Ponytail Phase

"Houston, we have a problem."
"Go ahead."
"It seems that girl with the awkward hair has achieved a successful ponytail."
"State the implications."
"Sir, as long as her hair is long enough, the probability of her hair ever being out of a ponytail again is only two percent."
"Now that's just sad."

Stop. It's Perspective Time.

It has been over a decade since my husband or I have had a sibling return home from a mission. "Murphy" arranged to make up for the gap by having one of each of our siblings give homecoming talks and have family shindigs on the very same day--TODAY! We have known about this for over month. 

We have been thrilled to have our shiny, missionary siblings back. This day would be staggered perfectly so we could bounce back and forth and make it to everything--a tender mercy for sure!

Our children were not too squirrelly during the back-to-back sacrament meetings. But partway through the second meeting, my daughter showed me a new, blotchy rash on the palm side of her hands. She had fevered off and on all weekend, but I thought she was better. My first thought was that it could be the hand, foot, and mouth virus. But it was blotchy, not blistery, and it was not painful or itchy.

I quickly surfed the 'net to determine my next move. Dozens of family members and friends would be part of this day for us. Was my daughter contagious? 

I took my children from church and made some calls. The nurse I spoke with said my daughter should come to the Instacare. 

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (exasperated sigh).  

The Holy Ghost told me she was right, so my daughter and I left my son with his aunties and went in our Sunday best to the pathogen-infested Instacare. The nurse was chipper as she talked about all the nasty sicknesses that had come through recently. *squirm* 

The nurse swabbed my daughter for strep. That did not occur to me...but sure enough, it was strep. 

Positives: my daughter could finally kick this fever business in the rear, strep is easily treated, it is not contagious after 24 hours of antibiotics, strep folks do not hack everywhere, it is self-contained with good hand hygiene, and we can watch Veggie Tales movies for the rest of the day and go to bed early. Sweet. 

Negatives: we had to hang out in a Petri dish (clinic) to get the test done, strep spreads easily, we are quarantined for 24 hours, need to buy medicine on the Sabbath, and have to miss the family shindigs. 

HhhhhHHhhhhHHH. 

My daughter and I went to the nearest, open pharmacy (at Walmart) to pick up the prescription. 

By then, we had been vertical aaaall day, we were hungry and tired, we were covered with pathogens, I had driven all over tarnation, and Walmart pharmacy would not open for a few more minutes. It took a long time to get the script filled too. Meanwhile, we walked around Walmart so we didn't have to stand still. Goal: stay vertical. 

It was Sunday. It was weird to browse in Walmart. I could think of two grocery items we needed and glanced at a great pair of bargain pants, but I was not there to shop. We were there to get a prescription so we could get the next 24 hours of treatment overwith so my children could play with their visiting out-of-state cousins already!

We got home, changed, and washed up (insert your judgment of my methods here--but I'm well-acquainted with a particularly robust pathogen, remember?). My taller half and son came home at the same time. 

That's my story. I kept up the good 'tude for awhile, but now I'm tired. Blessedly the grumpiness has passed (hhhhhhh), and we have had a relaxing evening. 

Bonus: my husband had a spotty tonsil that got checked for strep later, and it was negative. He got to shindig with his missionary brother and family after all. I was so glad. 

Today was much anticipated. We were scrubbed, pressed (I exaggerate--we don't iron lately, ha), had nice hair, and were ready to face a big day. I'm glad we were ready to face a big day, because it ended up including the things each of us needed, even though it did not go as planned. It still turned out fine. 

The higher purposes of the day were achieved. We got to hear our missionaries speak and visit with a few people. My taller half got to do his calling and spend time with his family of origin. I exerted myself, then got to rest and be with my children. I missed seeing the scores of people I hoped to see, but I feel peace. My daughter grew in trust toward me as her personal nurse and advocate; she grew in confidence in advocating for herself at the doctors office, speaking directly to the staff and conquering doubts that they would hurt her. My son binged for two hours straight, per the aunties' and grandma's report (growth spurt!). 

It was a weird day, but in retrospect, it was a great day too. Sometimes weird is great. Unexpected circumstances teach us a lot about ourselves. I had a grumpy/hangry patch for awhile, but I feel softened now with this new perspective. And it is not Murphy at all: it is God making sure we are getting all the experiences we need. :)

Wanderlust

One hobby that has been easy to pursue in the past few sick months is to "travel," but I have not actually gone anywhere. (*Insert longing sigh here*)

However, I HAVE:

-watched a lot of "Rick Steves' Europe"
-skimmed travel books
-Internet "window shopped" for luggage and travel accessories
-watched hours of youtube travel tips
-created packing lists
-made travel agendas
-studied flight rates and train schedules
-followed "Her Packing List" on Facebook
-sort of "mock packed" for a three-month backpacking trip across Europe
-watched movies filmed in European countries
-watched parts of movies where people are on trains (think "White Christmas" and "Harry Potter")

I know. Nerdy.

Actually, I prefer passionate.

The ideas that excite me the most are minimalist packing and going to Europe...and not being a slave to luggage while traipsing around Europe.

Planes, trains, and automobiles with a school-sized backpack: let's go!

I have had lots of experience traveling, but not in awhile. As a military kid, I spent four years in Europe and the rest of my childhood traveling to and living in lots of places.

When I was a senior in high school, I went on a three-week bus tour across the country with my best friend and a bunch of other graduated seniors.

I have travel dreams, literally. I have dreams about that bus trip. For about a year, I have dreamed about traveling to or being in England at least weekly. I felt I was being paged there, especially to see my relatives.

My desire to go became urgent when my dear relative in England became ill suddenly and then passed away a few weeks later. All my diagnoses came when I would have been in England had I gone, and I would have been in very bad shape had I travelled.

Blessedly, I got to be at the funeral in spirit when my cousin read words I had written about his "nan"/my "English grandmother." Her funeral was held in a chapel in Nottinghamshire where legend says Robin Hood and Maid Marian were married; our ancestors are buried in that churchyard.

I try not to covet what I do not have, and so I feel peace about not traveling a lot for now. However, I am equipped with tips, packing cubes, and the know-how to drop everything and go somewhere, and with no checked luggage, thank you.

Since I know I cannot travel with all my treatments and special food needs and condition and stuff at this time, I keep gravitating toward studying it for fun...or distraction. Planning for a trip can be more fun than the trip itself, I've heard. "Travel" has been a fun hobby during chronic illness.

Recovery from Treatment? How Did I Miss That?

So I just learned the most amazing thing in the world (not really). 

After months of IV antibiotics, one may have to recover from the months of IV antibiotics. Truth. It does a number on pathogens, but it has side effects and can cause problems in the rest of the body.

Well hot dang, there are new surprises every day!!! Pop quiz!

I envisioned myself bouncing around this week: driving on the freeway, doing laundry and dishes (that WOULD be a shocking development), cooking, waking up from my Lyme brain mental fog...

But I get to wait some more, here on the couch, looking fancy with all my crocheted creations from when I was waiting months ago. 

Waiting is...(pause, pause, pause, pause)...just really, really great. It's neat. It builds character and patience and stuff. Yay.

In the meantime, I am doing hyperbaric oxygen treatments, bee venom therapy, supplementation, APN, and trying to be more daring with food.

And I'm dashing my immediate expectations again. Can't forget about that. Expectations can be troublemakers. I am being reminded of that yet again.

I'm a slow learner, but once I learn, it sticks for good. Cramming never lasts for me. 

God is giving me a mighty thorough education. These pop quizzes He keeps giving me make me want to review the material a little more before proceeding though. Gee, He knows me well.

Follow-Up on "Food Abuse" Post

I would like to update my thoughts on food for y'all because they are changing. 

My doctor is blessed to be proficient in a miraculous, energy-releasing process called APN (it's not like me to overlook abbreviations, but I don't know this one--silly Lyme brain:). APN is a process wherein the practitioner guides the patient to release negative energy, darkness, density, pain, emotions from memories or perceptions--anything not helping the body--without making the person completely live through it again. Those negative energies repressed can get dense and dark and manifest as symptoms, so the idea is to get 'em outta there so the person can be in a state that invites healing. The person is invited to take in love and light with all their healing properties. You love the bad-ness away; this is the Atonement in action, people, and guided by a very worthy vessel in my doctor. Muscle testing is involved to narrow down to the age and pressing issue the body wants to address. It is immensely insightful, and I feel my burden is lifted or lightened or loved or appreciated better afterward. 

The day after I wrote that "Food Abuse" post, I did APN to help me with food. Desperate times. In the course of my treatment, I learned a lot and was subconsciously healed enough to start progressing towards trying to love food. 

This is what I think of food in relation to my body now. 

First of all, I think my doctor sensed that I was hangry (angry from hunger, doncha know). Starving people can develop eating disorder-like tendencies--look it up. I think maybe I had a smidge of something like orthorexia nervosa, which is an obsession with eating only pure foods. I wasn't a strictly organic, non-GMO, milking my own grass-fed sheep kind of orthorexia nervosa. But I did know every ingredient of everything I ate, and I was quick to refuse anything that went against my stricter-than-Paleo diet. (I say stricter because I excluded tomatoes, peppers, citrus, pineapple, and other items that should be ok with Paleo but were causing me mas problemas.)

I told my doctor this was an urgent problem. I was never full, I was losing extreme amounts of weight, and I was just mad at food. It alarmed me. 

My doctor asked about my carb intake. There isn't much of that when you remove grains, legumes, and sugars from your diet; I was getting carbs from fruits, vegetables, and nuts. 

My doctor instructed me to start alternating eating brown rice, quinoa, or beans once every day: to feel full and satisfied, to get carbs, to branch out and get my body to trust food again, and to take baby steps toward more functional eating. My body struggles with leftovers of any of those things (ie to eat one of them two days in a row), but handles them well with first exposure, I've found. And I feel full afterwards!

"Heck yes! I will do that!" I thought. 

I have not done it every day because I forget to soak things and we have been given some meals too (THANK YOU--YOU ARE ANGELS!!!). But when I have tried it, I have done so well. 

This is how it goes down. 

The brown rice or quinoa must be soaked for several hours, then drained and cooked from there. Soaking releases the lectins or whatever--the inherent, micro-sized poisons in grains that keeps birds away and cause inflammation in super sensitive people (lika me--thank you Lyme).  

The beans must be soaked at least overnight. Then here's the trick. 

HEY EVERYBODY!!! Ima talk about GAS!!!!

Here is the secret to GAS-FREE BEANS!

Soak overnight. Drain the water and cover with new water. Add one teaspoon to one tablespoon of BAKING SODA to the pot. Bring to a boil and boil one to two minutes. Drain the water. Add new water, and cook as usual. 

It works, people. 

The nugget of this narrative is that poco a poco (little by little) applies to food for me as well. APN teaches my body to trust food again. I then consciously ask a blessing on my food from my Heavenly Father. He is Omnipotent, Magnanimous, and He cares about me and my belly and the good food I put into it. 

I tell my body we are going to do this together. I will defend it and be careful with it, but it is time to challenge it just a little bit. I tell my body that I am being gentle with it, but we are going to enjoy some food together that was prepared with love and blessed by Heaven. I tell my body that the food will break down into components that will help my body and soul heal and thrive! I tell my body it can trust me to take care of it, that I will be kind to it and listen, and that I love it enough to give it variety and help it trust and grow again. And I reassure my body that if I ever make an unforeseeable mistake, it just means we are learning together and to slow things down a bit. And if I put my guts in great distress, I have medicine I can give it to make things better again. 

I give my body an occasional, compassionate pep talk. "It's okay body. I love you. I was excited for eons of time to have you and cherish you and be in you, and I will love and care for you in every condition. I teach you, and you teach me. I am listening to you now. I will try to always be kind to you by eating well, sleeping well, not committing to too much stress, and someday we'll even dance and stretch and run again! Poco a poco, we'll get there together. I will always love you and will try to always listen to you so you get negative energy out before it turns toxic and dense. I will invite the loving, healing, burning light of Christ into you every day through my daily devotions of prayer and scripture study. You are loved and matter to me, and I'm excited to learn how we work together in this life and to have you through the eternities!!!"

Oh, how we need love and light in every cell, for healing, for peace, for enduring to the end! Jesus Christ separated the Light from the darkness for us, and His Light casts it out completely in our own bodies. The intelligences in each of our cells can accept His love and become TRILLIONS of points of Light in our bodies. We are glorious in this life to the degree that we allow ourselves to receive that love and light. 

It is possible to grow in light every day, and to heal and be made whole by degrees every day too. 

"That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day" (Doctrine & Covenants 50:24). 

Poco a Poco

One of my other resolutions this year is to improve my Spanish skills. I lived as a "gringa" minority in a city that was 78% Hispanic--a place where blondes were so rare that people asked my permission before telling a blonde joke (how considerate, but bring them on!). Lots of kids in my school only spoke English if they had to talk to the teacher. It was awesome to be so immersed in such a beautiful culture and have good exposure to conversational Spanish. I loved being in the minority, along with the other gringos, Indians, blacks, and Asians of every kind. It was my favorite place I ever lived for its diversity and culture of acceptance and inclusion. 

I took two years of Spanish in high school. Once I was a nurse, I asked my dad and brother (who are fluent Spanish speakers) for help once in awhile so I could be prepared to communicate with my Spanish-speaking patients. I could assess well enough and deduce a lot of basic needs without an interpreter, but not enough to acquire patient consent for surgery or give patient teaching. I liked that my patients knew I was trying. Sometimes I would grab my phone from my locker and use the translation app for phrases I didn't know to help them better. 

Recently I read about a fellow whose New Year's resolution is to learn his sixteenth language. He gave tips, and one of them I loved very much: not to be afraid to speak like a child, with mispronunciations, grammatical errors, misused words, etc. These can be pardoned! They are part of language acquisition!

With this new perspective in mind, I made friends with an adorable chocolate-eyed toddler today at a baby shower for my cousin. She and I connected immediately over her cute sweater with "un gato" on it and her cute "zapatos." She kept coming back to play with me and talk about those zapatos--maybe they were new. She was bilingual, but I practiced my Spanish with her, knowing that she would not mind my childish mistakes. It was so much fun! 

I am grateful for baby steps. Every skill we acquire is achieved through incremental progress--isn't that nice?! We can be like little children at any stage of our lives and give ourselves permission to grow little by little. That is a beautiful realization. :)

New Year

It has been awhile since I've written. I drafted a few posts that never went live; I was never satisfied with my editing or the content. I also didn't feel well; the treatments were gnarly through the holidays. I would rather post when I feel ok than when I feel trashed...

...but you can't wait forever! And I know a few people got a little worried about my last post. Whoops. (My main resolution this year is to "eat one more bite." That's like 1100 extra bites this year--awesome.)

I'd like to give you an update, but it's hard to sum everything up. 

Overall, I have done four and a half months of IV therapy, and the most recent three included IV antibiotics. They make me feel much worse, so I have been a little couchling for awhile. 

Today is a tired day. I haven't left bed yet. I just got some food in me and might liven up here soon. 

I see small changes sometimes. In the last week I have driven to a nearby store twice--giant leaps for me. My nail beds are more pink instead of white, and they are bigger-- I dare say longer than they are wide which is astonishing. I don't bite my nails or cut them too short; they must have receded the past few years without me noticing, and now they are coming back. Weird, and AWESOME. 

I feel generally more optimistic, get panicky a little less, can concentrate a smidge better...each is a mercy and a miracle. 

This week starts a two-week trial of a new regiment sans antibiotics. There will be hyperbaric oxygen, herbs/supplements, and continued bee venom injections (they irritate not at all now--also a mercy and miracle!). 

I love having the PICC line out. My skin is almost 100% healed around the site. 

When you're sick, you have to remember how many healthy cells you actually do have--and generally they are more in number than the sick cells. All of the cells need love and light. 

I am grateful to my healthy cells for guiding the sick cells toward vitality. Our bodies are amazing creations. 

Things are good, and all is as it should be.