Big Cosmic Sucker Punch

Regular blogging is forthcoming. I promise! I have so many thoughts I want to share. I'm unplugging all day tomorrow and I'm going to miss my best friend, the internet, but it should be nice. It's just going to be for one day... we'll see.

I'm right in the thick of a horrible "episode" of chronic fatigue and it's literally running my life. It took me a few hours to wash a sink full of dishes today because I needed lots of breaks. I'm just spending a lot of time resting and trying to get better. As of last week I'm unemployed so I'm taking the time to heal. We just hope we can afford for me to do so. I'm also praying about and mulling over whether or not I need to take legal action against my former employer for discrimination and unfair dismissal. I don't feel like I have the energy for it right now. But can you really fire someone with a chronic condition for missing work and then tell them that you'll hire them back when they aren't sick anymore because they do such a great job when they're at work? Hello? Chronic condition. Been diagnosed for 10 years now. It's not going away. 

Grit has been so amazing. He's so patient and gentle and gives me so much encouragement. I feel so bad when he has to do things for me because the poor guy has so much on his plate. He's a full time student, he works, and he's got a wife who is an invalid right now. I will pretty much do anything he asks me for the rest of my life because he's been so incredible through the past two months of this. 

I'm just focusing on little tasks each day and truly taking the time to rest and I've got my fingers crossed that this big cosmic sucker punch passes soon.

Here's hoping.

Back with more cheer.

As promised, I'm back with more cheer. I've felt so awful all week and finally feel like I'm on the mend.

But first, a quick breakdown of the 4 days of awfulness to purge it from my system:
Day 1:
Had an awful sore throat and tongue/fever/headache/body aches.
Went on antibiotics.
Had a crappy family crisis.
Day 2:
Antibiotics caused major body rash/face hives/dizziness/stomach cramps.
Stayed in bed. Cried a lot.
Day 3:
Stopped taking antibiotics and took benadryl.
Felt worse.
Fever/hives/disorientation (got lost going the 15 feet from my bed to the bathroom)/hallucination (for the record there is not a cricket or anything else in my womb).
Stayed in bed. Cried a lot.
Day 4:
Took no more benadryl or antibiotics.
Dizziness and disorientation lessened/hives began to subside.
My period arrived with a bang!
Excruciating cramps/back pain/nausea.
Family crisis is being handled better.

Officially, 4 days of hell. There's got to be a whole lot of happy on the other side of this for me.

I am now off the crazy-making meds and trying not to o.d. on ibuprofen for the cramps. Hubs cleaned the house, grocery shopping is done, laundry is going. And I finally started decorating my Christmas tree.

Without much further ado - here's some happy:

Since it's our first Christmas, we don't really have any ornaments or Christmas decor. Since I really like the idea of crafts but never have the time or the talent to pull most of them off, I nearly went out and bought a bunch of ornaments. The problem is, I don't like most ornaments. Glass balls hold no meaning for me. I think tinsel is the worst substance on the planet. I live in the desert and grew up in Florida so snow and snow related things don't hold any special place in my heart. When discussing the traditions we want to create, Grit and I agreed that we want to try to make everything we do around Christmas time mean something - tree ornaments included. The tree we had growing up was always a wild amalgamation of old and new, handmade and purchased. We all had special feelings about the things we'd made and hung on the tree. Stars made from popsicle sticks and yarn, snowflakes fashioned from glue and glitter, the carefully packaged fragile keepsakes that my mother hung up high. Since decorating the tree was a wonderfully chaotic group effort, the decorations were probably mostly clustered in clumps near the bottom and my wise parents always secured our tree to the wall using fishing line. When I saw the perfectly coordinated trees that others had, I thought they were pretty but felt no connection to them. I was always in awe of our tree each year. It was always perfect to me. We'd turn off all of the lights except those on the tree and sit together singing carols or just contemplating. My husband told me he never much cared for decorating the tree because he knew his mother was just going to change everything they'd done anyway. Her tree was coordinated and had to look "just so." He doesn't want to carry on that tradition. Me either.

We really wanted to do something with our tree that represented our year. I thought about knitting some wedding themed ornament but couldn't find anything that didn't look like super cheesy crap. (Side note: Why do people act like crap is a swear word? Honestly? That's weird.)

Any-who, After looking around our little place, I decided that I really wanted to use some of the seashells left over from our wedding decorations to hang on the tree. I was sure they'd have a lot of natural holes since the ones I collected at the beach always did. No such luck. I decided to try Grit's drill with the smallest bit he had. We found that by going slowly, we could get through most of the shells. After some trial and error, a couple of broken shells and one broken drill bit (sorry babe), we have a nice collection of seashells hanging on our tree. So far it's just lights and shells until we come up with something more. We're also going to wrap the base of our tree with some of the turquoise burlap we used as table runners at the wedding since most tree skirts make me gag. So we actually do have a themed tree, but WE are the theme. It's not perfect and it doesn't need to be. It's perfect for us!

Photos to come.

What's with the difficult?

Life is hard blog friends. I'm trying so hard to embrace the Christmas spirit. I have a beautiful little Christmas tree in my bedroom that needs some decorating. I've put plans in place to make the Season about family and God and not about stuff. I announced to my family that we are not giving gifts, but are making plans to be together and all are welcome to join. (Reactions are a mixed bag - some people only want loot - whaddya gonna do?) There have just been some big kinks in the master plan as of late. My new job is great. Everyone is so very nice and helpful and I'm learning a lot. The only downside is that in the 3 weeks I've been there, I've been sick the whole time. I've missed 4 days of work. I feel awful and feel even worse asking for time off since I want so badly to be there learning and getting to know everyone and everything. I'm taking antibiotics now and have developed massive hives because of it. The joy just keeps rolling in, let me tell you. On top of all this, there is an unexpected trial that recently came on the scene that is making life so very hard. I'm really trying to focus on the blessings. I'm grateful for supportive friends and family. Ritz has let me call any time day or night and always gives the best advice. My Mom made me mulled cranberry juice and chicken soup from scratch after I showed up on her doorstep unexpectedly last night and then listened to my woes for many hours. I'm grateful for a wonderful new job. I'm grateful to have a place to live and to have all of the things I need. I'm grateful for a loving God and for His church. I'm sure there are so many more things I should be grateful for, but I'm spent. I hope to be back soon with more cheer. Thanks for listening!

Remembering

On the morning of September 11th, 2001, I was volunteering at the Salvation Army in Findlay, Ohio, a full-time missionary for the LDS church. We heard reports that something was happening over the radio and someone plugged in a t.v. My companion and I held each other tight and with tears running down our faces, we watched the second tower fall. I remember the horror, fear and speculation that we shared with everyone around us. There were reports that there was a plane headed for Cleveland and we were all very worried, even though we were two hours away from there. We were advised to stay away from government buildings and to stay home and wait for news. In the days that followed, the world grieved with us and so very many people came together. There seemed to be something in the air that encouraged people to be more courteous, more patient, and more understanding. 

Then came the anger. 

Anger is a natural part of grief. While I support the need to get answers and seek justice, I have never been okay with the vilification of Islam. I grew up with many Muslims and my experience with Islam has always been positive. The first time I heard Toby Keith sing about lighting up the sky and putting his boot in someones ass, I was HORRIFIED. I will not listed to his music even now because of it. I could not support something called Shock and Awe - the ones who truly suffered had NOTHING to do with our tragedy. I think about the terror of children woken from their sleep to the sound of bombs. Thousands of innocent Iraqi people are dead. I believe wholeheartedly in accountability and consequences, but not revenge. It bothers me that some waive the American flag while spewing anger and hate and intolerance. This quote by Barbara Kingsolver is one of my favorites:

"But our flag is not just the logo for wars; it is the flag of American pacifists too. It's the flag of all of us who love our country enough to do the hard work of living up to its highest ideals." 

-Barbara Kingsolver, Small Wonder 

About a year after the attacks, I was in a new area in Ohio knocking on doors on a beautiful summer night and met the most wonderful Muslim family. They invited us to sit on the porch with them and enjoy the night air. We spent the time talking about all of the things our religions have in common and our hopes for the world. I learned much more about Islam and I left that porch with an even deeper understanding and respect for it. 


My heart goes out to all who have lost loved ones in this conflict - all over the world. I hope that we can all be cautious and careful about the way our actions may affect others. 

Blessings

I'm going to be very honest right now. Things have been REALLY hard for me recently. As the stresses have piled up, I've become increasingly negative and mean and unhappy. At first I was able to brush things off and move on, but after a while that became difficult to do. Things became so stressful and hectic that I was no longer enjoying the process of planning my wedding and have been having panic attacks. The combination of normal everyday stresses plus trying to balance the schedules of two very busy people plus trying to plan this beautiful important day on a shoestring plus trying to win over my future family who appear to not want this to happen equals a toxic combo for me. After weeks/months of stress, I spent last weekend alternating between anger, anxiety, sadness, and tears. Lots of tears. Garrett has been a champ. He's always calm. Always patient. He holds me and seems to know just what to say. He fights for me and advocates for me and loves me. When I came home from work yesterday afternoon I was in a horrible and sour mood. I considered calling in sick for the next week and hiding from everyone so my meanness didn't cause any problems. I sat down at the computer to work on the wedding guest list (which has been a source of contention and stress) and instead decided to catch up on blogs. It's been weeks since I've sat and just read blogs. I got to one of my favorite blogs, the NieNie Dialogues, and read through several posts I'd missed; this one caught my attention. Read item 6. (Read her whole blog) She spent Thanksgiving in the burn unit due to complications and this is what she had to say, "Mr. Nielson and I cuddled on my hospital bed over-looking the East river laughing and crying over our misfortune, which led to counting our blessings, which led to prayers of Thanksgiving." Reading this put things into perspective for me. She has been through so much and yet her life is full of hope and joy and love. Because she makes a choice. I need to take the time to count my blessings and offer prayers of thanksgiving. My life is full of them. I just needed some perspective.

Here's a sampling of my many blessings. If I tried to list them all, I'd be typing for days.

-A loving God who knows and understands everything about me. I do recognize that everything in my life is a gift from God.

-Garrett. He is devoted and gentle. He always puts me first. He lets me freak out and isn't afraid to stand up to me. He always holds my hand. He kisses me in public. He's patient when I'm not. He thinks my tantrums are funny. He can turn my tears into laughter. He loves my body. He understands that I need to be kissed and held often. He takes me to the temple once a week. He lets me style him. He sits still while I give him long haircuts. He grew a beard for me. He loves the ocean as much as I do. He accepts my family for who they are. He dreams with me. He helps my Mama. He's very handsome. He's always warm when I'm cold. He's great with my nephews and niece and wants a family as badly as I do. He loves it when I sing to him. He likes my smarts. He respects me. He tells me he loves me several times a day. He looks at me in a way that lets me know that he adores me. He is honest and goodness radiates from him. He is exactly what I need. He loves God. He is a gift.

-Amazing friends who stand by me and support me and let me vent and help me keep my focus.

-My family. They're thrilled about the wedding and love Garrett. My mom is making significant sacrifices to help us with the wedding. My uncle and aunt are allowing us to use their beautiful yard for our reception. Various aunts, uncles, and cousins have offered to help in many ways. My dad's cousin is making me a custom wedding dress. Everything is going to be beautiful thanks to my wonderful family.

I'm going to focus more on my blessings every single day.

sick, broke, and twisted

I have WAY too much going on in my life right now. Don't get me wrong, life is still so very good. I have a lot of really good things and people in my life right now, but I'm also feeling REALLY overwhelmed so I've got to get it all some of it out here. I know that this too shall pass, but that doesn't make the present moment suck any less.

First things first.

I've been in the ER twice, twice! in the last 5 days. My sister took me in on Friday and the PA acted like excruciating abdominal pain was normal, took some blood and urine, told me I'm not pregnant (duh) and wasted 5 hours of my day. My diagnosis according to her? Heartburn. I've never had heartburn in my life, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't feel like my upper abdomen and back are in a vice while an enormous fist is punching me in the stomach. Thanks anyway. When I told her that I have a family history of appendicitis and gallbladder problems, she told me that I was overreacting. I wanted to scream in her face but I refrained.

The second visit happened today because all of a sudden I was in so much pain at work I could barely breathe. I told one of my coworkers to call 911; it was that bad. My boss drove me the 2 blocks to the hospital. They took care of business in 3 hours (blood, urine, ultrasound) and told me I have gallstones... but they aren't positive that they're the cause of my pains. So basically, I have to go see a surgeon and get more tests done and I might be losing an organ and I don't even care as long as that EVIL pain never comes back. The staff at the second hospital was amazing, they didn't treat me like I was stupid, or get my blood all over the place while trying to draw or ignore me for 5 hours. I had someone with me the whole time. And my male nurse was adorable, which always helps. They did somehow manage to make me feel guilty for my healthier lifestyle and recent weight loss. Apparently weight loss can contribute to gallbladder problems. That's just great.

On top of this, the angry redhead is storming into town as I type, so I've got some extra crampage going on.

My second issue is money. As in, I need it. As in, my current part time job has been covering my expenses, but my boss just cut my hours back. It's stressful. I need to find a full-time job closer to my house soon. I could use some prayers.

My third issue is the one I want and need most to blog about, but I can't. Because it also involves two other people and it's not my place to share their business with the world. All I can say is that with absolutely the best intentions, I've created a tangled situation wherein someone will inevitably get hurt. It will most likely be me. If not me, it will be someone very close to me and I have to accept that I caused it. I've done what I feel is best, but even good intentions can have painful consequences.

It's hard to be a grown up sometimes.

I COULD HAVE DIED!

This story must be told. Because it's hilarious to me. It makes me laugh on a daily basis. It's also really gross so if you are squeamish you may want to move along.

On Saturday, I spent an hour and a half sweeping all of the floors in the house thoroughly in preparation for mopping (only the bedrooms have carpet). I decided to take a little break and catch up on blogs via my Google Reader so I sat down in front of the computer in the kitchen. Whilst doing so, my brother's dog, Luna, came and sat on my foot because my mother had begun vacuuming her area rugs and poor little Luna hates the vacuum. She was shaking and cowering so I reached down and reassured her while I continued to read. My mother finished vacuuming and came over and asked about a gardening project we're working on, petted the dog, and went to the garage. 

ONE MINUTE later I stood up to follow her and had taken one step with my right foot when I felt my foot begin to slip on something wet. I lost control of my right foot as it slid forward quickly and I went down on my left (bum) knee and continued to slip until I found myself doing a twisted and painful split. It only took a second, but as soon as I began to go down I thought, "I just swept this and it wasn't wet. Where's the dog? Mom is right, this tile really is deadly when wet. I really really hope I didn't just tweak my bum knee." I rolled onto my back and lay there for a moment feeling pain in my bum knee (really, it's bad, I've dislocated it twice and it has a touch of arthritis), and wondering what caused my fall. I sat up and looked at my legs and to my horror, I'd just slipped on the biggest pile of dog vomit I've ever seen. And my lower legs were COVERED in it. If I had to estimate how much vomit was on the ground I'd say one gallon at least.  Now, Luna is not a big dog. She's a little mutt about the size of a Jack Russell terrier. How she managed to yak up a gallon of puke is beyond me. I surveyed the puke and thought, "I didn't even hear her throw up and she practically puked right on me. Doesn't she eat dog food? I see chicken, some grass, and how in the world did she get that olive?" Still a little worried about my bad knee, I stay put and began hollering at the top of my lungs for my mom. No response. I kept calling and calling. No response. Because I was yelling, Luna started to get nervous and probably thought she was in trouble. I called her over to me and soothed the little stinker. My mom finally came in from the garage and I called her into the kitchen and when she saw the carnage in front her, she scrunched up her face and told me to take my pants off and go take a shower. I tested my knee and it felt alright, so I dropped my pants right there in the kitchen with all the windows open and put my pants in the washer on my way to the bathroom. I scrubbed every inch of myself and when I came out of the shower I found that the floor was clean and my mom was sitting on the patio taking deep breaths. She said she was trying to calm the heaving. She was seriously about to yak too. Luckily she didn't because I probably would've managed to slip in that too. 

There you have it. Death by dog vomit. Almost.

On a side note, I'm really glad that I've been working out religiously every day for the past three weeks because I'm significantly stronger than I was and I think I could have really hurt myself if I hadn't improved both my strength and flexibility recently. I did pull my hamstring and groin, but it was pretty mild and two days of resting seemed to do the trick.

I do think it's endlessly funny to tell people I pulled a muscle slipping on dog vomit. Just thinking about it cracks me up all over again.

Bad luck.

I got fired today.
From my job that I enjoyed.
There was no explanation.
No provocation.
Just "We are terminating your employment with us. Effective immediately."

It sucks.

I'm surprisingly calm and not worried... yet.

Maybe the yarn store is hiring after all...

The results are in...

and ...

I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFIDS).

Thanks (for nothing) Doc.

Same diagnosis that I got 6.5 years ago.

You're even less helpful than the Cleveland Clinic who told me not too party too hard and to have a nice life. (I couldn't commit to the not partying too hard but I do have a nice life, thanks.)

Same symptoms for the last 12 years.

I still don't accept it.

Where do I go from here?

I don't eat processed foods, I eat a TON of vegetation, my entire life and diet are hypoallergenic (if you haven't seen me in awhile it's probably because I'm allergic to you.), I take good supplements in "proper" amounts (hee hee, proper.), I exercise daily, I like my job, I usually like my family...

What more do you want from me?

A good music recommendation?

Check.

If you haven't met Duffy or Adele yet, you are seriously missing out. They're the sober answer to the tragedy that is Amy Winehouse. I have two Duffy ringtones.

Adele:


Duffy:



So great.

Oh yes, I nearly forgot. My new favorite song:

Estelle:

Blah.

Not this again. My fatigue problem is rearing it's ugly head. It never ceases to take me by surprise. I've been dealing with it on various levels since my teens, so it's nothing new, but when it goes away I'm really good about putting it behind me. I have at least one bad "episode" a year, usually two. I've seen different types of doctors: Allopaths, Naturopaths, and Acupuncturists. I've tried vitamins, herbs, diet, and exercise. You name it, I've probably tried it. I even went to a psychiatrist several years ago. He told me that I had the physical symptoms of depression, but not the emotional symptoms. Duh. My body systems are obviously being depressed. But why? He put me on meds, (it was worth a shot) but it made things worse. Fatigue is the bane of my existence. I had a ton of blood drawn yesterday and my "regular" doctor is testing me for a dozen different things, since I've been dealing with this for so dang long. It's been more than 10 years now. It's ridiculous. I've only been to work one day this week and have been resting and gently exercising. Luckily, my boss is really supportive. But I've got bills to pay so something's gotta give.

In other news... it's Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. I love it. Sharks are my absolute biggest fear and Jaws is the scariest movie EVER. But I love them and have a crazy fascination with them. They're my real-life boogie men.

Good news for the Trainwreck

This is what I looked like when I came out of the womb... sans the glasses and mascara and eyebrows.


Thank you to all of my beautiful friends for your get well wishes and support. Ya'll are the greatest. Okay, so I'm a really bad blogger/friend and make promises and don't follow through. The suspense! Alright already, the news I've made everyone wait so very very long for is that I have a new job. Many of you are smarter than the average bear and figured it out already. I was waiting to post it here until I'd given notice at my current job because some of my co-workers know this site and I didn't need them to spill the beans. I gave notice at the shelter last week and my last day there will be February 15th. It's a happy/sad situation. I've been at the shelter for three years and it is my HOME. I love it. This new opportunity just seemed to fall in my lap back in December. It's with the Coaliton Against Domestic Violence for my state. The second week of December, I was in a week long training at the Coalition and thought it would be really cool to have a job where I could basically stand on a soap-box preaching about a cause that I'm so passionate about. The trainers seemed really especially cool and it got me thinking. The second day in training, they announced that they had a training position open and stated all the requirements. Something inside me changed and I knew I had to apply and that a new chapter in my life was unfolding. I applied on Friday morning, had my first interview Friday afternoon and I was told that they'd call me the next week if I was going to be offered a second interview. I was really confident that I would get called back and sure enough; they called me on Monday and set up a second interview for the second week in January. (They needed time with the holidays and all.) Because I'd had a month to stew in the idea and am prone to self-doubt and a touch of anxiety, by the time the interview rolled around I was really unsure whether I was right for the job or was ready to leave the shelter. I very nearly called and canceled the interview. They told me it would be a two hour process and to come prepared to give a 10-15 minute presentation on DV101. I wasn't worried about the presentation at all, I was mostly just worried that I might actually get the job and have to leave the safety of my current situation. The interview was conducted by the three trainers I'd become acquainted with in December and began with a series of questions about DV. No worries there. Then they had me present with no clock to see how well I can time myself... I warned them first... and then went over by 7 minutes. It happens. Then they threw all the crazy stuff that people bring up in trainings at me to see how I would answer. It had been an hour and they asked me if I had any questions and I thought I was in the clear. Then they had me draw a card out of a hat. The card said, "DV in the Workplace." Then they sat me at a computer for one hour and had me create an outline for a one-hour presentation on DV in the workplace. Then it was over. They told me they'd contact me sometime within the next two weeks either by phone (a yes) or by letter (a no). They called me a week later. I start on February 19th. My official title is Training Coordinator. My job will involve staying up on all of the latest research and stats about DV and facilitating trainings all over the state. I'll be traveling quite a bit and will get to interact with shelter staff, law enforcement, and those fighting to end family violence all over the state. It's truly an amazing opportunity for me and I feel really blessed that it has come my way.

In other news....

My toe isn't broken. Hooray! My foot is. Crap. Seriously. I have a non-displaced fracture in the fourth metatarsal in my right foot. The fracture is is up high in my in-step (very near the cuboid) and according to my podiatrist, the more I walk on it, the higher the likelihood of it displacing and ruining my life. The solution?

There isn't one that works with my life.

I'm not supposed to walk on it at all. The only way to do this is with crutches. The problem with this? My collarbone is still very tender and because of this, I cannot use my arms to bear my weight. The only solution is to stay in bed. With a bed-pan and a maid houseboy. Again, not a viable option. So I continue to wear my walking boot, use my crutches to keep me from putting too much weight on my foot, and go about my business. Because I can't get off my foot the way I need to, it ALWAYS hurts. ALWAYS. I tapered off the pain meds so I don't become a junkie and I'm going to have to go back on them because I can't sleep at night. It's not like I'm on narcotics or anything, I'm just not used to taking any kind of meds. I take small doses of ibuprofen only when needed. Even for my migraines. Not a fan of meds. To top it all off... I'm coming down with a cold and may or may not have a stomach bug. I've just decided that all of my bad luck is going to happen at the beginning of the year so the rest of my year can be grand.

Here's to a grand rest of the year!!

You are not going to believe what had happened to me....

If you want the good news, check my Facebook profile or call me. I probably won't post it here until Tuesday. For the bad news, see below.

WARNING WARNING GORY DETAILS WARNING WARNING
GORY DETAILS WARNING WARNING

Thursday night; the long version:

So.... about an hour after I wrote my last post, I decided to take a quick shower before going to bed. I had only been in the shower a few minutes and was shampooing my hair when I turned slightly and my bad foot gave out. I fell forward very hard and very fast. So fast in fact, that I couldn't even use my arms to stop myself and I hit my neck and collar-bone on the faucet. I could feel really sharp pains shooting through my bad foot and I very carefully righted myself using my left arm. Once I was sitting upright, I looked down and noticed that two of my toes were swelling up and one had a gash across it and was bleeding. Intense pain was radiating from my collar-bone and shooting up my neck and down my arm. It was at least a minute before I realized that I was hyper-ventilating. I had to focus on breathing slowly. I very carefully felt my collar-bone and neck and since no bones were sticking out or felt displaced, I lifted my right arm to see how it felt. It hurt, but it was movable. I carefully washed the shampoo out of my hair, washed the runny black mascara off my face, turned off the water, and slowly and carefully lifted myself up onto the side of the tub. I put my legs over the tub, slowly stood up and felt stabbing pains in my right foot. I wrapped a towel around myself, threw a towel down along the length of the bathroom for traction and gingerly limped my way to my bedroom. I sat down on my bed and just sat still for a few minutes. Then I picked up a mirror. I was surprised to find that my face was puffy from crying since I hadn't even realized that I was crying and then directed the mirror down to my collar-bone. There was a gash across my collar-bone and my neck was swelling just over my jugular vein. I carefully dressed myself and looked around for my phone. I began crying again when I realized it was in the family room. I briefly debated laying down and going to sleep but feeling uncertain about my collar-bone and my ability to move once I woke up, I grabbed one of my crutches that was conveniently next to my bed and slowly and painfully made my way to the family room. I sat on the couch and picked up my phone and then began crying in earnest. A thousand thoughts crossed my mind; why hadn't any of my housemates woken up when I fell? I really should get those traction strips for my shower. Will my work-comp cover this since it was caused by my previous injury, but happened at home? Will I ever get to drive again? I'm going to have to buy all new shoes. Can I still get an MRI in the morning? Will they do an MRI on my neck while I'm in there? Did I almost just die? What if that had been my face? What if that had been my head and I were a vegetable? Would my family go through my stuff? I'm going to have to go to the ER with wet hair and no bra. Are all my toes broken? Those collar-bone braces are ugly. Did I get all the mascara off my face? What if I can't go to work for weeks? What am I going to do about my new job? How am I going to get all the way to work everyday if I can't drive? Will my agency still pay my medical bills after I quit? Do I really need to go to the ER?

While all these thoughts were running through my head, I was crying hysterically. It took me 30-45 minutes before I felt calm enough to call my sister. As soon as she picked up the phone, I was hysterical all over again. I was finally able to choke out that I'd fallen and that I thought my collar-bone and toes may be broken. She told me to stay put and that she was on her way. After she hung up, I realized that my door was locked and my housemates were all still sleeping, so I calmed myself further and called one of my housemates and told her what just happened and she came racing from the top floor to the basement where I was camped out. She was awesome. It was really comforting just to have someone sitting next to me. My sister and brother arrived shortly after that to take me to the ER.

The ER visit deserves its own post because it's good entertainment... so I'll tell you all the details later. Just so you know, my collar-bone is NOT broken, just terribly bruised. I broke the fourth toe on my right foot, but everything else is intact. I've been camped out at my mom's all weekend and I have bruising up and down the right side of my body. I feel amazingly blessed that my injuries weren't more serious.

More to come later.

I'll be a G-I-M-P 'til I D-I-E.

I'm still gimpy. I have to get an MRI on my foot first thing in the morning. It's been 5 weeks since my injury and I still can't walk or drive and after three sessions of physical therapy, the pain intensified - in the extreme. I really really hope that it's just the moderate sprain as originally diagnosed and that it's just taking a little bit longer to heal that anticipated. So basically I'm in denial.

It happens.

In other news...

I have really good news. I'll announce it tomorrow.

Hands and Feet

I'm knitting a baby blanket... and the poor little dragon has fallen to the wayside. Literally... his little tail is poking out from under my bed. The body is done and even stuffed, he just needs his legs and wings. How sad. The blanket is halfway done though. I think that I'm probably going to knit the same way I read, several books at a time. I currently have 4 books next to my bed. Oh well. I'll finish when I finish.

I can stand on my foot... but still can't drive or wear a regular shoe. I went to the doctor yesterday and he was concerned because any pressure on the top of my foot causes really intense pain. I can stand flat footed and have regained most of my range of movement (walking is still an issue). He says that the x-ray may have missed something and that if things don't improve with physical therapy, I have to get an MRI. Great, just when I thought I was in the clear.

Other than that... I should have some new news for you after the 14th, but I won't mention anything here just yet... just know that it could be really good or kinda disappointing. Cryptic enough for you?

My Christmas Un-Miracle... Bah Humbug!

Adventures of Last Week

Sunday and Monday: Uneventful

Tuesday: I rolled my right ankle/foot while taking out the trash at work and my foot swelled up and I spent 4 hours at the hospital waiting, waiting, getting a soft cast, waiting, getting an x-ray, and waiting. I stayed at my mom's that night as I have stairs at my house and ended up sharing a bed with my mother and Boodji and Cheeks and it wasn't pleasant in the least. Truly. The boys kick and my mom snores.

Wednesday: Returned to the doctor to learn that my foot was not broken, but seriously sprained and that I could not put any weight on it and had to keep it elevated. Was told that I might get a walking boot on Friday. Got a tetanus shot since I thoroughly abraded my left knee.

Thursday: Spent the day with my foot up and having an adverse reaction to my tetanus shot. (lethargy, pain, and the injection site swelled up and got hot and hard.)

Friday: Went back to the clinic where I was seen by a third doctor (it was a new one every time and I had to re-explain everything to each one). The office is completely lacking in adequate medical supplies and they didn't have any walking boots or anything else like it. I was given a prescription for a walking boot and sent over to another facility get fitted and was given an enormous and heavy boot- although I was still instructed to stay off my foot. Oh and did I mention that my pregnant sister had to chauffeur me around with her naughty little Boodji and Cheeks in tow? Friday I made my family take me home because I was going crazy cooped up in the house with all those people.

Saturday: More of the same. Sitting around knitting and watching TV with my foot up. It's mind-numbingly boring. It took hours for me to get someone in my family to come get me so I could get groceries - but I got to drive around in one of those motorized granny-carts which was cool except that it wouldn't go in reverse.

I now have this big ol' boot that I can walk with for very short amounts of time, but it's really really ridiculously heavy and I'm still not allowed to drive. The good news is that most of the Quasimodo-esque swelling has gone down... now I just have a multi-colored rainbow foot (various shades of purple, green, and yellow) and a hard ball the size of a prize shooter at the injection site of my tetanus shot that will hopefully go away soon. Oh yeah, and some insomnia while I'm complaining.

So I'm not so much in the Christmas spirit.

Bah Humbug!

Sad Day

My mom called me at 5:30am this morning to tell me that my Grandmama had passed away. I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I sat on my bed and wept. Yes she was sick and hurting, yes she is out of pain, yes I KNOW I will see her again, but my heart is broken. She was one of the most influential people in my life. I love her so so very much. I called and told my boss and she was incredible and understanding and told me to be with my family. I spoke to my sister Big Mama and she said she and Big Daddy were going shopping to get funeral clothes for the boys. I agreed to meet her at the store and when I got there, the group had expanded to include Mojo and Dewey. We all wandered around trying to keep the boys from destroying the store and picking out clothes for each other and piling in the dressing rooms together. When I found myself alone in the store, I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I need close proximity to my family. By the end of this week, everyone will be in town mourning together and I am happy that we will all be together and grateful for my amazing and loving family.

Quick post...

I really miss blogging. And yes, I will post a pic sometime... but life is remarkably crazy and I don't have Internet at my new place just yet. I'm currently looking for a new job - I'll explain later - and I'm now in the RS Presidency (Counselor over Visiting Teaching and Compassionate Service) and have been as busy as a sister missionary checking up on the sisters in the ward. I like being busy, but I haven't found my rhythm just yet. I'm still adjusting to my new place + longer commute, my new calling and the decision to leave my current job even though I'm loathe to do it. Loathe may not be a strong enough word. I've cried myself to sleep twice this week because I'm so heartbroken about leaving this place and intimidated by the prospect of finding a new job that I may not love quite as much. I'll tell you the whole story when I've got a little more time. I'm getting to know more people in my ward and have a legitimate crush. I'll also update you on this when I've got more time! I hope everyone is well!

WARNING: this one's kinda heavy

OK, time to process this and move forward. Not on, forward. I'm going to just get it out and log it, because it's part of my process. I don't know how readable it will be. This is for me anyway, so it doesn't really matter how readable it is.

I found that the sickness I experienced over the weekend kept me pretty distracted and I wasn't able to really think about things.

Monday I went throughout my workday and felt sad and low and exhausted and sore from being sick - but I stayed on track and kept all of my appointments. I decided toward the end of the day to attend the viewing although most of my co-workers chose not to. I arrived with two co-workers (Danielle and Carol) and soon found that my close friend Liz was already there, so I abandoned them momentarily. There was a big crowd just inside the funeral home and as I made my way forward to try to see what was going on, I noticed that all "viewing" had stopped and that someone was standing at the pulpit above the coffin preaching. It was unreasonable and unexpected, but I found myself to be very angry. I felt like this man was preaching to hear himself speak and that although he was speaking about Tiffanie, it didn't have anything to do with her. I wanted to shout at him. I know that anger is one of the stages of grief, but I didn't expect it, at least not in the way it was manifesting. He finally stopped talking and everyone started moving very quickly into the room where she was and I found myself being swept very quickly towards the front of the room. Liz was holding on to me and our friend Debbie was right there with us. As we neared the coffin, Liz whispered that she couldn't look and let go of me and went towards Tiffanie's mother. Debbie walked with me to her coffin and we stood together and looked at Tiffanie. I only glanced at her for a moment, as she looked so completely different from when I had stood in the hospital and held her hand and I didn't like looking at her. I was glad Debbie was there, she has a strong maternal presence. I went to check on Liz and hugged Tiffanie's mom. As I turned back towards Liz, we broke down at the same moment and just stood there holding onto each other for dear life while we wept. Liz said she was ready to look at Tiff and although I didn't want to go back, Liz wasn't about to let me go. We stood together in front of her casket and wept. Liz reached out to touch her and I did the same. As I touched her hand I recalled the exact same feeling when I attended my Dad's viewing 15 years ago. I held his hands and touched his face, I was looking for signs of my strong happy Daddy and didn't find him there, his warm and safe smell was gone too. She had that same solid, cold, dead feeling. Liz turned to me and said, "That isn't her. She isn't there." I smiled at her and told her that her amazing happy laughing spirit wasn't gone or dead, that we know she lives on. We held each other tight and made our way back out of the chapel and went outside where we chatted more about it and spoke to various friends that we met on their way in and out. I parted with Liz and Debbie and went home with the two I'd arrived with. As we were driving along they started talking about how beautiful she looked and how she looked like she was asleep and the irrational anger came flooding back. I wanted to scream at them. She didn't look asleep, she looked dead. I sat quietly in the back seat while all this anger coursed through me and I realized why I was so angry and let myself feel it and wept. I'm using the word "was" but in some cases "am" works too. I was angry that Tiffanie didn't get to marry Steven, she loved him so much and talked about him all the time. I was angry that she never got to have the babies she wanted so badly. I was angry that every dream and goal was left unmet and unfulfilled. I was angry that I never got to tell her how much I admired her. I was angry that I wouldn't have anyone to make faces with and pass notes to during long boring meetings. I will never hear her laugh or sigh in exasperation and roll her eyes when I tell her the latest antics of our clients. I was angry at the insensitivity of one of the clients who asked very callously whether or not anyone had "pulled the plug yet." I wanted to tell her to shove it. Angry that I will never again peek my head around the corner into her office and make a face until she looks up from her computer and notices me - and never again hear her yell in surprise and laugh. Never again seek her advice or her friendship. I am angry that there won't be any more inside jokes or long rides in the jumbo-van to trainings, no more nick-names and funny stories. No more Tiffanie.

She started working at the shelter 6 months after I did. She was coming up on her 2 year mark. I am sad and sorry that I took it for granted that I would see her everyday. She was just an automatic part of my life and I still can't believe she's gone sometimes. But things definitely feel different without her. I miss her. I realize that I spend my days with a truly incredible group of women and that I take them for granted. This has brought us all much closer and I've definitely tried to show and express my appreciation for them more.

On Tuesday morning we all drove over to the funeral together. Liz joined us and I rode with her. I wasn't outwardly emotional and went in the Sanctuary and sat with my dear friends/co-workers. As the service progressed, I found myself feeling very irritable and antsy and nearly got up and walked out several times. The service was very nice, but I was freaking out inside. My eyes teared up here and there, but mostly I was overwhelmed with the urge to escape from there. I felt like I was about to jump out of my skin. As the service ended, the family began to walk up the aisle and the pall-bearers picked up her coffin and I could feel my grief rising to the surface. As soon as they came near to our pew I began to weep. Liz held me tight and began to weep with me. My heart broke for Tiffanie and her family and her poor fiance who looked like he couldn't take another step but who was very bravely carrying her coffin. My heart broke for all the reasons that I was angry about before and more.

After the funeral, everyone from work met at a restaurant where we had lunch together and told stories and just took things easy. Afterwards, I went to work for about 30 minutes, but couldn't stand it for one moment longer and went home. I was going to run errands to keep myself busy, but ended up going to bed instead.

Wednesday I didn't schedule any appointments and for our weekly staff meeting, we just ate and played games. It was relaxing and healing to just spend quality time together.
Thursday felt like business as usual and I let it feel that way. No tears, no recollections, just focus on my work (read: DENIAL).

Today I found things to keep myself busy, but Tiff's mom came to clean out her office and my heart broke all over again. Except this time I pushed things down and tried to ignore them. I went and sat in her office for 20 minutes, but didn't let myself process. Directly after work I went with Brandon and some friends to a big food and music event at the Zoo of all places, because I was sure I needed social interaction, only to find that I wasn't quite ready. I tagged along with everyone, but felt bad for them that I'd gone. I was quiet and just kind of stood around. We were standing right near the stage while The English Beat was playing and everyone was dancing and I was just standing there like a log. I almost started crying. I must have looked like it because one of our group kept looking at me with concern. Luckily we left pretty early, I don't think I could've made it much longer without falling apart. I held it together until I started typing this. But it's been really good to process this and get some tears out. If I find that there's more, I'll come back to this, but for now I'm going to bed!

(Here's a pic of Tiff and Steven at Halloween.)

Update

I did attend the viewing after all and the funeral this morning as well. But I'm not ready to talk about it just yet. I just wanted to post the link to her obituary and a picture of my beautiful friend before I go find something to do to distract myself as I couldn't spend another minute at work today. Here's a link to a memorial page as well. When I'm up to it, I'll share my experiences of the last two days and then I'll stop blogging about this. Grief is important, but so is moving forward. I'll get there, but I'm not there yet. Thank you to all of my incredible friends for your love and support. Truly, it really means a lot.

Any minute now...

...things will settle down. I'm sure of it.

I hope.

After everything that happened at work last week, I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend. No such luck. Friday "the angry redhead" came calling and left me with excruciating cramps. On top of that, Saturday morning at 3:00 am I woke up with stomach cramps and spent the next 12 hours violently ill as my body purged itself of everything I'd eaten in the last day and then some. I spent the rest of the day sleeping upright on my couch and sipping Gatorade. Today my whole body hurts from the violent illness of the day before. I've spent most of the day in bed and just ate a small bowl of brown rice to see if I can keep it down. So far, so good.

So now I'm facing the dilemma of whether or not to attend Tiffanie's viewing tomorrow evening. Her funeral is Tuesday morning and I will definitely go, but the viewing... geez I'm sick of this.

Sometimes I think I need to go to make this feel real, but then again, I don't want to see her like that. I'll worry about it tomorrow.

I'm going back to bed.