tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341915192024-03-12T23:21:09.322-04:00The Fuzzball Chronicles: the Life and Times of Curly MommyThe rantings a frizzy-headed wife and mom of three.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.comBlogger188125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-4299324175825969542022-09-22T21:50:00.001-04:002022-09-22T21:50:27.280-04:00Music<p>I was raised on Christian music and I used to really enjoy worship. I could close my eyes, sway my body, raise my hands, and get lost in the safe, sacred music. Secular music was literally viewed as demonic or empty, at best.</p><p>Now that I'm free to listen to all kinds of music, I realize that it is the music, the corporate singing, the movement, the ritual, and the community that I really enjoy. I'm diving into the music to experience it for the art it is without the strings tied to a controlling religion.</p><p>I witness the same heightened state in the crowd of a rock concert. The difference is that the crowd is allowed to be fully themselves, no guilt, no shame, pure realness. They are allowed to speak of, poke fun at, and even celebrate our best and worst qualities. </p>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-52486047075249434192022-09-22T21:31:00.000-04:002022-09-22T21:31:57.986-04:00Tears of EmbarrassmentAfter dinner last night, my 20 year-old daughter asked me if I was having a midlife crisis? I answered affirmatively and told her about my blog post from yesterday. <div><br /></div><div>She had long forgotten about mommy's neglected blog, so I pulled out my laptop. We scrolled through memory lane together. Her special person was also with us, gaining insight into my girl's childhood and the woman who raised her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some memories were hilarious. She loved the story of the time she called her brother a pussy. She asked special permission to read about my miscarriage and other sad stories. I granted permission. I have no problem sharing hard times with her. </div><div><br /></div><div>What really got to me were the religious posts. Those were painfully embarrassing. Transparently sharing my attempts to be a good Christian was like ripping the bandage off of an open necrotic wound. I not only wished the wound was healed, but I wanted all evidence of it erased. My God posts made me feel stupid. </div><div><br /></div><div>Later, my daughter and I continued talking about my break from religion. I finally shed deconstruction tears. I spoke about having been raised in a cult-like church, and my disappointment in what our UMC has become. I spoke about how I feel like I've been manipulated all my life by mislead people.</div><div><br /></div><div>After my daughter left, I cried on my husband's shoulder. I said that I feel like I wasted the last 25 years trying to be a good Christian mom/wife/daughter/woman. Reaching out for an ideal that was made up by men trying to explain the unexplainable and control the masses was a practice in futility.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've missed so much of the good and beauty in the real world around me because of my fear of the secular. That ends now. I'm diving in. I'm drinking in the world, the tangible, the here, the now. I'm not going to feel guilty for pursuing the beautiful things of this world any longer. </div><div><br /></div>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-70346992414288562442022-09-21T14:06:00.001-04:002022-09-21T14:06:24.100-04:00Midlife Crisis<p>So, how can you tell if you're having a midlife crisis? I think that's where I'm at right now. Or maybe I'm having a psychotic break. Or maybe I'm just fed up with trying to be a good Christian mom. Why? Why do I have to be so fucking strict with myself and my kids? I'm done. </p><p>I haven't been to church in about two years. I avoided the church in 2020 due to weak COVID restrictions. The Black Lives Matter Movement, 2020 election, Jan. 6 Insurrection, and overturning of Roe v. Wade further served to divide me from my church. I watched the service online for a while, but eventually dropped that too. It was as if my fellow members had their conservative ostrich heads in the sand and couldn't see their actions were not how Jesus would have handled things. </p><p>Over the last few months, our pastors finally decided to address the stance of homosexuality in the United Methodist Church. They did a summer series about sexuality in the church and sent out strongly worded letters against remaining in the UMC. Although I hadn't been physically present in a while, I did go to the church to cast my vote on September 11. Some people were pleased to see me, some avoided eye contact, while others made passive-aggressive comments. It was not a comfortable meeting. </p><p>By overwhelming majority, my church voted to leave the UMC. My church voted to join the newly formed and very conservative Global Methodist Church. I will not be returning to my church home of nearly 16 years.</p><p>I'm not looking for a new church at this time either. A few friends reached out to me from more liberal UMC's in my area and some suggested the Episcopal Church. While I appreciate their invites, I can't go to church right now and I don't know if I will in the future. Yes, I am church-hurt.</p><p>It has been 10 days since the vote. At first I was sad, but now I have a sense of closure, like the end of a season in my life. For now, anywhere with good music will be my church. I deleted the Christian radio stations from my presets (so many triggers). I removed myself from email lists and social media posts. I need to figure out how to disaffiliate myself. I'm practicing mindfulness, being fully present, feeling the world with all of my senses. Secular is no longer a bad word. I'm happily embracing the secular.</p>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-21871416925096396842022-09-20T22:14:00.002-04:002022-09-21T13:14:33.733-04:00Jimsonweed<p> A little over seventeen years ago, my grandmother, or Ma, as we called her, confessed to smoking jimsonweed. Ma's doctor had been unsuccessful at treating her breathing, so she went to, "the old witch lady down the road." This woman gave her a wooden box of dried jimsonweed, told her to roll it into a cigarette and smoke it. Ma said it didn't really help her breathing, and it made her feel crazy. This would have been in 1955, just before she gave birth to my father (prematurely). This confession has been the source of years of jokes about my dad being an unintelligent jimsonweed baby.</p><p>When I began googling jimsonweed I learned that Georgia O'Keeffe did a series paintings of the herbaceous perennial. I fell in love with this painting: <a href="https://www.georgiaokeeffe.org/jimson-weed/" target="_blank">Jimsonweed by Georgia O'Keefe</a>.</p><p>Jimsonweed (<i>Datura stramonium)</i> also goes by the names thorn apple and devil's snare. The flowers open at night and emit a sweet fragrance. Conversely, the leaves are stinky when rubbed. It contains alkaloids, tropane, atropine, hyoscyamine, and scopolamine, making it a useful medicinal herb or poison. All parts of the plant are toxic, narcotic, and hallucinogenic. Too much Jimsonweed will kill. Poor Ma! Poor fetal Dad! What a trip. </p><p>Anyway, now to the reason for this post. For more than 10 years I've wanted to get a tattoo, but I could never settle on an image and location. Yesterday that changed. I was in the shower when I it suddenly hit me. I WANT A JIMSONWEED TATTOO ON MY LEFT SHOULDER. </p><p>Now to find an artist that I trust to cause me great pain and make permanent changes to my body.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-65559828433386964072022-07-31T11:04:00.000-04:002022-07-31T11:04:49.508-04:00Things I Know To Be True<p>I am human. </p><p>I am real.</p><p>I am woman.</p><p>I am imperfect, and that is okay.</p><p>I care what people think of me in relation to integrity, honesty, and intelligence. I cannot stand to be called a liar. </p><p>I often feel invisible. I'm short, so people often look over me in a crowd. I'm middle aged, fat, and frumpy. People seem to look through me. I feel irrelevant, especially in a crowd of younger people.</p><p>I have a chronic fatigue, pain, depression, and anxiety disorder. My doctors call it Fibromyalgia. Could it be something else? Sure, I'm not stuck on the name. I view it as a placeholder until a better diagnosis comes around. I know the chronic fatigue, pain, depression, and anxiety are real.</p><p>My lifestyle can help or hurt me in my struggle with fibromyalgia. Proper diet, exercise, and sleep are essential to living my best life with fibro.</p><p>I struggle to maintain proper diet, exercise, and sleep.</p><p>I was raised by Jesus Freaks during the Jesus Movement at a charismatic non-denominational church. </p><p>I really, really wanted to be a perfect Christian when I was a kid. </p><p>Perfection is not an attainable goal. </p><p>My parents, brother, children, and husband love me. They don't always love me the way I want or need, but they do carry unconditional love for me.</p><p>My parents, brother, children and husband are imperfect, and that is okay.</p><p>I love my parents, brother, children, and husband. I don't always love them the way they want or need, but I do carry unconditional love for them.</p><p>Celebrate Recovery and the United Methodist Church were very, very good for me in my 30's and early 40's, but not so much any more.</p><p>I'm deconstructing my faith with an open heart and open mind.</p><p>I'm not afraid to deconstruct my faith, but I am lonely. I miss my church community, but not enough to go blindly back into it. </p><p>I'm not afraid that God will punish my lack of faith. If anything, I think God is big enough understand my struggle.</p><p>I woke up with a headache.</p><p>My husband and I are on day seven of COVID-19 symptoms. This is his first time, and my second time being ill with the notorious virus. I hope to go back to work this week.</p><p>This is my third or fourth time trying to write this week. I'm glad to be able to get a few words out. Fibro fog and COVID fog are muddling my brain.</p>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-69356934786888759922022-07-25T11:37:00.002-04:002022-07-25T11:43:01.003-04:00Stepping Out of My Cage<p>Why use this antiquated platform again? I'm writing here to process, formulate, and solidify my thoughts and beliefs about who I am, who I want to be, and how to live going forward. So many things have changed for me. The events of 2016 to present pulled the curtain of religion back to reveal the puppet master of conservativism and Christian Nationalism.</p><p>Do I still believe in God? Yes. I believe there is something much greater than myself. I'm not quite sure how I define that right now, but the belief is still there. Do I believe in Jesus Christ? Yes. At some level I believe. Do I believe that my fellow humans (who have been raised in different traditions) will be dammed to an eternity of torture for not believing in the sacrifice? No. Would a merciful god condemn billions of souls simply because they have not heard and believe a story? No. That act isn't consistent with nature of a good god.</p><p>I feel manipulated and controlled by leaders who point to an ancient collection of texts as absolute truth. Sitting down to "spend time in the Word," leaves me feeling more depressed, disenchanted, and confused. I see myself through the eyes of those ancient writers and wonder why my life as a woman is less valuable than that of a man? Why is slavery allowed? Why is genocide encouraged? Why is homosexuality banned?</p><p>Christians say, "Oh, that was Old Testament; the New Testament changed things." I'm not okay with that. If God is really omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient, the how could he allow all of that suffering? Can sin really tie the hands of an omnipotent god? Would an all-loving god be so fickle? I don't think so.</p><p>I don't know if my parents are still able to get notifications that I'm posting here. If they do read this, it will break their hearts, for they are true believers. That saddens me because I truly value their opinion of me. I don't want them to worry about the condition of my eternal soul. However, that worry isn't enough to keep me from stepping out of my cage to experience the secular, the real, and the honest. I hope they eventually understand. </p><p><br /></p>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-58055292913976698722022-07-24T23:03:00.002-04:002022-07-24T23:03:19.482-04:00Been A Long Time<p>Hello old blog. It has been such a long time. I didn't lose the weight (I gained), my cholesterol is still high (and my liver is angry), and I still use my APAP religiously (at higher settings).</p><p>I'm middle aged. I have crow's feet and grey at my temples. I don't get carded when I buy beer for my husband (I don't drink--bad liver). </p><p>My oldest child graduated and moved out. She's into all things goth and punk.</p><p>My middle child will (hopefully) graduate from high school next year. He's into all things punk, and metal. </p><p>My youngest child will be starting 8th grade this fall. She's funny, compassionate, and compliant. I'm waiting for her head to start spinning...</p><p>My husband is the same reliable guy he was before, but now he has an APAP, thinning grey hair, and some weight around the middle. </p><p>We are in the same city, but now we live in a much larger home on two wooded acres.</p><p>We have the same two old dogs, a couple of cats, and three fish. Now we also have eight chickens that we've successfully kept safe and alive for almost a year and a half. Mmm. Eggs.</p><p>2015 was our last homeschool year. We loved our co-op and we loved field trips, but we hated doing school at home. Sending the kids to school was a heart wrenching decision, but it had to be done. </p><p>For me, the 2016 election began cracking the alabaster shell on Christian Nationalism. I was dismayed by my fellow Christians who were blindly following Trump. I decided that year to stop being a single issue voter. I voted for Hillary Clinton. Given the choice between the two, I'd vote for her again.</p><p>I returned to nursing (wound care) part time in 2016. I worked for about 18 months, then took a two year break to focus on my family.</p><p>Then came 2020...</p>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-37396920217973420372014-01-01T22:48:00.001-05:002014-01-01T22:48:47.714-05:00A New Year A New PlanGoals for 2014:<br />
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1. Weigh 50 pounds less by January 1, 2015.<br />
2. Decrease my cholesterol to normal levels.<br />
3. Sleep without the aid of an APAP.<br />
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Affirmations:<br />
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1. I am worthy of taking time to care for my mind, body, and spirit.<br />
2. I have to take care of myself first so I will be able to care for others.<br />
3. I can resist the temptations that arise by using my tools.<br />
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Gratitude:<br />
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1. God<br />
2. Family<br />
3. Friends<br />
4. Church<br />
5. PetsCurlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-23223995248407392432013-06-20T22:21:00.000-04:002013-06-20T22:21:36.492-04:00Character Defects?So, after lots of thought, I finally told my counselor that one of my major character defects is laziness. She disagreed, and kindly pointed out all of the things I do that prove that I AM NOT LAZY. <br />
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That was months ago, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. I was called lazy as a child, and I'm working now on not believing that lie.<br />
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What my counselor said next shook me to the core. She said that SARCASM is one of my principle character defects. I'm sure I replied with a snarky comment. <br />
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After sitting in silence for what seemed an eternity, my counselor called my name. I was staring at a creepy sketch of a screaming monkey and she seemed to be very far away. I think she called me several times before I realized it. She wanted to know what I was thinking.<br />
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I began to cry, and feel really, really stupid. Who cries about crap like this?! I guess someone who uses sarcasm as her chief coping mechanism, that's who. <br />
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Finally, I answered, "I don't know what would be left [to protect me] without sarcasm.<br />
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I left that night with the assignment to ask my husband help me identify when I was using sarcasm, as I often don't realize it myself.<br />
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A month later, I returned to her office feeling quite silly, and pissed off at myself. How could I reach the age of 37 without knowing that my words are powerful, often very hurtful, and don't truly protect me at all. I had a breakthrough.<br />
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I've been working on dropping sarcasm when I am hurt, threatened, angry, or just at a loss for words. As always, this is a work in progress.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-83895224266386281482012-11-28T12:01:00.002-05:002012-11-28T12:09:58.462-05:00Getting StartedI met with my counselor last night. Yes, I'm in counseling. We talked about the Thanksgiving holiday break, family stress, me not doing the assignments she gave me in our last session, and me having trouble starting tasks.<br />
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In last month's session, I was supposed to drag out my Step 4 inventory and make a list of character defects. I also agreed to exercise with my kids daily. I fully intended to do the assignments, but didn't get very far. <br />
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I took out my inventory and begrudgingly thumbed through it, once. I also took my kids on a bike ride to the park. The trip to the park ended with a 45 minute tantrum by 4 year-old. I didn't pick up the inventory or touch the bikes again.<br />
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My reluctance starting tasks is rooted in my desire for perfection and completion. If I cannot complete a project perfectly, I'd rather not try. My mind is like a one way track--start at the beginning and hopefully don't derail on the way to the final destination. There is only one acceptable ending. Any divergence from the goal is failure. If I foresee failure I avoid the task.<br />
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I am working now to change my mind from a one way track to something more like a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rube_Goldberg" target="_blank">Rube Goldberg</a> machine. Sounds silly, I know. The flow chart of my mind needs to have several acceptable paths to success. Sure, they may not be the most efficient paths, but the paths still get to the goal, eventually. When my path seem overwhelming or diverges from the straight one way track onto one of Goldberg's machines I can't allow frustration, anger, depression to lead to avoidance. <br />
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I realized a few years ago that I do best with projects that that I can complete in a relatively short period of time and that don't have to be perfect. This is why I don't scrapbook and why I do make cakes. Scrapbooking is never ending, and I'm never happy with what I've made. I find myself reworking pages and eventually giving up altogether. A cake has to be completed and presented, even if I think it looks like crap. I'm rarely fully satisfied with a cake, but I can still count it as a success. I learn from my cake mistakes so I do better the next time.<br />
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My counselor encouraged me to break tasks down into small portions and give myself credit for completing each portion. So far this morning, I snuggled with my girls, took the dog out, cleaned the kitchen table, made breakfast and ate with my kids, brushed my teeth, cleaned off my school table, washed the pan I used to make my egg, read my devotion, checked email, completed math with Little Man, and science with Tater, helped Baby Bee get dressed, and did a science experiment with the kids, all while blogging intermittently. It really didn't seem like I had accomplished much until I wrote it out. Wouldn't my path to completing this blog entry make a good Rube Goldberg machine drawing or <a href="http://www.familycircus.com/" target="_blank">Family Circus</a> cartoon?<br />
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I need to help the kids finish their lessons, put on some real pants (I'm wearing Sponge Bob pj's), start SOME laundry, put away SOME folded laundry, fold SOME more laundry, and make lunch. I don't expect to finish with Mount Foldmore today, but that is okay. After lunch (and after real pants) I think I'll take the kids out for a walk, assign their chores, plan and begin dinner, go to the drug store, and get the car washed. I need to fit a shower into the list somewhere.<br />
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All of that seem overwhelming to me, so I'm going to take it small bites. It is okay if I don't finish all that I mentioned. It is okay things aren't perfect. I am going to try anyway.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-18090540521042541772012-11-09T23:07:00.000-05:002012-11-09T23:07:33.142-05:00VITonight I celebrated my sixth birthday. Okay, not my sixth bellybutton birthday, but my sixth recovery birthday. I received a bronze medallion with a big "VI" on it to mark the occasion. <br />
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The lesson tonight was about gratitude. I am so grateful for Celebrate Recovery!<br />
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Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-41269780913409174422012-05-21T08:59:00.001-04:002012-05-21T09:04:45.705-04:00I Heart Guts Cake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I made this cake in honor of my brother's graduation from medical school. </div>
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Congrats to Dr. Cabbagehead!</div>
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<a href="http://iheartguts.com/" target="_blank">I Heart Guts!</a></div>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-82027397364640248992012-01-13T10:06:00.002-05:002012-01-13T10:06:55.062-05:00Become What You BelieveSo, I signed up for <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/resources/readingplans/index.php/2012/01/13?plan=1&version=102">daily Bible readings</a> to be sent to me via email. Part of my reading this morning was this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Then he touched their eyes and said, <woj>“According to your faith will it be done to you”;</woj> and their sight was restored. Matthew 9:29-30 NIV<br />
</blockquote>
A different version reads like this: <blockquote class="tr_bq">
He touched their eyes and said, "Become what you believe." It happened. They saw. Matthew 9:29-30 The Message<br />
</blockquote>
I often struggle with what I believe. Lord, help my unbelief, so I can become what you want me to be.<br />
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After the Ministry Leader spoke (a challenging and encouraging message) he opened the floor for questions and comments. After a while, I stood and announced to the group that I will no longer be a CR Leader, and will not be working in Celebration Station with the elementary age kids or in The Landing with the teens. I explained that I have lost myself in service. I have been placing everything else in front of my recovery, and that my relationship with God has suffered. I need to reboot.
I received lots of hugs and encouragement when the meeting was over. <br />
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This morning I got an email from the Leadership thanking me for my service and wishing me well as I work on my personal journey. There are no hard feelings, only love and support.
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One of the things I have been neglecting is journaling. I'm letting go of the notion that I have to journal complete descriptions of how I feel or what I experience. A few words will suffice. Journaling has to have priority in my day if I wish to remain on the right path.<br />
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Daily devotion is of great importance to my recovery. I check my email daily, so I have devotions sent to me there. I just have to quiet myself enough to read and soak in the message.<br />
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If I rely on my skewed view of the world, I am bound to get lost again. Regular time reading God's Word is essential, but I often go months without reading my Bible. I'm learning that establishing a routine for desired behaviors is necessary. I can utilize my computer to access <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/">BibleGateway</a> every day, or I can arrive at my kids school early and use the extra time sitting in the car to read. If neither of those happen, I can break open my Bible after the kids go to bed, instead of wasting away in front of the television.
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On Sunday, I made a commitment to work on weight loss. I have drastically cut out dairy and meat products. My diet now consists mostly of vegetables, fruits, and grains. I dusted off my old juicer and have a big glass of veggie and fruit juice between healthy meals. So far, it is working. I've lost three pounds, and other than the cold I caught from my kids, I'm feeling pretty good.
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The devotion I read this morning was about fear. If I am fearful about something, I am not trusting God with that area of my life. Today I fear that I will lose momentum with eating healthy. I fear that I will gorge myself on hamburgers,fries, cheese (I love cheese), pizza, sweets, butter (mmmmm), pasta, white rice...
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God, I don't want to live in fear. Please help me surrender my eating habits to you and your plan for my life. I want to serve you and walk the path you have prepared for me. Thank you for giving me the tools I need to live a healthy happy life. Help me to use those tools. Amen.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-66940188783989553862011-08-08T22:36:00.000-04:002011-08-08T22:38:12.806-04:00Messy BrokenI love my messy, broken friends who know that I am messy and broken too.<br /><br />It hurts when my friends do messy, broken, stupid things. I know it hurts my friends when I do messy, broken, stupid things too.<br /><br />I'm honored that my friends feel safe enough with me to be honest when they do messy, broken, stupid things.<br /><br />I'm grateful that I am learning stop before speaking harmful words when my friends do messy, broken, stupid things.<br /><br />I can't ignore the stupid, messy, broken actions.<br /><br />I have to confront the stupid, messy, broken things my friends do, in a healthy, healing way.<br /><br />I want my friends to accept that their stupid, messy, broken actions hurt me.<br /><br />I think it is reasonable that my friends will have to work to regain my trust after hurting me with stupid, messy, broken behavior. <br /><br />I am willing do to my part in maintaining healthy, healing relationships with my messy, broken friends.<br /><br />I hope that my friends will do their part in maintaining healthy, healing relationships with me, a messy, broken woman.<br /><br />I pray that my friends will have the courage to confront me in healthy, healing ways when I do messy, broken, stupid things too.<br /><br />I'm so thankful that my messy, broken friends and I are learning how to have healthy, healing friendships.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-17702695305729062782011-07-28T17:08:00.000-04:002011-07-28T17:10:20.398-04:00Terrible TwoI had errands to take care of, so I told the kids to get their shoes on and go potty.<br /><br />Then it began. <br /><br />Baby Bee climbed Little Man's toy shelf and knocked over a box of Legos. Little Man yelled. She began to cry and morphed into a lump on the floor.<br /><br />A few moments later, I was brushing Tater's hair and trying to explain the importance of brushing ALL of the hair, not just the the hair in the front.<br /><br />Baby Bee walked into the room and started touching Tater's stuff. Tater yelled at her to get out. Again, she resembled a writhing blob on the floor.<br /><br />Next, I attempted to gently brush and pull Baby Bee's hair up so it wouldn't be in her eyes. She screamed the entire time. When I finished, she hid under a pillow on her bed.<br /><br />I opened the garage and told everyone to load up. Tater loaded. Little Man loaded. Baby Bee refused to move.<br /><br />When I moved the pillow, I noticed that Baby Bee had removed and disposed of her ponytail holder. Her chin-length bangs covered her eyes and stuck to her wet face.<br /><br />I buckled my screaming, kicking, shaggy toddler into her car seat straps and left the house.<br /><br />The ride to the doctor's office was uneventful. I only needed to pick up a new box of allergy shots, and I knew we would only be there a few minutes. I thought things would be fine. Boy was I WRONG!<br /><br />Upon arrival, I attempted to put Baby Bee's sandals on her feet. As soon as I got one on she would take the other one off. Finally, the shoes stayed on and I got her out of the car. She melted into a puddle in the parking lot and refused to get up.<br /><br />Around this time, Little Man tattled on his big sister. Apparently, Tater said that I was mean.<br /><br />It took about 10 minutes for Baby Bee to finally decide that she didn't want to be left in the parking lot and to realize that she had to do the walking herself. <br /><br />I left my older two kids in the foyer with crying Baby Bee and signed in with the nurse. Then I sent the older two into the waiting room while I held my still angry toddler. <br /><br />Baby Bee finally quietened enough for me to take her into the office. She wasn't happy, quiet, or still, but it was a little better. <br /><br />When I walked into the waiting room, Tater and Little Man were fighting about a lost paper clip. Ugh!<br /><br />The nurse kindly laughed and we joked about taking Valium and giving some Haldol to Baby Bee. She game me my new box of shots and we were on our way.<br /><br />Once again, Baby Bee's meltdown heated up in the foyer. She refused to walk, so I walked out of the building without her. Of course, she ran after me, and I turned back to get her.<br /><br />Just as I was walking back into the building I heard a woman yelling from the second story balcony of the foyer, "Who's child is this?!" <br /><br />Some maintenance men (who had see everything) calmly explained to the woman that I was trying to teach my child.<br /><br />As I picked up Baby Bee, the lady yelled at me, "This is a place of business...Take her out of here." Obviously, her business was very important to her.<br /><br />I looked up at the obese, middle-aged, overly made-up woman and yelled back, "Get real. This is a pediatrician's office!" <br /><br />I was almost in tears, but managed not cry as I headed to the car.<br /><br />Baby Bee screamed as I put her in the car seat, complained that her straps were too tight, and kicked her shoes off again.<br /><br />As we were leaving the parking lot, Baby Bee calmed down and asked if we could go out for ice cream.<br /><br />I responded, "NO WAY!" and Baby Bee wailed again.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-26579071307584255222011-07-25T23:44:00.002-04:002011-07-25T23:49:41.714-04:00Oh, No!I'm checking out friends' blogs, but I don't have anything interesting to say tonight. <br /><br />Yardboy just looked over my shoulder and said about me, "Oh, no! She's blogging! She must be pissed! Did I say that out loud?"<br /><br />Funny Yardboy. :)Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-38172819988576181712011-07-19T22:56:00.003-04:002011-07-19T23:22:34.896-04:00Thank You NotesA few days after returning from my mission trip (that was awesome) I had photo collage cards printed to use in thank you notes for my very generous supporters. Late last week, I purchased paper, envelopes, and printer ink and sat down to write my notes.<br /><br />I don't know why, but I just can't figure out what to say. I'll type up something and erase it. My words don't communicate the gratefulness I have for God and my supporters. Now I just have to put in on paper. Words, please come to me!<br /><br />So, I've been home from Guatemala since July 3. My guts finally decided to stop squirting, and then I got an unknown virus that kept me in bed for three days and made me feel like crap for another week, or so. I'm finally functional this week, but I can feel some sinus/lung trouble brewing. Ugh! This has to end! <br /><br />On the up-side, I'm not able to eat much without feeling crummy, so I'm not overeating. :) Maybe I can use this opportunity to train my mind and body to make healthier choices.<br /><br />God, thank you that I'm feeling better. Continue to heal my mind, body, and spirit. Give me the words to show my supporters how much I appreciate them. <br /><br /><br /><br />Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-41745021448388616122011-07-10T15:09:00.004-04:002011-07-10T16:34:41.382-04:00DreamerI returned from Guatemala a week ago. The trip was amazing! We served 900 patients over five clinic days. All eleven of us contracted some sort of intestinal bug and no, we didn't drink the water. It is just one of those things that can happen when visiting the third world. <br /><br />Interestingly enough, I wasn't depressed while on the trip. There were times that I was lonely, sad, angry, tired, sick, nervous, or afraid, but most of the time I had a sense of peace and purpose. I missed my family immensely, and was ready to see them about half way through the nine day trip, but never felt depressed.<br /><br />Since coming home, I've been having a great deal of fibromyalgia pain, fatigue, and of course, there is that tummy issue and my period. Any of those alone can cause the dark cloud to come, so I guess it makes sense that I was down. Also, culture shock took its toll too. I am thankful that my lungs seem to be very happy, so breathing has not been a problem.<br /><br />I demanded very little of myself and kids this week. We stayed up late, slept even later, and lazied around the house. I managed to take the kids to the library on Thursday and that was an accomplishment! <br /><br />Taking the kids to the library on Thursday was good, but I really enjoyed Friday morning. I was wasting away on the computer when a dear friend messaged me. We chatted for a few minutes, then she asked if I could watch her kids while she visited another friend in need. I agreed.<br /><br />I believe it was good for everyone. The kids had a blast playing sardines (reverse hid and seek)and I loaded the dishwasher, fed the kids, and mopped my kitchen floor. Midst all of the kid noise, I realized that I was happiest I had been since being home from Guatemala. For the most part, I wasn't directly interacting with the kids (except for occasionally instructing them to not hide in the laundry pile), but I was content knowing that my friend was able to help someone else because her kids were with me.<br /><br />My friend picked up her kids just as I was ready to take my two older kids to gymnastics and dance class. During class, my little one and I went grocery shopping. Somehow, I had loads of time left over after the shopping trip. I decided to go to Dairy Queen for snacks before picking up the kids. BIG MISTAKE!<br /><br />I ordered three strawberry sundaes for the kids, and a banana split for myself. Really, all I wanted was a banana and a scoop of ice cream, but that isn't on the menu. In case you didn't know, a banana split from DQ is HUGE. Yes, I knew when I ordered it that it was too much. When I started eating it I knew it was too much. Half-way through eating it I knew that I was already too full. I finished the thing and was miserable. I tried to reason that at least the banana was healthy. Ha!<br /><br />Why do I do that?! I know what is right. I don't want to do what is wrong. But I do it anyway...every single time. Sound familiar (Romans 7)?<br /><br />This morning at church the sermon was about Joseph and how he was a dreamer (Genesis 37). He dreamed fantastic, unrealistic dreams, and they came true. As he spoke, I looked down at the colorful, handmade Guatemalan skirt I was wearing. I remembered the woman who made and sold it to me. Then I thought of how she and her mother commented on the size of my belly in Spanish when they were showing me how to wear the skirt. I don't like being fat.<br /><br />The pastor challenged us to dream like him and trust that God can make those dreams come true. Here it is--I'm dreaming that God will use me to serve others, thus lifting me from my pit of depression, and that he will heal me of my addiction to overeating, thus lifting me from my pit of obesity, guilt, and shame. <br /><br />So, I find myself again at Step Two: <strong>We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.</strong> For it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. Philippians 2:13<br /><br /><br /><br />Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-106738026489387212011-06-20T00:47:00.000-04:002011-07-10T16:34:41.387-04:00So Tired--Can't SleepAfter a long, busy Father's Day with my husband, dad, and father-in-law, I am tired. It is a good tired, and I enjoyed our family day.<br /><br />A little while ago, I took all of my allergy and asthma meds, helped Yardboy clean the clothes off of our bed, set the alarm, checked on the kids, brushed my teeth, washed my face, put my jammies on, rubbed lotion on my feet, kissed Yardboy goodnight, and donned my auto pap mask.<br /><br />The mask wasn't sealing right, so it made a whistling noise every time I inhaled. My left arm was going to sleep, my right hip hurt, Yardboy was snoring, my eyes would not stay shut, and my mind was racing.<br /><br />I quietly removed my stupid mask and got out of bed.<br /><br />One of the thoughts racing through my brain was about how I have a counseling session tomorrow night and I haven't journaled once since my last meeting weeks ago. I don't mind journaling. I even like it, once I get started. I just can't get started. There is always something more important, or interesting to do. Sometimes I'm just too worn out to do it.<br /><br /><br />Another thought was about my ballooning waistline. My fat clothes are getting too small. I'm going to get blood drawn tomorrow morning to check my thyroid function. Part of me hopes it is abnormal. An abnormal result would relieve me of the personal responsibility for my weight. Then I could take a pill and make it all better. Blah, blah, blah.<br /><br />I have a gym membership. The gym is about a mile from my house and the monthly fees are dirt cheap. The place is brand new with nice equipment. Once again, I like working out there, once I get started. I just can't get started. There is always something more important, or interesting to do. Sometimes I'm just too worn out to go.<br /><br />The third thing I was thinking about was my upcoming medical trip to Guatemala. We were commissioned at church today and I leave on Saturday. I'm super excited and amazed how God had provided my funds so quickly! I was offered the opportunity to go on the trip a little over a week ago, so it has been go, go, go ever since.<br /><br />My checked bag is already packed with 72 cloth diapers, vitamins, health teaching materials in Spanish and English, silly string, bubbles, enough Tylenol to kill a horse, lolly pops, plastic medicine bottles, stethoscopes, syringes, hiking shoes... <br /><br />Yardboy will be caring for our kids while I am gone. What a wonderful husband and dad! He even gets to take them to the dentist. Hee hee.<br /><br />The last thing that raced though my little brain was the strengths and weaknesses of my kids. They are all very smart, but as usual, mothering is sweet sorrow. I hope and pray that we are parenting our kids in a way that will yield healthy, responsible, kind, God fearing adults. I pray for my spawn constantly, as it would suck to be the mother of a serial killer, or the like. <br /><br />Well, I guess I got it all out. My eyes don't want to remain open. I want to sleep, but I really don't want to fight with my stupid mask. I think I'll ditch the machine and use my oral appliance for sleep apnea instead. It is less effective, but I just can't bear the thought of that mask right now.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-873666189585070762011-04-10T00:16:00.008-04:002011-04-10T01:38:30.245-04:00Blah 4So, here I sit, shaking, tweeking like a meth addict, but it isn't meth. It is albuterol. I thought I could climb into bed and trick myself into thinking I was breathing well enough to sleep. No such luck. I used my nebulizer then tried to sleep again. Nope. It is hard to drift off when my pulse is pounding out of my head, chest, limbs... At least my wheezing is a little better and my chest and back don't hurt as much. <br /><br />I guess Yardboy couldn't sleep either. He asked if I felt like cuddling. I declined, though I really would love to be held by him. I'm on edge, and I just don't think I can stand being touched right now.<br /><br />This has been a crazy couple of weeks, and all of the days are beginning to run together. My brain is in a fog.<br /><br />Tuesday afternoon I used my new nebulizer and albuterol. It worked for a couple of hours, then the wheezing came back. I decided to go to the ER.<br /><br />I arrived at the ER around 7:00 and immediately got a chest x-ray. Thankfully, the images of my lungs were clear (they always are). I saw a very jerky ER doctor. I learned a valuable lesson. Don't expect to be taken seriously about an exacerbation of a chronic problem in the ER. He actually laughed when I explained that I had sinobronchitis. He said there was no such thing and it wasn't a "real" diagnosis. Then he gave me a long speech about how antibiotics don't work on sinus infections. I wasn't there to have him magically cure my longstanding sinus problems. I wanted help breathing. I left the ER after receiving IV steroids and two breathing treatments. I decided I could just as easily use my own nebulizer. I got to sleep around 3:00 am. What a long night.<br /><br />I stayed in bed most of the day Wednesday and Yardboy stayed with me. He needed the rest almost as much as I did, since he stayed up most of the time I was as the hospital. I called my primary doc, the pulmonologist, and the ENT to tell them that I had been seen in the ER. Both offices gave me Friday appointments. <br /><br />I spent Thursday in my big comfy living room chair. Since I couldn't do much of anything else, I decided to do my Continuing Education work for my nursing license renewal. I have to submit 24 hours of CE's by the end of the month, so the timing worked out fine. I got about half of it done on Thursday. Hooray for the internet!<br /><br />For the last year, Yardboy and I have been trying to figure out what we can do to reduce the number of allergy triggers in our home. I got pillow covers and mattress covers, took the curtains out of my bedroom, bought a hepa-filter vacuum, use hepa-air filters, and even gave away our beloved kitty. <br /><br />Since we can't afford to replace the carpet right now, we had the carpet cleaned Friday. It was a big undertaking to get all of our junk off of the floors, and Yardboy did most of that himself, since I don't have the energy or breath to do anything other than sit these days. <br /><br />My mom drove over to pick up Baby B for the weekend. I miss that little monkey, but it has been good to rest and not have to chase a toddler. My older two kids have also been really great. I don't know, maybe Yardboy threatened them or something. I'm so grateful for all of them.<br /><br />For my Friday appointment, my pulmo wasn't in the office, so saw a capable, but aloof ARNP. Again my chest x-ray was clear, but my lungs sounded really junky. I put on a good show for her with all kinds of gross lung noises. After consulting with one of the other Pulmos, she upped my dose of Advair, added Spiriva, told me to continue taking the horse-dose of oral prednisone for two more weeks, then get blood work done, and return in three weeks. She didn't say for sure, but thinks there is some kind of immune/infalmmation problem. DUH! So, more waiting, and more drugs, for now.<br /><br />Later, the ENT was very nice. After we talked, he reviewed my sinus CT and scoped my sinuses (which triggered more wheezing). Then he offered to do sinus surgery to get all of the gunk. Wow! I didn't really expect that. I'm going to get another opinion from Shands before I let anyone do surgery on my face.<br /><br />After a nap, I made it to Celebrate Recovery. I felt like crap and honestly admitted it those who asked how I was doing. I shaked through dinner, sat silently during worship, listened to a friend who needed to talk during Large Group, and was prayed for by friends during Solid Rock. <br /><br />I'm really working on not isolating myself, as I tend to do when I am sick or hurting. I feel very whiny, but everyone has been very kind. Being open about how I'm doing is helping to keep my head above water. <br /><br />Yesterday was my birthday. So many people wished me well on Facebook, and a few called too. Yardboy made brunch and picked some dark pink heirloom roses from our yard for me. Little Man and I made a trip to Wal-Mart where I bought a new coffee pot, saline spray, a rug to go under Yardboy's drums (which now live in our dinning room). As s treats for myself, I got my eyebrows waxed and bought Big Bang Theory Season One (hilarious). Little Man got a remote control car for himself with his own money.<br /><br />After a nebulizer treatment, a short, shaky nap, and a bath, we went to some friends' home for pizza. We stopped by the grocery store and picked up key lime pie and mango key lime pie. Mmmm. I felt like trash the whole time we were there, but figured I may as well be among friends and feel bad, that be home alone and feel bad. Though all I did was sit, it was good to get out of my head and laugh, if only a little.<br /><br />Baby B will be back today. I'm praying to have the energy and breath to give her what she needs. Right now it looks like we will be sitting in the living room watching lots of cartoons this week.<br /><br />On Monday, I'll go have an imaging study done to see if I have food and drink getting into my sinuses. <br /><br />Time to try again at sleep. Hopefully my lungs agree.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-72246097657067778852011-04-05T08:17:00.004-04:002011-04-05T08:54:47.274-04:00Blah 3So, I called the Pulmonologist around 8:30 yesterday morning, in hopes of a same-day appointment. No such luck. The receptionist offered me a May 1 appointment and left a message for the nurse to call me back. At 10:20 I hadn't heard back from the nurse, so I called back. I was offered the same appointment and was told I could leave another message. I decided not to wait on the call and made an appointment with my primary doc. <p/><br /><p>When I got to my primary, the nurse immediately gave me a breathing treatment which made a big difference in how I was feeling. I explained that I had been to Urgent Care the night before, that my pulmonologist couldn't see me, and that I needed a stronger prednisone script than the one prescribed at Urgent Care. My doctor ordered a test to check for laringopharangeal reflux (food and drink refluxing into the sinuses), wrote a script for 18 days worth of prednisone (ugh!), and ordered a home nebulizer. It seems that my doctor is really starting to listen to me and is trying to put the puzzle pieces together. <p/><br /><p>When my visit was over, I got all of my records (almost 300 pages) and then got a cd with the images from my head CT from last week. The CT images are really cool!<p/><br /><p>After picking up the kids from school, I stopped by the drug store and got my horse-dose of prednisone and albuterol that goes in the nebulizer. <p/><br /><p>I did finally hear back from the pulmonology nurse at 5:15 pm. I'm afraid I was not very nice when she called. She didn't even check her messages until office hours were over. She offered me an appointment with the ARNP for later in the week, but I declined. I'm so glad I called my primary instead of trusting her to call me back.<p/><br /><p>Today I need to make a call regarding the nebulizer. I hope I can get it today. Friday I'll go to the ENT and then I'll go to the test for reflux on Monday. It will be a few weeks before I hear from Shands. <p/><br /><p>I think I go do a sinus saline rinse and take some more prednisone now.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-14362570799335081632011-04-01T08:11:00.010-04:002011-04-04T10:13:06.565-04:00Blah 2Wednesday was miserable. Along with sinus and lung problems, I was miserable with twitching, restlessness, tingling limbs, headache, dizziness, and the sense that the room was trembling, even though it know it wasn't. At 8:30 I called my doctor about the symptoms, but the receptionist failed to report it to the nurse. The nurse called be back fairly quickly after I called again around 11:30. My afternoon was spent reporting symptoms and waiting for the nurse to relay the questions to my doc then call me back. In the first of three calls she made to me, she told me that the doctor didn't think my symptoms were related to my new med and asked if I wanted a neurology referral. After I made it clear that I was not going to take the med that I felt was making me sick ever again, she said she would call a different antibiotic in to my pharmacy. <p/><br /><p>Yardboy was really helpful. Even though he had a full and stressful day, he took time off to pick up Tater and Little Man. I was in no shape for driving. Around 6:00 that evening, Yardboy stopped by the drug store to get my new med, but they had no record of it being called in. <p/><br /><p>That was the last straw! I managed to hold off the tears until after the kids were in bed. It is so frustrating to have something wrong, have excellent insurance, and still not get the help needed. I cried while Yardboy listened and then I called my brother, Cabbage Head, a third year medical student, to see if he had any ideas. He got to hear me cry too. <p/><br /><p>After talking to my guys, I had a plan. I decided to get ALL of my records from ALL of my specialists and take them to my primary doc. I planned to share my frustrations with him and ask him to review my records and try to put the puzzle pieces together. <p/><br /><p>I called my doctor for an appointment first thing Thursday morning and then set out to get as many of my records in hand as possible. Before arriving at the appointment, I managed to get my pulmonology and emergency room records. I also requested my urgent care records, but I was told that it takes three to five days to get those. <p/><br /><p>I didn't get a warm reception from my doctor's LPN. She is usually very bubbly and friendly, but seemed really agitated to have to deal with me again. However, my doc was kind. He spent an hour and twenty minutes with me, while I poured tears of frustration. Poor guy. I'm sure I didn't make his day great.<p/> <br /><p>There was very little resolution to my concerns, but he did listen to me, and seemed to genuinely care. He personally sent my new prescription to the pharmacy andmade yet another referral. This time he referred me to Shands.<p/><br /><p>The problem lies in our medical system. General Practitioners can't afford to take phone calls, because they can't bill for them. GP's also don't make enough to hire a RN to triage calls for them either. So, they end up having a Medical Assistant or LPN play messenger. The GP is often the only one in the office that has enough clinical knowledge to actually understand and help. He can't deligate any decision making. He has to do it all himself.<p/><br /><p>Oddly enough, in all of my calls, my nurse never offered an appointment with my doc. I guess I should have specifically asked for an appointment instead of saying, "What do I need to do?" Next time I'll skip the nurse and just make an office visit. It seems like a total waste of resources, but I guess that is what it takes to get my questions answered. <p/><br /><p>Toddlers engage in parallel play. They will play side by side, doing the same activity, but not actually communicating or playing WITH each other. I feel that is what my primary doc and specialist are doing. They do their little parts and send in reports (sometimes, if they aren't afraid of HIPPA) to the primary doc. Then, the primary doc sometimes reads the reports. They never actually have conversations. I believe that my doctors could figure out a solution if they could all sit down together and talk it out. My doctor said that just never happens. Are they all overgrown toddlers? <p/><br /><p>On Friday, my mom came over to spend the day with me. We went to a bookstore, to lunch, and back home. She watched Baby B while I napped and even cleaned my kitchen. It was wonderful to be cared for. I love my mama.<p/> <br /><p>I made it to Celebrate Recovery and actually lasted until 9:45, or so. I enjoyed hearing Johnny Baker's pre-recorded testimony. Small Group was good and talking with friends at Solid Rock was even better. When I coughed, people looked at me with fear and disgust. Admittedly, it does sound pretty horrible.<p/> <br /><p>I spent most of the weekend piddling around the house. On Saturday, we watched <em>Legends of the Guardians </em>(great movie) with the kids, then I took a long nap. Yardboy and I took the curtains out of our bedroom, washed all of the bed linens, put away winter clothes, and loaded the back of my car with clothes to donate. I ran out of steam and breath when all of that was done, so I sat on the couch for the rest of the day. Around 8:30 pm (still in my Sponge Bob pj pants) I went to the gas station near our house to return <em>Legends of the Guardians </em>and pick up <em>Inception</em> (maybe I dreamed that part). I'm still wondering about the ending...</p> <br /><p>Sunday morning was almost as relaxed as Saturday morning. I made almond butter cinnamon toast and the kids gobbled it up. Yardboy headed to church to drum for the 11:00 service while the kids and I headed to Wal-Mart. We got allergen pillow covers for my bed, organic veggie seeds, one of those up-side-down tomato planters, and a pizza to take home and bake for lunch. The kids were whiny and fought the whole time we were in the store. Grrr.</p><br /><p>After lunch, I took a much-needed nap and we got ready to go to our church's new 5:00 pm service. Yardboy had to drum at it too. I really like the idea of going in the evening rather than in the morning!</p><br /><p>When we were at church, I realized just how sick I was. I tried to sing, but just didn't have the breath. I used my rescue inhaler four times in two hours (yes, that was more than I'm supposed to take). I made it through the service (which was beautiful and will be the subject of a later post) and asked Yardboy to get the kids from Sunday School.</p><br /><p>Once we got loaded up, I told Yardboy that I needed to go to urgent care to get a breathing treatment. We picked up dinner at Wendy's and headed home. After dinner I drove to urgent care.</p><br /><p>My oxygen saturation was great at 98-99%, but I was doing a lot of wheezing. The ARNP ordered a nebulizer treatment and wrote a prescription for oral prednisone. She said to go to the emergency room if my symptoms got bad again. Two and a half hours later I returned home, breathing a lot better, but still not great.</p><br /><p>I slept reasonably well and called my pulmonologist as soon as his office opened this morning. I'm still waiting for a call back from his nurse. I asked for an appointment. We will see if they give me one. I think I'll call my primary doc and make an appointment for this afternoon, just in case. </p><br /><p>If I'm up to it today, I plan to go grocery shopping and drop by my allergist's office to order Tater's shots and discuss my shots (I can't take them when I'm wheezing and have fallen behind). </p><br /><p>Keep me in your prayers.</p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p>Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-37525825005186829692011-03-30T09:15:00.008-04:002011-04-04T10:14:59.110-04:00BlahBlah. I feel like trash. I'm in the middle of another episode of sinobronchitis. Another episode? Yes, I think it is about the tenth time since December '09, but really I've lost count. I've made multiple visits to my primary doctor, allergist, pulmonologist, ear-nose-throat specialist, and gastroenterologist. I've taken so many rounds of antibiotics and corticosteroids, that I've lost count on that too. Sometimes the meds work, but I often end up calling my doctors back to get something different. The problems always return within a few weeks. Yesterday, after a week of antibiotics that seemed to be helping, I called my primary doc to report that my symptoms had returned. He ordred a head CT and changed my antibiotic. I began the new antibiotic last night and it is making me feel really crummy. Now, in addition to sinobronchitis, I'm having neurologic side effects from my medicine. I called my doctor's office this morning to report my side effects. Now I am waiting for a call from the nurse. Until then, Baby B and I will be sitting home watching cartoons.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34191519.post-68840909958551291792011-02-02T08:32:00.003-05:002011-02-02T09:10:08.869-05:00PowerlessOn one Friday night a month I work with the youth at The Landing. The Landing is Celebrate Recovery's new program for middle and high <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">schoolers</span>. It is basically the regular CR program translated to teen speak. I get something out of it every week, and the last time was no exception.<br /><br />One of the questions was about what it would feel like to have to rely on someone else to save my life. Most of the kids' (and adults') answers related to fear and anxiety. My answer was different.<br /><br />I remembered back to the birth of my first child. We knew she was in danger, so the nurses and doctors from Newborn Intensive Care Unit were in the delivery room ready to take her. As soon as she was born she was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">intubated</span> and suctioned to make sure she hadn't and didn't inhale the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">meconium</span> she had passed before birth. It was only after they finished working on her, that she took her first breath.<br /><br />An hour or two later, I noticed that my nurse (who happened to be my best friend) seemed to be concerned with how much I was bleeding. No amount of massaging my uterus would make the bleeding stop. My obstetrician had to intervene.<br /><br />I had no control and wasn't able to help in any way, so I had to rely on others to save our lives. Sounds pretty terrifying, right? It wasn't. I had a strange peace about all of it. I truly trusted that our caregivers had the willingness, skills, and tools to give us what we needed. In the end, we both survived, with no ill effects.<br /><br />Sitting there with the youth Friday night, I had a breakthrough. I finally understand what powerlessness is. Now, I need to let go of my illusion of control. I am powerless. Just as a drowning victim has to stop flailing in order for a life guard to save them, I have to stop flailing and trust that God has the willingness, skills, and tools to save me.<br /><br />Powerlessness is a good thing.Curlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16296441366974833970noreply@blogger.com2