This Will Be Short!

PTSD, just a little jolt this time. Visiting with a friend when I hear a baby cry out. Somewhere deep in my psyche threads of this and that race to find each other and a shiver runs up my spine. I hear the child again. My head tilts. I lose track of my friend's conversation. An ancient place opens up for a moment. Deep dread and a flight or fight response fly out of that opening , grip me around the neck, let go and are drawn back into the ancient place which closes back on itself. Probably 10 seconds have passed from beginning to end. I ask my friend, "Did you hear a baby cry out?" She replied, "You mean the children on the playground equipment?" "Yes", I replied. "The sound triggered me at a deep level." "Oh!", she said and nothing more. It is one of the reasons I treasure our friendship. We both know and experience these moments. The ptsd response ebbed away. Two veterans far removed from the days of war understanding each other, knowing that moments will come and pass and we will just say, "Oh!", meaning I love you and I understand.

When Mental Illness Is An Inheritance and some other stuff

Before the purist among you argue that I have used the word 'inheritance' out of context or incorrectly or some other statement on the use of that word I will set the record straight right now...SO WHAT?

It is my family legacy on the paternal side. It is the depression, the bi-polar, the schizophrenic, the alcoholic, the paranoid and the just plain odd character thrown into the mix for levity. It is my family and it is my inheritance as I have not gotten one other thing out of any person on that side of my family or the other, for that matter, when they passed on from this life to what lies beyond. (Well, my paternal grandmother did bequeath me my body shape and a goodly quantity of eccentricities) Since God does seem to give crazy people a generous bounty of grace when it comes to going to heaven I assume many of these same people will meet me at the river when my time comes. They will, of course, have been restored to a sound mind. It won't be like old times. No! Don't go getting snooty on me about being sacrilegious. This is my story, my life and it will, one day, be my death. 

Enough about death...my mom got to telling me a long story about my daddy's side of the family; how this one committed suicide and the other got hit head-on and died instantly and him probably a budding alcoholic and how she doesn't remember so much of what I tell her when we discuss the past, for whatever reason, which could be a good thing. It could be a gift.

So, I had the amazing surgery and I am mentally in a great place. Physically I am being treated for acute sinusitis and a flare-up of deverticuli. That one that starts with a "d" got my interest immediately. Who ever knew little pieces of food stuck in tiny pockets of  the intestine could create an environment that hurts like a big dog and causes a fever and a doctor's visit and antibiotics which I had to take while taking an antibiotic and getting a shot of an antibiotic. Doesn't it sound as if my body may just be a toxic dump with all these antibiotics? But,what's to be done?

I cannot dwell on the subject of my health for long without getting bogged down in self-pity and that is a thankless road to emotional hell. Life hands each person something they struggle with although it may not be so obvious as constant health issues. I started getting sick early in life. Malaria and dysentery took a toll when we lived in Africa but then it seems there was a space in time that I felt better...through my junior high years especially. Anyway, it seems to me it has been all of my life but that is a generalization. I can with all honesty say it has been the last 30 years of my life. Before that I was using drugs and drinking to one degree or the other so I am not sure about my health. This topic is making me SICK.

I talk a great deal about God and I absolutely know that God is with me. I am not doubting that at all. Just, at times, I gotta say WTF. Then I think of how much clearer my mind is and how much happier I am emotionally since the surgery and I realize that what is bringing me down is this infection hanging out in my body. Things are not so bad. Just this body of mine and God made it and I am trying to understand who to be in it and then I think of Lu and her struggle with cancer and her beautiful spirit and I take a deep breath and pull up my big girl panties and trudge on...you know...the happy road of destiny?

So much about myself when the world is groaning in deep distress. Well, here's the scoop, I am running a low grade fever, my husband said he thinks the air conditioning in our home stopped, there is no money to fix that air conditioner, my husband is going to the doctor tomorrow and he is afraid but this darn low grade fever is the culprit and the reason for this entire post. My body feels as if something is plugged into it draining energy slowly off of me. Lawd have mercy!! Woman, stop! Stop and smell the luxury of the world around me. So this is me sounding off and it isn't even a decent sound off. Whine! Hey, if I was eating I could be a "Whine and Dine".  Yeah, I agree. It is time to wrap it up and go home and see if the AC is really shot. I have a thermostat to install and that should send anyone who knows me into peals of laughter.

I am not depressed. YAY!! I can think clearly! YAY! My body will get stronger over the next 6 months. YAY!! Praise God for these and so many, many other blessings. His grace is sufficient!

 

Thanks for listening!



Purple letters on a whim. Short post. Snippets. Rescued a chicadee this week. Took him to the wildlife shelter. What a treat!

Have an opportunity to learn a new job skill online. I can probably learn it this time. The removal of my sick parathyroids has meant the return of my brain.

Humidity sucks. Humidity ain't my thing anymore. Summer has just begun and I am in full rebellion. I live on the coast of North Carolina. Life is weird. Now that I live on the coast where it is hot and humid during the summers I have lost the desire to hang out in the heat. Life is so darn weird. In my 20's and 30's I kept a deep tan, body surfed, walked the beach and now I don't do any of those things. Maybe my health will improve enough for those pleasures to lure me to the sea one more time...or not!

This post post is BORING!! Who cares if I don't like to be in the sun anymore? I certainly do not care. The humidity part is the point but I am leaving the rest of that paragraph just so I can show myself how I am so much like people on Facebook who say things like, "I had kale for dinner." I am like, "Really? Who cares?" Then I write the ridiculous information that I use to like being in the sun and now I don't like being in the sun. I have a lot of nerve feeling superior and smug towards other people.

And, this color of type is sucking my brain out of my head. It will not be on this blog again. Count on it.

 

Comes Once More The Hideous One

I have a dream that comes to me from time to time. There are, of course, variations and it may be years between one time I have the dream and the next time I have it. There are two other, no three other, recurring dreams that come to mind immediately . One of those I have not had for a very long time although the house which is in the dream and the location of the dream I visit in other dreams and try to remember during those dream if I have seen that house before and wonder why it seems familiar. 

 

The dream I just woke myself up from has been , oh wait, first I want to tell you, the reader, about this cave I have gone to in my dreams on a number of occasions. Not the entire dream as I do not remember it and there is no way to fully describe the significance of a cave and the journey I take to this cave or into it each time. I go there and it is always a place that has been at some point in time condemned and I know this but I also know that far enough down into the cave there is an entrance into a deeper part of the cave and it is there that I always go. Reciting much more of that adventure can become a waking nightmare so I will remove myself from that place and return to the dream that chose tonight to return in a variation but one of "those" dreams nevertheless.

In this dream I am part of a group of people who have been set up to be in an environment where death is the final scene. We are not chosen arbitrarily. If I could define the art form of this dream I would choose to compare it to one of those horror movies that Vincent Price starred in long ago. Void of the complexity of modern day special effects  those movies managed to convey a sense of impending doom . Our imaginations do so much of the work in the older horror movies. As I was dreaming I was vaguely aware that I had been here time after time in other dreams and I wanted to wake up but the dream ensnared me. The difference this time was that I actively tried to find my way out of the situation. Yet, at every attempt I found out the person I thought was going to help was part of the ongoing trap or the path I chose to find my way out simply turned on itself forcing me back into the dream. Ultimately the way out was to wake up. I finally was able to wake up and I did not go back to sleep at all. The familiarity   of the dream coupled with the new behavior of trying to find my way to safety was intense.

I may never dream this dream again or I may dream it in three years or five. I will soon forget it unless I re-read this post. Yet, once the dream begins I will know immediately that I have passed that way before.

I can easily interpret the dream. Clearly understanding the dream has not lessened the impact nor have I managed to escape it.

This dream is a milder version of the cave dream. Kinda a prep school for the cave dream which I hope I never dream again. While little happens in the dream that would make a horror moment, the dream in and of itself illicits horror. When I realize I am once more in the cave dream I am drawn like a moth to the flame.

Enough of dreams. It is, after all, water under the bridge. The deed has been done. The wound has been deep. The healing ongoing. All that remains are these dreams with no end, no beginning, no relevance. They are like abandoned horror houses in an old theme park.

Penguins For No Reason

Home recovering from surgery, up later than I meant to be, happy penguins seemed to fit the bill. Already the depression associated with the parathyroidism has lifted. The doctor says there will be numerous changes over the next three weeks. Currently I am recovering. Resting. Dealing with an agitated cat who believes he should be outside more than inside but he gave me a scare tonight so inside is his new normal. He is not happy with me. Twice he has put his face up to mine meowing his request. He has walked across this laptop once and he is now ignoring me. His mind is working. I know he loves it outside but tonight when I went out to get him to come in he was asleep on the neighbor's yard, curled up in a tight ball and I thought he was dead and I did not like that feeling at all. He will probably win the battle during the day tomorrow. Or not. I am recovering, resting, reminding myself to recover and rest. This is my one true shot at a genuine improvement in my health. I cannot afford to be cavalier or squander the chance. I do not feel self-destructive or lost now. Wow, I was so sick. Prior to surgery I was not sure I could live if the surgery did not work for some reason. Nevermind that all the literature...all of it...said the surgery worked. It seemed inconceivable that I could be so emotionally depressed and physically exhausted. Then surgery and I am, as far as I can tell, free of the depression. Blessed freedom. I wish it were that simple for my friends, my husband, who suffer day after day with severe, debilitating depression. They are my new heroes. I do not know how they continue day after day with strong medications holding them together, holding off the awful weight of depression so heavy that it defies description. I know now what I did not know before I got sick. I know personally the pain of depression and, yes, it is painful. Not just heavy, not just sad, not just physically debilitating but painful. It is a deep, awful pain and I will pray for anyone I know who experiences it every day of their lives. God uses experiences in life to teach us or to make us sensitive to other people and what they experience. Whatever else I may learn along the way I will always identify with and care for those suffering from depression. I am grateful to God for that learning. As is always the case with me, I had to experience it for myself to soften my heart and open new doors in my walk with Christ.

INTERLUDE, BLESSED INTERLUDE

OH NO! I'M IN A PUBLIC PLACE??

Preferring quiet, secluded places to crowded public places the young girl found herself coming to in a public place with a ghastly, velveteen, purple shirt on, grasping a bland and damp grilled cheese sandwich. The trauma crossed her eyes, trimmed her nose while simultaneously pulling her lips and neck into extreme extensions of themselves. She froze in that wretched position wondering endlessly to herself where she had come from and if she would ever return. The local papers, after exhaustively pondering her sudden and unannounced  appearance, declared that a bizarre statue of the Ronald McDonald variety had appeared without rhyme or reason in the middle of the mall food court. All related editorials were of one opinion. The inexplicable presence of this strange phenomena did not compete in any way with the colorful, far more life-like Ronald Mcdonald seated on the bench outside of the mall court's Mcdonalds. The poor statue appeared terrified. Some swore one of her eyes blinked from time to time.

 

 The girl waited, alarmed yet calm behind the eyes frozen in terror. She believed that whatever force brought her to this alien place would, one day, take her home. Her strongest wish was that her hearing had frozen. The endless repetition of mall music on a continual loop seemed a cruel twist of fate given the enormity of her current circumstances.

Under The Weather And I Ain't Lying

It is yuck time for this ole gal! My body and my brain feel as if they have been violated and left to fend for themselves. Exhaustion is a constant companion and I can't remember with any degree of accuracy. Today bronchitis took up residence.

Several days later...lawdy, lawdy! Antibiotics may not be working. RATS!! My respiratory system sounds like an old car on its' one last leg. My throat hurts a little and feels as if there is something in it clinging on for dear life.

Another day or so...place this word in your voacbulary of medical terminology you need to know but have never heard...hyperparathyroidism or parathyroidism. After you have that word firmly planted remember it has nothing at all to do with the thyroid. The glands sit on either side of ther thyroid. It has absolutely nothing to do with your thyroid. Nothing to do with having taken too much or too little calcium in your life. It just happens to some folk. The precious little glands control the distribution of the calcium in your blood.  It can take years to identify because many of the symptoms fit other categories. A blood test and a scan of the area in your throat where these little buggers reside will seal the deal on whether or not hpt (hyperparathyroidism) is at the root of all evil.

Exhaustion - unbelievable exhaustion
fuzzy thinking - can't find my butt cheeks with both my hands
osteoporisis - probably...i do know my teeth have started breaking off
depression - beyond anything I could think or imagine..just, excuse my french, fucking unbelievable. 
irritability - you would have to ask my husband about that one. poor thing.
lack of sleep - honey, please
kidney stones

the list is longer...just found out tonight that the reason my eyes have been blurring words is another symptom 

Surgery is on the 20th. Im'ma hang on for that surgery. I've seen fire and I've seen rain, y'all but this is not funny and did I tell you this stuff can kill you. Slowly, miserably but dead is dead. I have the urge to write a deeply blue, blues song but I cannot remember the words. I think them and they are gone. Poof! It isn't even like being stoned or having flashbacks. It is the absence of...do you hear me...the absence of whatever use to be where it was before this stuff started. Surgery is highly successful with a return to better than you were before you can remember...course at this point that would be 2 seconds but you catch my drift. 

When I was around 9 years old I lived in Ghana, West Africa and I had dysentery. I almost died from dehydration and high fever. I remember it to this day. I am not running a fever at the moment but I would swear my body is burning up. When I was 9 in Africa is the last time I remember feeling this awful. 

I have not filed my taxes, I have not paid a credit card bill for two months, I have lost track of where most stuff is that I use in the house and I wash clean clothes while leaving the dirty ones on the floor. 

So yeah, I am looking for that surgery like a sniper on high alert. 

O.K. I suppose that is a rant...what I just wrote...but it's the truth if I ever told it. 

10 days. 10 days. With the grace of God and the prayers of the faithful I can make it 10 more days.