Rae Lewis-Thornton's Blog, page 15

Here Comes The Shit: The Saga Continues

It was so wonderful to be done with laxatives after the colonoscopy. Surely I hoped that cleaning out my bowels would solve the problem, but it didn't. I didn't start to panic right away. I mean, when I hadn't used the bathroom on Tuesday, I reasoned that my system had been totally cleaned out and I needed time to create some new waste. However, by Thursday when there had only been one drop of poop, I knew that this was going to be a journey. Whatever was causing this madness was not going away easily.





The following Tuesday I had my follow-up appointment with Dr. Lee. "Your colon is beautiful," she said. "We don't see any cancers or anything bad." For sure that was a relief, but the glass was only half full.



"But Dr. Lee, I've only use the bathroom once," I sighed.




She is not sure what triggered this round of severe Irritable Bowl Syndrome (IBS). However, my active thyroid is low and that could surely be the culprit. Or, it could just be stress. She wants me to see an endocrinologist to investigate before she starts prescribing any medications. I have an appointment the first week of October. I was originally diagnosed with IBS 3 years ago. I had the same symptoms that I do now, except I was having diarrhea, rather than constipation






I've been so focused on the constipation, laxatives and pooping everywhere, that I haven't mentioned the other issues I've been having along with the constipation. Let Me explain. I'm also having extreme food sensitivity to the point that some foods make me sick to even smell. I'm extremely bloated with whatever I eat, no matter the amount. Three slices of bacon and 1 slice of toast feels like an omelet, hash browns and toast. All of these are systems are classic IBS. 






And what seems like the kiss of death, most sugar makes me sick to my stomach. I haven't eaten a piece of chocolate in 3 weeks nor had a cupcake - and that's major for me. Now people without HIV can get IBS. They don't know the cause of this illness, for each person it's different. My HIV doctor, who handles my primary care, speculates that mine is caused by all the years of toxic HIV medications. Who knows, but we do know that stress can trigger IBS. Lord knows I'm under a ton of stress. Trying to figure out where your next meal is coming from, will do it to you every time.



So here I am unable to use the bathroom and eating is tricky at best. Like the taste of turkey make me nauseous. Now for sure, I've had mild food sensitively and bloating off and on over these last few years. I've just learned to live so it, but I haven't had IBS this bad in 3 years. Click Here to read about my IBS flair up the last time. 




This has been crazy to say the least. My Gastroenteritis (GI) doctor's primary goal at this point is to get me regular again. She says that the more I use the bathroom, the more regular I will get. So, to stimulate my bowels, she has me taking Meta-mucil (fiber)  3 times a day, Miarlax which is a mild laxative and stool softer, 2 times a week and she has also prescribed a new medication that may help that I'm getting this week. 






I'm frustrated to the point that it is affecting me emotionally. I've had a ton of sleepless nights in the last few weeks, which, certainly is not helping the problem. My attitude sucks. I'm not at a good place right now, not at all. It's like as soon as I adapt to whatever the hell it is that is attacking me, something else hits and then I have to figure it out all over again to adjust to my new normal.




On top of all this I'm still having pain in my back and side. It could be all this constapation, but it feels like something else so, I'm having an MRI this week. For sure managing chronic health is a full time job. That's why I tell people that having HIV is more than popping a pill, T-Cell count (CD4) and Viral Load. It's a wonder that I keep me all together.



For sure, I'm never going to quit, no matter how much I feel like I want to. My perseverance is simple, when I wake in the morning, this means that I'm still a part of God's's earthly plan. This means that there is something I'm supposed to do with my life, so I keep pressin'. I press because the sum total of my life is greater than the sum total of my pain. 

The Queen Remembered..

I spotted this picture of Queen Latifah and Eazy-e on Queen Latifah's Instagram and I was excited and sadden all at the same time. It sent me into thinking overload and Lord knows when my mind get's going I dissect every angle before I'm done. It made me appreciate Queen Latifah even more than I already do, but it also reminded me of the shaming around HIV/AIDS still in 2013.





The posting of this picture on the Queen's account is significant. Significant because it gives voice to the voiceless, even in death. It sent a subliminal message that a person with HIV/AIDS's life still have worth, even in death. It said, I am not ashamed that Eazy-e died from AIDS. It said, I remember him and what he was to me and what he was to the world.






This subliminal messaging is important because still today the shaming around HIV/AIDS is alive and well, even in death. It amazes me how we have written off individuals who have made significant contributions to society that passed away from AIDS.



We have even done it in our families. I've met countless people in their 20's and 30's who told me that their mother, father, brother, aunt, uncle passed away from AIDS and how it's the family's, "Well kept secret."



One woman told me that her mother gathered everyone in the living room after her sister died and laid down the law, "We will NOT talk about this," Then, there are the families that just don't talk, like the college student that explained to me, that after 2 aunts passed away from AIDS, she said enough is enough and became a pier educator on her college campus.






We, have done it not only with Eazy-e, who is the father of Gangsta-Rap and also formed N. W. A., but with Rev. James Cleveland, the founder of contemporary Gospel music. He paved the way for the likes of artist such as, Yolanda Adams and Kirk Franklin. We have done it with Arthur Ashe, who paved the way in pro-tennis for the likes of the Williams sisters. We have done it with Max Robinson, the first Black national anchor man for national news. There wouldn't be a Don Lemon if there hadn't been a Max Robinson. 




Our silence  has spoken loud and clear. We will NOT talk about these people who have died from AIDS. We will not, because  we would  then have to face that, "Normal people," "Talented people," "Wonderful people," can become infected from this disease and that could mean me too. We will Not talk about this because it would mean that we would have to have an honest conversation about who is at risk, and how we are at risk. God forbid if we made the line around HIV/AIDS between them and us thinner.





We will NOT talk about them and let them shame our family and our community. At the center of this concept is how we view people with HIV/AIDS. At the center of this is an ugly stereotype of who and how one becomes infected with HIV. 




Easy-e made a significant contribution to the music Industry and help to usher in a new music form. His untimely death at age 31 was a shock to us all. I was already public and speaking at that time and he was the talk of town. People had questions. His death made AIDS real for that young generation. As did my infection for Black women and Magic's for heterosexual men. High School students wanted to know as much as they could about the how and why he died. His death brought a new conciseness to HIV/AIDS.



It also made clear the need to get tested for HIV. When he was admitted into the hospital, it was for asthma. Basically, he was having shortness of breath and difficulty breathing. However, what he really had, was an AIDS related Pneumonia, Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia, (PCP). The reality was, if Easy-e had known his HIV status, he could have taken medication to prevent PCP and his life would have been prolonged. His death made it clear the need for testing and early diagnosis of HIV




But today, no one really talks about him. I see all the pictures of other Gangsta rappers on Social Media on their birthdays and death anniversary all over Instagram and Twitter, but not until last week have I ever seen a picture of Eazy-e until I spotted that one on Queen Latifah's Instagram






That you Queen! Thank you for giving voice to the voiceless around HIV/AIDS, even in death




Post Script Are you tuning into The Queen Latifah  Show? I know that I am. It  premieres Sept 16th at 9:00 A. M. on CBS. I will be talking more about the Queen Latifah Show soon.  Click Here For More Details!

And Here Comes The Shit... Part Three

I had a sleepless night, running back and forth to the bathroom. Sunday my stomach seemed to have settled down and I took advantage of that reprieve. Bright and early Monday morning I called the GI doctor. She was totally booked for that week and I went into begging mode. When the doctors PA called me back, I did more pleading and got fitted into a slot in their office 45 minutes from my house. "Oh well, I'll take it," I said! I was in desperate mode. Someone needed to figure out why I couldn't use the bathroom. Laxatives were not the answer.









As we talked more about my problem, she hit me with the bomb shell. "Your bowels are probably still full," she said.  My mind started to scatter all over the place. "How did I get here," I wondered? This is a mess and I wasn't sure how all of this was going to be corrected.



"You're not going to suggest I continue taking Magnesium Citrate are you?" I asked meekly. But inside  I was screaming, "I CAN'T!  "No, I don't want you to take any more of that."



Then she recommended a milder stool softer/laxative called Miralax. "You should take it everyday," she said with emphasis. "Every day," I repeated, letting it sink. "Yes," she said, "everyday until your visit." "Huh, that's a full week of laxatives," I complained. She explained again, just like both the ER doctor and my HIV doctor, when your bowels are that full it takes time to clean.







I was not happy, but as the week progressed, I adjusted.  If I had to be out of the house for any length of time I brought extra bottoms. But for the most part I stayed put. Accidents in the house was all I could handle after the Walgreens/Starbucks ordeal.  Click Here for details



The week was manageable. I had a few near misses but for the most part I got through it with a breeze. By the end of that week, I could even tell when my tummy was sending me a message, "Get the hell up and head to the bath room!"




The weekend was mild and then it occurred to me Sunday night that I hadn't gone to the bathroom all day. "Oh well," I shrugged it off, "maybe my body is tried." I knew that I was and I dozed off to sleep. By mid-afternoon on Monday I still had not pooped. By now I started to think that the Miralax was no longer working. One day not using the bathroom was one thing, but two days, was another.



 This was becoming way to much and a tad overwhelming. One moment I can't poop and the next moment I'm pooping all over the place. Fear started to raise in my spirit. I know the long term use of laxatives can be dangerous and addictive. I couldn't wait to see the doctor in the morning.






My old GI doctor had moved into a sub-specialty around GI and I was given a new doctor. Dr. Lee I loved. First off, it was much easier talking to a woman about all of this. But she is young, bright and attentive.





She patiently listened to my drama over the past two weeks. "I need a break," I explained. After she completed the rectal exam and there was nothing blocking me, she decided that I needed a colonoscopy. She wanted to do it on that Thursday, but since I hadn't used the bathroom in two days, she didn't think that the traditional colonoscopy prep would be enough to prepare me, i. e. clean me out. 




For those who are not familiar with a colonoscopy, your bowels must be totally clean of stool so that the doctor can see.  The colonoscopy was important because people with HIV are prone to cancers. We needed to make sure that there was nothing going on that needed additional attention and might be inhabiting my ability to poop.





First off, she wanted be to start taking a fiber like Metamucil everyday. Then pure dread came over me when she told me to take Magnesium Citrate everyday until it was time for the colonoscopy prep. I heard her clearly, but I was stuck somewhere between stupid and you have got to be kidding me. 






"So ummmmm you want me to drink a bottle everyday?" I asked. " Her head went up and down as she typed away at the computer sending my prescription directly to the drug store. But that's a lot Dr Lee," I complained. "Yes, but a weeks worth won't harm you and we have to get you clean."




I walked into the waiting room shaking my head to Tiara who was waiting on me. I started complaining right away, "I can't believe this, she wants me back on Magnesium Citrate for the rest of the week." Tiara just shook her head," here you go again."




And boy was she right. Each day became harder than the next. Each morning I would take Sophie for her walk then start my day. If I had to do anything that required me to be out of the house, I drank the Magnesium Citrate once I retuned and I carried extra bottoms. But again, I wasn't taking many chances because it was very unpredictable. 






By Thursday, my sprint had dropped to an all time low. No matter how I tried to prepare myself, it was a mess. It didn't matter what I was wearing because by the time I made it to the bathroom, it was coming down my leg and once I pulled down my bottoms it would gosh out like a sprinkler, everywhere, on the toilet, wall, shower curtain, rug, my clothes. I have never experienced anything like this in my life. 




Be clear, I'm use to diarrhea. I've taken medications in these last 25 years that caused it for sure, but I have never had an experience like this before. Not even when I did the prep for my last two colonoscopies. It seemed like the poop that was coming out of me was endless and angry. 




I was depressed. I was really depressed. I started just throwing my soil clothes in the tub and washing down after each poop. I was just trying to make it from one poop to the next without loosing my mind. Tiara, had gone back to school, but she was giving me pep talks everyday. That was so refreshing! A young woman, who believed in me and continued to give me the push I needed. Thursday night, after one of her pep text's,  I made myself wash the clothes and bleach down the tub. I took a long bath and tried to prepare myself emotionally for 3 more days. 






Friday and Saturday was more of the same. Sunday night when I started the official prep for the colonoscopy I thought for sure I would be almost clean. "My God," I said to myself, "as much as I've shitted this week, my prep should be a breeze." But it wasn't and still Monday morning at 3:00 A.M. when I finished drinking the balance of the prep, my bowels was not totally clean. Finally, the last poop before Tiara's grandmother picked me up  at 6:00 a. M. to take me to the hospital I saw clear instead of brown. That meant I was totally clean and really for the colonoscopy. "Thank God," was ll I could say. 




After the colonoscopy I crashed, physically and emotionally. 




To Be Continued...




Part One Clink Here

Part Two Click Here

PeaPod @BlogHer13! I Won...

Hanging out in the exhibit!

I've been so busy dealing with my health and trying to keep me together I haven't been able to blog about my experience this year at BlogHer. It was wonderful!! I got some wonderful aha Moments, got to meet lots of bloggers. That was some of the best, connecting to people who have the same passion as you. There were lots of parties, great food and tons of companies, of which I'll be sharing with you over the next few weeks. I even have a few raffles for you as soon as I can play follow up!



Other than being one of the keynote speakers, meeting other bloggers and sharing ideas, the other cool thing about BlogHer  are the companies there, sharing information with us to give to you. Now, you know I'm not a big reviewer, other than tea and books, but I will share some of the companies I liked the most and thought interesting.







I was tickle pink to see Peapod! I like this company. I lit up like a Christmas Tree when win a gift certificate from their pin-a-wheel game.  Yes, Lawd, free groceries! Then I came home and with my health issues, I forgot! How does one forget a $100 bucks? *Blank Stare* Well, I'm redeeming  myself so I can redeem my gift card. LOL! "It's hard out here for a pimp," as the song goes.




Seriously, it was great to see a familiar company at BlogHer13. I like Peapod and have used them countless times. Remember back a couple of summers ago when I was on/off IV medication and had nerve pain everywhere? Well, walking was a challenge and honestly Peapod came in handy.  






It was simple. I would order one day and the next day all my groceries arrived. Now, I was really skeptical because I'm a touchy feely kinda girl. But truly, all the food was fresh and as described. I even discovered new foods, especially prepared foods which was needed, because cooking was also a challenge. I even discovered that one of my favorite restaurants, Wild Fire had frozen foods. Who knew? 




There are always sales and the neatest thing is that they keep a history of your previous shopped items. You didn't even have to think, your favorites are there waiting on you. The drivers were always punctual and courteous.




Yeap, overall I really like Peapod services and I was glad they thought enough of us bloggers to show up! I'm really  excited about this gift card and to have my groceries delivered in all this darn heat in Chicago right now, right to my door!! 




Check Peapod out! HERE

And Here Comes The Shit! Part Two!

Part One Here!



I set there frozen, unable to think, unable to act. The only part of my body that seemed to be working was my behind. I took a long deep breath and fought back the tears. "You will not cry over this shit. It is what it is," I mumbled to myself.





I don't know how long I had been in that bathroom, but I knew I had to pull myself together and get out of there. I flushed the toilet and pulled my shorts from over my ankles. The first thing was to wash my behind. I pulled and pulled toilet paper off the roll and dipped it in the toilet and started this familiar process of washing my behind in toilet water.







Pull, Dip, Wipe, Flush over and over again. I did that until the toilet paper came back clean. Then I wiped my legs down and cleaned my flip flops that had been splashed with a little shit. Now that I was clean, I went to cleaning the toilet. A little soap on the toilet paper and I cleaned off the shit residue from the toilet and the droplets on the floor.



 I stood there looking down at my nasty shorts. This was a dilemma. If I dumped them in the toilet, then they would be totally soaked. I didn't really want to walk home in totally wet shorts. Solutions were not coming to me as I stood there looking down at that mess. I knew that I couldn't put them back on shitty and walk home. That was not an option. My choices were limited, so I went to the sink and tried to clean only the sit of my shorts with the most amount of stool, but the was futile because it only made poop go to different spots. 






I was frustrated and finally I gave into the fact that I couldn't totally clean them in this sink in Starbucks, it wasn't fair to them or me. So I resolved to put them back on, part wet, part soiled and part dry.




As soon as I went to put them back on, I could feel my stomach at war and rushed back to the toilet just in time. "I need a break God," I whispered, "Will you help a sista out?" I asked.



I sat on the toilet, with the wet, soiled shorts in my lap and shit running out of me like a water faucet. I was so over it!! Over it! Over it! "I'm calling the GI doctor first thing Monday morning because this ER solution is a freaking mess," I said to the floor. I drifted into thought, "What is wrong with me?" I asked myself. This was becoming a bit overwhelming.



 I was lost in thoughts when I heard a knock on the door.  Shame swap over me, I was not going to let that man know that a woman was in here, but they started pulling the handle and I lamely hollered, "Someone's in here."






I couldn't rush things along so he would just have to wait. Finally my stomach settled,  I got off the toilet and put my part wet, part soiled, part dry shorts back on. The cold parts of the shorts sent a chill up my spin, a horrible reminder of the madness I had just experience. I took a deep breath, went back to the sink and with soapy paper towels cleaned it as best as I could. I double checked the toilet and floor, all was good.




Raw shame, hit me as I opened the door and saw that man leaning against the wall waiting for his turn. More shame swiped through me as I thought about the smell. "It is what is it Rae," I mumbled and made a B-line for the door.  As I approached Walgreens I thought about all the stuff I dropped on the counter, probably sitting there waiting on me. "What the hell, I might as well," I mumbled. As I walked into Walgreens, my stomach had seemed to settle. 






I went straight for the counter and thanked God no one was in line. As I walked home I was grateful for the floppy shirt I had on with the long tail in the back. At least people couldn't see the biggest soiled water spot. As soon as I made it in the house my stomach was at it again. "Thank God for home,"  I sighed as I sat on the toilet. "I'm calling the GI doctor," I reiterated out loud. 




When I thought that it was safe to get off the toilet, I stripped and showered. The warm water and the crisp smell of the pomegranate and mango shower gel cleansed me of the ugly and reminded me that even in chaos, God small miracles are alive. I was grateful for the water and the renewing of my senses. 






I made me a cup of peppermint tea to settle my tummy and curled up with Sophie and a book in the big chair in my bedroom. I thanked God for my, "Safe-place," (a cup of tea, a book and Sophie) as the calm settled over my spirit. 




Little did I know, that my body and spirit would be put to a major test the next two weeks. Yep, someone, the universe, the devil, karma, some crazy ass with a voodoo doll,  and even God whatever, whoever was testing my resolve, of that I became convinced. 




To Be Continued! 





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Citrine Bracelet!



Safety Charm Bracelet!



Pineapple Quart Bracelet!

And Here Comes The Shit..

I didn't panic as the shit began to seep out of my behind in line at Walgreens. I mean, I am the queen of shitting on myself. Like for real, for real. In fact, I've shitted on myself so much over the years with AIDS and have told those stories so many times, that one of my most famous mishaps is the muse for the lead character in actress Sheryl Lee Ralph's one woman show, "Sometimes I Cry: The Lives of Women Infected and Affected by HIV!" Yep, "Ms. Chanel," that's me, shitted on myself in a restaurant, dressed to the nines, in St. John and Chanel, had a melt down, clean my butt with toilet paper and toilet water and waltz out of that bathroom like the Diva I am and finished my dinner.







Shitting on myself is no big deal, I've been there, done that! I thought that I was emotionally immune to a shitty behind and clothes. So as the poop seeped out of my butt in Walgreens last Sunday, I told myself, "You can do this girly!" So I gently laid the items that I was holding on the counter, whispered to the cashier, "I'll be right back," and I walked out of that Walgreens and headed across the street to Starbucks where I knew a bathroom would be guaranteed. "I got this," I whispered to myself again. But right in the middle of the street between Walgreens and Starbucks, my ass exploded and poop splashed out of my ass like a water hydrant on a hot summer day in the hood. I flexed my ass muscles inward but that was futile, the poop kept coming and coming and coming. I could feel it trickle down my thigh and I knew that the light tan shorts that I was wearing would not be my savior. 




I walked briskly into Starbucks as the poop kept coming and went straight to the ladies bathroom. The door was locked, I moaned, "You have got to be kidding." As panic crossed my face I reached for the handle on the men's room right next door. "Lord please let it be empty," I mumbled as poop and panic sucked the life out of me.




 "Thank God,"I cried as I pulled my shorts down and sat on the toilet. As poop flowed out of my behind like water in a faucet, I looked down at my shorts around my ankle full of shit and sighed deeply. 






"Bitch you can't have nothing easy, can you?" I asked myself. Like for real, I feel like I'm on a perpetual "Job Test," or something. Let's see how resilient she really is, that's what I think is someone's plan for me; yep how can "We," whoever we are, the devil, the universe, the Karma from my last life time, God, some crazy ass with a voodoo doll is putting me to the freakin test, to see how much I can really withstand.







YES, they are scheming against me, I can hear them now, "She thinks she's immune to shit, well, lets show her. She thinks she's a tough cookie, well what's she gonna do with this shit?" Yep, that seems to be my test. My doctor even said yesterday,"Like why can't you get something easy like strep throat." All we could both do was chuckle.







But there was no chuckle in me sitting on the toilet in Starbucks. This was not going to be an easy one. My shorts were so soil, I knew I could not leave the bathroom the way that I had came. I just didn't have it in me to put those shitty shorts back on and walk out that door. I sat defeated! After three days of taking laxatives  and shitting this was becoming all to much for me, just way to much. My ass had diaper rash and now shit was everywhere, my ass, the toilet sit, the floor and bathed in my tan shorts.






"I'm tired Lord ,"I mumbled, "tireddddddd." After the BlogHer conference I came home and hit the sack. I was beat to no end. The IV medication was still in my system when the conference started, so my struggles during the conference, I believed to be a residual from the IV medication. The pain in my side and back just wouldn't go away, but I had checked on my kidneys, which is the biggest danger while on cidofovir and they were fine, so I kept it moving.




But after 3 days in bed after the conference, I knew something else had to be wrong with me. By that Wednesday night, I crawled out  of bed and made my way to the ER. After fourteen hours, the doctor had the answer. My bowels were totally full. "Excuse me," I said. "Yes," the attending that had taken over my case said, "The exray shows that your bowels are totally full from one end, to the other." I looked at him long and hard, "He had got to be kidding me," I thought to myself, while trying to make sense of what he was saying. 






"But I've had bowel movements everyday." I said. "Well," he explained, "Sometimes, loose stool can escape constipation and slip out the side.  Hummmmm, for once in my life I was speechless. I sat puzzled. He continued to explain that he was prescribing Magnesium Citrate to help clean out my bowels.




 I arrived back home at 4:00 A. M. tired and beat down. The next morning I began the process of cleaning me out. I touched based with HIV doctor, who manages my primary care and she suggested an additional laxative and concurred with the ER doctor that it may take a couple of rounds. We knew what the problem was, but had no answers to why I had the problem. The first step was to clean out all those freakin toxins from my body. 






Thursday I spent the entire day in the bathroom and it was not pretty. Friday morning when I woke up, I was so red and raw I couldn't go another round. I needed a freaking break. I had small bowels movements throughout the day but I was not in any condition to drink another bottle of Magnesium Citrate. When I woke up Saturday morning my pain level hadn't decreased one bit and I pulled myself emotionally together for another day of laxatives. After breakfast, I drink that nasty bottle right on down and waited, and waited, and waited and waited and nothing came. My stomach was on fire, but still nothing came.




 After about 6 hours of waiting it was clear to me, that particular laxative was no longer working for me and I headed to Walgreens to pick up the other one my doctor recommended.



YES! I was standing in line with a laxative in my hand when the poop started to sip out of my behind. "Really Lord, like for real for real God,"I mumbled. I've been sitting at home all day and now the shit decides to come. Usually I'm able to laugh at the madness, but sitting on that toilet in starbucks, looking down at my shitty shorts 3 blocks from my house, I was numb.




"What the fuck am I going to do?" I asked myself over and over and over. I just sat, looking down at my shitty legs and shorts, unable to put together any kind of action plan. Super Woman had left the room.




To Be Continued... 

Monday Reflection: Keeping Perspective!

Enough is enough already! I mean really enough! That first week going into the  BlogHer conference I was on a roll with this blogging thing, at least I think I was. Then I tried to get right back in the groove after BlogHer and my health took yet another dive. I had only been off that last round of IV medication for a week.



One freaking week and then my health took a freaking dive. Well, actually it never really got better. Yes, the herpes from hell healed, but I was still having other heath problems, even during BlogHer. I looked Fab and I was tweeting all day, but I was struggling throughout the day. I was even taking pain medicine and laying down for an hour in between events. I'll get into those details on my health later this week.





So I was sitting in bed last night thinking that my health has been all consuming. All fucking consuming! To the point that it has interfered with my life in it's entirely, from sending out bracelet orders to writing my blog.







I was thinking, that I'm not liking how this is feeling, not one bit. I'm not liking the fact that it feels like I have lost control over my freaking life. This feeling can lead to depression, so when I become this overwhelmed I have to step away from that one thing that is causing the most chaos. Right now, that thing is my health. In reality I can't really walk away from my health, but I can sit it at the bottom of that list floating through my head. Its like this, if you put that one thing at the bottom, then you can see the rest of your life. The other stuff moves up.



When I become this desperate, I get out of myself and start to tally up, the truth that is! In reality I haven't lost control, it just feels that way because Super Woman had to take a back seat! Yes, some bracelet orders were sent out far later than they should have been, but I did eventually get them all out last week. That was a major accomplishment for real, for real. Then my intern, Tiara and I organized my beads.





When I tell you I had beads from one end of my living room to the next, I am not lying. It took us a few days, but we managed to get it done just in time for the cleaning service to come and get my house clean. I've been so sick I haven't been able to clean and my BFF paid for a service to get my house together. Now, Sophie and I can sit in the living room and people watch from our big picture window and not be embarrassed to have the curtains all the way open. 




No, I haven't answered one e-mail. No, I haven't followed up on anything to do with BlogHer. Yes, there are some product reviews, all around good information and a few giveaways that are coming. I have at least three books that I have finished reading that needs to be reviewed, as well as some great new teas to tell you about.  






 No, I haven't finished my fall bracelet collection. Now that's the one that makes me real nervous. When people come to a store they want to see new product. That is a bottom line. No new product, no sales, no sales, well that cuts into Sophie's Dingo treats and my overall livelihood. BUT keeping perspective, all is not lost.  Today, I was able to get closer to the finish line and I'm about 80% done with the fall bracelets and I competed all the new bracelet orders and they are going out in the mail tomorrow. Finally, tonight, I am getting this blog completed that I started earlier. 




This is my list, the true tally. I had to go down the list to keep it all in perspective. The overachiever started to feel like she had failed at everything. That feeling of failure can paralyze you and truth be told, I don't need another thing to slow down my progress. Perspective is everything! 






I must also remind myself that I am sick. I know,  I know, I don't look sick to most people and for the most part, people typically see me on Social Media and "assume" I'm good. The fact is, Social Media is work for me. It's where I minster and educate so when you see me there I'm doing what I am supposed to be doing. Yep, I'm actually keeping it moving in spite of how I feel. In reality, I've only missed a few days from Social Media and that was when I came home from ER last week. I needed to wrap my head around the new health information that I was getting. That's one more thing I can put in my plus side, I've been keeping up with my Social Media.






Yep, perspective is always good!! Once I started to list in my head, what I had accomplished in the last two weeks, after BlogHer, I didn't feel so hopeless and overwhelmed.



I try to always measure my life based on the totality of my life. The fact of the matter , I do have AIDS. It does affect my life. It is one unpredictable illness that is for sure. It cannot  be denied and I promise you it will not be ignore. If you ignored AIDS, it will take your tail right out of here and I'm trying to live as long as I can. I mean, I still have that Herems Birkin Bag to get!










The bottom line is this. When we are faced with challenges we must measure our life with honestly. No matter how consuming one thing may be, you cannot allow it total control.



That serenity prayer is a powerful, on point prayer... It is a prayer that should give you the strength to keep perspective! With perspective, the monster is not as big and bad as it may seem. With perspective you create room to celebrate the goodness and the good things in your journey. With perspective you can tackle the chaos one issue and one step at a time. Perspective allows you to get from A to B while headed for C. Perspective is God's' wisdom to keep you on the journey one day at a time.




God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. 

RLT Collection! Back To School Sale!!

RLT Collection has new markdowns plus an extra 20% off until September 5th! If you've have had your eye on, "The Colors of Lake Michigan," Summer 2013 Collection now is the time. Remember, once  a bracelet is sold out, it's gone forever. Click Here to Shop!











 Every necklace in the Summer Collection has been marked down!! Click Here to Shop!

Olde To Porn Tities...

My Porn Tities Before The Mediport!

I always thought that I had porn tities. Not the kind that are super big, but the ones that are round and shapely and lay just that certain way; easy on the eyes so to speak. Even as I've aged my breast have been the one body part I prized the most. Well, I do have pretty legs and feet, but my breast at 38 D whether covered or uncovered made a point. Then this past December  I had a medi-port place in my chest, right above my porn tities!





Somewhere the medical procedure went astray and before I left the hospital it became infected. Three days later when my home healthcare nurse took the bandage off, I was red, raw and scared up. Click Here to read about my mediport drama. You can also such Mediport on my blog for that saga.






After the First Mediport

The medi-port drama wouldn't go away to save my life. They took that port  out three weeks later then put another one in another three weeks later. Needless to say, I've been cut three times over my pretty porn tities, disrupting the flow of things.  Like my chest was the introduction to my beautiful porn tities; like for real, for real. Shoot, at 51 with AIDS a woman feels like she has got to have some physical attributes. And don't you dare tell me that I'm smart and pretty. My scared up chest was not something that I signed up for and it has been an emotional adjustment.







My Chest Now!

Now, I know this may seem like a small thing to some of you, it may even seem shadow, but I know that every woman thinks there is at least one part of her body, that is the best part, so stop judging. This is some real talk, when your body is altered because of your health, it leaves you feeling helpless and for some even hopeless.





Now in honesty, in the fullness of living with AIDS, I know that my porn tities disruption is a small thing. But for real, it has cause me some embarrassment of sorts. I took this picture on the right last week and all I could think about was the ugly scares on my chest. But then I started to think about my girlfriend Alicia who has porn tits for real for real. I mean for real! I mean, big and shapely and easy on the eyes for real for real. I mean, my 38 D cannot compare to her ummm 44D no matter how hard I wished. When I thought about her beautiful breast I felt shame for how I felt about my scares. 






Alicia Before her Surgery

In the last two months, I've watched her on Instagram, morn the lost of her beast, that is before they took her breast. Each time she posted a picture something inside of me hurt because she hurt. Each picture was like a celebration of what would be no more. Odle to real porn tities, I thought one night. 




Alicia is a  breast cancer survivor now two times. In 2009 I  watched her through surgery, chemotherapy and radiation. She never missed a beat,  for real y'all.  She never even left home without earrings or lipstick. She is my kind of Diva. Then a couple of months ago, she was diagnosed yet again. This time, they had to remove that same breast that they had cut tumors from almost four years earlier



They took her breast last week, and I've watched her new pictures on Instagram. With one breast removed she's still wearing lipstick and earrings with a smile that says I will not let you take my dignity Cancer! Follow Her on IG @Kushluvshouse13






Alicia  After Her Surgery 

While, I'm over here complaining about my scared up chest, I need to slap myself. I can't imagine the lost that she must be feeling. I wish I could change her destiny, but it is what it is.



Because of Alicia, I've been thinking a lot about breast cancer lately. How black women are often diagnosed late and that our survivor rate is less than that of white women. Go to the Black Women's Health Imperative for more information. Click Here






Self Breast Exam

I wonder why, like really, why is the survivor rate for black women with breast cancer worst than any other race?



 Some of it must be poverty, lack of access to health care and mammograms, but how much can we blame on health disparities? There are places that give free mammograms in every state. So then is it lack of information?  Or, at our base line, do Black Women think this is not our issue? Are their some cultural issues around modesty, especially for older black women? Is there an issue with the thought of someone you don't know looking and touching your breast, even in a medical setting?



Let me go a little deeper. These questions must be asked because a breast exam is free. Like I don't see the problem. We can give our own self a breast exam in the privacy of our home.



 I remember after Mrs. Jacqueline Jackson  the wife of Rev. Jesse L. Jackson, Sr., her sister to breast cancer, she kept a fake breast on the table. Every woman that entered her home, she made them touch it. People had thought she had gone mad. But I got it! She had lost her sister and only if  the cancer had been caught early, her sister would've  been sitting around that table with her.





Alicia After Her Surgery

Ok, so we won't touch our own breast in the privacy of our home, but we will let a man suck, bite, squeeze,  gnaw, grab and some even let man cum on their breast. I don't get it, but yet in the privacy of our home, we still can't touch our own breast.



Some of you will even have contempt for the pictures in this blog. I don't get it. We are so fucking self-righteous that we can't even take care of ourselves.



Maybe you think you are to young to get breast cancer. Well, I've known women in in their thirties.  Furthermore, you need to start giving yourself breast exams early so you can learn the shape of your breast, so if there is a shift, you will recognize it.



Breast Cancer is a woman's issue and we need to be addressing it in our organizations, in our homes and among our girlfriends. How old is your mother? Have you asked her when she had her last mammogram?





There is something for all of us to do. It's not enough to Pin A Sister with a pink ribbon. We need to touch our breast, and we need to make sure that the women in our life are touching their breast. You can Click Here to watch a video on how to do a self-breast exam.  Click Here for help locating a place for free mammograms. Chicago has a great program for free mammograms, Click Here for details.



Change starts with you. Unfortunately for Alicia, even though the cancer was discovered early, it came back, which is sometimes the case. Now, as I complain about the scars on my chest, I watch her deal with the lost of a breast. She will have reconstructed surgery in a few months, until then I watch and I pray. On Social Media, she tells her story, she challenges the stigma and shame around the lost of a breast, of course wearing lipstick, earring and  RLT Collection bracelets, but only God knows her real pain. 

Monday Reflection: Gratitude-In Spite Of!

I heard the birds singing and I opened one eye to see if the sun was out. I could barely move from exhaustion from the BlogHer Conference and the nerve pain medication that I'm taking, which makes me groggy, but as I lay in bed this morning my heart was filled with gratitude. I could hear and see and in spite of my exhaustion and pain level, I could even move. I opened both eyes to check on my baby girl, and Sophie was buried in the pillows next to me sleeping like a wild child and probably happy to be home from the four night stay in the hotel this past week.







I checked my phone for the time, it was 5:30 A. M. and I crawled out of bed to use the bedroom. As I laid back down I remembered out the blue the time I woke up in a hotel room and I couldn't walk. I had to crawl to the bathroom and back to the bed. I was on the road planning to speak at the University of Illinois in Champaign and overnight, I developed Herpes Zoster (Shingles). The pain was so intense walking was near impossible. It was an event for Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. and I was determined to not leave my "Sorors" hanging. My doctor wanted me to come home immediately, but with a hard head and determination I stayed.



By that evening I had sores from the top of my butt to the bottom of my feet. My Godchild, Toi,  took the bus down to be with me and that night she had to help me get dress. That night I stood by the grace of God for almost two hours in 4 inch heels. Toi drove me back to Chicago, me laid out in the back seat of my car. When we arrived home in the middle of the night, I had to crawl up the two flights of stairs to get to my apartment and crawl back down that morning to go to the doctor. Recovery took over a month. I couldn't walk and morphine was the only thing that relieved my pain.



No matter how I look, or how active I seem to people, I understand clearly, with AIDS you can get hit from nowhere and it is what it is. Most days I get hit actually, it's just some days I get hit harder than others. Somedays I smile through it, other days I cuss through it.






Because this life of AIDS is unpredictable, I never take it for granted. Now don't be confused, there are days when I think I've had enough. Days when I want to cuss, fuss and rant through it and do, and a smile is foreign to my face. Days when I want to say enough is enough. 



Like these past three weeks on IV medication, I was so sick I couldn't  think straight and I had a funky attitude to go right along with how I was feeling. People don't understand the drama one is faced when a medication that is making you better in one area but it also makes you so sick in another. For sure, for me there is a hopelessness I feel. Its like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Especially when I have no control. It makes you lose perspective, the larger picture.






Yet at the end of the day, I understand that life is a blessing. I get it! I'm alive!  This is my life, my struggle, but yet I still have gratitude.





So this morning when I heard the birds signing, telling me that it was a new day, I was overwhelmed in my heart and my spirit. 




Today, I had perspective and with perspective, I could smile, smile because I could hear the birds singing, see my baby girl laying peacefully next to me. I could walk to the bathroom on my feet and despite all I've been through, I still have my right mind. I was filled with nothing but gratitude this morning in spite of my lie with AIDS.











Post Scrpit: I'm looking for a blog editor send your info to Rae@raelewisthonton.com