It’s Just a Foot

I owe you an apology. Please, wake up, I owe you an apology. I said it was just a foot and not worth dying over because I didn’t understand. Tears swell in my eyes. My lips begin to trimble as I stand before headstone after headstone. Wake up! every Granny, aunt, uncle with a leg, arm, hand or foot they let get too bad until it was too late and tell them I was wrong. It’s not just a foot is it? No. Not when it happens to you. Instantly you understand your humanity.

The wind hesitates. I pretend to breathe. I owe you an apology.

I didn’t know the brain would need to rewire. I didn’t know the fear you’d live in of another amputation, or of physical therapy.

“She’s your nurse” doesn’t contain the impact a stranger has of touching every inch of your body at all times, of dangling fingernails over all your belongings leaving nothing untouched, feeding garbage food you can barely taste because life itself is stale.

Sweetheart wake up. Wake up. I touch another headstone. I didn’t know it would be this hard.

For the living

I’m colder than I’ve ever been. I’ve felt more pain and fear in the last 7 years than the previous years of life. Only 2% of the time do I think to myself, I should have died. Most of the time I’m happy I made it but I’m in the crowd that has to say I was wrong to pass judgment on people who couldn’t see the amputation through. It’s not just a foot. I was young. I didn’t know what I was saying. Who am I to say who does or doesn’t have the strength to endure an amputation?

Faith Magdalene

Tea and Snuggle Strength

Joe is a guardian cat. A watching feline. A gentle whiskered friend whom I adore. It’s just that sometimes the psychosis pushes me away from him a little, away from people a little. I want to isolate.

I have to force myself to accept this new mental weirdness and fear. I wear paranoia. I’m dripping in it. I only know to fill my cup and clean my paint brushes. Art it out!

Covid-19 handed me a fever high enough to leave permanent hallucinations and damage, for which I feel shame. But my cat Joe still finds me palatable to love and be seen cuddling, openly. His love gives me a little more strength to keep going.

What goes in your cup of trials and stress to dilute it so you can do one more day ? 🙂

Tea cup art by Faith Magdalene Austin

Awake Stroke Recovery Art

Finishing “Awake” took much effort but it is here, reworked, beaming with color and striking details.

Bellow are my comments.

I woke to a new existence somewhere unknown, they called it a stroke. Now words come like slow snails, or they are kidnapped so as not to form on my chapped lips. 

I painted the emotional roller-coaster I felt as I played tug of war with my body, emotions, speech and interpersonal relationships. Ultimately I felt lost, defeated and misunderstood. I also thought I’d never paint again.

Grueling therapy and persistence with paint brushes helped me get to the point where I can say I’m awake. I’m awake to what has happened and the I’m happy the hardest part of it is behind me. Awake is about surviving the body after stroke and making it my new home.

You will find more images and a short video on Etsy. I also accept PayPal.

Thank you for letting me talk. Thank you for visiting SUNDRIP Art for Life.

Faith Magdalene

Validation. Symptoms. Wording.

A nurse came out to assess me for continued in home nursing. I asked about the difficulties I have with speech but not with reading. She said my speech and memory issues are related to the stroke.

For example, say I may want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’ll get the bread and peanut butter, however I will ask the nurse to get the jelly. I can see the jar in my head but the word won’t come out for anything. But if the jar is turned around with the label facing me then I can read it and say “may I have the jelly please”. Otherwise we could be sitting there for three weeks with me trying to get the word jelly out of my mouth. I can picture the object in my head but it’s as if the word is trapped.

I’m not accustomed to being believed. It was hard to admit how often it happens.

The nurse said this is related to the stroke. I thought I was just growing stupid with age. As it turns out, it’s not stupidity at all, but a symptom of something else.

Sometimes the words used to describe myself are a bit harsh.

When in bed, only in bed, primarily on my right side, heavier at the feet and head, my body jerks really hard, like really hard. Hard enough to wake me. I have a semi electric hospital bed, noise thing. I jerked really hard, slammed on the bed frame and woke the neighbor directly above me. We have paper thin walls, but still. Not sure if the doc is going to take that seriously or if it’s going to get brushed aside like many things appear to. I know when I lie down I’m going to have to deal with the hard jerking around. It seems to have increased lately. Interesting.

Faith

Another Long Day

I wonder if my cat hates my job every bit as much as I hated my mother’s profession? How many times have I said to Joe Schmoe, “Here I come?” but made him wait a long time in dead silence? How many times have I sworn to take a break? “Really, here I come.” Sometimes he looks lonely. I worry he feels ignored just like I did.

Instead of papers and pencils it’s paint brushes and canvas.

I enjoy brushing Joe and chatting at him. The aides adore him and take over loving on him; and I let them. When they leave it goes back to being me and him in silence.

He’s sleeping in bed with me again. He sleeps by my head, curled up, back to me, in silence. It’s always so quiet in here.

I’m at the table, back to Joe. Right now I can only hear the trickle of the waterfall in the Betta tank. Ah, but what is this? Joe has turned the tide? He came to sit beside me and break being apart in silence. He kissed my hand and lay beside me. I’ve got to go. There’s no way I can do anything but spend a few moments with him just as he is asking.

My heart is smiling. The day has been given a great gift.

Faith Magdalene

Today’s Endurance

I screamed myself awake, and possibly my neighbors, around 6 this morning. I don’t exactly remember the dream. I just remember it was horrible and I was terrified. I was kicking and screaming. But I didn’t catch it on camera because my camera wasn’t set up. I hate that.

I wish I had caught that on camera so I can see what I was doing before and what I was doing after. I would like to have seen Joe’s reaction. After much struggling I finally had the camera set up so we’ll see how tonight goes.

Today has been really difficult. I have been scattered brained. I’ve messed up just about everything I’ve touched; everything I touched broke today so I’m pretty annoyed.

It’s just one of those days so I decided to list things that are good in my life. I listed five things that are blessings in my life because if not then it was just going to be an overwhelming day of sadness that seemed all for nothing. So I did, I came up with five things. I’m happy I was able to pause and go , okay listen, endurance is for a reason. It’s not to see who can suffer a long time, endurance has a purpose for the issues. That purpose is what I’m fighting for.

Here is a plant corner in my studio apartment that I enjoy.

Joe has been put on a different food by the vet. He’s been taken off his meds and he’s doing very well. His skin looks sooo much better. The boy’s actually kinda got an attitude now. He’s still Super Service Cat like no other but wow is he mouthy. 🙂

I’m down to two breathing treatments a day. My lungs still hurt very much from whatever chemical was in my apartment. I was in the hospital twice over it. Yuck. That’s part of the, “endurance is for a purpose” entry.

Lastly, I missed my OCD meds for a week. Life is hard right now. Prior Authorization and such took a bit. I finally got them after a full week. I can feel the difference. It hurts.

Until soon,

Faith Magdalene

One Shot. Roll On.

Today part of me just mourned the loss of the old CNA that I really liked, the one who said I’m not disabled. It was short lived. I’d rather go without the toxicity thank you very much!!!

This head is tired.

I spoke with the owner who reassured me that she’s looking for a quality aide for me, not just anyone.

I’ve bombed on the meet and greet twice bc I gave too much info about OCD and scared qualified candidates; one I didn’t much like but would have worked with, the second I really, really like. Can I get a do over?

This whole one shot thing is horrible! You get one short interview with a person to see if you can work with them.

I’ve forgotten how the regular employed world works. You go to interviews, sell yourself in an hour then leave. One shot! Gracious! Oh my brain.

I’m trying to get it right, trying to do everything right. Why can’t I get it right?

Today I had to remind myself of my self worth because it recently tanked. I don’t assign my self worth, God does. He loved everyone enough to allow his son as ransom, including me. So get up Faith, shake the dirt off your shoulders.. and roll on. You got this.

desperate

The Whole World is On Fire

This company, CICOA, that serves the elderly and disabled to find so called care companies to come in the house has now been told that I have DID. They, CICOA, told the doctor if I wanted care I’d have to give them both psychiatric and medical diagnosis. I was not asked about this.

The company was told I have DID. They passed it along to the under educated care companies who pass it along to their caregivers! Are you joking? Are you joking!!

No matter what company I go to they’ll know I have DID, the caregiver may know as well. Everyday people don’t need to know this.

In Indiana, most of these places aren’t run by medical professionals but by well meaning individuals who saw a need in the community. But well meaning doesn’t mean you know what to do or not to do or to just leave it the heck alone.

I told the CICOA worker that I spent years, years making sure my DID didn’t get out but nope, here we are, you guys couldn’t let it go. I said, so now that you know, who is educated enough to manage it? None of you! Not a single person in that building has the slightest bit of education to manage my disorder. She said, I have a bachelor in psychology. What’s that supposed to do? If you have a BA then you should have known to be more careful.

Curiosity killed the cat. The cat is me.

It matters that uneducated people are going to have this information and that I’m going to AGAIN hear how I need to just pray the demons out, spit them out, excercist, oil, rituals and that I have demons. I won’t go through it. I won’t go through it again. I may not have to bc I gave CICOA quite the unedited tongue lashing!! They may kick me out of the program. I really went off.

I spent so long holding that secret together and it’s over because J is nosey and gave a form requiring my mental health diagnosis. All that happened on the heels of my CNA getting fired by me yesterday morning, the CNA I liked so much.

We’d begun fighting, outright arguing daily. I’d apologize, she wouldn’t. I started to worry about a few things I couldn’t prove but was suss of.

The last argument was when discussing going to the grocery store. I said I’d like to go to the pet store first because it’s less energy than the grocery store. She said, I don’t want to double back. I said, but as a disabled person it’s easier on me to do the easier thing first. She chimed in with, I have plenty to say about you being disabled but we don’t want to have that conversation.

It hit hard. I was dazed. Seconds later I said, yes, we need to have this conversation. Long story short, the Certified Nurses Aide believes she is qualified to cancel out all doctor diagnosis for her punny, sad, opinion. I’m amazed! Amazed. There was no way she was working here if she didn’t even believe I’m disabled. My goodness.

As angry as I was that I had to fire her, I did forgive that stupidity. She can never work for me, but forgiveness is offered to the CNA and her ridiculous actions. Why? So I can leave just a tiny bit of peace in a world that is very short of it.

As for CICOA there is no such forgiveness…. This dumpster fire is part of the rest of the world that’s on fire. Cause if you hadn’t noticed, the whole world is kinda on fire right now.

Michael Joseph is ok but not great. He’s sleeping a lot. He eats well. Still drinking. He’s clingy then he goes back to hide under the bed.

I took a photo yesterday bc I just turned a corner in life and I know it. I’m not sure what’s around the corner, but I didn’t just turn a corner in life. I could feel it coming for a minute.

Faith Magdalene

Wilted African Violet Emotional Uptick of 2024

I prayed, “your daughters need Parenting because this is just a plant. I don’t even want a long break from her over a plant. We need a Father to work with His daughters.”

I am pleased that my very emotional friend and sister has calmed down concerning the African Violet plant. We met over Zoom and handled things very well. I was so grateful! So grateful!

I’ll meet with her again Monday evening and the project we’re working on will be finished. We’ll have done it. The absolute impossible a few years ago!

Unfortunately this plant appears beyond redemption. It’s name will not be called. There will be no resurrection. Lol 🙂

I don’t know what to do with it. I really don’t. I’ve got some leaves cut in half, some as full leaf propagation. But, some wilted in the moss, some simply didn’t make it after being in the trash. Never in my life have I ever felt so bad about a plant dying. The saga has ended. I’m pretty sure. I think. I hope. Lol

Faith