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Category: I’m only human

4

Published on 4 Comments on Good Day. My voice. Their hope.

It's been a good day. Pain has been low and stress is near zero. It's been good.

I did a little cleaning, drank some hot chocolate and talked to friends and neighbors.

I'm also feeling good about the firing of my CNA. I didn't think the company would care nearly as much as they do. As a matter of fact, they have filed a grievance against her license based on verbal abuse. They also tested her and will include the test results in the grievance for when she drove me under the influence. It appears this young woman will lose her license for these egregious actions. This does not please me because she is the provider of 4 small children, but I understand that there are consequences, in this case steep ones.

Monday morning at 9am a new CNA will arrive. Lord! Help me!

My neighbor says she is grieved when she hears I have "yet again fired a CNA." She texted me this morning to say that I have sent these girls away "without hope," that I should be preaching to them. I asked her ever so politely what she knows about the privacy of my home and the conversations that take place?

Being a student of the Bible means I talk briefly about the Bible to whomever comes through my door. It is not sinful, as she suggested, to fire an employee who endangers you or who is abusive. I am not required as a Christian to take abuse like this just in case someone eventually listens to the Good News about the Christ and his father Jehovah. I am not a Christian punching bag. I am also tired of people and their judgements. If I were someone else, such guilt for firing her could make it harder to speak up next time.

I have a problem with worrying things will be seen as my fault and I'll be publicly humiliated as it comes out. I worry somehow I am responsible for the missteps and abuses of others, so I didn't need to hear that I failed these girls spiritually by sticking up for myself. That hurt but, I have to remember that neighbor has no clue what she's talking about and no right to tell me I am obligated to stick it out and give them "hope" despite knowing about the ill-treatment. Just wow.

Despite the early morning shocking words from my neighbor, it really has been a very good day.

Jordan

4

Published on 4 Comments on Therapy Review: Live free. Young Self.

We talked about figuring out how to live with instability, with the unknown. I'm not a very flexible person. I'm not spontaneous, don't like to have someone jump out and surprise me. But my health is one big unstable lion that is silent for awhile but waiting for the moment to roar. We talked about being able to find a way to enjoy life with a lion lurking around.

I was encouraged by the Oncologist the other day to keep moving forward and let them worry. He wants me to leave it with the doctors and as he said, "Keep shooting yourself." In other words, keep taking the shots! He's so funny, and so positive.

Dr. D and I discussed the financial side of chronic illness and how that can bring added stress. I'm doing a lot better about getting dolls finished. I've got one near completion and another well along. There are 3 total in the works with 2 being commissions. I've also completed one painting and am working on others. This should help add more to my Etsy shop for extra income.

We also talked about my own inner child doll. I was unable to hold her or even look at her much but now she's out in the open and I just love her. Dr D asked how I feel about the little girl I once was. The first word to pop in my head was "respect." I have great respect for her and what she was forced to survive. Not only did she survive abuse, she was living with Lupus since age ten! That little girl fought hard to live. I have nothing but respect for her.

Dr D noted the change in tone and emotion for my child self. A few years ago I hurt for her immensely. Before that I was angry at her vulnerability. I was stuck on anger for a long time. I remember the humiliations like they were yesterday and thought she should have done something different to make my mother love me. I blamed her. As I move further along in healing I see so clearly what the child self had to endure. I think having an inner child doll helped me see my young self as little, defenseless, innocent. In my head I couldn't see me as young but for some reason the doll gave me something to relate my size to. Well, it worked. I see in my head a tiny kid and I have great respect for her.

This is my first biracial handmade ragdoll with long curly hair that can be combed.

Jordan

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Published on 1 Comment on A little this and that

It's still a bit difficult to reach out, but I did with a friend this evening. I told her what the surgeon's prognosis is. I decided to risk and tell her that for an hour or so each morning I struggle with the feeling that it was pointless to wake up. It takes a good self talk to get up and live.

In addition to talking to myself about living, I'm trying my best to complete a few dolls that my neighbor ordered. When I went to look for my patterns I discovered they had all been thrown away back when the whole hospitalization happened. I was rather upset to lose them but I have to remember that anything that was lost to the trash is replaceable. Today I ordered new patterns. Lord knows I couldn't afford it but I went ahead and did it so I can get back to making dolls and bag holders. I don't want to put off doll making any longer.

I was able to go to the Kingdom Hall tonight. Boy was it helpful to worship in person and to see everyone. It was really good.

Here is a picture of Joey taking over my favorite blanket. Lol. Joe is very different from my old kitty Mary Jane.

Best blanket ever

I have to remember not to measure him by other pets. I just need to let his light shine without conditions. He's a good boy. He doesn't eat my plants or destroy anything. He doesn't bother me when I sleep and he uses the box without exception. He's quiet, loving, friendly and eats whatever you put in front of him. He really is a good boy. I just adore him.

Draw something mom.

It's time to sip ginger wine and go to sleep next to my furry buddy. ❤️

Faith

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Published on 4 Comments on Show of Strength

The problem with being told I'm strong is that it seems to give onlookers permission to let me be, do little, and go on as usual. I hate being told I'm strong because of all the hidden messages with it.

My doctor and I had conversation where I was asked if I really wanted to know about the true nature of this illness. She said, is it better to know than not to know? She said that at least knowing, I can be prepared. She said I'm taking it well and that I'm a strong woman. I'm strong when I can be but when strength is gone I require what everyone else requires, a friend. But if people have the idea that I'm strong at all, I'll get left. People will forget me or maybe they'll push me to the background and go on with life as usual denying that I'm falling apart because it's easier for their pain. It feels so negative. Alone. Labeled strong for the self preservation of others.' Yeah this is bad but she can do it, she can take it.' I hate being called strong.

Today I was neither strong nor weak. I just managed through some severe fatigue and a few flashbacks from the hospitalization. My CNA was here when I was lying down and the flashbacks started. I turned over and dropped a few tears because the thought of doing that ever again is heavy. It took two or three minutes of silent tears and I was able to gather myself. I cry so quietly that unless you're right beside me you may not realize it at all. The CNA didn't know a thing which is exactly the way I wanted it.

As the doctor said, knowing means I can be prepared. I can, and so can the doctors. They know what to look for. They know the signs and how bad it can quickly get. (My heart is so heavy.) So yes, it's better to know what medications, what procedures, what surgeons and what hospital should be involved. We know who will speak for me if I can't speak for myself. Most of all we know this mixed up, emotional, half broken, headstrong woman wishes to live.

Jordan

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Published on 1 Comment on The Same Road

I saw the surgeon today. He didn't smile much at first. I always try to read him when I go in. I asked if he had bad news. I said, am I going to have to do that fight again, another excruciating, painful time? He said yes. I said, you could have given that news a little easier don't you think? He laughed. I said, do you say this with certainty? He said, yes, but your veins and blood aren't doing it right now.

Phlegmasia cerulea dolens. You vicious, evil demon.

I talked to him about the pain and he suggested cbd oil. I said, I'm ahead of you on that one. He said bc of how I clot, it's not a good idea to give me a nerve block or any of those injections. I'd have to stop taking my blood thinner for 2 days each time I needed an injection. He and I agree that I should not risk even two days off the blood thinner. He's sending me to a pain specialist with experience dealing with what I went through. Phlegmasia cerulea dolens in a patient with Lupus. I just shake my head because I have never felt more pain.

It's frightening, but Dr. L said it looks fine right now but his experience says all hell will break lose again. Until it does I have to learn to live without feeling like I have a black cloud over my head, like I'm just hanging around waiting for the other shoe to fall. Part of me wanted to know if I'd have to do it all again because I hoped the answer was no. I wanted him to say the worst was behind me. I hoped I would be a 90 yr old woman causing trouble in the nursing home because some whipersnapper snuck me in some chocolate and wine. What the heck am I supposed to do now? It's only been recent that I stopped thinking each day may be my last. I had a 'why bother' attitude, 'I'm just going to get another blood clot and die anyway.' Only recently have I stopped living like that.

What he said today is sobering but not 100% a death sentence. It feels like it because I barely survived my body the first time. I guess the plan is to keep making emotional progress, keep moving forward until whenever. I'll find a way to thrive and do so with my new furry boy, Joey.

Today I had myself a nice cry on the bed. He snuggled up to me then slept on my hip. He's beside me right now. I just love this guy.

Dr. L suggested I try cbd gel for my feet instead of the regular oil. I'll try to get it some next month.

Thank goodness for insurance. I may be upset about my out of pocket expenses but shoot, I take $17,000 a month in prescribed medication. I would be in serious trouble if I weren't well covered. My insurance pays for my nurse and CNA, too.

I believe chocolate should be covered by insurance.

Jordan

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Published on 3 Comments on Joey

He's a chatter box kitty but as sweet as can be. He sleeps on my chest and purrs. He gives me little cat kisses. This is my new buddy Joey.

Joey is a tabby male, neutered and 9 yrs old. He's calm and friendly to visitors. He doesn't know a stranger. He's got big, bright green eyes and a strong purr box. I just love him, and so does my CNA.

Originally I told the owner I didn't want to adopt Joe, but I reconsider. I'm so, so happy I did.

Three doctors suggested I adopt. I didn't want to because of guilt associated with having to give up Clyde to my friend. Clyde, by the way, is very happy and having a gay old time! He's very happy, buy I grieve losing him. I feel bad that I had to give him up, like a terrible person. I'll have to work on the reality of the matter. I can't take care of Clyde. I physically can't take care of him. But does that condemn me to never adopting again? I had to! I had to get a new fur baby.

I'm not going to try to convince people of anything other than the need for fur in my life and that I think this senior cat is just what I need.

I like his speed. The boy is chill. I like that he seeks out affection and that when I get up to leave the room, he follows. He's been here a week and I'm totally in love with this boy.

Joey has zero interest in cat weed. That's sad because watching cats on cat nip is hi-larious. He does like balls with bells. And what cat can resist a woman's hair ties? He loves 'em.

My hope is that M. Joseph Austin will help with the depression and ease some of the emotional pain that has kept me boxed.

He came with the name Joey. I added Michael and my last name so that his initials are MJ just like the kitty I has for 12 yrs before she passed. Boy do I miss Mary Jane, aka MJ.

One thing about Joe is that he is declawed. Whomever declawed him removed the first digit which means like me, he's missing toes.

Faith

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Published on 2 Comments on The Smile

I smiled every time the doctor or nurse walked in the room. I smiled at the Radiologist, Podiatrist, Hematologist, Wound Team and the vampire, blood sucking Phlebotomist. I'm not an easy stick and hate getting my blood drawn, thus the name calling. Anyway, I smiled at them all, genuinely, because I was greatful for good care.

The partner of my outpatient Podiatrist saw me at the hospital. That doctor did the same as her partner, she did the debridement without numbing the area first. I hate that! I wonder if they've ever felt it? If so, they'd know that it hurts terribly. The other two times it was done by her partner I managed bc I couldn't feel much. This time I cried pretty hard because I felt that razor slice each time. She finally stopped. I was quite relieved. The second time she came I didn't smile at her. I couldn't.

I'm thankful to everyone from the person who cleaned my room to the CNA's who brought warm blankets. I was treated well by doctors, nurses and transportation personnel. The best way to show it was to smile and say thank you.

Thank you to the individuals who knew I was in the hospital and wished me well and offered prayers. You are very much appreciated.

Faith

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Published on 4 Comments on Foot Stuff. Fear of Pain.

I've been going in to see the doctor more than normal because my body is having a hard time fighting the infection. The days I've not gone in she's called. I'm also to keep a photo diary of the changes to the wound site, which I've been doing. The infected area changes in size almost daily. It is amazing to see, amazing in a frightening way.

Today the doctor said the test results show I do not have MRSA. She originally feared it, but that is not the bacterial infection we're dealing with. She said it's necessary for me to go to see a specialist who will do x-rays to look at the foot, and a doppler to look for blood clots.

I was nervous about this appointment. I keep expecting the doctor to say there's nothing more that can be done for me. I fear more pain than anything else. Pain of the infection, pain and weakness in my legs, pain of another amputation. Pain. I fear it.

I never, ever want to come close to where I was in the hospital when the pain was so bad I prayed to die! I believe that happened 3 times. Even when I didn't pray to die, when I wanted badly to pull through, I feared I'd lose my mind because of the pain. Pain felt like it broke me. It left a crack in my head and on my heart.

I see in my head the way my body swelled with 70 pounds of excruciating, excess water weight. I see in my head and remember vividly black feet that once held the most painful, huge boils. It was horrendous! I fear ever having to do anything like that again. I fear I will.

The right foot is the biggest issue. The doctor said the meds aren't working but she wants me to try another round. So, more vomiting, more insomnia, ears ringing and other super fun stuff. The specialist will most likely change treatment but for now I do round two of the same.

I see the specialist Wednesday.

I'm discouraged and fearful but still determined to keep going.

It's 4pm, my CNA is gone for the day but we put dinner in the crock pot for me. I'm having roast with potatoes, carrots and green beans. There's a nice cup of tea in my future.

Faith

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Published on 4 Comments on A Year Ago Tomorrow

It feels like yesterday but tomorrow it'll have been a year since the amputation. I was ok until it was time to be alone, then I fell apart.

The two people I talked to commented that I've come very far in a year. They said there's been loss but that I've made great strides. In prayer I said that what I needed was someone to grieve this loss with me, validate it, not encourage me to keep going and see the bright side. I said I needed someone to understand my tears and understand how complex it is to lose a part of yourself.

Yes, I've come a very, very long way and beat nearly impossible odds. That can't be disputed. What I have a hard time with is justifying this level of upset over half a foot missing but my grief, as confused about its validity I may be, is in fact strong if not consuming. I told my therapist that watching the foot die for a two month time period is the part I can't seem to get over. Seeing.. remembering how far my body had to be pushed for two months !!! brings tears of anguish to my eyes!! I can't be any clearer when I say that watching a limb die is worse than the amputation itself.

I'm not angry about being in a wheelchair. I knew this was part of my future bc I've been ill for years. But I miss long walks beside my dog outside! I miss my dog.

This is all so new. New pain to get used to, new eye level from a wheelchair and seeing the world, new home, different body...... Is a year long enough to adjust to such things?

Tomorrow will be a long, busy day. The carpet is getting cleaned after the water heater drained all over it. This means my little bed has to be moved as well as a few personal items and plants. It shouldn't take long but it'll be an ordeal. My nurse is coming tomorrow and I will be going to the Kingdom Hall. It's going to be a full day. I didn't plan it that way. There sure won't be much time to wallow in my thoughts, or much time to recharge mentally as I try to transition from one task to the next. Let us hope I have enough energy for all this on a potentially emotionally charged day.

Faith

See On Losing More. https://www.sundrip.com/2018/05/05/on-losing-more/ The entry before the amputation.

Published on Leave a comment on Tea and Peace

I've had a few quiet days at home alone because my regular CNA is out. It's been peaceful.

I hate to use words like peaceful then mention small moments with tea concerning my life, at the same time as the news reports more than 50 people have been murdered by a gunman in New Zealand.

So I'm sipping fine orchid tea from my favorite mug and my heart can't even smile. There is no peace, and there hasn't been since this early morning when I first heard about it.

After I heard the sheer volume of terror caused I did what others did. I goggled "does New Zealand have the death penalty?" No, they do not have this barbaric penalty. But right now my heart turns to barbarism and asks why he and his accomplices should live when they have changed the lives of so many people forever? Sometimes the death penalty seems right. Barbarism is what he played out on the world and I'm wondering if a News Zealand prison is harsh enough for him or should he be transferred to San Quentin in California?

I'm angry.

I think what shocks me too is that it's New Zealand. Had it been Sweden, France, G. B. London, the United States, it wouldn't leave a question mark. But, New Zealand? Really?

Active shooters are such a part of American culture that even the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses has been given instructions on what to do. When we went over active shooter information at my congregation my heart blead! The thought of someone walking into the house of my God with a weapon hurts deeper than words can express! How dare anyone ever defile a place of worship with hatred?

I shake my head to throw off understanding that some people have no respect for life and that hate is what they feed on. I shake my head.

I'm going to sip my favorite tea today and dig deep to find my inner peace. Whatever peace is in my heart, whatever calm and hopeful feeling I find, I'm going to accept because I'm going to need it. The day is early.

Faith

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