Fifty two years ago, I arrived on this planet. It's really amazing that I've made it this long, since I wasn't expected to survive for very long. And yet, here I am, and I must say that it's better than the alternative. With luck, I'll have another thirty years or so. I'll see my sons married, and I'll be able to hold my grandchildren. For the most part, it's been a pretty good life, and I am blessed in so many ways.
The last year has brought on many changes, especially where my health is concerned. Unfortunately, most of the changes are not good, but I refuse to curl up in a ball and die. I was recently diagnosed with both Type 2 diabetes and COPD. And while neither of these things is positive, they are causing me to make some positive changes. I am trying very hard to eat more healthy, and I am actually losing some weight. I also quit smoking by using an E-cigarette. I also learned that I am severely deficient in Vitamin D. I'm taking 50,000 units of Vitamin D for the next 3 months, and hopefully, that will turn things around.
There are days when my body tries to convince me that I am eighty two and not fifty two. Between my back, knees, and the fibromyalgia that runs through my entire body, I have days when the pain is unbearable and I feel that I cannot handle it for another minute. And yet, I soldier on, as do all of the pain warriors that I know. We are far stronger than we, and others, give ourselves credit for. And, for the first time in a very long time, I have some hope that this will improve in the very near future.
As many of you know, I am in the process of seeing if a pain pump would be appropriate for me. A couple of days ago, I completed the second step of the process. I underwent the psychological exam required to receive a pain pump. Of course, I was nervous, but it wasn't nearly as awful as I had built it up in my mind. The doctor asked me numerous questions, and I had to fill out a couple of personality type questionnaires. And, while it will be a couple of weeks before I know the results, the psychologist told me that I had a good grasp of the process and that my expectations weren't out of line. For the first time in a long time, I have hope that I may get some real relief from this unending pain.
In some ways, it doesn't seem possible that I am fifty two years old. Mentally, I still feel quite young, and when I say young, I mean my 30's. There are days when I look at my boys and feel shock that they have really grown to be young men. Where have the little boys gone? I still miss the smell of sunshine, dirt, and little boy smell that used to cling to them after playing outside. I miss feeling their little bodies curled up in my lap when I would comfort them or simply sit and talk. And yet, I feel a sense of joy when I realize that I have brought them from the innocence of childhood to becoming productive young adults. Nothing I have ever done gives me a greater sense of pride.
Yes, I've spent fifty two years on this planet. There have been hard times, and joyous times; there have been times when I felt that my heart would break in two, and there have been times when I felt my heart would burst from joy; and there have been times when I felt that the physical pain that is always with me now would be the undoing of me. But I continue to persevere, and I continue to find the joy in life. I realize how very blessed I am, and I am looking forward to what the future holds.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Saturday, September 6, 2014
It's Been Awhile
Hello, my friends! Well, it's been quite awhile since I've written anything, but life hasn't slowed down so much that I have nothing more to say. The last few months have been jammed packed with things, and I just haven't been able to find the time, or the inclination, to sit down and write much more than a grocery list. That really isn't fair to those of you who have been such loyal readers of my humble little blog. And so, today I'm going to try and bring you up to date with my crazy life. Some of it is pain related, but most of it really is just the turning of life's wheel.
Unfortunately, my health hasn't been the best lately. Beginning in February, I started experiencing horrendous chest pains. The first time that I went to the ER with this, I was admitted and then sent to another hospital the next morning for a cardiac cath. The cath did show a 50-60% blockage in a major artery, however, they don't actually put in a stent, or do anything else until you reach 70%. The doctors put me on some new medications, and I thought this would be the end of it. Unfortunately, it was only the start of a long journey.
I know that many of you have experience trips to the ER. And when they give you the discharge paperwork, it always tells you to return if your symptoms return or become worse, especially if you are dealing with chest pain. I took it seriously; my hospital did not! One doctor decided that I was crazy, and would give me atavan every time I came in. She had the mistaken impression that my chest pain was panic attacks, and not a legitimate chest pain issue. After being treated like a hysterical female one time to many, I finally went to another hospital in another town. Finally, I was taken seriously and was diagnosed with arterial spasms within the heart itself. This causes angina and it hurts! I was put on nitroglycerin, and this has gotten things under control finally.
Most of you also know that my husband, Dale, is also disabled. He has a condition called Spinal Cerebellar Ataxia, which is much like some of the forms of muscular dystrophy. Last year, his condition caused him to be hospitalized for nearly a month. So far, knock on wood, he hasn't had a new flare up since that time. In April of this year, however, Dale started to have chest pain. I immediately called an ambulance, and we headed back to the ER. The ER doctor couldn't figure out what was wrong with him and wisely admitted Dale to the coronary care unit. He underwent a multitude of tests, including an EGD. During this test, a long tube with a camera is inserted into the esophagus and down to the stomach to look for any signs of illness, such as ulcers and the like. They did find a lesion in his esophagus, but because he had been on blood thinners in the hospital, they couldn't biopsy it at the time. He is supposed to go back for another one, but being a stubborn male, that hasn't happened yet.
Around this time, my back pain started getting much worse. My doctor decided that I needed to see my neurosurgeon again. I really didn't want to have any more surgery, despite what they might find, but I decided to see what the doctor had to say. Actually, to my surprise, the neurosurgeon told me that I didn't need any additional surgery at this time. He did, however, believe me when I told him about the pain I have been experiencing. And so, I am now going through the steps to see if I qualify for a pain pump. I have seen the doctor one time so far, and in a couple of weeks, I go for a complete psychological workup to see if I would be a good candidate for the pain pump. I really hope that my craziness stays hidden long enough to get through the process! For the first time in a long time, I actually see some light at the end of the tunnel.
Obviously, all of these things have added up to push the stress levels way up. But there were a couple more things that nearly pushed me over the edge. Most of you know that we have had issues with our oldest son. When you compare the three of them on paper, you would probably think that the youngest two were the older ones. We all mature at our own rates, but it really is time for this boy to grow up and start taking responsibility for himself and his actions. Around the end of June, Chris fell into a deep depression, He had lost yet another job, and saw very little hope for himself. Once again, we allowed him to move back into our home to help him get it together. And once again, Chris sat in the bedroom, watching TV and eating. If we asked him to do something simple, like take out the trash, he would tell us he would do it later, and either Dale or I ended up handling things. Then, he started threatening suicide. Needless to say, we took him seriously. I had him put into a crisis stabilization unit and that was a complete waste of time.
About two weeks after that, Chris fell apart once again, and we took him to a Mental Health Hospital. That was a terrifying experience. Chris tried to jump out of the car on the way there. We were driving on the interstate at the time around 60 miles per hour. Thank God, he didn't do it. Once we reached the hospital, he decided that he wasn't going to stay, and we had to call the police to find him after he ran from us when we arrived. Chris was not at all receptive to treatment and after a week, they sent him home. Once again, Chris was home, sitting in the bedroom, watching TV and eating. He blamed all of his problems on me. I should make sure he had a car. I should make sure he had rides to go to the doctor. I should take him to all interviews and potential jobs. I should figure out how he could accomplish anything. Well, I refused! And then he turned it into me refusing to anything to help him.
Living with my son was becoming unbearable. He wouldn't do anything but sit on his butt, eat and watch TV. Everything I did, or didn't do, was turned into an attack on him. Finally, after I told him that he needed to do somethings for himself and that I was not his personal taxi and maid service, the shit hit the fan (excuse my french!). I was lying down because my back was hurting. Chris came into the room, and I raised up and looked over my shoulder to see what he wanted. At the point, Chris threw my cell phone at me. It struck me in the shoulder, hard enough to leave a bruise, and I twisted so hard from it that I actually tore a muscle in my back. That was the last straw, for both my husband and me.
My husband told our son that he was no longer welcome in our home and he needed to leave. He let Chris in long enough to get his things and then told him to get out. At the advice of the local police, we have take out a restraining order against him, and we haven't seen or heard from him since he left. This is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life. As a mother, your first instinct is to protect your child from the things life can throw at you. There comes a point, however, when you are no longer protecting your child; you are preventing them from learning to take care of themselves. I pray everyday that my boy will return soon, a more mature and responsible young man.
So there you have it. This are just some of the things that have happened over the last few months which have kept me away. Luckily, things have started to calm down a bit and I hope that I will be able to share with you on a more regular basis. To those of you who have known of the things we've dealt with, thank you for the love and prayers you've shared with us. It's been a rough stretch for all of us, but there is always hope, even if we have trouble finding it sometimes.
Unfortunately, my health hasn't been the best lately. Beginning in February, I started experiencing horrendous chest pains. The first time that I went to the ER with this, I was admitted and then sent to another hospital the next morning for a cardiac cath. The cath did show a 50-60% blockage in a major artery, however, they don't actually put in a stent, or do anything else until you reach 70%. The doctors put me on some new medications, and I thought this would be the end of it. Unfortunately, it was only the start of a long journey.
I know that many of you have experience trips to the ER. And when they give you the discharge paperwork, it always tells you to return if your symptoms return or become worse, especially if you are dealing with chest pain. I took it seriously; my hospital did not! One doctor decided that I was crazy, and would give me atavan every time I came in. She had the mistaken impression that my chest pain was panic attacks, and not a legitimate chest pain issue. After being treated like a hysterical female one time to many, I finally went to another hospital in another town. Finally, I was taken seriously and was diagnosed with arterial spasms within the heart itself. This causes angina and it hurts! I was put on nitroglycerin, and this has gotten things under control finally.
Most of you also know that my husband, Dale, is also disabled. He has a condition called Spinal Cerebellar Ataxia, which is much like some of the forms of muscular dystrophy. Last year, his condition caused him to be hospitalized for nearly a month. So far, knock on wood, he hasn't had a new flare up since that time. In April of this year, however, Dale started to have chest pain. I immediately called an ambulance, and we headed back to the ER. The ER doctor couldn't figure out what was wrong with him and wisely admitted Dale to the coronary care unit. He underwent a multitude of tests, including an EGD. During this test, a long tube with a camera is inserted into the esophagus and down to the stomach to look for any signs of illness, such as ulcers and the like. They did find a lesion in his esophagus, but because he had been on blood thinners in the hospital, they couldn't biopsy it at the time. He is supposed to go back for another one, but being a stubborn male, that hasn't happened yet.
Around this time, my back pain started getting much worse. My doctor decided that I needed to see my neurosurgeon again. I really didn't want to have any more surgery, despite what they might find, but I decided to see what the doctor had to say. Actually, to my surprise, the neurosurgeon told me that I didn't need any additional surgery at this time. He did, however, believe me when I told him about the pain I have been experiencing. And so, I am now going through the steps to see if I qualify for a pain pump. I have seen the doctor one time so far, and in a couple of weeks, I go for a complete psychological workup to see if I would be a good candidate for the pain pump. I really hope that my craziness stays hidden long enough to get through the process! For the first time in a long time, I actually see some light at the end of the tunnel.
Obviously, all of these things have added up to push the stress levels way up. But there were a couple more things that nearly pushed me over the edge. Most of you know that we have had issues with our oldest son. When you compare the three of them on paper, you would probably think that the youngest two were the older ones. We all mature at our own rates, but it really is time for this boy to grow up and start taking responsibility for himself and his actions. Around the end of June, Chris fell into a deep depression, He had lost yet another job, and saw very little hope for himself. Once again, we allowed him to move back into our home to help him get it together. And once again, Chris sat in the bedroom, watching TV and eating. If we asked him to do something simple, like take out the trash, he would tell us he would do it later, and either Dale or I ended up handling things. Then, he started threatening suicide. Needless to say, we took him seriously. I had him put into a crisis stabilization unit and that was a complete waste of time.
About two weeks after that, Chris fell apart once again, and we took him to a Mental Health Hospital. That was a terrifying experience. Chris tried to jump out of the car on the way there. We were driving on the interstate at the time around 60 miles per hour. Thank God, he didn't do it. Once we reached the hospital, he decided that he wasn't going to stay, and we had to call the police to find him after he ran from us when we arrived. Chris was not at all receptive to treatment and after a week, they sent him home. Once again, Chris was home, sitting in the bedroom, watching TV and eating. He blamed all of his problems on me. I should make sure he had a car. I should make sure he had rides to go to the doctor. I should take him to all interviews and potential jobs. I should figure out how he could accomplish anything. Well, I refused! And then he turned it into me refusing to anything to help him.
Living with my son was becoming unbearable. He wouldn't do anything but sit on his butt, eat and watch TV. Everything I did, or didn't do, was turned into an attack on him. Finally, after I told him that he needed to do somethings for himself and that I was not his personal taxi and maid service, the shit hit the fan (excuse my french!). I was lying down because my back was hurting. Chris came into the room, and I raised up and looked over my shoulder to see what he wanted. At the point, Chris threw my cell phone at me. It struck me in the shoulder, hard enough to leave a bruise, and I twisted so hard from it that I actually tore a muscle in my back. That was the last straw, for both my husband and me.
My husband told our son that he was no longer welcome in our home and he needed to leave. He let Chris in long enough to get his things and then told him to get out. At the advice of the local police, we have take out a restraining order against him, and we haven't seen or heard from him since he left. This is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life. As a mother, your first instinct is to protect your child from the things life can throw at you. There comes a point, however, when you are no longer protecting your child; you are preventing them from learning to take care of themselves. I pray everyday that my boy will return soon, a more mature and responsible young man.
So there you have it. This are just some of the things that have happened over the last few months which have kept me away. Luckily, things have started to calm down a bit and I hope that I will be able to share with you on a more regular basis. To those of you who have known of the things we've dealt with, thank you for the love and prayers you've shared with us. It's been a rough stretch for all of us, but there is always hope, even if we have trouble finding it sometimes.
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