Recently, I was away from my main PC and was trying to get into my blog site. I just Googled "Ramblings of a Domestic" and was expecting my page to pop right up. Now about a year ago, this would have been the case. But not today. I was in for a surprise. I got things all domestic in it but with variations of what type of ramblings or goddess.
Heartfelt
Midlife
Bad
Sorta
Southern
Really?! Stealing my name and idea? Can't think of your own blog title? And what do you mean by Bad? Or Sorta? Is Bad like in naughty or as in terrible? And is Sorta, like you are into it only half-way?
I know Domestic Goddess has probably been around for a long time, and I don't have the patent on it. But Rick gave me that nickname a long, long, time ago. I even have a pair of PJ's with the name on he gave me one year for Christmas. He likes to joke with me: I'm his stay-at-home Goddess, hence my superhero name-'Domestic Goddess'.
I came up with the 'Ramblings' since I don't have specific topic on any given day; I don't have set times or days I post; and I wanted to have the freedom to post whatever I darn well please. AND I chose 'DISABLED' because I feel handicapped is so lame. I'm still perfectly able to do a lot of things. The dictionary defines disability as the lack of adequate power or strength to do something. That doesn't mean I can't still do it. When you call people with MS (multiple sclerosis) or other diseases handicapped, you are putting a cap on the things we can do. So derogatory. The dictionary says the word handicapped sometimes offensive and gives the synonyms for it as hinder, impede, cripple, incapacitate.
So... all those out there who have piggy-backed on my great name, I'm here to let you know you're in no way 'handicapping' this Disabled Goddess in anyway, shape or form from Rambling. 'Rambling' the way it was intended--to share information; help others know someone else has been there, done that; and hopefully help them feel good about themselves!
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Monday, October 6, 2014
In the Eyes of the Young
MS and summers don't mix. The heat drains energy and exacerbates the symptoms. For me, my right leg seems to fluctuate between a cement post or a Jell-o Jiggler. This causes tremendous problems with walking and balance.
My family decided to go to the monster truck show one evening of the county fair. We parked in the back and beyond (yes, even the handicap places where out there). We decided to take a 'short' cut. To my dismay, there was a little canal with a bridge. Just before the bridge was a 5" step up. Before I could start panicking over that, Rick told me to get off the scooter and the men would just lift the it over it. I'd walk up the step and continue to ride the scooter over the bridge and down the other side (there was no step on the other side). Problem solved.
We wandered around the fair; looked at the ribbons I'd won for the exhibits I'd entered; ate some greasy fair food; and then, went over to the monster truck show. By this time, I was hot and tired, even with riding on my scooter. This is never good for MS. Being tired wears you down faster; it also makes me cranky.
Rick and I sat in the handicap section, only to be told 30 minutes before the show started that we had to move, since we were in the 'splatter zone'. We could stay there if we wanted to be hit with flying mud. We weren't the only disabled people who had to move. All the seats were taken by then, but folding chairs were brought in, and we were given good viewing seats. Good thing, too! I was really cranky by then. :)
By the time the show was over, I was in a good mood. We slowly made our way back to the car via the short cut. When we got to the bridge, I hopped of the scooter, and instantly, my leg turned into a cement post.
This is where a good sense of humor comes in when having any type of disease. You must be fast on your feet and and have a quick wit. The feet part wasn't going to happen this night, but the wit part didn't fail me.
As I was trying to step down, I started off with the wrong foot--the cement post, stiff-as-a-board leg. I felt myself start to fall. Think of this in slow motion:
My hands went out in front of me. In my mind, I was remembering several years ago when I had fractured my left wrist 3 times, fractured my left elbow, and sprained my right wrist. I went to pull my hands back when out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall figure walking toward me. I reach out toward it and grab hold.
(Back to normal speed)
This tall figure was a dad carrying his four-year old daughter on his shoulders. He catches my arms as I go stumbling forward, threatening to drag his shirt down the front of his body. Together, we teeter around, while his daughter has a death-grip on to his hair. As we gain our balance, I apologize profusely, and he tells me it's no problem. We laugh, and he checks to see that I'm okay. Rick runs over to us only to find all is well. Meanwhile, the little girl is staring at me, my scooter, and pipes up, "Are you old?"
Her dad dies a thousand deaths, and I laugh at her. "Older than you, sweetie. Older than your dad."
"I'm sorry for my daughter. She has a problem with saying the first thing that comes out of her mouth. No shut off valve."
"You don't look old, but you have..."
"Hahaha, honey that's enough. Let the nice lady move on."
"It's okay. She just wants to know why I have a cane and a scooter, " Turning to the curious little girl, I tell her I need those to help me walk so I'm not falling like I just did on to her daddy.
She looks all knowing and nods her head. The dad apologizes for her rudeness and rushes off. As he does, I can hear her telling him, "I still think she's old."
I laughed all the way to the car. It made light an embarrassing situation. It also took my mind off my sore and twisted ankle. But it also got me thinking about how many times parents try to shush up the kids when all they are trying to do is find out information.
I've had children ask me before why I have a cane or walk with a limp. I used to be offended. But then, I realized they really do want to know. They aren't being rude. To them, it's a new world and they want to know how it works. Sometimes, we both have fun with it.
I've told my Cub Scouts my cane has a secret sword hidden in it, and if they don't behave, I will slash them to ribbons. Of course, I wink, and then, they know I'm joking, But it takes the awkwardness out of the situation. I've let my young women in our youth group use my walker or wheelchair for fun and to experience what it would be like to have disabilities. In public, I've noticed stares from children and answered their unasked questions-much to their parents' chagrin. But it's okay. It's how everyone learns to deal with disabilities. It's how I learn to let people into my life and how they learn that I'm a normal person.
If you are reading this, you need to think of where you stand. Are you a person who is afraid to let someone talk to a disabled person? Afraid of offending them or embarrassing them? Sometimes the person will be. Maybe they haven't gotten over the pain, anger, frustration, or whatever grudge they are carrying in their life. If you happen to run into one of those, just apologize for disturbing them, wish them a wonderful day, and move on. But I can safely say, most people are not like that. We would love to share and talk with you.
Or, are you the person who hates to have people ask about your day or about what's ailing you? Does it make you afraid to have another human being want to know what makes you tick? Is there anything wrong with someone else talking to you and try to socialize with you? If so, I'm sorry for you! Being a hermit is no way to live. Yes, we all need a little 'me' time, but too much of it, isn't very good. Most people don't bite. Reach out and find someone to share your burdens with and you'll find life is so much easier to bear. Even if you're told you're 'old' by a little four-year old!
My family decided to go to the monster truck show one evening of the county fair. We parked in the back and beyond (yes, even the handicap places where out there). We decided to take a 'short' cut. To my dismay, there was a little canal with a bridge. Just before the bridge was a 5" step up. Before I could start panicking over that, Rick told me to get off the scooter and the men would just lift the it over it. I'd walk up the step and continue to ride the scooter over the bridge and down the other side (there was no step on the other side). Problem solved.
We wandered around the fair; looked at the ribbons I'd won for the exhibits I'd entered; ate some greasy fair food; and then, went over to the monster truck show. By this time, I was hot and tired, even with riding on my scooter. This is never good for MS. Being tired wears you down faster; it also makes me cranky.
Rick and I sat in the handicap section, only to be told 30 minutes before the show started that we had to move, since we were in the 'splatter zone'. We could stay there if we wanted to be hit with flying mud. We weren't the only disabled people who had to move. All the seats were taken by then, but folding chairs were brought in, and we were given good viewing seats. Good thing, too! I was really cranky by then. :)
By the time the show was over, I was in a good mood. We slowly made our way back to the car via the short cut. When we got to the bridge, I hopped of the scooter, and instantly, my leg turned into a cement post.
This is where a good sense of humor comes in when having any type of disease. You must be fast on your feet and and have a quick wit. The feet part wasn't going to happen this night, but the wit part didn't fail me.
As I was trying to step down, I started off with the wrong foot--the cement post, stiff-as-a-board leg. I felt myself start to fall. Think of this in slow motion:
My hands went out in front of me. In my mind, I was remembering several years ago when I had fractured my left wrist 3 times, fractured my left elbow, and sprained my right wrist. I went to pull my hands back when out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall figure walking toward me. I reach out toward it and grab hold.
(Back to normal speed)
This tall figure was a dad carrying his four-year old daughter on his shoulders. He catches my arms as I go stumbling forward, threatening to drag his shirt down the front of his body. Together, we teeter around, while his daughter has a death-grip on to his hair. As we gain our balance, I apologize profusely, and he tells me it's no problem. We laugh, and he checks to see that I'm okay. Rick runs over to us only to find all is well. Meanwhile, the little girl is staring at me, my scooter, and pipes up, "Are you old?"
Her dad dies a thousand deaths, and I laugh at her. "Older than you, sweetie. Older than your dad."
"I'm sorry for my daughter. She has a problem with saying the first thing that comes out of her mouth. No shut off valve."
"You don't look old, but you have..."
"Hahaha, honey that's enough. Let the nice lady move on."
"It's okay. She just wants to know why I have a cane and a scooter, " Turning to the curious little girl, I tell her I need those to help me walk so I'm not falling like I just did on to her daddy.
She looks all knowing and nods her head. The dad apologizes for her rudeness and rushes off. As he does, I can hear her telling him, "I still think she's old."
I laughed all the way to the car. It made light an embarrassing situation. It also took my mind off my sore and twisted ankle. But it also got me thinking about how many times parents try to shush up the kids when all they are trying to do is find out information.
I've had children ask me before why I have a cane or walk with a limp. I used to be offended. But then, I realized they really do want to know. They aren't being rude. To them, it's a new world and they want to know how it works. Sometimes, we both have fun with it.
I've told my Cub Scouts my cane has a secret sword hidden in it, and if they don't behave, I will slash them to ribbons. Of course, I wink, and then, they know I'm joking, But it takes the awkwardness out of the situation. I've let my young women in our youth group use my walker or wheelchair for fun and to experience what it would be like to have disabilities. In public, I've noticed stares from children and answered their unasked questions-much to their parents' chagrin. But it's okay. It's how everyone learns to deal with disabilities. It's how I learn to let people into my life and how they learn that I'm a normal person.
If you are reading this, you need to think of where you stand. Are you a person who is afraid to let someone talk to a disabled person? Afraid of offending them or embarrassing them? Sometimes the person will be. Maybe they haven't gotten over the pain, anger, frustration, or whatever grudge they are carrying in their life. If you happen to run into one of those, just apologize for disturbing them, wish them a wonderful day, and move on. But I can safely say, most people are not like that. We would love to share and talk with you.
Or, are you the person who hates to have people ask about your day or about what's ailing you? Does it make you afraid to have another human being want to know what makes you tick? Is there anything wrong with someone else talking to you and try to socialize with you? If so, I'm sorry for you! Being a hermit is no way to live. Yes, we all need a little 'me' time, but too much of it, isn't very good. Most people don't bite. Reach out and find someone to share your burdens with and you'll find life is so much easier to bear. Even if you're told you're 'old' by a little four-year old!
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Bathrooms
Recently, I took a vacation trip that left me questioning my sanity of ever leaving the four walls of my house. It's already hard for me to run to the store, movie theater, or doctor's office without having to make a pit stop if these outings become to long.
Take a normal movie of about 2 hrs and 11 mins. I use the facilities during the previews, hobbling back to my seat just before the start of the show. I always seem to get the show house situated at the opposite end of where the restrooms are located. I don't dare have a drink of any kind as that will exacerbate the 2nd trip. This will come right during the crucial moment of the movie-the murder scene or answer to the mystery. When the twinge hits, I have to hoof it. AND if I'm lucky enough for the place to have a handicap stall nearer to me, someone that's NOT handicap is using it. I've seen that happen a number of times as I'm limping from the back-and-beyond (barely making it, mind you) and seeing someone rushing out of there. Errrrrrr.......So, back to the movie, missing about 15 minutes, not knowing where we are, trying to ask Rick and getting shushed by everyone. You get the point. If I am lucky, there is no 3rd trip until the movie is over, and then, it is look out everyone! Peg-leg lady coming through.
On this trip through Nevada and California, I came armed with an app that was to help find bathrooms. The app was almost worthless. Maybe in other states it would have worked, but who knows. I must say though, Nevada has gotten better over the years I didn't have to worry about finding a non-existent piece of tumbleweed or hide behind a Joshua Tree to do my business. But California! What a joke!
I guess I am used to friendlier states with rest stops, convenience stores with actual bathrooms, grocery stores that actually let you use there bathrooms, restaurants that care if the bathrooms are not nuclear waste dumps, and people who care if you have a disease that doesn't always allows you to control your bladder. There was only one 7-11 I went into with a nice clerk who allowed me to use the nuclear grounds. If I hadn't been about to explode, I might have thought twice about it. But believe me, after about falling over some barrels of unidentified toxins, using the grimy sink, thanking her profusely, I sanitized myself from head to toe.
Take a normal movie of about 2 hrs and 11 mins. I use the facilities during the previews, hobbling back to my seat just before the start of the show. I always seem to get the show house situated at the opposite end of where the restrooms are located. I don't dare have a drink of any kind as that will exacerbate the 2nd trip. This will come right during the crucial moment of the movie-the murder scene or answer to the mystery. When the twinge hits, I have to hoof it. AND if I'm lucky enough for the place to have a handicap stall nearer to me, someone that's NOT handicap is using it. I've seen that happen a number of times as I'm limping from the back-and-beyond (barely making it, mind you) and seeing someone rushing out of there. Errrrrrr.......So, back to the movie, missing about 15 minutes, not knowing where we are, trying to ask Rick and getting shushed by everyone. You get the point. If I am lucky, there is no 3rd trip until the movie is over, and then, it is look out everyone! Peg-leg lady coming through.
On this trip through Nevada and California, I came armed with an app that was to help find bathrooms. The app was almost worthless. Maybe in other states it would have worked, but who knows. I must say though, Nevada has gotten better over the years I didn't have to worry about finding a non-existent piece of tumbleweed or hide behind a Joshua Tree to do my business. But California! What a joke!
I guess I am used to friendlier states with rest stops, convenience stores with actual bathrooms, grocery stores that actually let you use there bathrooms, restaurants that care if the bathrooms are not nuclear waste dumps, and people who care if you have a disease that doesn't always allows you to control your bladder. There was only one 7-11 I went into with a nice clerk who allowed me to use the nuclear grounds. If I hadn't been about to explode, I might have thought twice about it. But believe me, after about falling over some barrels of unidentified toxins, using the grimy sink, thanking her profusely, I sanitized myself from head to toe.
This trip has made me realize I can't handle all the driving. I really do hate road trips. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Maybe a plane or train where the bathrooms are accessible, but all this stopping every hour or worrying about finding a bathroom really is too much stress for me. I want a relaxing trip; I don't want a dark cloud hanging over me all day until I get to the hotel. Plus, I want to eat and drink what I want. I have to avoid caffeinated drinks, spicy foods, chocolate, and other things that irritate the bladder. After this trip, I was dehydrated from not drinking and felt like I'd never catch up. Not good for the body.
Society has come a long way with more accessible buildings, better access to transportation, and an awareness like never before. But, I know there are things that need to be done to help others with health issues like mine. I, also, have to step it up. I can do things to help out. One, make others aware where the bathrooms are! Two, not traveling where there aren't bathrooms (or bring one with me ☺). Three, this one I like best, travel by plane or train and take shorter trips with a rental car.
For those out there with issues like mine, I had a hard time coming to grips with this. The jokes of mom always knowing where every bathroom was from Canada to Mexico or why the family wasn't surprised when the first place I ran to at a restaurant or store was the restroom were getting old. I'm coming to terms with this and learning to laugh back. Life is too short to worry and stress. Take it in stride and laugh back at them!!
Thursday, June 5, 2014
The Merry-Go-Round
This year is flying by and I'm barely hanging on. Ideas for this blog have flitted in and out of the recesses of my mind as I have struggled with issues due to MS, recovery from my surgery, and just life. I enjoy sitting down and talking to my blogger world, but as the sun sets each day, I find myself flopping into bed not even kissing my hubby goodnight.
I remember as a young girl a commercial about lemonade. It was filmed in a hazy, warm light with kids swinging in a tire swing under a big leafy tree and a huge grassy field behind them. The camera would pan along a dirt road and into town to two old men playing a game on the porch of some shop with them laughing and sipping the lemonade. And of course, the voice-over would ask if you remembered the lazy days of summer and how you could have it now by enjoying some lemonade.
I don't know about you, but my lazy days of summer, or any other time of the year, ended about the time I turned ten. And with each year, they are getting faster and faster. In fact, I've compared it to being on the Merry-Go-Round at the fair. Life started out slow and fun. But now, my beautiful white horse with the flowing pink mane and golden bridle is spinning around so fast, I'm going to be flung off into a black hole somewhere. I just want to stop the ride and get off.
But getting off is not an option. Trying to slow down the ride is.
A few weeks ago, Rick and I were able to do just that. Maybe not slow it down but giving ourselves the illusion our carousel was not going at warp speed. He had a business conference that fell right before our anniversary weekend. The conference was at a really nice lodge in Deer Valley, UT and it was all-expenses paid. So I went with him. The rooms were offered at reduced rates for the weekend so we took them up on the offer. He got to attend his conference; I got some R&R; we got to spend several days together for very little money; and our anniversary wasn't some rushed date out to Texas Roadhouse Grill.
I've been eagerly awaiting the planting season. As I was laid up with my bum hip in January, I was plotting and planning my garden. I started my little seedlings a little later than usual, but with Mother Nature being the fickle woman she is, being late was okay. My seedlings were going to make it. Until...they got left out in the blazing heat and were fried! Literally, there was nothing left of them not even a shriveled stem. After that, I wanted to give up. I was really too busy with doctors', work, and just keeping up with the house to even think about trying to jump off my white horse to go buy plants for my garden. I just wouldn't do it. It'd save me all the long months' of weeding, watering, and eventually canning and freezing. Besides, I still had all my fruit to deal with. And believe me, it's plenty.
To add to the frustration of trying to keep up with my spinning whirlgig, my AFO or leg brace broke--snapped by the ankle. Who knew carbon steel could do that? So I was back to using my worn out one. I had to really concentrate to pick up my toes and not trip over them. I got tired faster. One day at work, I did a beautiful face plant on the carpet. That wore me out even more.
Even with all this, you and I know this fair ride called Life is permanent. Face plants or dead plants don't allow us to call it quits and yell at the carnie worker, "Hey! Stop the thing. I don't like this anymore." We have to keep plugging away.
What keeps us from losing our lunch are the moments of lazy days and lemonade. Where the trials, tests, frustrations, jobs, headaches, life on their little merry-go-round are in slow-motion for a brief moment in time and let us gain some sanity. We breathe, start to laugh, enjoy our chosen steed, and say, "I like this ride after all, Mr. Carnie. Let's go for another spin. And make it faster this time, please!"
I remember as a young girl a commercial about lemonade. It was filmed in a hazy, warm light with kids swinging in a tire swing under a big leafy tree and a huge grassy field behind them. The camera would pan along a dirt road and into town to two old men playing a game on the porch of some shop with them laughing and sipping the lemonade. And of course, the voice-over would ask if you remembered the lazy days of summer and how you could have it now by enjoying some lemonade.
I don't know about you, but my lazy days of summer, or any other time of the year, ended about the time I turned ten. And with each year, they are getting faster and faster. In fact, I've compared it to being on the Merry-Go-Round at the fair. Life started out slow and fun. But now, my beautiful white horse with the flowing pink mane and golden bridle is spinning around so fast, I'm going to be flung off into a black hole somewhere. I just want to stop the ride and get off.
But getting off is not an option. Trying to slow down the ride is.
A few weeks ago, Rick and I were able to do just that. Maybe not slow it down but giving ourselves the illusion our carousel was not going at warp speed. He had a business conference that fell right before our anniversary weekend. The conference was at a really nice lodge in Deer Valley, UT and it was all-expenses paid. So I went with him. The rooms were offered at reduced rates for the weekend so we took them up on the offer. He got to attend his conference; I got some R&R; we got to spend several days together for very little money; and our anniversary wasn't some rushed date out to Texas Roadhouse Grill.
I've been eagerly awaiting the planting season. As I was laid up with my bum hip in January, I was plotting and planning my garden. I started my little seedlings a little later than usual, but with Mother Nature being the fickle woman she is, being late was okay. My seedlings were going to make it. Until...they got left out in the blazing heat and were fried! Literally, there was nothing left of them not even a shriveled stem. After that, I wanted to give up. I was really too busy with doctors', work, and just keeping up with the house to even think about trying to jump off my white horse to go buy plants for my garden. I just wouldn't do it. It'd save me all the long months' of weeding, watering, and eventually canning and freezing. Besides, I still had all my fruit to deal with. And believe me, it's plenty.
To add to the frustration of trying to keep up with my spinning whirlgig, my AFO or leg brace broke--snapped by the ankle. Who knew carbon steel could do that? So I was back to using my worn out one. I had to really concentrate to pick up my toes and not trip over them. I got tired faster. One day at work, I did a beautiful face plant on the carpet. That wore me out even more.
Even with all this, you and I know this fair ride called Life is permanent. Face plants or dead plants don't allow us to call it quits and yell at the carnie worker, "Hey! Stop the thing. I don't like this anymore." We have to keep plugging away.
What keeps us from losing our lunch are the moments of lazy days and lemonade. Where the trials, tests, frustrations, jobs, headaches, life on their little merry-go-round are in slow-motion for a brief moment in time and let us gain some sanity. We breathe, start to laugh, enjoy our chosen steed, and say, "I like this ride after all, Mr. Carnie. Let's go for another spin. And make it faster this time, please!"
Sunday, April 13, 2014
A Horrible, Very, Bad Day
I'm sure we remember the book we read as a child about Alexander and his bad day. To a little kid, it's funny how everything goes wrong. We could relate.
Today, I was thinking about the title. I was thinking I can relate.
My life with the no-good days started in high school gym class. I remember it vividly. I had a gym teacher, who happened to be the track coach. I'm sure he felt it was his responsibility in life to make everyone an Olympic runner, whether they wanted to be or not.
It was cold and rainy outside, and it was another terrible day of running laps around our immense gym. We had a 50-minute period to run- around the gymnasium mezzanine; down the stairs and across a large stage; then, down another set of stairs to the gym floor; circle around the floor and back up the stairs; head back across the stage, up the opposite stairs, and to the mezzanine; only to repeat the process all over again. And if you were caught cutting, drop to your knees and do so many push-ups.
Now, I could do about a 7 1/2 minute-8 minute mile depending on the day. But, I was not on the track team nor did I like gym class. I couldn't climb a rope to save my life (and he knew this), and I was lucky to do two push-ups. I played tennis on my own; went hiking in the back country with my family; but basically, all around sucked in this class. He did not like me. I think he thought I was always trying to come up with ways to get out of his class, which I didn't. I worked hard and tried to not complain.
On this particular day, I was on the mezzanine, running. It was about 30-minutes into class when my right leg just gave out, and I hit the cement floor. My fellow classmates made derogatory remarks to me about being in the way and tripping them up. One of the most popular girls in the school was in my class and just happened to be running by. She 'accidentally' stepped on me. We know how that works. Anyway, the coach runs up, "Get up!"
I tried. My leg was jello. It buckled under me again. "I'm trying." I showed him I was attempting it and came crashing down again, bruising my knee on the hard cement.
"Quit faking it and get up!"
"I can't. My leg won't work." I was pretty close to tears and trying not to look like a wuss. Classmates were running by, and I could feel the sneers burning a hole into my head.
Coach yelled at the TA. "Drag her over to the side, so she isn't in the way of those of us who want to run." He took off running with the rest of the class. The TA came over and tried to yank me up on my feet. My leg wouldn't support my weight and buckled under me again. He grabbed my arm, dragging me over by some folded bleachers. I wanted to crawl under the bleachers and die.
That was my first experience with an MS symptom. My mother took me into our doctor, and he didn't have a clue about what was going on. He banged on my knee and couldn't duplicate the symptom. When he heard about me playing tennis, he jumped on it and said "Oh, that's it. You have tendinitis. Take these pills, and you'll be all better."
So, that was that. Just a horrible, bad day. Humiliation and some pills.
Thankfully, for me, nothing else happened for ten more years. I was able to enjoy college, dating, newlywed life, and my children for a few brief months before I started having a few more of those terrible days. And with those ten years, a bit of maturity.
I'm not saying maturity helps things. Like today for instance, I can label it just as Alexander did-the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. But I can also look back at a lot of good days and hope they're right around the corner.
Today, I was thinking about the title. I was thinking I can relate.
My life with the no-good days started in high school gym class. I remember it vividly. I had a gym teacher, who happened to be the track coach. I'm sure he felt it was his responsibility in life to make everyone an Olympic runner, whether they wanted to be or not.
It was cold and rainy outside, and it was another terrible day of running laps around our immense gym. We had a 50-minute period to run- around the gymnasium mezzanine; down the stairs and across a large stage; then, down another set of stairs to the gym floor; circle around the floor and back up the stairs; head back across the stage, up the opposite stairs, and to the mezzanine; only to repeat the process all over again. And if you were caught cutting, drop to your knees and do so many push-ups.
Now, I could do about a 7 1/2 minute-8 minute mile depending on the day. But, I was not on the track team nor did I like gym class. I couldn't climb a rope to save my life (and he knew this), and I was lucky to do two push-ups. I played tennis on my own; went hiking in the back country with my family; but basically, all around sucked in this class. He did not like me. I think he thought I was always trying to come up with ways to get out of his class, which I didn't. I worked hard and tried to not complain.
On this particular day, I was on the mezzanine, running. It was about 30-minutes into class when my right leg just gave out, and I hit the cement floor. My fellow classmates made derogatory remarks to me about being in the way and tripping them up. One of the most popular girls in the school was in my class and just happened to be running by. She 'accidentally' stepped on me. We know how that works. Anyway, the coach runs up, "Get up!"
I tried. My leg was jello. It buckled under me again. "I'm trying." I showed him I was attempting it and came crashing down again, bruising my knee on the hard cement.
"Quit faking it and get up!"
"I can't. My leg won't work." I was pretty close to tears and trying not to look like a wuss. Classmates were running by, and I could feel the sneers burning a hole into my head.
Coach yelled at the TA. "Drag her over to the side, so she isn't in the way of those of us who want to run." He took off running with the rest of the class. The TA came over and tried to yank me up on my feet. My leg wouldn't support my weight and buckled under me again. He grabbed my arm, dragging me over by some folded bleachers. I wanted to crawl under the bleachers and die.
That was my first experience with an MS symptom. My mother took me into our doctor, and he didn't have a clue about what was going on. He banged on my knee and couldn't duplicate the symptom. When he heard about me playing tennis, he jumped on it and said "Oh, that's it. You have tendinitis. Take these pills, and you'll be all better."
So, that was that. Just a horrible, bad day. Humiliation and some pills.
Thankfully, for me, nothing else happened for ten more years. I was able to enjoy college, dating, newlywed life, and my children for a few brief months before I started having a few more of those terrible days. And with those ten years, a bit of maturity.
I'm not saying maturity helps things. Like today for instance, I can label it just as Alexander did-the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. But I can also look back at a lot of good days and hope they're right around the corner.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Slow and Steady
Growing up I always had a problem with the Aesop's fable of The Hare and the Tortoise. I'm sure it was the prospective of a child's mind that a hare was a fast and a tortoise was incredible slow. And nothing anyone said could convince me, that outside this ridiculous story, would a hare ever lose to a tortoise, or a rabbit to a turtle.
I see now that I missed the whole gist of the story. Which is funny, because I caught on quickly to The Ant and The Grasshopper and The Little Red Hen . As the years go on with my MS and the natural aging process, I notice I'm slowing down more and more. Things once easy are not that simple.
I see now that I missed the whole gist of the story. Which is funny, because I caught on quickly to The Ant and The Grasshopper and The Little Red Hen . As the years go on with my MS and the natural aging process, I notice I'm slowing down more and more. Things once easy are not that simple.
I recently had a tear in my right hip repaired. This is also the leg with all the MS issues. So for me, recovery hasn't been as easy as my other surgeries have been--a week or two down and then back to my usual self. And they were some pretty major surgeries-the most recent about three years ago being a rib removal. I wasn't a young whipper snapper then, so this one has been a bit frustration for me.
It's not like I am bed-ridden or in a wheel-chair. I just run out of stamina sooner than I feel like I should. I have to stop and rest more often. Instead of one power nap a day, maybe I have to take two. And so this is where the moral of the Tortoise and the Hare is really starting to set in to me-Slow and steady. Or as the original Aesop fable said: Plodding wins the race.
As I was trying to recover my energy one day, I received news about a dear friend's 15-year son who was just diagnosed with A.L.L. leukemia. She and her husband have seven other children they are trying to all juggle with his principal job and the shocking news. I went to her blog one day and wept for her, wanting to help in some way. She knows where I am at, since she came to help me out before her son was diagnosed. But Rick and Taylor went and pruned their fruit trees last Saturday, calling me with questions I could answer. Slow and Steady. Maren knows I can't physically help her, but I can do others things to help. I can call her, send texts, or letters.
Around my house, I work a little at a time. I try to put things away the FIRST time, so it doesn't lay there on the table miraculously growing and mutating. Have you noticed how things do that? You leave a dish by the sink and before you know it the whole counter is covered in dirty dishes. Or you leave a stack of papers on a desk or end-table and soon the said object disappears under an avalanche of paperwork never again to be found.
Now with children around, I know it's very hard to keep this up. I have a 19-year old still at home going to school. He seems to think items are put away by the house elves, even though he is wading through the 'creep' in his room and only does laundry when he has no clean clothes left to wear. He actually has thought that since he was about six, even when we made him pick up his room and help with the laundry--go figure. "Fires" still start around on flat surfaces if I am not vigilant at all times. Slow and steady.
It's when I stop being the tortoise and become the hare and laze around the house, I start to lose. I even tried that once (laze around the house) to try to teach my children a lesson. Mistake there was I didn't tell them I was teaching them a lesson. I just didn't do anything, and they kept doing what kids do best-make messes. And when they do that without anyone telling them what Mom's game plan is suppose to be, the fires became a raging inferno. The next time I decided to do that I told them. I left my resignation letter on the door. That went over really well. Kids were in a huge panic that Mom quit. They didn't think moms could do that. Life was better at home for quite a while after that.
But now, it is just me and Rick, and I can't quit. So, I must learn to take things slow and steady. I must not let raging infernos take control. I can't become the hare and be complacent in things that are important. And what IS important? This past surgery has been giving me some more time to decide.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Happily Ever After?
I'm here stretched out in the recliner trying to write this post on my tablet. This is huge frustration for me. The speak prompt seems to not want to work. My husband would tell you it was the user button. It probably is.
I've spent the past month visiting doctors getting ready for hip surgery, which I now have the pleasure of recovering from. And now, it's been three weeks reclining almost 24/7 looking at all the things around me that need to be done-both inside and out. It doesn't do much for one's morale.
I have two good friends who are also down and out with me at this time due to surgery, and we've been chatting via text or Facebook. We all have the same woes-months of recovery and things weighing on our minds. One of them is a principal of a high school, so she also has to hobble around while taking care of those duties. This led me to thinking about life and all its frustrations.
As a girl growing up, I had my life all mapped out. I would miraculously have golden tresses; marry a dark, handsome prince; be swept off to some far away kingdom in New Zealand and have 6 boys and 2 girls. My dad informed me unless I married a rich man, I would be the only one at my New Zealand wedding.
My favorite Disney movie has always been Sleeping Beauty (hence the blond hair). I never liked Snow White (must have been the squeaky voice) and at the time, she was the only brunette. And even though in the stories the fair maiden suffered trials and setbacks before she got to the end, I never thought about that. I just always looked at her happily ever after.
I've spent the past month visiting doctors getting ready for hip surgery, which I now have the pleasure of recovering from. And now, it's been three weeks reclining almost 24/7 looking at all the things around me that need to be done-both inside and out. It doesn't do much for one's morale.
I have two good friends who are also down and out with me at this time due to surgery, and we've been chatting via text or Facebook. We all have the same woes-months of recovery and things weighing on our minds. One of them is a principal of a high school, so she also has to hobble around while taking care of those duties. This led me to thinking about life and all its frustrations.
As a girl growing up, I had my life all mapped out. I would miraculously have golden tresses; marry a dark, handsome prince; be swept off to some far away kingdom in New Zealand and have 6 boys and 2 girls. My dad informed me unless I married a rich man, I would be the only one at my New Zealand wedding.
My favorite Disney movie has always been Sleeping Beauty (hence the blond hair). I never liked Snow White (must have been the squeaky voice) and at the time, she was the only brunette. And even though in the stories the fair maiden suffered trials and setbacks before she got to the end, I never thought about that. I just always looked at her happily ever after.
I had my fairy tale all planned. What girl doesn't? What PERSON doesn't have their life planned out? I even had parts of my plan written out on paper (ask my mom). But as I grew older and wiser, I came to see life isn't a fairy tale. Don't we all see it at some point in our lives? I mean, it can be a story that we write, full of ogres and beasts that we have to over come, but our 'happily ever afters' are what we make of them. There is no prince to sweep us up on some giant horse and ride us through the trials of life without a scratch on our faces; it just doesn't work that way (that only happens in B class movies). After the honeymoon, life moves on.
(after several days, I have now switched to the keyboard)
I was reading a small book the other day called "Your Happily Ever After" by Dieter F. Uchtdorf. In it, he states, "It is your reaction to adversity, not the adversity itself, that determines how your life's story will develop." He then goes on to tell us how we react to that adversity is 'a critical factor' in whether we arrive at our happy ending. I believe he is right. I have seen it so many times, people given a hard pill in life to swallow and becoming bitter and resentful. And then, turning down a road of hate and loneliness.
Even though, things in my life didn't follow the script I had made, I chose not to go down the rocky road of resentment. I rewrote my script. I try to be upbeat and positive. I'm not always that way; I do have pity-parties now and then. I'm human after all, but I try never to stay down for long. I find things that lift me up and make me happy.
Some of the things that lead me down the road to MY happily ever after are:
(after several days, I have now switched to the keyboard)
I was reading a small book the other day called "Your Happily Ever After" by Dieter F. Uchtdorf. In it, he states, "It is your reaction to adversity, not the adversity itself, that determines how your life's story will develop." He then goes on to tell us how we react to that adversity is 'a critical factor' in whether we arrive at our happy ending. I believe he is right. I have seen it so many times, people given a hard pill in life to swallow and becoming bitter and resentful. And then, turning down a road of hate and loneliness.
Even though, things in my life didn't follow the script I had made, I chose not to go down the rocky road of resentment. I rewrote my script. I try to be upbeat and positive. I'm not always that way; I do have pity-parties now and then. I'm human after all, but I try never to stay down for long. I find things that lift me up and make me happy.
Some of the things that lead me down the road to MY happily ever after are:
- My Family-husband, children, parents, siblings-all a part of who I am
- My Love of the Outdoors
- My Love of Gardening
- My Love of the Gospel of Jesus Christ
- The Scriptures-One of my favorite scriptures is from the Old Testament in the Holy Bible: Isaiah 40:31 But they that await upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
- My Friends-from all walks of life. Without them and their views I would be lost. I love them and hope they find their happily ever afters!
- My Many Talents to help me broaden my horizons
- My Chronic Illness-yes, you heard this right. It has made me a more compassionate and caring person. I now have a deeper understanding of things both spiritual and mental I would have never had if it weren't for MS.
- My list goes on and on
I challenge you to think about what is leading you to your Happily Ever After. If you can't think of anything, is it because you are spinning your wheels and going no where? Have you already arrived at your Nirvana? Haven't you even thought about it? Or did you give up long ago thinking there is no such thing or that you don't deserve to be happy?
I'll tell you now-YOU'RE WRONG! Everyone deserves to be happy. Starting now. Live in the moment and find joy in each and every day-a flower blooming or a robin singing. Maybe the sound of rain splashing against the window pane or the sound of children playing outside. But, it is something that needs to be looked for and found each and every day.
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| Wahkeena Waterfall along Columbia River Historic Highway Oregon, USA 2007 |
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| Latourell Waterfall along Columbia River Historic Highway Oregon, USA 2007 |
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| Fresh raspberries from my garden Can't wait!! |
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