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Quarantine Lifted

Yay! No more H1N1 self quarantine! I came by that status the hard way, though, as any Spoonie probably would.

I couldn’t get over the symptoms after I posted about my delayed recovery and realized that I most likely had a sinus infection that was causing the fever (which is a way different fever than normal people get and the unaware are so disbelieving of that), which kept extending the self quarantine as possibly still contagious. So I contacted my doctor in hopes of getting an antibiotic, but the continued symptoms and my immune system issues really concerned my doctor, so she referred me to a colleague in KC, K, who works with a facility that works with the CDC, and I had to do this online questionnaire. After review they decided that they felt I was high risk for having COVID and wanted me to go to the facility at KCK for testing during this certain time frame.

While this response was making its way to me, I began to present with an acute dry cough, wheezing, and shortness of breath, with a lot of pain from pulled muscles due to the coughing (and the fibro having fun, I’m sure). The only way I could breathe easier was by laying on my side almost flat and not moving, especially not being reclined or sitting up facing forward. It got bad enough that L called a Topeka hospital (no way I could make a ride in a truck to KC with this going on!) and had to go through an online triage basically. They decided I needed to get to the respiratory center they set up as quickly as possible. We weren’t really sure what this new center was that was created to respond to this outbreak, so we packed my “go bag” that is prepared any time I may be at risk of staying in a hospital (you learn to plan ahead when you have a chronic illness). Well, I laid on my side on the bed, trying to dress, and he added the last minute items to the bag, since I had one ready for a possible trip during the whole H1N1 thing.

So, we quickly (okay, very slowly because I could barely walk without falling to my knees coughing) went to the address the nurse gave. It was a mini tent city erected in front of the hospital’s north clinic. People direct you to drive into the first tent and direct the flow of vehicles, while workers move between the vehicles doing their assigned tasks, such as one for symptoms, another for vitals, etc. With each worker the driver is directed to the next area for the next triage area, with directions to keep windows up, patient is masked except when asked to remove it, etc. It’s kind of hazy, but I think at the second tent is where the doctor did the drive up exam. He confirmed that it sounded like a bacterial infection (sinusitis), but with my high risk status with L being among the public at times and my compromised system that was even further compromised, I got to have an H1N1 nasal swab and a COVID swab, for good measure. In less than ten minutes the H1N1 test came back negative and the self quarantine was no longer needed then. He prescribed an intense antibacterial prescription and we moved forward to the next swab section. The H1N1 was like a small bendy bottle brush jammed up the top of my nose and I kept wiping under my nose, thinking I had a bloody nose. I laid sideways on the console while waiting for the next worker and it hit me how surreal the whole experience was. And then SHE came to the window. He rolled down my window and she asked me to pull my mask down, and told me instinct would be to pull back, but don’t, so I pushed my head back into the seat cushion. Good thing I did because that thing removed mucus somewhere near my eye socket, because that tear duct immediately started streaming. *laugh* Holy biscuits and gravy! She closed the test container and said to go ahead and leave.

As we were leaving it hit me how bizarre of a situation we had found ourselves in and saw firsthand how intense this Pandemic’s treatment is, even in our neck of the woods. Medical workers in varying degrees of protection, from droplet protocol all the way up to a sealed suit with breathing unit, and seamless triage the whole way, with preparation to send suspected cases to quarantine. Sitting in the tent city was like something from a science fiction movie or alien visitation thriller. It was a mixture of feeling like a zombie checkpoint and a prep station for scientists interacting with some unknown alien craft.

It was definitely the safest exam I’ve ever had, despite it all, because I wasn’t exposed to any additional conditions, which is a first. It was definitely an unexpected and intense event in my life, so I can mark such an occasion off of my bucket list (I’ve lived an odd life with incredible and strange occurrences in it, so I wanted to make sure to have one more on my bucket list. Lol). And both nostrils really hurt, but I could breathe through them both for the first time in weeks, since they swabbed everything in my sinuses up to near my brain, it felt like. *smile*

I’m now on my fourth day of the antibiotic and responded well almost immediately, so my usual post-illness sinus infection got really bad at one of the worst times in this century. I’m thankful for the incredible workers who are on the front line of this and it increased my awe of their bravery by 100%. While I stay laying down to ride out the massive side effect of nausea that my Marinol doesn’t come near stopping, I’m still waiting for the other test results, but my cough has resolved except when I try to actually do something. I have an incredible other half that braves exposure to get my prescriptions, foods that will help or may stay down until the current prescription dose’s nausea lets up, and takes care of keeping me settled. It’s funny that in all the marital advice I was given almost 16 years ago, no one ever said that you can fall even more in love with someone when the times get bad and your partner decides to weather through those times with you. In the meantime, I got us an annual subscription to BritBox, slept nearly 24 hours straight at one point, and we had a reclined “date movie night” streaming a rental movie early this morning. *laugh*

I wish there was something profound I could share, beyond my experience, but it really just boils down to having gratitude for those that are at risk working near others or in medical/ emergency services, those that keep working for us to be home and upset that we have the time off that we usually wish for (although everyone would prefer for vacation to be taken on their terms, paid, and hopefully one in which they can fully enjoy themselves, of course), and also gratitude for the technology that helps keep us connected. Drop a text, share silly pics on SnapChat, do a Zoom chat, or even call (*gasp*!), and then we aren’t alone in this. It is a scary world right now, with a lot of grief along this journey, but humanity has survived other threats before. Kindness, respect, and gratitude are our best bets for making it through this as better people who will someday recount how awful 2020 started out, and how we, as a collective, made it through.

Stay safe and reach out. Isolation breeds depression quickly, which is just as dangerous IMO. If you feel alone and you don’t have others to reach out to, you can reach out to this (possible) stranger and know that someone will be there to chat with through this. I know how deadly depression and isolation are, so please don’t hesitate to reach out, even if you don’t know me personally. My world grows infinitely better with each new friend. 🙂

A Little Ruby and H1N1

I’ve been a bit discombobulated and quiet because I’ve had H1N1 for almost a month now, and it’s taken quite a toll on me. I may be getting a little better right now 🤞🏻, but have to go without a fever when not having Tylenol, and then it’s a ten day wait to end the quarantine, but haven’t managed to make it through the waiting period yet. Lol This social distancing and concern over the pandemic is kind of meh for us right now, since we are all ready following droplet protocol at home, I don’t leave the house, and we have a quarantine sign up so no one stops in and gets exposed. They even shut down Goodyear Plant for now, so L is home and not exposing me to anything the other plant workers come to work with (nobody ever takes off for being sick lol). Other than people hoarding basics we need and my online grocery ordering not working, so he has to actually shop, things are the temporary new normal for us all ready. (And yep, started Tamiflu the very day of exposure, so my doctor did the best she could, especially when she left the country the next day for a couple of weeks. Lol)

Insomnia hit despite my fatigue, so with L being off and us both still on graveyard shift sleep hours at the time, he helped trim my hair up and dye the undercut for me. It was a first for him on both and my first with an undercut, so we had a learning curve. Unfortunately my face is a bit red and splotchy in the pic because my seborrheic dermatitis has gone insane since I caught the virus. However, the debut of straight up Ruby!

Ruby red hair finally!

It was a little surprising to have some areas, which I suspect have been affected by my meds, soak up more dye and come out a bit ginger to me, but it’s kind of fun (probably after a few weeks of it I won’t still think that, since it’s only been a few hours lol). Any thoughts on what the next tone should be? *grin* (Has to be a non-peroxide needed type with the damage my meds cause.) I’m thinking after this about going black with amethyst tint to it, but not sure, so I’m open to ideas if you have one.

In these crazy times I thought a fun little post of crazy hair might be a nice relief in the inbox, with so many being about viruses and sad stuff. Stay safe and compassionate! 😊

Step One Complete!

*Lets out a whoop* I completed my first step of walking on the wild side and enjoying my life.

The comb is there to help give an idea of dimensions.

Although I usually try to avoid posting pictures of myself, since that’s just not me or what I want to write about, here goes!

The before

After a little bit of time on a step stool and buzzing hair below the clip where I’d piled the “don’t undercut” hair, and attempts to make an even guide line for the undercut using mirrors without my glasses, thankfully my mom came to the rescue. 😂

Ignore the nose piercing. That’s just the filter to help brighten things up. Lol
A little wild tousling without any product

And just for fun…

I feel so sassy!

I’ll be dyeing it Ruby Red, from the “flaming reds” collection, soon, so I’ll be the most daring I’ve ever been with my hair, especially when I also get to play with some sea salt spray and some tousling mousse. Give me a daring, dark lipstick and watch out world…or maybe IHOP or Snapchat. Whatever. *laugh* I’ve always been a bit into catching people off guard, such as dyeing my hair burgundy when I turned 18 or wearing acid wash jeans with light up tennis shoes while line dancing, but wow! I feel so edgy and like I finally found the look I’ve been trying to get all of my life. I must say though that I’m very thankful that things timed out right for my mom to come help, otherwise there’s a good chance it would have gone very badly and mad me mad, so I’d have just buzzed most of it off with pretty short hair on top. 🤣 Thankfully my guardian angel was working feverishly instead of drinking tea and wondering if I’d fall off the stool and crack my head open. Sometimes I think there’s a bet among the angels about which injury I’ll get next and to what extent. Anywho…*grin*

Next, decide which is the higher priority right now…getting my half sleeve tattoo or a Wii switch so I can get my groove on with a Just Dance subscription. I want that tattoo, but I’d really like to not have a muffin top with skinny bombshell jeans this Spring. In the meantime, I’ll read my book about a knitting group of vampires helping a fledgling witch take on a poltergeist and find a human murderer. Enjoy today, make decisions someday. 😉

Why Is This Different?

Recently I became unable to move by myself. I became over fatigued while trying to do a little bit of housework, so after hanging laundry I laid back on the side of the bed, with my legs hanging down. My legs and ankles are my worst trigger areas, and my claim for disability strongly rested on my need to have my legs elevated to reduce pain, on top of the fatigue. And I knew I was getting worse. I’ve known since about October that my symptoms have progressed. I couldn’t bring myself to believe how far until I tried to stand up and couldn’t even try to lift my leg without screaming.

Thankfully L was still home, instead of working, and came when I called. At first it seemed like an annoying “my hip locked up” kind of thing, but whenever we worked to get my legs to move, it was either a case of excruciating pain or inability to move. He got my left leg bent and close to my body, and then cleverly freed his hands by leaning his body into my leg to hold it in place. With one hand under my back and the other holding my right leg, he managed to turn me on my side. Poor guy probably still has ringing in his ears from my scream, but it was his clever manipulation that enabled me to then begin to move my leg. He did socket manipulation to make sure I didn’t have anything wrong in my hip itself, plus it helped loosen the tightness from the inflammation that was all ready flaring up. After some work, we were able to get both legs bent without assistance and got me into a mostly standing position.

For days I had a lot of pain, obviously when walking, but also trying to sit or lay, and found that I could actually sleep or focus on something like reading (instead of the pain), if I lay in the fetal position on my inflamed side. My whole thigh and connected muscles ached, but when my inner thigh and really low back got intense, we realized the pain wasn’t responding to my meds because it was mostly likely from my nerve. I was pissed off at myself for not thinking that such a simple thing as laying back for a moment to recuperate to take the laundry basket back to the laundry room could cause a problem, especially when I have my legs elevated at least 80% of the time, if not more. When L went to work was the worst though. That’s when the dark thoughts about what could I have done if it happened now, since I didn’t take my phone with me while just hanging laundry up. If I’d tried to slide off the bed, not only would that be quite a way down with the deeper mattress that we have, but I probably would have struck my head on the cabinet across from my side of the bed (it’s a narrow passage around our bed, since it’s a small room with a king bed lol). I finally faced that my body would have left me trapped in place, which turns out to be a huge fear. I’ve always found Alzheimer’s terrifying since working in a Neuro office, because these poor patients were trapped, and then auditing medical records and reading about patients who showed mental activity during neuro testing but were otherwise in a coma, unconsciously made my fear worse.

I’ve been afraid of my illness progressing until I’m on permanent bedrest for a while now, with the memories of what I’d seen and read behind one of those closed doors in my mind. (If you’re a new reader, I often compare life experiences and traumas as doors in a hallway in the brain. Things I don’t like to face or have trouble with are behind closed doors, and I’ve worked for the past two years to open and work through everything in each room I open. Apparently I have more closed doors than I had realized though.) There is another Spoonie that I follow on WP and have watched interviews of on documentaries and he has progressed to this, despite the fact that his body was in WAY better shape at onset than mine has ever been, and it makes me cry every time I read his posts or watch his decline in subsequent interviews. So I’ve known the likelihood of someday reaching that stage and have been afraid, but have worked hard at not acknowledging my progression or my fear. Every so often I’d break down privately and after watching one documentary with me L finally learned about my fear. We both set it in our minds to a later time to deal with, I think, although I am “death positive”, as mortician Caitlin Doughty from Ask a Mortician, calls it. (Btw, she is phenomenal and I highly recommend at least watching her interviews and her “Confronting Your Death” YouTube episode, and checking out Order of the Good Death.) Anyway, as a way of being positive and leading the best life I can while I can, I made a kind of bucket list of experiences I want to share with L and “my created family – biological and emotional”. I’ve worked hard, especially with the help of one of my best friends, to accept using my wheelchair the next time I go to an event, like when L and I went to Branson last Fall. Yet, somehow I shoved the reality of my symptoms worsening behind a door. While laying in bed recovering the door opened, though.

I’ve always acknowledged that Fibro has stages and some super lucky people even get to go into permanent remission of their symptoms. Nobody acknowledges that there are last stages though and I began to wonder why is this different from other diseases? Cancer is one condition that is openly labeled with stages, among others. Are doctors afraid to label Fibro stages because it’s an invisible disease or because it has unknown origins? Maybe because each person has their own journey and my “good” day could be a horrible day for another Fibro sufferer? I became angry that my doctors all emphasize that a person can get hit by a car and die any day, so live each day to whatever my fullest is without worrying about my progression, but none acknowledge that I was progressing to the next stage. I also got really mad at myself for closing my fear and knowledge that I had all ready progressed behind a door. I was mad that I hadn’t been strong enough to actually face it or even admit it to myself, let alone others (and believe me, this is a super hard admission to write about). My “episode” scared those close to me and I think we all had to admit that things are worse than I had been admitting or allowing others to see.

I don’t feel that it’s fair for my doctors to refuse to acknowledge that I’ve entered a new phase or that it’s terrifying to have progressed. It doesn’t feel fair to just say “I have Fibro along with the commonly associated conditions”, when saying “Stage 3” or something like that could emphasize to “normal people” that I have more needs and worse symptoms than others. They’re used to having the stage given as a measure for their compassion, willingness to assist, or even their concern. Why don’t we have the right to have recognition? Why do we always have to fight for every aspect of this often disabling chronic disease to be recognized and acknowledged?

So, I decided that I can be angry and still live the good life while acknowledging my progression. I’m going to get a bold haircut (for me), dye my hair a dramatic color (full on ruby, here I come!), and I’m going to try to at least get the outline of my half sleeve tattoo done; all hopefully soon. In the meantime I’m making plans for how to get assistance when I’m alone and don’t have my phone in the room when I have something happen. I’ve made my decisions for how I want my death and body to be handled. I’ve started making plans for the few items that are important to me to be passed along to those I care about (just a small tip: talk to those you want to inherit something. See if they actually want it. Too often we leave behind things that the recipient has no desire to receive, so if it means enough to you to leave that item as an inheritance, talk to them first). I’ve even started to give some of “my treasures” to the inheritors, because I don’t want to add to L’s responsibilities even more, especially knowing that further progression without dying means he will have to take on more of a caregiver role. In the meantime I’m still setting goals for my good enough days, when I can do a little or sit guiding someone, such as making more product and getting my small business going again. That’s one of my biggest goals for this year. A friend has agreed to be my business helper whenever it works for us both and actually looks forward to it, so I’ll get a small piece of “me” back. What I can do in my daily life is limited, but I have the power to make the most out of every minute of them, no matter how tired I am or how much I hurt.

We all have the chance to leave a legacy, even if it’s just a small one. Mine is a tiny voice to raise awareness about this disease and fight for equality for us Spoonies. Like they say in my teen favorite musical Newsies, “Bryan Denton:
Sometimes all it takes is a voice, one voice that becomes a hundred, then a thousand, unless it’s silenced.
” Mine is one of the voices joining the others to help get Fibromyalgia fully accepted and to get the needed research to help others. I may absolutely hate admitting how sick I’ve gotten, especially outside of my very small circle of people that I’m honest about it with, but I can be thankful that I have a way to be one of those voices; to be part of the change.

Perspective

A lot has gone on since I last posted and I don’t think most would be of much help to another person, so I haven’t bothered sharing any, since I’ve always wanted this blog to inspire or help others. However, I learned a very valuable lesson in the past week.

L surprised me with an amazing trip when Branson, MO started their Old Time Christmas season, which I’ll write about and share amazing photos of later. We knew that my being around people and being active (there’s a special old time, craftsman type of theme park there, where they keep old talents like blowing glass and blacksmithing alive, plus I believe the award for the most Christmas lights in the world), would be hard on me. This was kind of my goodbye trip to going as a “normal” person, so to speak.

We’ve gone there off and on through the years since we honeymooned there, fifteen years ago. One can never predict the course of an illness though and mine is stealthily taking away my ability to walk much, even with my cane, so on my list of “before I’m wheelchair bound” bucket list I had down Branson. Since I’ve progressed so dramatically within the past 15 or so months, he secretly planned to fulfill one of my biggest hopes. We knew I’d catch a cold being around sick people, since for some reason as a society we do not believe in staying home when sick, and that it would be physically difficult on me, despite the luxury accommodations that he splurged for to help me. Shortly upon coming home though, as my body was gearing up to get really mad about the trip, we met our neighbor’s litter of accidental puppies.

They’re noisy, but they are the cutest puppies and so darn sweet underneath it all. We developed puppy fever and wanted to expand our family again, knowing that we will never try to adopt a human again, so the more fur the more love in our home. *smile* As I was partway through my after trip symptoms we fell for two puppies out of the group and decided to go for it.

We went through that whole new puppy craziness of buying tons of things to take care of them, since everything of Bo’s was donated when he passed, and real life set in. The little girl and boy had neither been truly housebroken, as we thought he had implied, so it was puppy pads, paper towels with Lysol, and blocking off the kitchen or crating, believing a few days and we could move to the next stage, like we did with Bo. These little ones have so little interaction that they have massive separation anxiety though, so I had to literally be in sight and usually within their reach or there would be crying. We tried the whole “ignore and they’ll cry themselves to sleep” technique, especially with crating for brief periods, but the noise! Instant migraine and when the boy would hit top pitch, somehow it made both elder cats toss their cookies immediately. Triple the fun!

Long story short I ended up living in the sectioned off kitchen, taking tiny naps when they would nap (but as every sick person knows, it takes forevvvver to fall asleep, so more than an hour was mind blowing), and becoming very hurt by their playful nips and puppy claws, plus not being able to relax in my “accommodation” spots, which are set up to minimize pain and help my body rest. For the first time ever I looked in the mirror in the bathroom (a bathtub makes a great playpen for pups, let me tell you, especially in a tiny bathroom) and I actually saw my illness begin to physically manifest. There are tons of supportive memes that Spoonies share of how we would look if our illnesses weren’t invisible, with a body covered in bruises, sores, etc. I saw two black eyes, skin that just looked…wrong, and bruises. My glands along my throat had swollen and I ended up coughing up some interesting stuff, while most of the rest of my body started shutting down until I was in such low-spoon usage that I didn’t change clothes for days and ended up laying on kitchen mats because my body couldn’t take sitting upright anymore. My veins are growing less prominent under the surface of my skin thankfully, but it was kind of creepy to see the bluish lines running along my entire body.

Add to it that housebreaking never caught on well, although I made a tiny dent, and the cats went into a tail spin of bad behaviors, including trying to beat the muzzles if a pup got close enough. To be fair, with the bite force these little babies have, I was scared of what would happen if one got hold of one of the cats, too. At least the cats swatted without front claws when the pups got in reach (done for medical reasons, not without considering their health and the research behind it, trust me).

It became a nightmare situation made all the harder because I spent nearly every minute with them, except when L kept himself up when he got home from work, to take care of them so that I could get undisturbed sleep. I fell in love with the wiggling bundles of wee and wild tongues. But the hard decision had to be made to either return them or find care while he worked and slept, because I was going to be hospitalized. The returning was a disaster within itself, even though it was less than a week later, and the only thing that tipped the scale was me actually showing an outsider just how sick I looked.

The worst is that the neighbor still hasn’t taken the litter where he said he was and every day they get put in their pen periodically, crying away with the parents, especially since it’s so dang cold. And if either of us are outside, the two remember who we are and want us, because they knew love for that little bit of time with us. Which makes it hard to stay strong, but being terrified of the alternative helps dampen it, admittedly.

So, there’s the back story to this change in perspective that I developed. When the war (puppy) zone got picked up, cats realized they could roam freely again and had access to Mom, and I went on bed rest, suddenly nothing ornery that the twins did, or the squabbling between the older and younger generations, bothered me. I’ve actually found myself laughing at the feisty antics of Zane stealing little things and taking them around the house to beat around (and try to shove under the oven like everything else lol). I separate squabbles, but I understand where they stem from and do it calmly without anyone getting in trouble. The “Trouble Twins” aren’t so bad when the perspective has been tweaked.

I’m hoping to cling to this lesson and learn to apply a change in my perception to that bucket list I’ve made. I still want to do as many things on there with L that I can before I’m permanently bed bound, but it’s not before I’m in a wheel chair. That’s just my pride and fear of considering myself “less than”, when it’ll actually enable me to continue trying to live my life to the fullest. I’m going to try to challenge my perspective on a lot of things and see what I can improve; in my life, in my character, and hopefully my relationships. Seeing the world through the eyes of a chronically ill person can be a little tinted, or jaded, so I’m hoping to do better about how those I care about perceive my actions and being a lot more understanding of how difficult it is for them to understand such a bizarre condition.

I once read and didn’t really grasp the saying until now: “Instead of asking why me, ask what can this teach me”.

Surgery

So, I go in for surgery on Tuesday to remove some very infected adenoids.  Apparently they weren’t removed during the tonsillectomy years ago and, with my immune system, instead of shrinking to near nothingness usually, mine has been causing the nonstop extra illness for months, if not longer.  We have hope that getting out something that infects my sinuses and stuff, that I have a chance at increasing my quality of life again.  Of course, being me, I’m prepared for the worst case scenarios.  A new Will, Advance Health Directive, and Power of Attorney have all been completed and notarized.  Log ins and sites have been given to those I trust to remove my online presence, things like that.  The usual risk analysis kind of stuff.  *laugh*

 

I was surprised to realize that it bothered me more this time to do the risk analysis and write out the instructions from removing us from the adoption sites, refunding the donations, notifying our Social Worker, etc.  The thought of getting so close to finishing our forever family and losing it has been a scary concept that I didn’t expect.  It makes me extra thankful that they wanted to do surgery quickly, and that it was all done before we get to meet Kiddo.  Minimizes the trauma for her and L.

 

The other thing that bothers me is the possibility that the surgery (survived) could cause some extra problems, like the septoplasty and tonsillectomy surgery did.  To this day I am now getting some help for problems from that surgery.  If I lose the extra depth of smelling different notes in scents, it would be rather devastating to make product again.  Some of the beauty would be gone and it would be a reminder of how things went wrong.  Although I’d LOVE to not smell cheese, bread, and milk going bad before anyone else can.  At my age that surgery carries higher risks, especially with my risk factors, so I know there’s more chance of issues with my sinuses.  That would definitely be an interesting fork in that path of life, if it occurs.

 

Thankfully they approved my 4 AM dose of anxiety and pain medications, when I have to start fasting at midnight.  There was just no way I’d make it more than 13 hours without either, unless they wanted to give me more than just anesthesia.  *laugh* Almost all informative documents have been typed, I have done as much recovery food prep that I could, and as much cleaning and laundry that I could, since recovery can take me longer due to the Fibro.  I think my lost spoons came back and are beating me down my back and legs in anger over working so much for the past couple of days.  I have a few items left and then I’m set for either way.  Either way, I’ve been very blessed to have a tough road of life with a lot of beautiful scenery along it, along with the most beautiful and amazing people in it.  I wish we didn’t get lost in the minutiae of daily life that we don’t fully appreciate the richness of our personal lives and those would are cheering you on while you travel your path.  And, if the risks prove too high, I’m thankful that I hopefully brought inspiration to at least one or two people along the way, so that they consider helping a child in the system, and that I had the chance to fight for motherhood.

 

I wish each of you happiness and a few moments away from your day to notice the blessings and loving supporters you have.

The “Get to Know Me” Tag

Thank you so much to Julie Beeks of Coffee, Crime, and a Whole Latte More for nominating me to do this! I’m excited to share a little about myself with my followers and think the original writers did so well, that I’m not changing the design. 🙂

Below are questions & answers for all of the nominees  

  • What are my strengths?
    • I am very loyal and love wholeheartedly if you become part of my “family”. 
    • I try to have a good impact on someone, in some way, each day.  
    • I can laugh at the strange and stupid things that my illness causes, even when my illness makes life incredibly difficult or I’m scared of being judged as being “less than”.
    • I absolutely love to learn new things.  Too bad they’ve never been really practical things, like how to change a tire or something.  🙂  I can give you a list of natural uses and benefits for honey or vinegar, though.
  • What are my short term goals?
    • To continue to blog regularly.  I need to keep pushing to share about the things that matter to me.
    • To find and meet Kiddo, even when the path is hard.
    • Get back to making product and utilizing that creative outlet.
  • What are my long term goals?
    • To adopt and advocate for adoption.
    • To go on adventures with L and Kiddo.
    • To learn to accept progression of my illness with grace instead of anger.  I need to finish grieving the abilities and life I had before my relapse, and focus on accepting my new self without fear of judgement.  
  • Who matters the most to me?
    • God
    • My husband
    • My “family”, the biological and the emotionally connected
    • My fur babies
    • The shadow of a future daughter.  Once I finally get a chance to love the real her, this will be a harder question of ranking.
  • What am I ashamed of?
    • That I forgot to focus on my character instead of my looks.  I allowed the weight gain from my illness to mean more to me than being a good person.
    • That I get lost in my emotions and have trouble handling them sometimes.
  • What do I like to do for fun?
    • I love hanging out with my family, in person or online, whether we are watching television, playing games, finding adventures across the grid online, or sitting in camp chairs late into the summer night while remembering the “crazy old days” of our youth.
    • I am a massive nerd, so I love researching, reading, using gadgets, and exploring the wide variety available on streaming media (movies, clips, podcasts; you name it).  It’s most fun when I can bring L over to the nerd side.  The days he joined the Eureka™ fandom and became a partial Mythical Beast both made me so happy.
    • Being creative – writing, creating bath products, painting, or even decorating my fairy garden.
  • What new activities am I willing to try?
    • Parenting.  
    • Zip lining
    • Riding in a Zorb™
  • What am I worried about?
    • My illness progressing aggressively before we are able to be parents.
  • What are my values?
    • I’m a hodgepodge of faith, The Golden Rule, empathy, and trying to help anyone or anything that is in need when I am able to.
  • If I had one wish, it would be…?
    • to have a home filled with biological and chosen children.
  • Where do I feel the safest?
    • with L and/or my mom
    • in our little town.  After growing up in the Bay Area it’s amazing to be able to sit on the back deck at night, just watching the sky and thinking, without worrying about my safety.
  • What or who gives me comfort?
    • I am a practical person, so I have to admit that it depends on the situation.  L, my mom, my SL family, my therapist…they all do, but in different situations.
    • Being informed and in control, even when it’s out of my hands.
  • If I was afraid, I would…?
    • Go to L
    • If he’s unavailable, I’d grab the closest weapon and protect my family.  I’d give my life to prevent them from ever being victimized.
  • What is my proudest accomplishment?
    • My Presidential Literary Excellence Award.
    • Surviving attempted murder and learning how to stop being a victim.
    • My Victim’s Advocacy Certification.
    • Being able to use my careers or knowledge to help others.  I was able to help some amazing patients as a Medical Billing Clerk and as a Spoonie I was able to help a few people.
  • Am I a night owl or early bird?
    • A night owl all the way.  I may have a few one-sided feuds with groups that wake me while I’m trying to sleep vampire hours. *grin*
  • What does my inner critic tell me?
    • That I am a failure.  I lost a lot of my physical abilities, my career, and some of my identity due to becoming disabled.  I don’t make nearly as much money as I used to, so I feel like a financial drain for L.  When you vow in sickness and in health, you don’t think you’ll have to hold them to the sickness part until you’re in the later seasons of life, so I feel like it was unfair, when I’m being most critical.  *Please note that this is also part of my current topic of therapy.  I’m learning to let go of and grieve my former life, so it’s not as bad as it sounds.  I’ve always been my harshest critic, but I’m learning how to cut myself some slack.  🙂
  • What do I do to show myself self-care?
    • A bath with a good book or Pinterest™, with floating candles and anti inflammatory bath salts.
    • I love losing myself in a book or SL.
  • Am I an introvert or extrovert?
    • I am a massive introvert, but if you hurt my family, I’ll step outside of my comfort zone and you’ll see the dark side of a Virgo.  😉
  • What am I passionate about?
    • helping and raising awareness for Spoonies, our adoption journey, and advocating for adoption.
  • What do my dreams tell me?
    • That I could make a lot of money if I could make them into a Eureka-type show.  They’re weird enough to fill that niche very well.  
  • What is my favorite non-fiction book?
    • Rhett and Link’s Book of Mythicality
  • What is my favorite fiction book?
    • It depends on the genre.  lol I will re-read Kristen Painter’s Miss Frost Solves a Cold Case: A Nocturne Falls Mystery© and Julie Garwood’s The Secret© and Ransom©.  Pies and Prejudice© by Ellery Adams will always have a special place in my heart, because I got to actually chat with her after reading that.
  • What is my favorite movie?
    • Sleeping Beauty© for Disney®, Robin Hood: Men in Tights© for comedy, and Phantom of the Opera© for romantic.
  • What is my favorite band?
    • Celtic Thunder™, Elvis™, or Rhett & Link’s Song Biscuits©, depending on the mood
  • What is my favorite food?
    • Most anything chocolate or sweet, although fried shredded beef tacos and Mei Fun are pretty high up there, too.
  • What is my favorite color?
    • Glittery Hot Pink
  • What am I grateful for?
    • That L loved me enough to get a ring tattoo.  My disability after coming into the marriage relatively healthy wasn’t a deal breaker for him and he decided to show me for the rest of his life that he’s committed to loving me.
    • That I was helped to escape, so I could then survive and have an incredible “family” across the nation. 
    • My Faith
    • The support during our adoption journey and the opportunity to take this journey.
  • When I am feeling down, I like to?
    • Listen to Damian McGinty or Celtic Thunder™
    • Boxing
    • Organize something.  It’s oddly therapeutic for me to sort and label things.  *laugh*
  • I know I am stressed when?
    • My shoulder trigger points tighten into hard knots
    • I suddenly start to cry while watching a sappy commercial or video

 

 

Thanks for nominating me Julie Beeks of Coffee, Crime, and a Whole Latte More!

I nominate:

Andrea from Cooking with a Wallflower

Harsh Reality

Cooking Adventures

Sauce Box

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