Kerri Connor's Blog, page 2

Learning to walk again

Using cannabis has had many side effects for me.

Learning how to walk again has been one of the most unexpected.

For years, my aching fusing back was tight. A tight back, led to a tight pelvis, which then locked up my hip joints as well. Walking was difficult. It was stiff and confined. My body couldn't fully move the way it was designed to move, and so walking was also not being done the way my body was designed to do it.

When our bodies aren't moving the way they are designed too, they end up with premature wear and tear in unsuspecting places, which then leads to more issues involving more stiffness and pain, which leads to more damage again. Compensation pain can be worse than the original pain. It's a vicious cycle.

But cannabis has helped me to break it.
 

My body had been so stiff for so long, I had completely changed the way I walked. Even after I started finding relief from pain, it took a while for me to realize that by not changing my damaging gait, I was still doing damage. I just wasn't feeling it the way I had been because the cannabis took care of the pain.  I needed to break the entire cycle.

We have joints. They are made to move and swivel. Not using these joints causes inflammation and pain just about as easy as over use does.

My joints weren't moving and I needed to change that.

There's an episode of the old TV show Alice, where Flo instructs Vera she has to "move like the waves in the ocean" in order to put her womanly wiles to use and attract a man. She needed to put some twitch in her step. Move her hips and derriere.

That's literally what I needed to do.

Again, cannabis lent me her hand by helping me to loosen up, both physically and mentally. Accompanied by either Bollywood or Bellydance music, my hips have started moving again. I can feel the fusions on my spine give as my body is able to move in ways it hasn't moved in years.

I can twist.

I can shimmy.

I can bend over and touch my toes.

And when I do, I can feel my joints thanking me for finding them and releasing them from their prison.



I rather doubt when the writers of Alice gave Flo this line, they saw it as anything more than Flo teaching Vera to be sexy, and may not have seen the truth to their words. Perhaps they did, but considering the era, I would be surprised.

Why does "moving like the waves of the ocean" work? Why does it loosen up ligaments and lubrication joints?

Simply because it is natural. We are designed to move like the ocean. We are 60% water. More water than any other matter. We are meant to flow. Not be rigid and stiff.

I have to remind myself when I walk of those words from Flo. They have become my reminder, my mantra.

"Move like the waves in the ocean."

No, it hasn't fully cured me, but it has helped tremendously, and that is far better than what I was.

Rise and Shine

I suck at getting out of the bed in the morning. 
When I was getting up and going to work in the morning, I did it. But now, that I don’t have to leave the house, don’t have the commitment nor the responsibility to be “there” for others, getting up hasn’t been near as easy. 
It doesn’t help that my sleep cycle has been completely out of whack either. 
I knew I needed to work on changing things: getting to sleep before 3 am, waking up motivated and staying that way, getting myself on a schedule again. 
When the email from my acupuncturist’s (Janine) office popped up in my inbox promoting a webinar on setting a morning routine, I thought it must be kismet. I immediately responded attending.
I had to wonder if it was somehow my fault when the appointed time of the webinar came and passed and no webinar. Technical issues had prevented it from happening. 
Not one to give up, Janine quickly emailed out a Power Point presentation for all of us who had registered. 
I eagerly opened it up and read through her ideas. 
Some I had tried before, but some I had not. 
I had been making lists for myself, something I had done years ago, but I was finding a difficult time completing them as of late. One of Janine’s tips was about lists, so I decided to keep that for sure, and commit myself to working on checking each item off. I added a couple different things to my planned morning routine and went to bed eager to start the next morning. I knew I could do this; I’ve done it before with no problem, and not even 6 months ago! 
I spent the next 6 hours tossing, turning, and attempting to shut off my brain. 
I’ve always been an insomniac, but lately, if I managed to fall asleep before 2 am, I would consider it a win. 
I spend most nights in a pretty typical routine. I take sleep supplements. I smoke weed. I have a special “night night time” play list complete with delta wave music. I smoke more weed. I go to the bathroom. I’m up so might as well try more weed. I start getting desperate for sleep as I watch the white numbers on the Alexa Show click closer and closer to morning. Of course, this whole time, the hubs is sound asleep next to me, Vader mask on and still snoring. I vape some weed. Eventually, usually between 2 am and 4 am, I fall asleep. 
This particularly night, I fell asleep around 3:30. I know because – Fitbit. I had planned to be up at 6:30 to start my new morning routine. Besides, three hours wasn’t much less than my average four. Only I didn’t get three hours, I got an hour and a half, because at 5 am the hubs called, and his car had broken down. Long story short, by the time I got back home, it was after 9 am, I was exhausted, and the rest of my day was shot.
Ya think I would be able to fall asleep pretty easy after that. 
Nope.
That night, I repeated my routine. 
This time, at 1:00 am in the morning, the feral cat I had been helping out, showed up in a panic. I got him inside and settled into his room for the night. He was injured, and I decided it was time, whether he liked it or not, he was going to the vet the next day. 
Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep.  
I was stressed out because I knew his tail had been bit and I was concerned at what the outcome would be. The next day and $800 later, I was the proud owner of a feral cat under rabies observation for the next ten days. 
This sleep and schedule thing weren’t working out quite like I had been hoping.  I would make my list, set my plans up, crawl into bed, and still I couldn’t sleep. When I would make in the morning, something would go wrong from sleeping through my alarm, to sick grandkids, to the passing of a family member.  
My two weeks attempt at setting a morning routine had resulted in zero days of completing my planned routine. At this point, I really don’t know if a morning routine is the thing for me or not. But I decided, maybe I needed to start broader. So, I’m starting with a weekly routine instead. If I can manage to start getting certain tasks done on certain days, at least I have narrowed it down a bit and given myself a win instead of constant losses.
I’m not lowering my sights, but I am giving myself a step up instead of going for the full leap. I’m not in a race, I have no timed finish line. Maybe it will take a few more months for me to figure out a set morning routine, or maybe, I never will. But for right now, trying to set a routine as been far more counter-productive than if I had left well enough alone. 
Sometimes what we want to do, may not be what the cards have in store for us. Now when I can’t sleep, instead of lying in my bed staring at the ceiling or playing a game on my phone I either pick up a book and read or get out of bed and write. 
I’m still not sleeping, but at least I’m finally getting something done.

Fighting the pain with cannabis infused oil

Now that I am adjusting to life as a writer instead of life as a bookseller, I am also focusing more on getting back into better shape. I know the effects sitting at a desk has on my body, and I must consciously and consistently work to reverse the damage it does. 
My preferred method of exercise? Dancing around my house. Sometimes I use Misty Tripoli’s Body Groove online videos (love it!), other times one of my multitude of different themed playlists I have created for my daily dance-a-thons.
Occasionally several rounds of Beat Saber get tossed in particularly when my arms need a workout, or it’s game night, or I’m high and my son is playing it already (because I have no clue how to set it up on my own even though he has showed me a few times), or…well ok, I like the game.  
Fun and energizing, yet these activities also leave my almost 50-year-old body sore and stiff.  And with the multitude of inflammatory and auto-immune issues I have, it leads to a lot of pain. 
While I can take a few hits to ward off the immediate pain, I quickly learned I needed to find something that would give me more long-term relief. After lying still all night, the next morning would be awful. It could take hours for my body to begin functioning close to normal again. I would have to medicate in the morning just to be able to get out of bed on my own because I was so stiff, I couldn’t move. 
My acupuncturists had recommended Oil of Ojas (an incredible mix of essential oils from the Dominican Republic) to me years ago, and while it helped some, it took a while and still did not give me complete relief.
I decided to try mixing it up into my own recipe by combining it will cannabis infused jojoba oil. To make the infused oil, I first use my Ardent Nova to decarboxylate my cannabis. After that, it goes into my Magic Butter machine to infuse the jojoba oil. Finally, I mix the cannabis oil and Oil of Ojas in a 50/50 mix. At night, before I crawl into bed, I use the mixture on my arms and legs. This mixture keeps my joints and muscles from stiffening up overnight, so when I wake up in the morning, I am ready to go again. 
There are many ways of using cannabis, consuming is only one of them. THC and CBD both can have extremely beneficial effects when used topically as well.
So far, this mix has completely worked for me in situations I know would have left me basically incapacitated for the day, if not for several days. It has been a goddess send, and now I know I can push myself harder and not have to worry about feeling the pain the next day. It has made it so I can get in daily workouts instead of having to recover for days in between. This has been a huge boost to my weekly # of steps and active minutes. Instead of a couple of days a week, now I can get up and go at any time of the day, every day. 
Which is good, because after sitting in my desk chair for hours on end (and with edits starting – I will be doing a lot of sitting), I need to be able to get up and move, not to just shake out my body, but to shake out my mind.

Allow me to introduce myself. Again.

                In my high school, there was a staircase that led down into an odd underbelly of the school. These were underground classrooms with no windows, low ceilings, and the first few times I prepared to enter those rooms, my claustrophobia kicked in as soon as I opened the stairwell door. 
                But those rooms became a place I loved. A haven. A refuge. 
                They were where I went for my overabundance of English credits in the form of Creative Writing, Journalism, and Publications. It was where we birthed the yearbook and put the newspaper to bed each month. 
                It was where I found the words to express myself through poetry, fiction, and non-fiction, and eventually as the Editor-in-Chief of the school paper. It was where I wrote about my beloved hockey team and homecoming, and the lack of response by the police to a broken-down car full of teens – until curfew hit.
It was where I created my first out of the house office after my friend/sidekick/assistant and I faked press badges/passes, picked a lock, and moved into the little-known hidden room. School funded landline and all. No one knew we were there.
It was where we would hide out during lunch, study hall, and any other class we felt like skipping for the day. I spent at least 20 hours a week in there for 2 years.
                It was where I learned to put the feelings in my heart into words from my head onto the paper. It was where I learned I mothered others because I had missed out being mothered by my own due to her early death.
                It was where I mourned both loves and lives lost.
                It was where I met three incredible women – Sara, Mary, and Angie. Women that became such role models to me, I named one of my children after one of them. 
                It was where I learned women had a power all their own. One that may often be hidden, but none-the-less, it’s always there.  Our job is to dig inside, pull it out of the depths, and dust it off for everyone to see. We included.
                It was where I learned I had an attitude and a voice, and I knew how to use them.
                It was where I became the person, I was for many, many, many years.
                But then, life happened, and she was gone. I was gone.
                It’s time to descend those familiar stairs again. 
                The wave of claustrophobia doesn’t hit anymore. It ended when those rooms became my home.
                Three rooms which made up so many hours of my life, became my life. 
                It doesn’t matter which door I choose to open. While each room offers a different view, each became intertwined with the others. Opening one, opens all. 
                And behind each one, I stand.
                But now, I’m 30 plus years wiser.
                The Queen is back ya’ll. 
                Better than ever.

The Season of Giving

While many look on December as the season of giving, I like to start my giving season a little bit earlier on. Some people may tell you I give all year long, and generally that is true. But I still feel a “season” of it myself.
My season of giving begins in October. Not only is fall in full swing, there’s Halloween/Samhain – need I say more?  
Apparently, yes, I do.
I remember Halloween as a child when my dad either drove us around to the houses far away or if it was raining out, but I don’t have a ton of memories of actual trick-or-treating.  Maybe that’s part of the reason I enjoy it so much now.
As an adult, for years, we have had virtually no trick-or-treaters. We live in the boonies, it’s a long way for kids to walk, and there are very few kids in our neighborhood to begin with. 
So, this year, when my friend Laura invited us to hang at her house in a busy little neighborhood, I jumped at the chance. 
We had a blast.  
My daughter Krystle, her mom-out-law Tammy, and the girls (Kahlen & River) joined us along with Tyler and Mike. We dressed as the cast from Hocus Pocus. We handed out candy and bunches of other non-edible stuff for allergy kids, and well – because we COULD.  
We also cooked 80 hot dogs and handed them out as well, and that was totally awesome.  People lined up, got a hot dog, and sat around to eat it and ACTUALLY TALKED TO ONE ANOTHER!  It was wonderful. It was inexpensive. It was GIVING.  Next year we will get a lot more hotdogs to cook! Parents who hadn’t had time to eat yet were grateful to get something in their stomachs, and something other than pure sugar in their kids’ stomachs too. 
We loved it, our trick-or- treaters loved it, and it was GIVING.
We didn’t tell people, “Ok, well if you are a teenager, you shouldn’t be out trick-or-treating”. This was INCLUSIVE, not EXCLUSIVE at all. We were able to make kids and adults alike happy, and that is what the spirit of giving is all about – doing for others without silly limitations. 
I always know when November comes around just by looking at my Facebook feed because I have several friends who faithfully use the month of November to give thanks for what they have and post something they are thankful for each day. Giving thanks is indeed a form of giving. We often don’t thank people enough, or sincerely. That’s a point I myself need to work on. I’m better about giving than receiving as it is, but need to work more on showing my appreciation when someone gives to me. I know why I have an issue with it, and it’s a hard habit to break. Growing up, I was taught there are things that you should say thank you for, and certain things you didn’t have to because those things you should simply expect. I wasn’t thanked by my parents for doing things they expected me to do.  Those lines aren’t near as clear cut as they used to be anymore.
In November, I also finish up and scarves or hats I made for the homeless shelter and get those delivered. Giving the gift of warmth is important to me as I can’t imagine not being able to have such a basic need met. The scarves I make are long, wide and thick so they can be wrapped around the head and neck as well for extra warmth.  I also do laundry once a month for the local PADS site. These are ways of giving back to the community around me. 


This year, I was able to find a different way for my work to give back to the community as well. In years past, we have donated books to Bernie’s Book Bank – an organization that collects books and then funnels them into the hands of low income children. While it is a worthy cause, we have also heard from customers thousands of times over “What is Bernie’s Book Bank?” or “Where will my donation go?”  Because Bernie’s is located a county and hour away, it’s not well known in our area. And as far as where will the donation go? It could go anywhere in the Chicagoland area. 
So, I did something different. I contacted 3 local charities: Turning Point, Pioneer Center, and Home of the Sparrow and asked them if they could use book donations. I’m pleased and proud they all responded yes. 
With the help of our customers, we have already collected over 1000 books for these three charities. To Turning Point we gave requested books on domestic battery along with adult coloring books to help relieve stress. For Pioneer Center, we have been able to help them create a teen library. Home of the Sparrow received enough books to not only give at least one to each client (moms and children both!), they are stocking their own libraries, waiting rooms, and will be able to share even more books with their clients after the holidays. 
We have been able to meet with people who work at the agencies and are building what I hope will become lasting relationships.  I look forward to working with these agencies again in the future. Christmas is almost here though, and then it feels the season of giving ends.
Walk into any store the week or two after Christmas and notice the lines for returns. The tone goes from happy and joyous to…well…the words cold and snarly come to mind.
The giving season doesn’t last.
But it can.
My goal for myself, and my challenge to anyone else willing to accept it, is to extend the season of giving. Maybe you can’t find it in you to give all the time, and that’s ok too – you don’t need to wear yourself out giving to others. But what about once a month? Can you find something to do once a month to give to some one else? Maybe mix it up with volunteering somewhere in January and then trying something different in February. Keep it moving, every month. It doesn’t have to be big or extravagant. Pay for the person’s coffee who is behind you in line. Even a simple gesture such as that can make someone’s day. 
Give a helping hand to the elderly person or the mom with three kids at the grocery store.
Give someone a lottery ticket.
Give your neighbors home made cookies.
Give a local nursing home puzzles, books or magazines.
Give your waitress a bonus tip. 
Give your friends a bottle of wine and a night of talking.
Give a hug to someone who needs it.
Whatever you decide to do, just give.

A quick hello - and do you know what to say to someone in crisis?

A few months ago, my boss, Teresa asked if I still had my blog going.  Though it’s still here, it hasn’t been added to in quite some time. Teresa pointed out that I should probably do something about that. 
She’s right.
I’ll start with the cancer front since that is what started all of this to begin with.  I have now been in remission for just over two and a half years. So far so good. The pain is still there and with the scar tissue, I imagine it always will be.  When I had my last bone density scan done, it came back normal, which means my bones are in better shape now than they were before the cancer.  No more osteopenia, and that is a good thing! 
I’m still hanging in there.
In the past 6 months or so, I have heard of several acquaintances and celebrities who have also been diagnosed too. I feel for them, and I know that the journey they are now undertaking is theirs and theirs alone to deal with. Everyone deals with it differently, but yet, until you do walk that path, you don’t have a full understanding of that.
The other night, my friend and I were hanging out in her hot tub and talking. The conversation eventually turned to how people handle the grief of others.  She is a crisis survivor as well, and has had her share of grief to deal with.  
We began talking about how people often don’t know what to say, and how some people, no matter how bad the crisis, will always turn it around to be about themselves.  We agreed, people really need to be educated in how to talk to some one who is grieving and in crisis. 
Some of the worst things to say?
How about….
                “You are so strong, I don’t know how you do it.”
The SECOND you tell someone who KNOWS they are NOT strong, that they are strong, you make them feel even weaker. People who are grieving or in crisis don’t feel strong. They feel incredibly weak and they put up a wall. They pretend. If they didn’t, they would sit around and cry. A lot. Life goes on. People in crisis know that, and they know that means they have to go on to. No matter how hard it is, they have to go on. We weren’t given a choice.  Some people handle it better than others because they are more adaptable than others. That’s it. It has nothing to do with strength.  Nobody is strong 100% of the time.
                “I could never handle (blah blah) as well as you do.”
First, quit selling yourself short. Yes, you could handle it just as well, maybe even better. But again, this type of comment hits at the core of someone who doesn’t think they are doing too well handling things. Try to remember that when you see someone dealing with a crisis – that unless you are a doctor, counselor, police officer, medical personnel, close friend, or family member – you most likely are NOT seeing the person at their absolute worst. Their most torn.  The mask they put on for you is likely the best they can give you. You are seeing someone possible still in shock.  You may be seeing someone who has started the healing process.  But the person in long term crisis KNOWS how well they have or have not handled something. Don’t remind them of their lowest lows.
Rule of thumb: Don’t be more grieved, struck, upset, whatever, than the person who is actually in the crisis. Not to their face. If you feel the need to get far more emotional than the person whose life is affected, do it elsewhere. People in crisis have a hard enough time holding it together, don’t take that away from them. Besides, if my life affects you that much, you probably need to reevaluate. 
Don’t blow people off.
You would think that would be a given, but apparently it isn’t. There are people out there, who don’t know what to say to someone in a bad situation. And you know what? That’s ok! There’s nothing wrong with not knowing what to say. All you have to do is ask. Ask the person what they want, what they need. But don’t just hide from them and disappear from their life because you don’t know what the right thing to say is. Their crisis isn’t about you. Don’t try to make it about you. 
Think of it this way. You have a friend who is ALREADY in a crisis and they would like to know that they have your support. But since you don’t know what to say, you hide from them instead. Guess what? Now not only do they have the original crisis to deal with, they no longer have the person they wanted to lean on for support, and even worse – they have no clue why. You have done NOTHING to help that person. You have acted childish, selfish and hurtful causing the person far more pain than they were originally dealing with.  It’s crazy that things like this even happen, but I’ve witnessed it on more than one occasion. 
I’m sure not everybody is going to agree with me that these are things they don’t want to hear. Some people may find these sayings encouraging, obviously I do not. I find them as trite, unoriginal and shallow. 
What I hope you take from this is not everyone sees things the same way. People cope differently. If the person in crisis is someone you truly care about, then just ask what it is they need – and then give it to them. Sympathy and empathy are not the same thing. We are quick to express sympathy, but often fear the intimacy of empathy.

New beginnings

Been a while since I’ve updated…Again.
Lots of changes have been going on.
I went through a bit of a scare, having massive pain in my left chest wall. Several tests later and the best the doctors can come up with is severe damage to the chest wall, mainly due to the infection. It’s probably a large part of the reason I’m still having such issues with my arm. The arm is better, but only about 70% over all. I’m ending my physical therapy as there isn’t much I can do there that I can’t do on my own and beginning of the year, the insurance resets. Still trying to pay off the medical bills for this year (Finally got last year paid off) and I don’t want to go into this year adding thousands more to it. I’ll work my arm myself and hope that someday I’ll get a little bit more of it back.
I’m still not working, still taking some time to deal with things. The holidays are far rougher this year and I miss mom and dad every day. My son also just lost his great grandmother, who had moved into the same facility my parents had been at. 
For those who don’t know Quantico, he’s my cat.  I found him as a little tiny baby living in my in-laws garage. He’s diabetic and in October we celebrated his 17thbirthday. He’s getting old. He’s losing weight. His face just looks tired. He is also well past his life expectancy. I don’t think I have much time left with him either. I’m hoping he will hold out for a little bit longer. 



The so called “friend” who lived with us has moved out, which is for the best. When we told her we were going to have to raise her rent a little bit (to $400 a month which included all utilities) she decided we were too mean to her and moved out, with virtually no notice. One thing is for sure, I have learned my lesson.  The first time she lived with me she left me with a $700 phone bill.  The second time we had to rip out the rug from her room and put in a new floor AND spent hundreds of dollars trying to get the dog pee smell out of the concrete flooring in the basement. This time, we have to repaint the bathroom (painted immediately before she moved in FOR her) because she splattered hair dye all over it. We also need to replace the toilet seat for the same reason and had to deal with a nasty mold problem because apparently she didn’t clean the vast majority of her bathroom for a year and a half.  Every time I have helped her out, giving her a place to live with extremely affordable rent, she has screwed me over. 
I should have asked her to leave a long time ago, but frankly, one thing I have realized lately is most of 2015 and almost half of 2016 is a complete blur to me. There are some things I have a very vague memory of, some things I have virtually no memory of, and some of the things I do remember, I would like to think that if I hadn’t have been ill, I never would have tolerated them, though many of the things were actually related to my illness as well. These memory gaps are due to all the meds I was on including potent antibiotic and a whole lot of pain meds.
A while ago, the former husband of this ex-friend lived with us. When he was here he always paid his rent on time, he also helped out with utilities besides the rent he paid, he helped out with food and cooking and yardwork. He was a part of the family, he associated with us. We had the totally opposite experience with her. To the point where we barely even used our own downstairs living room because she was so into being separate from us. Silly, stupid things like we would be watching a show upstairs, and completely oblivious to the extra electricity being used, she would watch the exact same show downstairs at the same time. But hey, the electric bill wasn’t in her name, so what did she care. Now that she’s gone, our November electric bill was $70 LESS than what it had been in 2015.  I can now do laundry when I want to, and not have to wait hours, or be woke up at 5 in the morning on a weekend because someone decided that’s when they suddenly had to do theirs. The inconsiderate nature has always been there, and I kept putting up with it.
When I planned my surgeries, I was told she would be there at the hospital, but then a few days before she would always change her mind. She did absolutely NOTHING to be helpful. No rides to doctor appointments, no running errands, no helping out around the house, nothing. She never once even offered. Though I had plenty of other people, some I barely knew, gladly offer to do those things. She constantly referred to someone else (someone who hasn’t talked to her in years) as her best friend, and then got offended when I actually did find someone who knew how to be a best friend. Someone who did come to be with me when I had a surgery, even though he had to take off work and fly 1500 miles each way to do it.  Someone who checked in on me every single day.  This “boarder” lived in my house and days, sometimes weeks would go by without a single word from her. When her mother had passed away, I was the one who helped her pack up her mother’s apartment. I was the one who helped make boards for the memorial service, I was the one who sat by her and held her hand during the funeral.
When my father was dying in the hospital, I asked her if she was going to come, she said only if I thought it would make him die faster. When mom died, she was no where to be seen to help pack things up. (Thankfully I do have wonderful friends that were there to help.) She did show at mom’s funeral, but didn’t stay for the whole thing, and of course didn’t sit anywhere near me. She was simply NEVER there for me the way I had been there for her. 
So yes, I’m far better off without this in my life, but I need to get over being angry at myself for ever putting up with it in the first place. I never deserved to be treated so poorly by her, and yet I put up with it. This same person has lived 8 places in the past 10 years, most of them in someone’s basement and all but one person (her grandmother) had the same experiences with her.  I’m glad she’s out of our lives and I know that there is no way in hell I will ever allow her back in again.  Writing about it helps get it out. Besides, if you don’t want people to talk about the way you treat them like shit, here’s an idea, don’t treat people like shit. It’s that simple. If you want people to say you are a kind, compassionate, helpful person – BE one. That’s all there is to it.
I had a productive NANOWRIMO. I completed my goal and almost completed my project. Taking a little time off that to get ready for the holidays but plan on finishing it soon and finish off a proposal I’ve been working on as well. Will be putting a lot more time into writing once the new year starts and things are more back to normal around here. 
I’m working on some big plans for the new year, so here’s to hoping things stay calm for a while, so I can work on them! Also planning some fun events and outings. Really looking forward to a "normal" life again.

Two Weeks Notice

Today was a difficult day. It was the day I put my 2 weeks notice in at work. 
For those of you who read my last blog, it may not have come as much as a surprise.   I know they say that you shouldn’t make important decisions after a crisis, but it’s because of the crisis that I made the decision. 
Two years ago, I lost myself, some may argue that it was even longer ago than that, but it’s time I find myself again and that isn’t going to happen until I go looking.
I’m not entirely sure what I am going to do, but to start I’m going to take some time for me. I’m going to get through my stacks of books to read. I’m going to get the writing assignment I have, done. I’m going to finish some writing projects I started but haven’t finished yet. I’m going to work on doing more yoga. I’m going to work on meditating.  And eventually I’m going to get around to figuring out what I want to do with the rest of my life.

What you see

This is what you see.
You see someone who gets out of bed each day, showers, gets dressed and heads out the door for work.
You see someone who assists customers with a smile and helps to make other people’s day more complete. Someone who makes their lives better.
You see someone who goes home at the end of the day, whether from work, or errands, and sometimes watches TV, sometimes spends time with her family. Sometimes while she watches TV she works on knitting scarves and hats for people who utilize the local homeless shelter. Occasionally, you may even see her out walking around town playing Pokeman Go.  On Wednesdays, she tries to go to yoga. 
You see someone who likes to spend time at the lake, out on the boat. Sometimes you see her at the drive in for a double feature and a hot dog smothered in nacho cheese.
At night, you see her crawl into bed and go to sleep.
This is what you see.
This is what you see, because it is what she lets you see.


This is what you don’t see.
What you don’t see when she crawls out of bed each morning is the pain in her face. The pain that is from arthritis, spondylitis, and fibromyalgia. The pain that makes her wonder if the doctors really got all of the cancer or if it has been festering away in her body somewhere, growing, slowly killing her without her knowledge, much less consent. The pain that eats away at her daily as she deals with the depression that has slowly seeped in over the past year and a half, and then the depression dump that came with the realization she was an orphan twice over. 
What you don’t see is that her showers have gotten longer. Not because the hot water temporarily relieves the pain and inflammation in the arm that is too afraid to work anymore, but because the water temporarily hides the tears streaming down her face.
What you don’t see is the swelling and inflammation and the glasses of water she has to quickly drink to flush her system thanks to kidney damage from the antibiotics she was on for 9 months. 
What you don’t see are the contortionist movements she has to make in order to put her bra on, something that used to be so simple and didn’t require a second thought. Something she wished she didn’t have to bother with, but knows the difference in size and height of her breasts frightens other people almost as much as it frightens her. Those moments when people see the real truth of the destruction her body endured – she sees.
What you don’t see is that she puts on twice as much makeup in the morning as she used to, because she has learned by the time she arrives at work, more than half of it will have been cried off.
What you don’t see is when she goes to work and the friendly coworker, the one who knows the ravages of cancer, the one who checked in on her weekly during her medical leave, asks how she is doing, and for a moment, she loses control and the tears flow again. 
What you don’t see is the place she used to love to go to, the place that made her feel safe, needed, appreciated, useful, has started to lose its luster. A changeover of coworkers and circumstances have brought about many changes, not all easy to deal with. At a time when she craves stability, she finds turmoil where she used to find solace. 
What you don’t see is when she gets into her car after work and gets ready to drive home, the tears start flowing again, not because she doesn’t want to go home, but because now it’s the only place she has to go. She doesn’t have to drive to the next county to care for her aging mother anymore, because there is no aging mother to care for anymore. 
What you don’t see is the guilt, the guilt she has from wanting that time for herself, to finding she has that time for herself. 
What you don't see is the loneliness she feels when she can't call her mother just to say hi or to tell her some piece of news.
What you don't see is the knife that stabs her in the heart when she sees her mom's picture in her "favorites" in her contact list on her phone.  
What you don’t see is that when she gets home, she doesn’t want to be the one to make dinner, not because it’s still too hard on her physically, but now because it’s too hard on her emotionally.
What you don’t see are the arguments she has with her best friend through text messages, arguments because she needs him here and he needs to not be there for other reasons. 
What you don’t see is that when she knits while watching TV, she does it to remind herself she has a roof over her head when many don’t. It’s not just for those in need, it’s to remind herself she should be thankful for what she has. Now when she knits, she also sees the pile of obituaries sitting close by in the stack of things to take care. She knows her mother would have wanted them sent out to family and  friends and yet each step she takes in placing her mother to rest feels like another step farther away from her.
What you don’t see when she goes to yoga is that she is forcing her body to work in ways it once was able to, but has somehow forgotten.
What you don’t see when she is walking around playing Pokemon Go is that she is hiding from reality for a little while. Pidgies and Rattatas have become a method of escape, not just ways to earn stardust and points.
What you don’t see when she goes to bed at night is the tears start in again, sometimes for hours on end, until she falls into a restless sleep.
What you don't see is the dreams she has when she finally does fall asleep. The dreams that relive those final moments she had with her mom, the dreams where she wishes she could change things, the dreams where she second guesses herself constantly, the dreams where everything that could go wrong - does.
What you don't see, is she wakes up again every morning and goes through the same thing all over again. 
This is what you don’t see.
This is what you don’t see, because, she doesn’t let you.

Hello from the Dark Side

Yes it's been months.

I'm such a bad girl.

And because it has been months, I should be able to sit down here at the old keyboard and type about how everything has healed, I'm all better and doing great.

In fact, it has been so long, that today is the one year anniversary of my radiation finish date. One whole year.

Everything should be great.

Problem is, it's not.

I still have 2 holes in my breast and they are now over 8 months old.

I had my PICC line removed finally on St. Patrick's day and was put onto an oral antibiotic instead. I'm still on it. I don't have any sign of infection, but I still haven't healed. It's really damn insane actually. I have to go to the wound clinic every two weeks now so they can check on it and order me silver bandages, but they have no other suggestions either. They tried packing it and I had a reaction to the aquacell so, no more of that. The holes aren't big, but considering they should have been closed over 7 months ago, they are still big enough. The wound clinic did just do an ultrasound on the breast to make sure there wasn't anything in there that shouldn't be, but nothing showed, which is probably a good thing. It still has not been able to have a mammogram done on it.

Since the PICC line is out, I'm also finally in PT. I just did my first 3 months of that and had my first reevaluation a couple of days ago. My passive range has increased quite a bit in some aspects, but my active averaged about 20 degrees improvement over several different motions. Some of those had been in a negative range, so that's good, but I'm literally only about a 4th of the way to "normal".

I'm back at work and that is a good thing. Going to be going through a lot of changes there, but I'm hoping things will all work out for the best. My former store manager left a week before I went back to work, and a new store manager just started there on Monday. While I will still be able to work on events, I'm also going back on the floor. Maybe I'll finally start hitting some decent FitBit step goals.


Harder than dealing with the cancer, and more painful than these holes in my chest, was the passing of my father on March 31st.  I spent the last 5 days of his life with him in the hospital, though he was unconscious for most of it. I couldn't leave his side. Mike brought me food and clothes, but other than quick trips down the hall for a bathroom break or to stretch my legs, I stayed right with him. He passed away in my arms a little after 9:00 that night. He donated his brain and spinal cord to Rush University Memory Project and then was cremated. On June 4th, we held a memorial service and buried his ashes with my biological mother. it's been hard to get used to the fact that he is gone. I'm still taking care of Carol and I know dad wanted to go before her, and for that I'm grateful he got his wish.  I do miss him all the time though. Mom is now in assisted living and will be going through an angioplasty next week to correct a blockage in her right femoral artery.


Mike and I took a much needed vacation. Time away from it all, in my favoritest of favorites....New Orleans. We spent 9 days there, (got some great deals on room, flights and car) and I was finally able to relax a bit.  I did cry most of the way back to the airport and felt like I was leaving home, but I know its not the last time I will be there either.


I did my first 5 K.  Probably my last 5 K as well, but my friend Laura wanted to do a color run, and so we walked it. We only cheated a little, but still I could barely move the next day.

I also signed up to raise money for the Children's Cancer Research Fund by riding my bike in the Great Cycle Challenge.  My goal is to ride 100 miles this month. I have a long ways to go, but my knees are starting to work more so hopefully I can get through this. If you would like to sponsor me, follow the link: https://greatcyclechallenge.com/Rider...

I did get a new writing assignment too, so I have a lot to keep me busy. I'm also going to be a grandma....again. River Regina is due the beginning of August.


There is always so much going on, and for that I'm grateful. I like to keep busy. It helps keep my mind off of things, though it's easy for time to slip right on by. Hopefully I won't wait several more months before updating this again, and hopefully soon I will be able to say I'm all healed and doing great.