn’t get accomplished many (if any) of the things on my “To Do” list. My body still aches from those few days of loving. Even Einstein had fun and seems glad his tail is now safe. (He does miss some of the food on the floor though.) Even so, I know that life is good.

Ways God Reminds Me through Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
- The pat of a small hand when my back ached defines a miracle.

HEROES Care

Bob and I were fortunate enough to spend the day training with the HEROES Care Program; a non-profit organization benefitting the families of actively deployed military. These service people daily risk their lives to help maintain world freedom for myself and of course, my darling grandsons. My son-in-law has been deployed for months on end temporarily rotating my daughter’s identity to almost that of a single mom. My young grandsons have grown and learned so much while Daddy has been out to sea. This organization grabs my heart and forces me to count my many blessings. How can I not help these younger families while a spouse or parent risks his life for me?

All of the sixteen of us gathered in fascination, half of us came from our church. I’m so proud of our congregation who served as a host to other Stephen Ministers during this all day event. These caring individuals are ready to donate even more time to assist others. I’m really hyped into helping and can’t wait to see where God guides me. I urge others to check out the website www.heroescare.org.

I have lots to do tonight, things that I have just been ignoring. I have lacked any enthusiasm. I need to remember to beware of the drastic theft caused by any of the Mighty Three. My pain doctor has recently modified my prescriptions one more time to more closely match my pills prior to Mayo. Although the idea of life without narcotics and a daily handful of colorful capsules sounds like the optimal goal of my life, the agony created by such severe migraines is not worth any damage by my pharmaceutical options. I need to start moving again and completing tasks that have been either marginalized or totally ignored. HEROES Care provides me an opportunity to gain back some of that sense of self-worth so I will push myself to accomplish more jobs. This program can be a win-win option.

I better get to some of my tasks at hand. Even though I needed some pills to slow the throbbing and limit the speeding room, I actually made it through an eight-hour presentation and learned from it. I need to stop here and start counting my blessings because God has given me plenty.

Ways God Uses My Chronic Pain to Remind Me that Life is Good:
• Since I can’t move far or fast, I'm slowed to check out the many blessings that daily surround me.

Keep on Moving

Time continues to fly at an even more accelerating rate. I’m finding that my exciting creations and ideas fit comfortably in my head as I lounge on the couch with exaggerated calm. The feeling of laziness is coming to envelope me more and more. I kind of like the sensation.

My daughter’s family flew in on Wednesday. The boys are fabulous and could entertain me for hours. Their simple joy of being alive needs to be modeled more often. My daughter managed to have lunch with Teddy’s godmother and then throw a wedding shower in the evening. They were out in their usual whirlwind this morning to go celebrate life with her husband’s family. Some of the festivities will be held at the University of Illinois, which will bring about a great deal of reminiscing for she and her hubby. They can secretly envision both boys graduating from this Big Ten school, so they plan to photograph them amidst the hallowed perimeter of the quad while they are there now.

Bob and I are here to celebrate our anniversary and really notice how many factors of our lives have dramatically changed while the core fabric is slower, but much the same. The importance of family still radiates from our home as we try to instill that remarkable feeling of unconditional love to the munchkins who bring us so much laughter. Their honesty, clear outlook and exuberance have added charm to these walls. I pray that we will leave them with wonderful moments of love in their memories.

The kids will come back here for another jam-packed 36 hours. Poppy will take the eldest fishing for the first time. The little dude’s tackle box is already brimming with bobbers and lures meant to entice him into the love of being an angler. I hope to whisk my daughter quickly through some stores for needed retail therapy. Decorating cement stepping-stones is also penciled on the calendar but may be completed as we drive them back to O’Hare when their visit screeches to a halt.

Tomorrow we have training for that HEROES program, my effort at leading something with consequence for members of our Stephen Ministry program. I should be doing so much more, but my head (and heart) like this quieter version, at least for a while. My velocity has greatly slowed over my 22 years of marriage, but my mouth still jabbers just as well.

I’ll try to view life through the eyes of preschoolers. They’re down low to enjoy God’s fingerpainting of nature, be father away from adult endless gossip and worries, and not bother when they have some of life’s expected falls. They live by just popping back up and keeping moving at high speeds or perhaps at most, stop for a kiss along life’s way. Sounds like a good philosophy to me.

Ways God Reminds Me through Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
• It lets me sit back and philosophize about life through the eyes of small toddlers.

Go Get Your Hammers and Duct Tape

For all of you creative folk out there who are handy when it comes to building stuff, I’ve got some ideas for you. These suggestions are all yours; just let me know when you are finished so I can collect my free copy. Patent rights are all yours.

My head is causing me some difficulties that are creating huge roadblocks in getting things accomplished. Running errands are particularly cumbersome since my vertigo makes me the lucky owner of no knowledge on the directionality of the race. Without my whirlwind brain stem, I could dash out with my list in hand and knock off 90% of my tasks. Instead, I tremble on my couch clutching my computer that is perched on my shaking knees. I feel each dip in the room as it careens out to places unknown. Yikes! I hope there is a grocery store on this detour so I can pick up some milk and fruit snacks.

I’ve gone off track, hardly a unique situation. Let me describe some of the items I would love to possess.

I need a new hairbrush. That sounds all simple enough. Go to Target, and you will find an entire row devoted to hand-held objects that fit the brush definition. None of these items fit the qualifications needed for my sore head. I’ve talked with other migraine sufferers and they all agree that a special brush would sell like hotcakes, or perhaps that should be updated to the newest edition of smart phones. My dream brush would have some sort of bristles that would go through my golden and platinum tresses with ease. The “hairy” part is that these bristles would not touch my scalp. My head is so sensitive to any touch that the water in the shower is enough to bring tears to even the toughest WWF wrestler. I cringe each morning as I gently glide my current brush through the ends of tangled mess. Two swipes are about all that I manage, but I avoid any mirrors that might be within 200 yards.

I also would like some sort of blinders similar to those worn by racehorses. This idea was first brought to me during my stay at the PRC a month ago. When I use even the slightest hint of any peripheral vision when my vertigo is nearby, an immediate invitation to come have fun is sent to all those nerve cells somewhere in my cranium. Blinders would severely limit the amount of visual stimuli I receive. That’s part of the reason it looks like my head is stuck in one position as I journey with Einstein down the block. Slow and steady is the only way I can make it without tumbling off the sidewalk into the great unknown. Remember the muddy pajamas incident. Blinders might have prevented all of that.

I really need a vice of some sort. Many a time I have begged Bob to place his hands on each side of my head and squeeze. I’m not really sure of the medical rationale behind such pressure; I just know that it helps with those nasty migraines. This vice would squeeze that migraine into a much smaller block that would be much more manageable for all of us migraine sufferers.

The last item is still in the creative stage. I stopped at a local doughnut shop to celebrate National Doughnut Day last week. I had originally planned to stay there and munch away in delight and secret, but the loud ringing was past annoying. I questioned two different employees about the origin of the noise while hoping the disruption would soon come to a close. Much to my surprise and a wee bit of embarrassment, neither of the workers or a nosy consumer heard any of the ringing. I was waiting for questions about me seeing invisible aliens from some constellation still unknown to mankind, but I took the chicken exit and quickly departed instead. My husband insists that headphones would solve this imploding disruption, but even the best Bose products provide a kind of vacuum that hurts like a son of a gun. Those cute little earplugs have comparable results.

Well, there you go! You have four new products that could make you a millionaire, or at least ten bucks. You could go on that Shark Tank show and become famous almost instantly. This also is an opportunity to make all of us with the Mighty Three awfully excited, thrilled and downright happy. So get out your toolboxes and get creative. I need your help.

Ways God Reminds Me Through Chronic Pain that Life is Good:
Several exciting products can be developed through your personal inspiration.

Back to Normal?

Bobby is home, safe and sound. He was the perfect mate by placing all of his fishy, smelly clothes straight in the washing machine. The poor guy was out watering plants and “fussing” all afternoon. My culinary skills made up for it for a delicious dinner of delivery Chinese. He dialed, but I at least placed the order.

We went to church this morning while I played Revolving Door during the whole service. Our sanctuary plays games with my head anyway, when you add a trumpet or organ, things really get swinging. Poor Bob tries to sit in the back row against the windows to make it easier on me. This nuttiness is starting to wreck any cohesiveness of a worship service. Stuff is lost somewhere among my kaleidoscope vision, members of the congregation jabbering to me and others in the hall, and my brain being a gobbled mess. Yet my hubby and I did it together, and that’s what is important.

This week more closely resembles a normal calendar for the two of us. There are doctor appointments, therapy times, classes at the Y and even haircuts for both of my men who live with me. The good news is that my daughter’s family will be coming through on Wednesday. My eldest grandson is reminding Poppy of a promise to go fishing with a red fishing pole. We need a trip to the sporting goods store. We also must clear this place of all those wonderful items that aren’t the best for an 18 month old.

So pray for my vertigo to give me a break for awhile. The tinnitus and migraines could get less too. I wouldn’t mind if my back and hips would let me move with the grace and ease I picture myself still possessing. What’s a little wishful thinking?

May you all have a fabulous week and remember that life is good.

Ways God Reminds Me Through Chronic Pain that Life is Good
• Gives me lots of opportunities to see how much my hubby loves me

Still Nights

The day is coming to a close, and I’m ready to say good-bye to a unique week. I’m watching a 1948 romantic comedy with Betty Davis. It seems like the perfect way to quietly drift into a wonderful weekend. Bob returns from his all-male week of fishing and doing all of those guy things that I prefer not to mention. (I hope he’s squeezed at least one shower into life in a cabin amidst fishing, eating, sleeping, grunting and scratching.) I’ve managed to get some things done around here that have mysteriously been put on the back burner of Bob’s Honey Do List while continuing my feeble attempts at remaining vertical. Somehow, wine seems to help.

I’ve completed two of the three requirements for my lazyman triathlon and just have some bicycling to finish up. I must admit it felt mighty fine finishing that last lap in the pool today knowing my goal was fast approaching. My pride didn’t have too much time to inflate since getting out of the pool was quite a sight. My ankle decided it had enough of this exercise stuff. Let me just assure you that the two lifeguards were downright speedy rushing to my aid. Staff is accustomed to my Weeble walk but still worry when I go facedown. I can only use the excuse of examining the flooring so many times.

It feels good to just sit and review my week stretching for independence. I have kept on moving despite muddy pajamas, jackhammers and dizzy walks throughout the neighborhood. These posts have been full of a variety of emotions from anger and frustration to quiet contemplation. I’m realizing that I don’t fit all of the stereotypes of bipolar disorders; I’m more of an octingentipolar gal. (That’s not a real word, but you get the idea.)

The movie had ended, and my wine glass sits empty. It was wonderful to see a film with no violence, fighting or language that I prefer my grandsons wouldn’t hear. I pray that I can somehow quickly learn to reign in my emotions and face my chronic pain in a manner more even keeled. Objectively, I realize that chronic pain is part of who I am while knowing it is just ONE part. I just need to work on the subjective part.

I have The Mighty Three plus another Thirty Two. Life is significantly slower, but changes are good for one’s soul. I might get crotchety, yet I’m kind of cute even if I’m 90 pounds overweight. The movie has ended at a perfect time to post this blog. Have a great weekend everyone.

Ways God Reminds Me That Through Chronic Pain, Life is Good:
•“Still” nights have a double meaning when you have vertigo.

Librarians Would Hate Jackhammers and Backhoes

My eyes slowly opened with dreams glazing over in hopes that vertigo had floated away with my slumber. I saw the sunshine streaming in my bedroom begging that the day would bring good things. As I rolled over listening to Einstein’s pleas to go play, my head gained 47 pounds and the room quickly spun to an imaginary beat. Not good!

I made it to the bathroom by holding onto furniture. I am not easily defeated. My plans were to start the day slowly and then make it to the Y for my yoga class. I could pump away on the recumbent bike to creep closer to my goal for the triathlon. Stumbling down the stairs, I knew I was nuts, but yesterday had a rough start and I still managed to get to exercise amidst my peer athletes.

The weather looked perfect for me. It was supposed to be sunny skies with highs in the 70’s. I could hear the hammering as an existing sidewalk was in stage two of being removed. Breaking through concrete is not a silent job. Suddenly, Einstein went berserk, or rather more berserk than usual. I couldn’t really turn my head to see what dog dared walk by our home. The barking and running continued, and I knew that most canines walk much faster and should be well past our home. I got to me feet, which is no easy task mind you, and stumbled, I mean that literally, to the front door. Multiple men with hardhats were within two feet of our front door.

Slipping outside, they informed me that they were from the gas company. (Duh, I saw the truck.) They skewed their heads and squinted their eyes while looking at me in shame. Here was some disheveled lady, not working, who was already hitting the bottle. Her poor, neglected dog kept barking inside, probably not fed in days due to her neglect. I pretended to ignore their looks as I requested more information. The purpose for their visit was to replace old gas pipes with copper ones. They chose to start across the street. Did you know backhoes are loud?

I could hear the strains of at least two different lawn mowers wailing in the background. The finale came with a huge tree across the street coming down with the help of some very loud saws. I sat down and tried to focus on my ability to drive to somewhere, anywhere quieter. Nope! No keys in my hand today! My vertigo presented driving restrictions.

I chose to lie down for a short time, following Mayo’s suggestion of taking a time for deep relaxation. I think the phone rang 71 times in the first 11 minutes. This quiet time was not the same as the relaxation room up in Rochester. I got up for a gourmet lunch with some playtime on the computer. The phone did not ring for hours. Enough of being sedate, I still had some flowers to plant. I fell twice outside for there is not much to grasp to break any falls. The good side is that my body will be set for Flag Day with this wonderful triad of colors. Ripping my favorite capris just meant that I could shop!

So here I sit, trying to type. You see the final product. My fingers quickly move over the keys still, but they hit the wrong keys far too frequently for my preference. With migraines, I also have trouble with word retrieval. This is one time that a large vocabulary comes to haunt me. This “cute” blog takes a long time before it is ready to post. However, that might be good since it gives me something to fill my time.

Aah! The jackhammer has stopped for the day. I cannot hear any backhoes, lawnmowers or trimmers. The saws have been stopped and pesky blowers are put away for the day. Einstein quietly dozes on the top of the couch. I don’t even hear kids out playing in their yards. It sounds wonderful.

So, to sum it all up, the migraines with vertigo and tinnitus continue. I am trying to persist with Mayo’s advice but find those suggestions more difficult in my daily life. My body is sore, but I luckily have a lot of padding. Limited ability to attend any scheduled exercise program lets the pounds quickly add to my rotund frame. When I seem to be able to do so little well, I want to participate in activities still easy for me to accomplish with any accuracy. Eating is one such activity.

The many falls and loss of balance leave me frustrated. I’ve lost all my anger for it must have fallen out on my of my recent visits to the ground. Most people would have agreed that my neighborhood exceeded the normal levels of expected noise but could have stayed vertical or driven away. I got to experience it to the fullest.

The next time things get noisy, you can think of one of us suffering from The Mighty Three. Suppertime is approaching, and the refrigerator is full of fat laden foods. The cool breeze feels good as it reminds me of the wonders waiting outside. Those beauties will be postponed for me today. I prefer the couch with my legs up in the sky.

Tomorrow is a new day with new adventures at my fingertips. Hopefully, it will have a quiet beginning, still walls and lots of time for me to be vertical. That would be nice. Life is good!

Ways God Reminds Me Through My Chronic Pain that Life is Good
• It gives me lots of time to enjoy my home, plus it is cheaper for my bank balance.