then i will never be too weak to do something.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Keeping me down
Whenever there is a period of time where I have troubling booking up a season of photographing weddings, I have learned that it is because the Lord will need me to stay down and get extra rest during that time. It used to terrify me, causing self-doubt concerning my work and the future of my business and should I save face and throw in the towel. Nope, I am just going to need a break.
This fall was one of those. I tried repeatedly, invested greatly, in trying to secure a few last minute weddings - yet nothing was falling through. Since I had had such a busy Spring and Summer, I figured I was allowed a little break and moved back to Austin to enjoy life without photoshop for a while.
I popped up to Salt Lake City for pop's 60th bday in blessed Sundance (that place is prozac for me) and before I made it back to Dallas, I popped back into my ob/gyn's office for my annual. I could tell something was off, the endometriosis was doing something and told the doc about the recent soreness that felt very similar to how I felt just before ovarian cysts have ruptured in the past (by far the worst pain of my life). She did an ultrasound and sure enough, 4 cm cyst. This was Thursday at 3:30pm and by 4:45, I was at the surgical surgery pre-registering for my surgery that would be happening the next morning to have it removed. That surgery is no big deal, not that painful and I would much rather go through that than wait for it to rupture (remember? worst pain ever). Surgery happened, everything went fine, cyst removed, insides cleaned out, endometriosis deemed 'not horrible but there' and life moved on. I even cancelled a photo shoot that was supposed to happen the following day, yeah, it wasn't going to happen and I felt absolutely no guilt about it. Progress.
Four days later, yeah, I broke my foot. You see a pattern.. I have these huge barstools in my apartment and had my purse resting on one. When I grabbed it, I somehow dragged the barstool down directly on top of my foot. Wind knocked out of me, I winced and writhed and then tried to just walk it off. As in, walking all over a bumpy field for two days during Austin City Limits. Yeah, common sense never was my strong point. Yet, if I could put pressure on it than it couldn't be broken, right? Wrong. It got more and more swollen, blacker and bluer, and I headed into the ER for an xray with my head held in shame five days later.
See. There were plans for me. Plans that involved me needing to be free of work for a while. Plans to stay down and rest. I have repeatedly learned that if I won't go down willingly, the good Lord will intervene and knock me down. For good reason, of course.
Today I made pancakes.
Today I made pancakes. As in, that is all I did. The whole day. I had had a busy couple of days, made a quick trip up to Dallas and back, and there really wasn't anything that absolutely had to be done, and man, I was craving pancakes.
I woke up around 11, deliriously exhausted and wondering what on Earth I had been doing for the previous 10 hours while I thought I had been sleeping (running around holding a desk over my head?), forced my head off the pillow and needed.pumpkin.pancakes.
With recipe pulled up on my phone, I walked into the kitchen and just stood. This happens often, I miss home cooked meals and always have grand plans to cook them but the minute I am in the kitchen, my head starts to spin and I realize I have nowhere near enough energy to pull it off. I then slap peanut butter on a piece of bread and go lie down.
Not today, today was the day of pancakes and if it was the only thing I was going to do, it would be the making of these pancakes (from scratch, I might add). I did just that, making an enormous mess yet fully enjoying my finished product. I walked back to bed and collapsed, my day's work done. I fell back asleep and didn't wake up until after dark.
Some days will just be like this. And it sucks. I think about all of the things that can be accomplished in a day, getting hitched, having babies, working, traveling, all that I used to accomplish in a day - running 10 miles, working 12 hours, etc, and I feel guilty for my wasted day of rest. Many think that bed rest is a dream come true, 'oh the books I could read! the movies I could watch! the sleep I could get! Actually, it is miserable, lonely and depressing. After a day in bed, you feel ten times worse about yourself and your life than you ever should - but for that day, all that you needed to accomplish, you did. Where did we get this notion that if we didn't work ourselves to the bone we didn't earn the right to take a day off?
You just have to let these days happen, and move on - thinking about all the things you can do once you are well, realizing in order for that to happen the bed rest must come first.
I woke up around 11, deliriously exhausted and wondering what on Earth I had been doing for the previous 10 hours while I thought I had been sleeping (running around holding a desk over my head?), forced my head off the pillow and needed.pumpkin.pancakes.
With recipe pulled up on my phone, I walked into the kitchen and just stood. This happens often, I miss home cooked meals and always have grand plans to cook them but the minute I am in the kitchen, my head starts to spin and I realize I have nowhere near enough energy to pull it off. I then slap peanut butter on a piece of bread and go lie down.
Not today, today was the day of pancakes and if it was the only thing I was going to do, it would be the making of these pancakes (from scratch, I might add). I did just that, making an enormous mess yet fully enjoying my finished product. I walked back to bed and collapsed, my day's work done. I fell back asleep and didn't wake up until after dark.
Some days will just be like this. And it sucks. I think about all of the things that can be accomplished in a day, getting hitched, having babies, working, traveling, all that I used to accomplish in a day - running 10 miles, working 12 hours, etc, and I feel guilty for my wasted day of rest. Many think that bed rest is a dream come true, 'oh the books I could read! the movies I could watch! the sleep I could get! Actually, it is miserable, lonely and depressing. After a day in bed, you feel ten times worse about yourself and your life than you ever should - but for that day, all that you needed to accomplish, you did. Where did we get this notion that if we didn't work ourselves to the bone we didn't earn the right to take a day off?
You just have to let these days happen, and move on - thinking about all the things you can do once you are well, realizing in order for that to happen the bed rest must come first.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
number 81
i gathered the courage to go to the doctor again this week. I usually go through a period of time every six months where i just can't bring myself to do it - i just can't go on that hypochondriac trial every other week anymore, it's just too degrading. Yet, when a doctor is so successful it takes nine months to get an appt, you at least schedule one.
As the months went by, I would sometimes think about it but seeing as I have been on the list for an appt for a doctor in Utah since 2010, yes, three years ago - I didn't put much stock in it. The week before the appt I even considered canceling it, would it be too expensive, a waste of my time, but most of all, would I be able to handle yet another one tell me this was all in my head. Seeing as I had been feeing especially sick these last few months, I figured what did I have to lose.
I showed up with my trusty binder of medical records and sat in the office, a very nice office I might add. One after one I noticed autistic children coming and going and from behind the front desk and I could hear a strong texan man tell them he loved them. Odd, I thought - that is not something you hear a doctor say everyday. I soon saw the man with the voice, a jolly late fifties crew cut man in scrubs with Dr Stewart embroidered on the chest - yep, that's the guy who supposed to work miracles.
I was called back and hooked up to all of these machines that tested my inner ears when certain sounds were played. Very interesting, I thought - I guess they were measuring the amount they contract when sounds are played, a sign for nervous system function. Next was standing on platforms that measured my balance, with eyes closed, without eyes closed and finally again with a big piece of foam under me. Hmmm...was I at another quack's? I was showed into an exam room and this big burly man came right in. His first words were 'what are you doing in my office when you look so healthy?' I almost fled the scene right there. Then he got a big smile on his face and said, "I bet you've heard that before."
The next 90 minutes were kind of a blur. Yes, he spent an hour and half with me, right in my face, drawing diagrams, explaining this and that and I may not have understood exactly the chemistry of it all I understood one thing. He.got.it. He understood completely. He would ask me the most random questions about my health and he would nail it every time. Things that I had never thought were related to the fatigue he called out. And after we talked about how all of this started while I was a missionary in Africa, he then witnessed to me.
Yes, you read that right. In the south, to get 'a witness' from someone is basically to hear a testimony. And my, my he gave one. Probably not pc, probably could get him in trouble, but hey, it's his show. He started out as an ENT and after growing tired of performing sinus surgery after sinus surgery and not really seeing much difference in his patients' health, he moved on to neurosurgery. He was one of the top neurosurgeons in the country for many years and again, after 'cutting people up and shoving pills down their throat', he again grew weary of his chronically ill patients inability to improve. He said every night he would wake up about 3 am and go into his office to think, and it wasn't long before things just started coming to him and he started to take notes. He claims he was taught by the Lord. I can believe that.
Years later, he is one of the top autism specialists in the World and also treats a lot of MS, lupus, alzheimers and autoimmune patients. It's all inflammation of the nervous system, he claims, the brain is running on no fuel. He looked at all of my records and couldn't believe some of the things previous doctors had missed. Things that had shown up but docs had discredited with, 'that must be a fluke, don't worry about it,' or 'that's only marginally high'. He then said he would fix me within a year. This, I've heard several times and he could read my skepticism and added, 'you the be pessimist, I'll be the optimist.' He gave me a big hug and promised to call
What's next? 10 tubes of blood drawn on the way home. I like that he is so proactive with this, 'you've been sick long enough, lets fight this' and daily injections and a few other supplements, steroids, and vitamins. His theory: help the body get in a state to where it can heal itself. He said he will call me next week with the lab results, 'to tell me he was right about just how sick I am' and we'll go from there.
I am skeptical, but there is something telling me to be hopeful. In the last year or so I had pretty much resolved the fact that I would be sick the rest of my life, and I would still have a fulfilling life, and it would be okay. Now, do I have to though?
As the months went by, I would sometimes think about it but seeing as I have been on the list for an appt for a doctor in Utah since 2010, yes, three years ago - I didn't put much stock in it. The week before the appt I even considered canceling it, would it be too expensive, a waste of my time, but most of all, would I be able to handle yet another one tell me this was all in my head. Seeing as I had been feeing especially sick these last few months, I figured what did I have to lose.
I showed up with my trusty binder of medical records and sat in the office, a very nice office I might add. One after one I noticed autistic children coming and going and from behind the front desk and I could hear a strong texan man tell them he loved them. Odd, I thought - that is not something you hear a doctor say everyday. I soon saw the man with the voice, a jolly late fifties crew cut man in scrubs with Dr Stewart embroidered on the chest - yep, that's the guy who supposed to work miracles.
I was called back and hooked up to all of these machines that tested my inner ears when certain sounds were played. Very interesting, I thought - I guess they were measuring the amount they contract when sounds are played, a sign for nervous system function. Next was standing on platforms that measured my balance, with eyes closed, without eyes closed and finally again with a big piece of foam under me. Hmmm...was I at another quack's? I was showed into an exam room and this big burly man came right in. His first words were 'what are you doing in my office when you look so healthy?' I almost fled the scene right there. Then he got a big smile on his face and said, "I bet you've heard that before."
The next 90 minutes were kind of a blur. Yes, he spent an hour and half with me, right in my face, drawing diagrams, explaining this and that and I may not have understood exactly the chemistry of it all I understood one thing. He.got.it. He understood completely. He would ask me the most random questions about my health and he would nail it every time. Things that I had never thought were related to the fatigue he called out. And after we talked about how all of this started while I was a missionary in Africa, he then witnessed to me.
Yes, you read that right. In the south, to get 'a witness' from someone is basically to hear a testimony. And my, my he gave one. Probably not pc, probably could get him in trouble, but hey, it's his show. He started out as an ENT and after growing tired of performing sinus surgery after sinus surgery and not really seeing much difference in his patients' health, he moved on to neurosurgery. He was one of the top neurosurgeons in the country for many years and again, after 'cutting people up and shoving pills down their throat', he again grew weary of his chronically ill patients inability to improve. He said every night he would wake up about 3 am and go into his office to think, and it wasn't long before things just started coming to him and he started to take notes. He claims he was taught by the Lord. I can believe that.
Years later, he is one of the top autism specialists in the World and also treats a lot of MS, lupus, alzheimers and autoimmune patients. It's all inflammation of the nervous system, he claims, the brain is running on no fuel. He looked at all of my records and couldn't believe some of the things previous doctors had missed. Things that had shown up but docs had discredited with, 'that must be a fluke, don't worry about it,' or 'that's only marginally high'. He then said he would fix me within a year. This, I've heard several times and he could read my skepticism and added, 'you the be pessimist, I'll be the optimist.' He gave me a big hug and promised to call
What's next? 10 tubes of blood drawn on the way home. I like that he is so proactive with this, 'you've been sick long enough, lets fight this' and daily injections and a few other supplements, steroids, and vitamins. His theory: help the body get in a state to where it can heal itself. He said he will call me next week with the lab results, 'to tell me he was right about just how sick I am' and we'll go from there.
I am skeptical, but there is something telling me to be hopeful. In the last year or so I had pretty much resolved the fact that I would be sick the rest of my life, and I would still have a fulfilling life, and it would be okay. Now, do I have to though?
back home
I didn't say I would stop writing all together, I just needed to be relieved of the guilt of not writing every day. The words will come when they come, and when they do, I will write.
Tonight I am feeling such peace and contentment. I am back in my beloved Austin, after a summer of extreme stress, travel and work; I really should have never left this place. Everything was unsettling, unfamiliar, somehow just not right. I traveled to some beautiful places, and I worked really hard and really long hours, but it all felt off, completely wrong.
The whole working in a cubicle staring at numbers thing, another failed experiment. I got sicker by the hour and in turn, got lower and lower. It was another experiment, a failed one, in attempting to live life with this illness while carrying on a 9-5 job. doesn't work.
I drove into town last Saturday and immediately could breathe again. Everything just felt right. Sure, there are things about life I wish I could change, but where I am at when I am in my beloved new home, is pretty wonderful.
Tonight I am feeling such peace and contentment. I am back in my beloved Austin, after a summer of extreme stress, travel and work; I really should have never left this place. Everything was unsettling, unfamiliar, somehow just not right. I traveled to some beautiful places, and I worked really hard and really long hours, but it all felt off, completely wrong.
The whole working in a cubicle staring at numbers thing, another failed experiment. I got sicker by the hour and in turn, got lower and lower. It was another experiment, a failed one, in attempting to live life with this illness while carrying on a 9-5 job. doesn't work.
I drove into town last Saturday and immediately could breathe again. Everything just felt right. Sure, there are things about life I wish I could change, but where I am at when I am in my beloved new home, is pretty wonderful.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
I've got nothing.
For the past few months I have been too busy, overexerting, overspending, over-committing (this is no surprise) but as things are coming to a close, and I am learning the same lesson yet again, I just have nothing to say. Severe writer's block. Oh how I wish for the inspiration that was coming so freely a year ago. And I am sure as not going to get on my soapbox when I am not following my own advice.
I'll be back - not sure when but I'll be back. Include your email address below and I'll let you know. Charles and I need to do some resting and maybe get the tank off of the empty line.
I'll be back - not sure when but I'll be back. Include your email address below and I'll let you know. Charles and I need to do some resting and maybe get the tank off of the empty line.
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