heatherdreske

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

How we Bloom

But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold.
- Oliver Wendell Holmes

Roses and thorns are parts of the same plant. Somehow though, some people are concerned mainly about the roses. The rose is not on the plant for more than a week, but the thorns are there forever.
Roses are teaching that the beauty of life will bloom, once you have taught yourself the lessons given by living with the thorns.”
― Grigoris Deoudis

THE TIME CAME WHEN THE RISK IT TOOK TO REMAIN TIGHT IN THE BUD BECAME MORE PAINFUL THAN THE RISK IT TOOK TO BLOOM'
― Anais Nin

Thursday, August 1, 2013

August 1, 2013

Today was a perfect day. That is a perfect day in this new normal. It still had a bunch of barriers and obstacles, but I managed them, and I had a sense of peace. Normally perfect days make me a bit nervous, I guess I wouldn't be an inherently anxious person if they didn't and there in lied the beauty of this perfectly not so perfect day.

I woke up and knew it was the last day of swim lessons and multiple times opened my eyes to think there is no way in hell I can get there. And then this little voice said, just sit up. That is how we will see, just sit up nothing more expected manage this moment. So that is what I did, I sat up in bed and got my bearings and then there was the whisper...hydrate. So I followed, I didn't question, I didn't try and process all the steps in between me and these "early" lessons to see my niece and nephew, I just followed. Back in bed, juice with salt, hydrate and wait. I kept glancing at the clock and saw the minutes tick by and I willed myself to not be defeated. Get dressed, brush teeth. Okay, I have no idea who this little voice is inside my head, but again I will follow. And now as I glanced at the clock, it was inching towards 10 am and I knew I still had a number of steps to complete but I forced myself to go back to the baby steps. I had made chocolate chip pancakes last night for diner...shh my niece thinks I had "vegetable pancakes" so I knew I had those I just needed some protein. So with my stool by my side I sat and made the eggs, and the clock ticked closer to ten, I just breathed. It takes 5 minutes to get there and if you only see one minute you have succeeded. And then there was that calming voice that told me I already succeeded because I felt good enough to try.

I made it to the last ten minutes of her lesson and stayed for the next 30 of my nephews. It was a perfect cool summer day, and I made the mistake of sitting in the sun of a minute which brought on an intense headache. But I moved on. I got home with groceries my mom stopped and got for me and felt dizzy and weak but not panicked. This will pass. Bed. Bed, juice, a bit of coffee and wait. So that's what I did. As the day went on I was lucky enough to have a visitor and a hydro-therapy treatment. I managed to clean the kitchen with my "left to right" technique. I start at the left side and start doing what I can and if I make it all the way to the right mission accomplished. Again, these tiny steps that competed a process. I had the dinner that I made the other night and was lucky enough to be cleaned up by someone else.

Then was the decision, it was 5:30 pm, what I really wanted to do was go to the pool. Lie in this crisp non humid summer air, read a book, maybe run into someone I know...normal I craved the perfection of normal. This is where for any one with an illness it gets tricky, you have had a really good day is it worth it? Will you pay the price if you push too far? And I determined the price was worth it. I got to the pool and texted a dear friend I see very rarely on the off chance she would decide this night was also too good to pass up; despite probably a busy day at work, making dinners, picking up children, all the "normal" tough stuff of a mother. About a half hour passed and in she walks, still wearing "professional" attire with two children in tow. As we hugged, I said "what a nice surprise, I just texted you..." and she said, "you did?" I repeat, a perfect day.

This is what now fills me up, these are the random surprises I don't enjoy when I am in Phoenix. This was a perfect day, and I may pay for it tomorrow and perhaps even the next day, but today I felt like I lived rather than got by and there is no greater gift than that. This summer it may seem to the outside that I am not that much better because my activities have perhaps decreased, but the difference no one can see is that sense of peace and being present that has eluded me for years. I have the ability on good days to actually feel present, not count down the minutes or seconds until I can take the plaster of paris mask off my face and get to bed, my body screaming that the sounds, the conversation, the sitting up is all too much. I have been given moments of calm in this ever changing storm, and I am so grateful for every moment of it, it is the gift that this illness put on a silver platter - the awareness of what it feels like to be well.

August 1, 2013...hope served up on a tray and I took all I could.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

What we Share

Maybe tomorrow will be the day I feel like writing out all the thoughts that are in my head...maybe tomorrow. I got a text from my aunt today that i need to tweet or tumble so she can figure out how to follow me...and I replied perhaps I am a writer because I am moody, have a bit of a block and to be honest wonder half the time it even matters...yep must be a tempermental writer of some sorts. But more importantly than how I identify with writing this story of mine I reminded myself that it has brought me a sense of peace in sharing this experience that I hadn't had before and it was time to get back on the horse. It also leaves you feeling raw and exposed, but that mirrors how this illness makes me feel most of the time; so at least if I am writing it I have a sense of controlling the dialogue.

Most mornings before I open my eyes I wonder how I am going to do it again. It's an unconscious thought that awakens me and as I lie there with my eyes closed I tell myself, "just like everyone else out there that wonders for different reasons how are they going to wake up and manage a day that at times feels like it has more obstacles than openings, just like everyone else." And then I don't feel so alone.

Yesterday was a beautiful day that I spent most of in bed. I was crabby and envious as my entire family was at a golf outing and it has now become the norm that there is no way I would attend. I honestly was feeling a bit sorry for myself and then angry as hell that I dared to be so careless with all the blessings I have. Then like a yo-yo I shifted again to thinking, if I didn't have a bad crabby day once in awhile then I actually must be crazy.

So as these conflicting emotions raged through my brain as I was drifting to sleep this vivid memory of thirteen years ago washed over me. I was transported back to Phoenix in a classroom at ASU. I had decided to join the local "Toastmasters" group trying to plan out my future after graduating from SCNM. Yep those were the days of the type A personality, medical school wasn't enough, I needed to be prepared if I was going to spend my days post graduation speaking to groups on the knowledge I would soon gain. I don't remember the man's name, but I could see him vividly in his remote control wheel chair, his slurred speech, his life interrupted. What courage to join a speaking group when he was so debilitated and had to fight for the services he required. He had been shot while sound asleep lying in his bedroom. One of his roommates messed with a gun and it went through the wall and sliced through his spinal cord literally shattering his dreams.

He told me he remembered this lighting bolt state of confusion and pain and nothingness. I drifted off to sleep trying to remember the rest of his story. Wondering where he was now, what he was doing? Did he have the help he needed...yet I can't even remember his name.

My bed is my haven, I am lucky that when I don't feel well it seems to be the wall of protection I need from this cacophony of symptoms. And I thought of this young man sound asleep in his own safe haven and the moment that all shattered. So this morning when I thought to myself how... I realized just like yesterday and more easily than that young man you crossed paths with thirteen years ago.

Tonight I walked over to my sister's house and watched a movie with my niece and nephew before they headed to bed. Then I snuggled in with my niece as we read Sofia the First and Ariel accompanied by her "pretend" cats because she can't have a real one as she reminded me because I am allergic. As she nestled under the ballerina sheets and leaf mobile I thought again of this amazing safe haven. Not the place we call home, but the people that make us feel like home. As I attempted to slipped out she turned to me and said she could feel me leave, so "don't leave until she is perfectly still...that means I'm sleeping." So on the second attempt as she was perfectly still and appeared asleep as I slithered out, she turned to me with a wry smile said, "Gotcha" And again my mind drifted to that young man now 13 years older and hoped for him he was blessed with these moments; these perfect little moments tucked into the same day you wondered how you were going to do it again.

From the poem The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

LOL

I haven't really laughed, big old belly laugh in awhile, well frankly I can't remember when I have. I have smiled, enjoyed people's company, chuckled, I did however today, tears in all when I received this email...

First, a bit of back story...I had a Bosch fancy dancy front loader washer and dryer and long story short it was the worst. It lies to you...it keeps clothes soaking wet with no spin only cycle...it jumps...it takes days to do laundry. So before I returned from Phoenix I asked my parents to please get rid of it and get me the most back to basic washer and dryer possible and they graciously obliged.

Part two, my aunt was determined that this sleek pretty looking set would be fantastic in her laundry room....luckily they still have the old ones in the garage...I may even have to dig up the old previous emails dedicated to this oh so expensive awful machine...so thank you for my belly laugh today, for two minutes it all slipped away.

Enjoy...

Bosch Accords Signed this Week

"Local grandmother, (my aunt), has signed peace accords with the German chancellor and the Bosch laundry ambassador. She stated that she had come to terms with the dryer, although she made it clear before signing the documents that several cycles were unusable. The German chancellor expressed encouragement regarding the ongoing peace talks stating that they were making efforts to address Mrs. Kelly's repeated demands, regarding the issue with spin cycles of the wash machine. Although the German chancellor sounded optimistic, Mrs. K reiterated that no further peace accords would be signed, until rug spinning issues were identified and resolved."