Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Sunday, November 7, 2010
I'm Back
I haven't posted in a really long time, and a lot has happened in my life since my last post. I'm not sure if I am going to update on those happenings or just start at today. They are things that I would rather not revisit, due to their depressing nature. So yeah, I think I'll focus on the here and now.
The reason why I had stopped posting is because I had gotten some flack about my blogging. See, for me blogging is kinda like my therapy. And I am not going to apologize for what I write. The things I write aren't even anything bad. But some people like to start drama where it doesn't exist I guess, so from now on I decided I am not going to worry about what other people think. If I feel like typing up a blog post, I'm going to do it. I am not going to let other people dictate how I live my life. I did that for a long time, and I was just really unhappy. If I don't think of myself as an intelligent capable adult, then I won't be! And I won't be a happy wife and mother for my boys. Which is the most important thing. I am always trying to learn from my mistakes and obviously finding ways to cope with my rib pain, so that I can continuously improve myself and find ways to live a happier, more positive life. And I hope I am worth looking up to so that my son becomes a positive person as well. :)
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Problems
I have a few drama queens in my life. I try to not be one of them by putting my life into levels of importance. So I try to think of things in the following way:
Will this matter in an hour? A day? A week? A month? A year? Many Years?
I continue to answer these questions until, hopefully, I get a, "No." Lately, I have been getting too many, "Yes's," and they continue on until there aren't any questions left. The End.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Hospital, or Jail? (Warning: Rant!)
Ok, I was recently in pre-admittance at Kino Hospital for 17 hours. I am not embarrassed to talk about why I was there, because it isn't something to embarrassed about, but I really am just tired of talking about WHY I went. The point of this post is that it was the worst 17 hours of my life. Here's why:
I had brought some toiletries with me in case I had to stay overnight (which I did) so I could freshen up the next day. I went in around 7 PM and hadn't brushed my teeth since that morning. Well, I wouldn't get to brush them again until 1 PM the NEXT day (shouldn't hospitals want you to like be clean and stuff??). They took all of my stuff. They wouldn't even let me keep my magazines to read, so I could pass the time. Not that I was in any kind of state to be relaxing and happily reading a magazine, but at least give me SOMETHING, people, COME ON!!
Not only did they take my stuff, I had to change into these awful paper scrubs, and was rockin some matching cloth shoes with black rubber soles that actually felt porous somehow. So every filthy step I took on that filthy hospital floor was felt through those stupid shoes.
Then, after I changed, they wanded me for anything metal. They WANDED me. THEY wanded ME!!! Then they took my valuables, including my medications, did an inventory, and had me sign them off until my discharge. And from that moment on I was not a free person. I was under their rule. I was not allowed to make even a phone call, and most certainly was not allowed visitors. Also, the whole time I had to make sure I was taken care of, b/c I was in the waiting room of the forgotten after that. In a hospital, no less. And if I didn't follow-up and bug them with every question I had, they would forget about me. And if I wanted to even use the restroom, I had to ask so that a nurse could follow me and stand outside the door until I was done.
After changing, I was brought into this barren waiting room that reeked of despair. Ok I'm being dramatic, but it stunk. Bad. And the saddest part was that I was in there so long that I didn't even notice the smell after a while. Also, it was FREEZING in there. The a/c continuously blasted the entire time I was there. Thankfully they had these warmed blankets that I continued to ask for throughout my stay at Camp Illegal Immigrant Free Health Care. By the time I left, I had like six layered on top of me.
*This room had filthy walls painted in the most depressing shade of blue one could ever imagine. And then, as a sorry excuse for an accent, they painted a different color around one of the doors leading out of the room (which was closed, and on it read "NOT AN EXIT"). Seriously, why even bother? There were no windows in this room, and you had a choice of either blindingly bright or pitch black in the room (and I was there at night mostly).
*I mentioned the walls were filthy. Yes. All over, it looked as if various bodily fluids had been splattered, dripped, and smeared on these walls. I could tell because they had either hardly been wiped or not wiped down at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure the wall behind my converted dental chair had three large spots of blood on it.
*This room was probably smaller than my bedroom. It was the forgotten room of the hospital. It was a waiting room of sorts- without the televisions, magazines, or any sort of item to pass the time whatsoever. In it were what looked like two old dental chairs, which had two inclines, slightly back, and so-far-back-you're-almost-on-the-floor. Then there was a lazboy-looking chair, except without the comfort, that didn't recline. Then, much to my horror, where two twin-sized camping sort of sleeping mats against two of the walls, placed right on that nasty floor. Oh, with a sheet on top- which probably hadn't been switched out in days. I don't know how long my sheet had been there. And I saw the people coming through there. Some where homeless and hadn't showered in days. I tried not to touch anything without using a blanket or a towel. I mean seriously, should a hospital be that dirty?!?!?! And if you have to give free health care to illegal immigrants and can't afford a cleaning crew on a regular basis, stop giving the illegals free rides from the border to your hospital!! Literally, that has happened. (yeah, just ask my brother-in-law who used to work there)
*I was the first in the room. Next came a girl who I think was and orphan of sorts, but she was an older teenager. She was very quiet. But I learned all about her (And she learned about me) when the ER Dr's. came to evaluate us. Because they did not do it in privacy. They did it right there in the room. Wow. Just, wow. Anyway, the next girl in the room came in the morning while I was (finally) sleeping. We actually struck up a conversation until I was discharged. It was nice to finally have a person to talk to, who knew what I was going through. It was interesting to hear her story. She is all alone and has only been living in Tucson for 3 or 4 weeks.
Ok, moving on to the bathroom. First, I was forced to go in there and change after Homeless Joe Doe left. And didn't flush. I think he or someone peed on the wall. It smelled like potent, stenchy urine and thank goodness my nausea was gone.... The trash, walls, and basically everything looked grimy and filthy and dripping with dried something. Even after someone cleaned the next morning, only the toilet seat looked taken care of (and the only evidence I had that it had been, uh, swiped at, was that seat was up and there was cleaning fizz in the toilet).
Since I was in the room for so long, I tested out most of the seats in the room. Lazboy chair was too hard. Mat on the floor was too flat. Converted dental chair was surprisingly just right (thank goodness b/c they never moved me). And I won't think about the last time it had been sanitized. It looked OLD. But it became my chair nonetheless. So I sat there for the first like 3 to 4 hours and just cried. I knew that if I could've called Ryan, he would have demanded to get me out of there immediately. He would've been (and IS) livid at the poor standard of care (sure, the Drs. are OK, but so what? I saw them for a total of like 20 minutes). Anyway, I had no way out. I cried because of all the hours I knew lay ahead of me before I'd get to see a doctor. Because it was Sunday night. I cried because I didn't belong there. I cried because THAT was the room they put people in who were seeking help. I sought help and didn't get treated like a human at all. I sought help and was forced to stare at a wall for 17 hours. I'm sure crazier people have tried to bash their heads into those very walls, and for good reason! Even the most calm and sane person would, eventually, go crazy in that room! I'm sure those walls and those stains have lots of stories to tell. I think that every single nurse and doctor should be forced to sleep one night in that room. You know what? I was told that I would be moved to a bed. I never was. And you know what? The dang security guard was more sympathetic to me than the nurses were. His job was to check in on us every like 10 minutes, and he felt so bad for me and my uncontrollable sobbing mess that he was like, "Can I get you anything?" And when I asked for another blanket, he didn't just hand it to me, he unfolded it and laid it over me. That was the most human interaction I received the entire time I was there. And it was from the security guard.
Ok, so to recap: no phone calls, no visitors, not even a magazine allowed, and having to ask to use to restroom...in the hospital. It's pathetic. The people who enter this program go into it because they are sad. And I don't see how being isolated in a disgusting depressing room is conducive to healing. In fact, I've never been more depressed in my life than when I was IN. THAT. ROOM. Someone there needs to change the policies. I don't understand why I couldn't have made a simple phone call, or why I couldn't have stepped out to see my husband. I obviously am not unstable and security was right there.
Maybe it was because they are understaffed. And if money is the problem, then stop using ambulances as buses for illegal immigrants trying to get away from the border. And I'm sure there are other programs you can cut in order to keep a stupid full-time cleaning crew that, uh, DOES A GOOD JOB!!!! That should be a basic priority in a hospital. Anyway, I am seriously tempted to go in there to clean and paint that room for all the poor souls that are forced to spend time in there.
I had brought some toiletries with me in case I had to stay overnight (which I did) so I could freshen up the next day. I went in around 7 PM and hadn't brushed my teeth since that morning. Well, I wouldn't get to brush them again until 1 PM the NEXT day (shouldn't hospitals want you to like be clean and stuff??). They took all of my stuff. They wouldn't even let me keep my magazines to read, so I could pass the time. Not that I was in any kind of state to be relaxing and happily reading a magazine, but at least give me SOMETHING, people, COME ON!!
Not only did they take my stuff, I had to change into these awful paper scrubs, and was rockin some matching cloth shoes with black rubber soles that actually felt porous somehow. So every filthy step I took on that filthy hospital floor was felt through those stupid shoes.
Then, after I changed, they wanded me for anything metal. They WANDED me. THEY wanded ME!!! Then they took my valuables, including my medications, did an inventory, and had me sign them off until my discharge. And from that moment on I was not a free person. I was under their rule. I was not allowed to make even a phone call, and most certainly was not allowed visitors. Also, the whole time I had to make sure I was taken care of, b/c I was in the waiting room of the forgotten after that. In a hospital, no less. And if I didn't follow-up and bug them with every question I had, they would forget about me. And if I wanted to even use the restroom, I had to ask so that a nurse could follow me and stand outside the door until I was done.
After changing, I was brought into this barren waiting room that reeked of despair. Ok I'm being dramatic, but it stunk. Bad. And the saddest part was that I was in there so long that I didn't even notice the smell after a while. Also, it was FREEZING in there. The a/c continuously blasted the entire time I was there. Thankfully they had these warmed blankets that I continued to ask for throughout my stay at Camp Illegal Immigrant Free Health Care. By the time I left, I had like six layered on top of me.
*This room had filthy walls painted in the most depressing shade of blue one could ever imagine. And then, as a sorry excuse for an accent, they painted a different color around one of the doors leading out of the room (which was closed, and on it read "NOT AN EXIT"). Seriously, why even bother? There were no windows in this room, and you had a choice of either blindingly bright or pitch black in the room (and I was there at night mostly).
*I mentioned the walls were filthy. Yes. All over, it looked as if various bodily fluids had been splattered, dripped, and smeared on these walls. I could tell because they had either hardly been wiped or not wiped down at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure the wall behind my converted dental chair had three large spots of blood on it.
*This room was probably smaller than my bedroom. It was the forgotten room of the hospital. It was a waiting room of sorts- without the televisions, magazines, or any sort of item to pass the time whatsoever. In it were what looked like two old dental chairs, which had two inclines, slightly back, and so-far-back-you're-almost-on-the-floor. Then there was a lazboy-looking chair, except without the comfort, that didn't recline. Then, much to my horror, where two twin-sized camping sort of sleeping mats against two of the walls, placed right on that nasty floor. Oh, with a sheet on top- which probably hadn't been switched out in days. I don't know how long my sheet had been there. And I saw the people coming through there. Some where homeless and hadn't showered in days. I tried not to touch anything without using a blanket or a towel. I mean seriously, should a hospital be that dirty?!?!?! And if you have to give free health care to illegal immigrants and can't afford a cleaning crew on a regular basis, stop giving the illegals free rides from the border to your hospital!! Literally, that has happened. (yeah, just ask my brother-in-law who used to work there)
*I was the first in the room. Next came a girl who I think was and orphan of sorts, but she was an older teenager. She was very quiet. But I learned all about her (And she learned about me) when the ER Dr's. came to evaluate us. Because they did not do it in privacy. They did it right there in the room. Wow. Just, wow. Anyway, the next girl in the room came in the morning while I was (finally) sleeping. We actually struck up a conversation until I was discharged. It was nice to finally have a person to talk to, who knew what I was going through. It was interesting to hear her story. She is all alone and has only been living in Tucson for 3 or 4 weeks.
Ok, moving on to the bathroom. First, I was forced to go in there and change after Homeless Joe Doe left. And didn't flush. I think he or someone peed on the wall. It smelled like potent, stenchy urine and thank goodness my nausea was gone.... The trash, walls, and basically everything looked grimy and filthy and dripping with dried something. Even after someone cleaned the next morning, only the toilet seat looked taken care of (and the only evidence I had that it had been, uh, swiped at, was that seat was up and there was cleaning fizz in the toilet).
Since I was in the room for so long, I tested out most of the seats in the room. Lazboy chair was too hard. Mat on the floor was too flat. Converted dental chair was surprisingly just right (thank goodness b/c they never moved me). And I won't think about the last time it had been sanitized. It looked OLD. But it became my chair nonetheless. So I sat there for the first like 3 to 4 hours and just cried. I knew that if I could've called Ryan, he would have demanded to get me out of there immediately. He would've been (and IS) livid at the poor standard of care (sure, the Drs. are OK, but so what? I saw them for a total of like 20 minutes). Anyway, I had no way out. I cried because of all the hours I knew lay ahead of me before I'd get to see a doctor. Because it was Sunday night. I cried because I didn't belong there. I cried because THAT was the room they put people in who were seeking help. I sought help and didn't get treated like a human at all. I sought help and was forced to stare at a wall for 17 hours. I'm sure crazier people have tried to bash their heads into those very walls, and for good reason! Even the most calm and sane person would, eventually, go crazy in that room! I'm sure those walls and those stains have lots of stories to tell. I think that every single nurse and doctor should be forced to sleep one night in that room. You know what? I was told that I would be moved to a bed. I never was. And you know what? The dang security guard was more sympathetic to me than the nurses were. His job was to check in on us every like 10 minutes, and he felt so bad for me and my uncontrollable sobbing mess that he was like, "Can I get you anything?" And when I asked for another blanket, he didn't just hand it to me, he unfolded it and laid it over me. That was the most human interaction I received the entire time I was there. And it was from the security guard.
Ok, so to recap: no phone calls, no visitors, not even a magazine allowed, and having to ask to use to restroom...in the hospital. It's pathetic. The people who enter this program go into it because they are sad. And I don't see how being isolated in a disgusting depressing room is conducive to healing. In fact, I've never been more depressed in my life than when I was IN. THAT. ROOM. Someone there needs to change the policies. I don't understand why I couldn't have made a simple phone call, or why I couldn't have stepped out to see my husband. I obviously am not unstable and security was right there.
Maybe it was because they are understaffed. And if money is the problem, then stop using ambulances as buses for illegal immigrants trying to get away from the border. And I'm sure there are other programs you can cut in order to keep a stupid full-time cleaning crew that, uh, DOES A GOOD JOB!!!! That should be a basic priority in a hospital. Anyway, I am seriously tempted to go in there to clean and paint that room for all the poor souls that are forced to spend time in there.
Ward Family
I am often unable to attend church this year because mornings are very, very difficult for me. But thanks to my sisters in the ward, I still keep in touch with the outside world. I am so grateful for the friendships, words of support and encouragement, help with Raiden and otherwise, and on and on. I am also thankful for the Priesthood. They do things that we women just could not do. Sorry women's lib, but the amount of work that got done in our yard today would not have been able to be done in that short amount of time without the strength of the men who did it! :) It was like we had 12 angels running around cleaning up outside!
My poor husband has just had the weight of the world on his back lately, and I know that getting this done and out of his mind was huge. Some days he plays both of our roles if I'm not doing well, and he worries so much about things that he makes himself sick. So what a great service that was.
We also have great visiting and home teachers. Our home teachers were here today, and we know we can call them anytime we need anything. And my visiting teachers haven't given up on me, even if it takes them 50 phone calls to get ahold of me and make an appointment. :) And I'm always glad when they visit. Because I need it. They are both such sweet ladies and have become friends I can count on.
Obviously, I am grateful to have been introduced to the church for the truth of the Gospel, but I also can't help but be selfish and think where would I be if I didn't have all of these people to lean on right now? I know for sure that I would be far worse off emotionally if I didn't have the Church. I think Rock Bottom is not nearly as low when you can feel the Spirit, know the truth, and have so many people all around you to lean on. And, despite all of the bad news I've been getting lately, at least I can take comfort in knowing that.
P.S. I know that a certain family member will read this and say, "Well what about your family?" So I have to put in this disclaimer that of course my family also really has been there for me during this trial. My brother Nick is amazing. He is only 19, but is already understanding the blessings that come from selfless service. Almost anytime I ask, he comes and helps me. And it makes me so happy to see that Raiden just loves his Uncle Nick so much. Because he reminds me of Nick as a baby in a lot of ways. I was a "little mommy" to Nick when he was a baby. So maybe that's what reminds me of him. Either way, I am grateful to see him so involved, but sad to know he'll be going off to college soon.
Also, my mom and g'ma come over as often as they can, helping clean up around my house and play with Raiden. Rai has so many women in his life! And he loves it! :) Their help, especially with the cleaning that I just never can do, really helps me feel more emotionally in control. So, yeah, my family is there for me as well, and I had to say that so I don't get in trouble. Even though this post was about my Ward family. ;) Ha!
My poor husband has just had the weight of the world on his back lately, and I know that getting this done and out of his mind was huge. Some days he plays both of our roles if I'm not doing well, and he worries so much about things that he makes himself sick. So what a great service that was.
We also have great visiting and home teachers. Our home teachers were here today, and we know we can call them anytime we need anything. And my visiting teachers haven't given up on me, even if it takes them 50 phone calls to get ahold of me and make an appointment. :) And I'm always glad when they visit. Because I need it. They are both such sweet ladies and have become friends I can count on.
Obviously, I am grateful to have been introduced to the church for the truth of the Gospel, but I also can't help but be selfish and think where would I be if I didn't have all of these people to lean on right now? I know for sure that I would be far worse off emotionally if I didn't have the Church. I think Rock Bottom is not nearly as low when you can feel the Spirit, know the truth, and have so many people all around you to lean on. And, despite all of the bad news I've been getting lately, at least I can take comfort in knowing that.
P.S. I know that a certain family member will read this and say, "Well what about your family?" So I have to put in this disclaimer that of course my family also really has been there for me during this trial. My brother Nick is amazing. He is only 19, but is already understanding the blessings that come from selfless service. Almost anytime I ask, he comes and helps me. And it makes me so happy to see that Raiden just loves his Uncle Nick so much. Because he reminds me of Nick as a baby in a lot of ways. I was a "little mommy" to Nick when he was a baby. So maybe that's what reminds me of him. Either way, I am grateful to see him so involved, but sad to know he'll be going off to college soon.
Also, my mom and g'ma come over as often as they can, helping clean up around my house and play with Raiden. Rai has so many women in his life! And he loves it! :) Their help, especially with the cleaning that I just never can do, really helps me feel more emotionally in control. So, yeah, my family is there for me as well, and I had to say that so I don't get in trouble. Even though this post was about my Ward family. ;) Ha!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Yes...
...these are things that go through my head:
Next time you feel like your life sucks, compare it to mine.
My birthday is on Friday, but there is nothing to celebrate. I'm in exactly the same spot I was in when I turned 24. Except fatter. This phantom has ravaged my body.
I am a control freak, and I have no control. After this last medication screwed me up, I still feel sick sometimes and I can hardly walk on the treadmill from being down so long. See, I had worked up my endurance years ago before the pain got bad. And now that it's bad I don't know if I'll ever be able to get it back.
If I had cancer, no one would think twice about me taking pain medication. And don't tell me not to think like that. Not that I wish I had it, but at least there's a diagnosis and treatment for that. At least doctors don't stick their thumbs up their butts when they hear you have the dreaded C-word. They don't treat you like you're possibly crazy and making it all up. They willingly do tests, and sometimes even worry about you. But when they don't know what it is, they don't seem to believe it truly exists.
This isn't just about me. It affects how my whole family lives their lives.
I am so incredibly grateful for all of my friends who take care of Raiden sometimes. It's not like just having some babysitter- he is always in loving hands.
Don't tell me that my rib pain and my arm pain are not connected. The latter became much worse when the former surfaced. Those nerve groups are right next door to each other and obviously interconnected. One is obviously influencing the other. Come on.
If my doctors tell me one more time that TIME (uh, hello, 2.5 years has gone by!) will heal my nerves, I swear I'm going to tackle every single one of them to the ground. My case is obviously more severe than that.
I can just see this turning into 5 years, and then 10, and then me getting old and never finding an answer .
I have the choice of taking very strong pain meds, or none at all. So the choice is to be miserable some of the time, or all the time. I choose to be miserable some of the time.
I am not being negative. I tried to be positive for two years. But if YOU were in pain every day for 2 1/2 years, you would stop putting on the face as well. I haven't started being negative, I've just stopped being fake. In fact, some people are just realizing now how bad it is, and that (the above) is why.
It's not enough for me to TELL my doctors that I'm in pain all day, that it is ruining my life, my family's lives, etc. I had to finally break down in his office. And yet I still think he doesn't truly get it. I am not 86, I'm 26. When I'm being treated alongside the 86-yr-olds, obviously something is wrong.
I get it, I'm supposed to be grateful for the simple things. Like walking or sitting up for long periods of time. (Because right now, even thinking about walking around Disneyland hurts). So then why do I have to put up with this any longer? I've learned what I'm supposed to learn from it. Time to move on.
I hate every healthy person (ok, maybe it's more like jealousy). Even more, I am angry at every person who takes advantage of their health by eating like crap and not exercising, yet they still live without pain. For the vast majority of the 80% of Americans who have back pain, they just need to get off the couch, do some back & core exercises, and stretch. If you don't have strong muscles to support your joints, ligaments, tendons, etc etc, then you're going to pull/tear/strain something. It's only a matter of time. I have been exercising since I was 12, so this did not happen to me due to inactivity. So, dear doctors, don't lump me into that group.
I get angry that this is preventing me from living my life. I try not to think about it, but I really want to give Raiden a sibling. I want lots more kids, but I doubt that will happen. I know I would also have a rotating group of clients that I'd be training in my gym, and I'd love it. I love helping people feel better about themselves, and it would be a great supplement income. Especially with all of my medical bills.
Some days I am willing to put up with the stress that getting out of the house puts on my body. Other days I am not. This is why I don't tend to make plans ahead of time. But people are welcome to come to me (if I am dressed.). Ha.
I don't ever want to hear, "This too, shall pass," because it makes it sound like one day this will become an insignificant blip on the radar of my life. It will never be that way. First of all, I have a hard time believing this will ever go away. I can't even remember what it feels like to not be in pain. But if it does get fixed one day, it will forever affect my life and how I live it. There are sports and activities I'll never do again, my son will never get back these years of seeing his mom like this, my marriage is affected, etc.
I don't want sympathy or advice. Just understanding, and sometimes a person to vent to. Thankfully, Ryan is wonderful at both of those things.
Next time you feel like your life sucks, compare it to mine.
My birthday is on Friday, but there is nothing to celebrate. I'm in exactly the same spot I was in when I turned 24. Except fatter. This phantom has ravaged my body.
I am a control freak, and I have no control. After this last medication screwed me up, I still feel sick sometimes and I can hardly walk on the treadmill from being down so long. See, I had worked up my endurance years ago before the pain got bad. And now that it's bad I don't know if I'll ever be able to get it back.
If I had cancer, no one would think twice about me taking pain medication. And don't tell me not to think like that. Not that I wish I had it, but at least there's a diagnosis and treatment for that. At least doctors don't stick their thumbs up their butts when they hear you have the dreaded C-word. They don't treat you like you're possibly crazy and making it all up. They willingly do tests, and sometimes even worry about you. But when they don't know what it is, they don't seem to believe it truly exists.
This isn't just about me. It affects how my whole family lives their lives.
I am so incredibly grateful for all of my friends who take care of Raiden sometimes. It's not like just having some babysitter- he is always in loving hands.
Don't tell me that my rib pain and my arm pain are not connected. The latter became much worse when the former surfaced. Those nerve groups are right next door to each other and obviously interconnected. One is obviously influencing the other. Come on.
If my doctors tell me one more time that TIME (uh, hello, 2.5 years has gone by!) will heal my nerves, I swear I'm going to tackle every single one of them to the ground. My case is obviously more severe than that.
I can just see this turning into 5 years, and then 10, and then me getting old and never finding an answer .
I have the choice of taking very strong pain meds, or none at all. So the choice is to be miserable some of the time, or all the time. I choose to be miserable some of the time.
I am not being negative. I tried to be positive for two years. But if YOU were in pain every day for 2 1/2 years, you would stop putting on the face as well. I haven't started being negative, I've just stopped being fake. In fact, some people are just realizing now how bad it is, and that (the above) is why.
It's not enough for me to TELL my doctors that I'm in pain all day, that it is ruining my life, my family's lives, etc. I had to finally break down in his office. And yet I still think he doesn't truly get it. I am not 86, I'm 26. When I'm being treated alongside the 86-yr-olds, obviously something is wrong.
I get it, I'm supposed to be grateful for the simple things. Like walking or sitting up for long periods of time. (Because right now, even thinking about walking around Disneyland hurts). So then why do I have to put up with this any longer? I've learned what I'm supposed to learn from it. Time to move on.
I hate every healthy person (ok, maybe it's more like jealousy). Even more, I am angry at every person who takes advantage of their health by eating like crap and not exercising, yet they still live without pain. For the vast majority of the 80% of Americans who have back pain, they just need to get off the couch, do some back & core exercises, and stretch. If you don't have strong muscles to support your joints, ligaments, tendons, etc etc, then you're going to pull/tear/strain something. It's only a matter of time. I have been exercising since I was 12, so this did not happen to me due to inactivity. So, dear doctors, don't lump me into that group.
I get angry that this is preventing me from living my life. I try not to think about it, but I really want to give Raiden a sibling. I want lots more kids, but I doubt that will happen. I know I would also have a rotating group of clients that I'd be training in my gym, and I'd love it. I love helping people feel better about themselves, and it would be a great supplement income. Especially with all of my medical bills.
Some days I am willing to put up with the stress that getting out of the house puts on my body. Other days I am not. This is why I don't tend to make plans ahead of time. But people are welcome to come to me (if I am dressed.). Ha.
I don't ever want to hear, "This too, shall pass," because it makes it sound like one day this will become an insignificant blip on the radar of my life. It will never be that way. First of all, I have a hard time believing this will ever go away. I can't even remember what it feels like to not be in pain. But if it does get fixed one day, it will forever affect my life and how I live it. There are sports and activities I'll never do again, my son will never get back these years of seeing his mom like this, my marriage is affected, etc.
I don't want sympathy or advice. Just understanding, and sometimes a person to vent to. Thankfully, Ryan is wonderful at both of those things.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Raiden-isms
I haven't recorded anything about Raiden in a while. so this post may be kind of long. But it's more for me, so ha! ;)
Here's some funny/favorite things Raiden does, from his point of view:
When I hurt myself, I say, "Ouchie hurt," and make mama kiss it in the exact spot. It can't be anyone but mommy. Once I hurt the inside of my mouth somehow, and when mommy asked where she needed to kiss I said, "Mouf," and then opened my mouth really wide. :)
Get into fetal position facing into the floor, bury my face in the carpet, and yell silly things and giggle. For no reason at all. In a similar fashion, I like to find little nooks and squeeze in, or hide under pillows. Anywhere that feels snug and warm.
Climb up into my highchair and yell, "Foooood!" (But the "d" sounds more like a "t"). And when mama gives me applesauce with a slice of bread, I like to use my spoon to spread the applesauce over the bread and eat it. YUM!
I repeat after mommy or daddy at nap/bed time when they say prayers. Sometimes I add my own part of the prayer. Like when we pray for family, sometimes I add "Mum," or "Uncle Nick" or "Papa," if we haven't said their names yet. And I don't say, "Amen," I pronounce it as, "Ahmen."
Laugh when my mommy tries to discipline me.
When I know dada is coming to pick me up for bed time, I run away from him as fast as I can. Laughing.
Carry "Baby Bear," (who I named myself) wherever I go. He was my "grow with me bear" from my first year. He's my best friend. Mama has to wash him a lot. Just recently, Newborn Bear was added to my collection. He's smaller than Baby Bear.
Do my super phony laugh/giggle for absolutely no reason at all. But Mama makes me laugh all the time. It doesn't take much to get me to giggle.
Sometimes I try to mount one of the dogs like a horse. For some reason they don't like that very much.
Go up to my mommy every so often and kiss her hip or leg. Or if she's sitting, I walk up to her with open arms, climb into her lap, and give her a giant hug. Then go back to playing.
If I know mommy isn't feeling well, I say, "Mama hurt," or get a worried look on my face and turn my head way to the side and get right in her face to figure out what's wrong.
Throw a HUGE tantrum if dada won't let me "drive" his truck. (When dad's outside working he usually opens up all the car doors and lets Rai do this, so when it's time to go inside...yikes!)
Stick my toes under the door when mom's in the bathroom, or in whatever room I'm locked out of. Hee hee!
When mama's ignoring me for too long, I put my face right in hers (if I can) and say "Mama," until she answers. Then I kiss her mouth.
Say, "I poop!"
If someone's annoying me or in the way I say, "Watch out!"
If I want to do something all on my own without anyone watching or standing nearby, I say, "Bye, bye! See ya!"
When it's nap time, I try to stall by saying I'm hungry or want to go down the slide in my playroom. But mommy usually ignores me and puts me and Baby Bear to seep anyway.
Say, "beep, beep," for like 10 minutes straight. Or, "choo choo."
I decided that, "Jimmy or Jamie," was a good nickname for James the train.
LOVE fireworks, and talked about them for almost two weeks after seeing them.
Tell mommy to, "Call Nancee," so we can play with Erica.
When I'm excited I do a little shuffle with my feet and say, "Alright!"
I love my puppies more than anything. They inspired me to say my first word!
Love to count with mommy. I can count to 12 now!
My favorite toy is still Lightning McQueen car that Ga Ga Redford got me for my 1st bday. I hide mommy's keys in the seat.
My new favorite thing to play with is play-doh.
I LOVE my Uncle Nick. He plays with me a lot and I get so hyper and excited when he comes over. He is so nice and fun.
Just like my dad, I hate wearing shoes most of the time. But I do like my light-up McQueen shoes. I stare at my feet as I walk in them.
Here's some funny/favorite things Raiden does, from his point of view:
When I hurt myself, I say, "Ouchie hurt," and make mama kiss it in the exact spot. It can't be anyone but mommy. Once I hurt the inside of my mouth somehow, and when mommy asked where she needed to kiss I said, "Mouf," and then opened my mouth really wide. :)
Get into fetal position facing into the floor, bury my face in the carpet, and yell silly things and giggle. For no reason at all. In a similar fashion, I like to find little nooks and squeeze in, or hide under pillows. Anywhere that feels snug and warm.
Climb up into my highchair and yell, "Foooood!" (But the "d" sounds more like a "t"). And when mama gives me applesauce with a slice of bread, I like to use my spoon to spread the applesauce over the bread and eat it. YUM!
I repeat after mommy or daddy at nap/bed time when they say prayers. Sometimes I add my own part of the prayer. Like when we pray for family, sometimes I add "Mum," or "Uncle Nick" or "Papa," if we haven't said their names yet. And I don't say, "Amen," I pronounce it as, "Ahmen."
Laugh when my mommy tries to discipline me.
When I know dada is coming to pick me up for bed time, I run away from him as fast as I can. Laughing.
Carry "Baby Bear," (who I named myself) wherever I go. He was my "grow with me bear" from my first year. He's my best friend. Mama has to wash him a lot. Just recently, Newborn Bear was added to my collection. He's smaller than Baby Bear.
Do my super phony laugh/giggle for absolutely no reason at all. But Mama makes me laugh all the time. It doesn't take much to get me to giggle.
Sometimes I try to mount one of the dogs like a horse. For some reason they don't like that very much.
Go up to my mommy every so often and kiss her hip or leg. Or if she's sitting, I walk up to her with open arms, climb into her lap, and give her a giant hug. Then go back to playing.
If I know mommy isn't feeling well, I say, "Mama hurt," or get a worried look on my face and turn my head way to the side and get right in her face to figure out what's wrong.
Throw a HUGE tantrum if dada won't let me "drive" his truck. (When dad's outside working he usually opens up all the car doors and lets Rai do this, so when it's time to go inside...yikes!)
Stick my toes under the door when mom's in the bathroom, or in whatever room I'm locked out of. Hee hee!
When mama's ignoring me for too long, I put my face right in hers (if I can) and say "Mama," until she answers. Then I kiss her mouth.
Say, "I poop!"
If someone's annoying me or in the way I say, "Watch out!"
If I want to do something all on my own without anyone watching or standing nearby, I say, "Bye, bye! See ya!"
When it's nap time, I try to stall by saying I'm hungry or want to go down the slide in my playroom. But mommy usually ignores me and puts me and Baby Bear to seep anyway.
Say, "beep, beep," for like 10 minutes straight. Or, "choo choo."
I decided that, "Jimmy or Jamie," was a good nickname for James the train.
LOVE fireworks, and talked about them for almost two weeks after seeing them.
Tell mommy to, "Call Nancee," so we can play with Erica.
When I'm excited I do a little shuffle with my feet and say, "Alright!"
I love my puppies more than anything. They inspired me to say my first word!
Love to count with mommy. I can count to 12 now!
My favorite toy is still Lightning McQueen car that Ga Ga Redford got me for my 1st bday. I hide mommy's keys in the seat.
My new favorite thing to play with is play-doh.
I LOVE my Uncle Nick. He plays with me a lot and I get so hyper and excited when he comes over. He is so nice and fun.
Just like my dad, I hate wearing shoes most of the time. But I do like my light-up McQueen shoes. I stare at my feet as I walk in them.
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