P.C.

I had an a-ha moment last week.  I can't get it out of my mind. And I have come to a conclusion:

I am not P.C.

Never have been.  Never will be.  Politically Correct hasn't ever been part of my life.
Neither have other acronyms for P.C...
Purely Courteous,  Polite and Cordial.  etc.

But let me be Perfectly Clear:
If you open a door for me, I'll be so thankful.

I am not disabled.  But I have a disability.
I am not limited.  But I have limitations.
I am not someone who will ever be offended when you run ahead of me and open the door for me.  I will happily and very gratefully be very relieved, and say THANK YOU with all my heart. (And you better hope it ends there.  Sometimes I start to cry and tell you how really grateful I am to you, and list all the reasons why.

I was wheeling up to a door, by myself, with Halle on my lap, and my purse flopping around next to me, on me, around me, and Halle trying her very hardest to be helpful.  And a guy sat and watched me for a few seconds.  I couldn't figure out why; I mean, we were quite a sight to see--pathetic sight--but why did he just watch?

Then he finally jumped into action and headed for the door we were heading for.  The Young Man cut me off and opened the door.  I gratefully gushed out a "THANK YOU SO MUCH!" and cute Halle said, "Yep! Thanks a lot!"  And then he said something so sad.  He said: "I didn't know whether to help you or not.  Some people get really angry if you try to help..."


We chatted for a few minutes and he told me he had tried to open a door for someone in a wheelchair a few years ago and he vowed he wouldn't make that mistake again.  Because the woman yelled at him.  She told him that under no circumstances did she need his help. She may 'look handicapped'. but wasn't, and didn't need his help with the door - 'or anything else!' She then went on to chastise him for assuming she was "disabled" and couldn't open her own door.  How did he think she got around all day every day?  Hmph!

The Young Man said he was so shocked and embarrassed at the woman's response.  They were in a very public place and she really laid into him.  He said he was just trying to help her with the door, not make assumptions about her "handicap" or anything else.  But he swore he'd never again make the mistake of assuming someone in a wheelchair needed help.  And he hasn't for a few years now.

Well,  guess what, girlfriend? Judging by that response, you probably did need his help...maybe more than you knew. And you almost scared the poor guy off forever.  Or at least for awhile!

I am not sure why there are people who feel they have to pretend to be Superman.  Or Superwoman.   When you're in a wheelchair, chances are, you need help with a door now and then.  Or a lot.  I do anyway.

I'm also not sure why the words "disability" or "limitations" or other words that are now part of my life are often so...well, debilitating to some folks. Or offensive.  Admittedly, I didn't ever crave having those words be part of my life in such a literal way. It took some getting used to - realizing that those words now described certain parts of me.

They don't define who I am.  But they are part of this new-ish life of mine.  I do have a disability now.  I do have limitations.  Many more than I ever wanted.  But it's not a bad thing.  Or it doesn't need to be, I guess.  To coin an over-used phrase (that Mat really dislikes)  IT IS WHAT IT IS.

So we went through that door, and The Young Man thanked me.   I might have been able to get the door for Halle and I...given enough time and after several attempts.  Maybe.  In any case, I didn't want to find out.  I don't need to be able to open my own door to feel accomplished.  I just needed a little help, and that purely courteous Young Man helped me out.  He was also a great example to Halle in just being helpful.  Courteous.  KIND. My favorite word.  And I love her to see such great examples of kindness.

So thank you again, Young Man, whose name I didn't even get,  for opening the door.  A seemingly simple task to both of us, that was a day changer for both of us, too.

The Wewwy Wewwy Fun Pawk

This is kind of a re-post.  A re-do.  Reiterate. Re...whatever you want.  
I will try to post regular updates on our current situation. If you're interested or even just desperately bored, read on.  Read often. If you're looking for politcal correctness, constant upbeat Pollyanna attitude, or sugar coating reality, stop now and don't read further.  Ever.  I am not politically correct.  I say what I feel and never mean to offend, so in the words of President Thomas S. Monson, "Don't take offense where none is intended".  (I don't think that's one of his famous gems of wisdom, but I heard it in a talk once and loved it---and have never forgotten it!)  I may use words that aren't eloquent.  I'll probably overshare ... TMI...consider yourself warned.   But I'm just going to get it all out here, probably more therapeutic for me than informational for you.   Just think of it as reading Marcia Brady's diary, only unlike Cindy, you're not going to get busted for it.

What I've noticed is some days I really need/want to talk about it all, and some days I just want it to go away and never speak the dreaded words...

SPINAL CORD INJURY.  Spinal infarction.  Ischemic lesion in spinal cord.   Parapalegia  Medical Rehab (as opposed to substance! Just medical people, just medical here.)  Physical Therapy.  Occupational Therapy.  Recreational Therapy (ok that one isn't so bad, but...)

Brown-Sequard Syndrome. (syndrome?!) 
Am I a syndrome?
And then there are the buzz words I'm learning ...
"Transfers"  "Mobility"  "Tone"  "Clonus"  "Hyper reflexes" "Nerve stimuli" "Spinal Precautions"  "Foot Drop"
"Handicapped access"  "Disability" "Neuro....anything"

And of course...equipment....
WHEELCHAIR (gross).  Walker.  Harness.  Boot.  Binder. Botox. Brace.   

Lots of words.  That didn't pertain to me til May 10.  But they do now.  And will forever.  Maybe not as much as time goes on, but they will be part of my new normal forever. 

Brown Sequard Syndrome.  Do I look like I have it? Because I do.  I really do.  And today I'm mad.  My sweet sister in law took the kids to the park. You know, "the wewwy, wewwy fun pawk wif a stweem?" Halle tells me.  Yep.  I know just the one; the really, really fun park with a stream.  But...
But.
But.
But!
I want to be running in the stream with them! And sitting on the bench watching them! Or laying on a blanket with them! But(!) my back hurts so badly today I can hardly sit up much less sit on a bench.   And I'd give anything to run through a stream with them at a park. I never thought that would be something I took for granted. I did. I never would again. Ever.

Sometimes I look at young moms--most of Halle's friends moms are much younger than me--and their 5 yrs olds have something amazing to say. Or show them. And I think, crouch down to their eye level and LISTEN to them. DO with them. GO and SEE with them. Don't miss a minute with your kiddos. It goes so fast. Or it gets taken away and you can't get it back.  Or someone else - who is wonderful and kind to even take your kids when its 90+ degrees outside - gets those moments with them. 

But I'm still mad that I don't get to go. Grateful & mad are two emotions that are difficult to reconcile.

Thank heaven I have good people in my life (like my sister in law!) who are willing to take the kids to the park to play. Don't get me wrong, I am so thankful for that.  It's more important that the kids get the moments than me. They're going stir crazy in this house. But...I'm going to fuss anyway. I'm just in the mood to fuss. Because I just wish I could be there with them. And I wish I had savored every single one of those moments when I could do it myself with my kids.  With my own arms wrapped around them, pushing them on the swing, catching them at the bottom of the slide. On my legs. My babies. My children. My heart.

WE'RE BAAAAACK!

A few years ago, we had this family blog that the girls had fun posting family activities, ideas, and mostly we wanted to use it as a family journal.

Then I suffered this thing called a S.C.I. = Spinal Cord Injury.

It has changed our lives.

Every one of our lives have been completely turned upside down and altered.  There were some who suggested that for various reasons we should not blog. So there are certain areas we aren't going to blog about. And we will likely keep the blog private. But I am so proud of how my children have risen to the challenges that have come their way. They have survived and thrived in the midst of things most children won't ever encounter, and they've done it well.  So among other things, we are going to journal about that here.

We have had challenges that seem obvious. And there are other private heartaches that aren't quite as obvious, but nonetheless challenging. Yet here's what we know for sure:

1. Through the Atonement of the Savior Jesus Christ, nothing is impossible.
2. Families are forever. And we want to be together forever as a family.
3. That second chances are for everyone.
4. That the gospel of Jesus Christ and the Plan of Happiness provide the only way back to Heavenly Father to live with Him forever. We want to live in a way that exemplifies that we are disciples of Him.

We are learning new things every day.  We are still finding our new normal every day.  But every day we are plugging along.  We all do our best every day.  Some days are better than others.  Some days, if everyone is dressed (in pj's) and has eaten 3 meals (all cereal) and is snuggled down in their beds after prayer (even if the only time they got out was to have prayer), we count it as a success.

We just do our best.  That's all the Lord requires of us.  I know every day I wake up and want to do my very best. I don't wake up and wonder what harm I can do to my children to make them end up lamenting to Oprah in 20 yrs.  I don't wake up wanting to embrace the chaos and create filth. I want to wear a lovely apron, pearls, and a fancy dress, heels, and sing and hum a "happy little working song" as I twirl and skip around the house while baking a pie. Just like they did in the '40's. 


Guess what? It's never gonna happen.

• First, I can't stand up to wear heels, twirl, or skip. 
• Second, when I hum, turns out I'm flat. 
• Third, I dislike pie.  
• And fourth... apron, pearls, fancy dress...really?

But we are going to blog again.  Starting...NOW!

There's much to catch up on in the two years that have gone by.  A lot has happened with me. With our family. (Welcome, MASON! Welcome, Jess!) And we look forward to more changes.

• Because fifth, we're learning to embrace change!  

Tiny Tim, Homemade Oreos, and Hand Cycling!

Another busy few days here in rehab.  For real, I feel busy! And tired.  They wear me out.  I have OT at 9 and 11, PT at 10 and 230, and somewhere in there, an hour of Rec Therapy.

 

If I back up the past few days....Sunday is definitely the day of rest here.  I didn't do ANYTHING.  It actually got boring. But there are no therapy sessions, nothing, so Sunday you just rest.  By Monday I understood why because they just nail you again come Monday morning.  Monday I had the usual 5 therapies, then we had our Family/Friend Meeting with the Spinal Cord Care Coordinator - her name is Summer - and she is a - maz - ing.  I was so touched by the support group I have. My family was there.  And good friends.  I am just so blessed and so so so grateful.



Me and Summer front and center at the family meeting.  The mannequin booty looks so much like mine it's just uncanny.

The meeting was very informative, maybe a little boring, but we got all the information out there.  I even cried a little.  Summer said, "Shelly will walk again.  It won't be the same as it was before.  It won't be unassisted.  But she will walk." And I lost it. 

My awesome friend, Stef (Lamoreaux) Macfarlane.
Looks like she's making the best of the meeting.
We've been friends since high school  We lined her up
with her awesome husband, Bob, who
was Mat's fave mission companion. They
have been there through thick and thin for us for
YEARS. They are Tanner's second parents.
Or maybe first parents.  Anyway, we love the Macfarlanes!

During the meeting, my new wheelchair and walker arrived!  I was seriously so excited it's bizarre.  This is me seeing it for the first time.  Almost as good as Christmas morning.  Almost.

Add caption

The test drive!

Yesterday was probably my busiest - and best - day yet.  I had my 2 OT (occupational therapy) sessions, my 2 PT (physical therapy) sessions, and my  RT (recreational therapy) session. Now get used to those words because it's acronmys from here on out, people.

During my first PT yesterday, I was able to try crutches! They are the Tiny Tim kind, and they had a therapist on either side of me, but I did it - and loved it.  There's something 'better' about crutches for me than a walker.  Maybe I just need the tennis balls on the front of the walker, and a nice basket with flowers on it or something, but right now I loathe the walker.  And it felt way more normal to use crutches to attempt walking.  I am seeing I have more hang ups than I ever thought!  And the good news? They come in different colors -- red, blue, pink, purple, etc.  Oh you know I'll be scoring the pink ones.  And I juuuuust happen to have extra rhinestones from the last time I blinged out Halle's glasses.  That bling may just be finding its new home on some Tiny Tim's...

Then it was time for OT.  Natalie (the OT) said, "Hey, would you like to bake again for OT?"  and right then, another therapist walked by and said, "Oh--thank you for the banana bread the other day. Are you going to be cooking again soon?"  and I looked at Natalie and she blushed a little.  I said, "Yep.  Baking today for 'therapy'!"  So into the kitchen we went.  I decided to make homemade oreoes.  They're so easy and everyone likes them.  I made a batch of vanilla and a batch of chocolate.  About mid way through, another therapist came in and asked if I could use a buddy.  I said sure...?   So guess what.  I have a new friend....

Her name is Lois.  Lois lives in Chicago and is out here visiting her son in Park City. She was on the toilet one day (seriously, she just rattled this off like not big deal) and couldn't stand up so they took her to the ER and she'd had a stroke.  She has no feeling or use of the left side of her body. So her goal during her session was to stand for 5 min.  They decided we should do some teamwork and I should frost the one cookie and she should top it to make it an oreo and stack it on a plate.  (this is my day.  baby steps. baby steps.)  So I tried to be obedient and remember "there's no 'I' in team", and Lois and I were off to the races.  I tried to not notice her mega wedgie when she stood up in clingy sweatpants and I'm sure she tried not to notice my hideous hair.  I'd frost a cookie (from my chair) and hand it up to her to top and stack.  Well, she tried, bless her heart.  But the tops were on crooked she didn't put pressure on to squeeze the frosting to the edge of the cookies. I was like LOIS THROW ME A BONE HERE!  I was just about to get a twitch and then Natalie said, "Why don't you top them, Shelly, and we'll just have Lois stack them."  Whew.  So I topped them and Lois stacked them. And stack them she did. Lois decided to make the leaning tower of Pisa.  I said Hey Lois, how about we only stack 2 or 3 high, then they won't slide all over.  OK I am not anal about very many things.  Probably hard to find anything I really am anal about.  But I like my baking done my way.  And Lois wasn't doing it my way so I even thought I'm gonna bump her over in my chair! Anyhoo, Lois didn't listen to me about the Leaning Tower of Pisa so then I said, how about we separate them by chocolate and vanilla, thinking Lois should learn to sort more than stack.  It worked! Then she didn't pike them 1 mile high and they quite sliding all over. What a relief.  See, rehab is very stressful. Cookie stacking can just cause such tension in spinal cord injury recovery.  I think Lois and I were both exhausted.

Boo Hoo...

Knock Knock?
                Who's there?
Boo.
                 Boo who?
Don't have to cry about it, it's just a joke...

I did it.  I cried about it.  All night.  Yep.  The Ugly Cry - complete with red, blotchy face, contortions, snorts, snots, and all other things unpleasant that come with T(he) U(gly) C(ry).

Here's why I cried - in random  - not alphabetical order.  And not even in order of priority.  Just random.  Because that seems to be my life plan.

• I can't lift my Halle on to my lap by myself*
• I can't throw my kids in the car and go to the pool, movie, mall, lunch....you get the idea.  Because I can't drive. Or lift.  Or bend. Or twist.* 
• I can't walk up and down my stairs without help*
• I can't walk.  Without help!*
• I can't feel my leg when I rub lotion on it.*
• I can't move my toes.  At all*
• I can't bake or do anything in my kitchen without someone assisting.* I do not like assistants, generally speaking...
• I can't do Simply Sweet anymore.
• I can't play the organ.*  Yep. I'm a nerd.  I love playing the organ.  For some, it's a secret I've hidden well.  For others, I take your mocking like a man.  In any case, I can't play the organ.  Unless I rig myself up something like this....

*YET!

YETYETYETYETYETYETYETYETYETYETYETYETYET!

I can't do those things *yet.  But I'm going to. And it's going to be sooner rather than later. Here's why:

I got an email today from my cousin, Stacey.  I haven't kept in touch with Stacey over the years. But in the past week or so, she has secured her place on my Life Hero List.  Stacey has MS.  And she doesn't fuss about it.  She just has it.  Her mom, my Aunt Marie, came to visit me this week, and brought 98 year old Grandma Verna to see me.  Now Grandma is in better shape than anyone up here, inlcuding me at this point.  They brought me a card and a book on CD (The Help - I am stoked!) They came right as I started PT so they came to the gym with me and stayed through my whole PT session.  And Grandma was so proud of me.  She thought I "did just great!"  As only a Grandma can say.  She clapped when I tried to step.  She said, "OooooH!" in a high pitch voice when I could move something. And probably even when I didn't.

Later that day, I guess Aunt Marie told Stacey, who sent an email full of valuable suggestions and advice, both on the medical horizon and well as mental/emotional.  And one thing she said that has stuck in my brain all day is,

"Don't focus on what you can't do, focus on what you can do." 

Ah - Ha!   I need to forget about what I used to do, and how to do it, and find the way I'm going to do it now.  And NOW isn't forever, I don't think.  There's too much ongoing research, and too many cutting edge treatments, and so many options for recovery.  Maybe not full recovery.  Probably not. But recovery is in the eyes of the beholder I think!

It is what it is. And it's a spinal cord injury.  It isN'T pretty.

But it doesn't mean that my limitations today are my limitations forever.  Because I hate being bossed around.  I really don't like that one bit.  Never have.  So since I'm the boss of myself, I guess I will be the one deciding what I can and can't do.  And every day I'm going to decide.  Today I'm deciding I'm a little bit mad.

Today Clara - one of Sara's dearest friends who we love as our own daughter - got married to cute Andy.  And I couldn't go to the ceremony. And I'm mad. (told you, no politically correct.  No Pollyanna.)  They wouldn't let me leave because I have too many therapies in the morning.  But thanks to Stacey...guess what I realized?

The "cans".

I can/did get to go...to the reception. Now it took two days to get things in place, but it was soooo worth it.

I'm learning that stuff around here is much more involved than I realized on many levels.  To bust me out for any length of time (maximum time? 3 hrs!) the Dr. has to write an order ok-ing it.  Then PT has to make goals for me to accomplish in order to count it as a "therapeutic time out". They have to know all details: where I'm going, who is in charge of me (my dad and my  niece, Amy, who is a nurse), the kind of car I'll be in (had to ride in Dad's dumpy Lexus haha) ,  where I'm going  (to the Neff residence to an outdoor wedding reecption), what I'll actually be "doing" (eating wonderful food at a wedding reception), and when I'll be back. (that's a loaded question.  They gave me 2 hrs.  No exceptions.)   Then they have to approve it all through my insurance (some insurance companies think if you're ok to leave for 2 hrs, you're ok to go home.  I tend to agree... :)  But the biggie is getting back on time; apparently it messes up everything here if you're not back when you're supposed to be.  My Time Out was from 6-8.  Mark....Set...Go!

Next, they adjust all your medications (um...I'm taking a lot of those...more on that later!)  so that you're properly medicated for your outing and don't need them while you're gone.  Then I have to "practice" anything I have to do during my time away so I don't get hurt or exacerbate the injury.  The goals my PT set for me for my time out (well, I call it my furlough....) were:

• Self Propel  That means push myself in the wheelchair not have a push-er like I'm the Queen of Egypt.  I'd rather be the Queen of Egypt.  My arms are flabby and jiggle when roll myself in this chariot. And they get tired.  I'm no athelte, ok?!
• Transfer Unassisted  That means get myself from my chair to the car, etc.
• NO BLT! (no Bending Lifting Twisting)  I really struggle with this one.  It is mostly habit/reflexive...you drop something, you reach down to pick it up.  You see something or someone as you roll on by, you twist and look behind you or around you to see what it is.  And lifting...are you kidding me? I have a three year old!

My best friend, Karen, and sweet daughter, Carly, came 2 hrs before launch and got me ready.  That's a true friend.  Carly and Karen did my hair, nails, dressed me, and primped and fussed over me like I was going to the ball.  It was so fun for me.  Everything is fun with Karen -- we just celebrated our 20 yr friendship anniversary.  But seriously, to come do my hair, nails, dress me...a loving act of service and I am so thankful.  I felt like a real person.  Lotion! Make Up! Hairspray!  Ahhh. It's the little things.

Next thing I can/got to do? I got go on a date with my Dad tonight for 2 hours! I got to be wtih my awesome husband and crazy kids for awhile in a non-hopsital setting.  Heaven, people.  It was heaven.

Now probably 90 mins of  my 2 hrs out was loading my big self and equipment up (such a pretty visual), and thank you to my stellar Dad for being willing (he actually offered) to be my personal slave, chauffeur, nurse, PT, etc.  He did that so Mat could just focus on getting the kids to the wedding, and then once there, they just played and enjoyed.  And when pumpkin time arrived, Dad returned me to the hospital -on time - so Mat and the kids could keep having a fun night.  I guess that's what Dads do.  Mine does anyway.  I'm so lucky. And Mom was so sweet to let me have him for the night.  My mom has a hard time getting around with some of her health challenges, so it would have be hard to have Dad take us both.  Mom decided to stay home so Dad could just do me.  But she sent a little token like a fairy godmother...Dad pulled a diamond necklace out of his pocket when he arrived and handed it over.  Just like on Pretty Woman.  Sort of.  But I got to wear my Mom's diamond pave necklace that is shaped like a Hershey's Kiss. Only Renee.   I laughed my head off - and felt like a million bucks wearing it for the night.  Honestly, parents are the best.  Mine are anyway.  Funny how stuff like this opens your eyes to this...parenting never ends.  Unfortunately for them, it never seems to for my 76 yr old folks.  They do it well. 



My handsome date, Marvelous.  The blue boot? That just helps with foot drop.  My dead leg has a droopy foot. This giant boot holds it in place kind of like a cast to keep the foot from just hanging there and turning in.



Mat got all the kids ready and we met at the wedding at just about the exact same time.  Clara looked gorgeous, Andy was a handsome groom, and it was so nice to be outside and feel like a regular family.  I'm never going to take for granted my 'regular family'.  It's the best.  I got to see lots of friends that we've missed since our recent move to Bountiful.  It was wonderful. 

It was kind of hard, too.

I had to sit there in the chair and I didn't used to think I was too prideful, but guess what?  I think I have some pride issues.  I felt awkward sitting there and having people bend over or crouch down to talk to me.  It was hard to talk about what happened.  I didn't want to.  I just wanted to stand up and be like everyone else.  It was humbling to have my dad and 3 other guys have to lift me from one level of the backyard to another.  I was embarassed.  That is prideful. 

I wondered how Mat felt as he came with all the kids and met me there...in my chair.  Not really what we had planned for our life.  So it's not going to be permanent.  Because it wasn't in our plan.  But he always makes me feel like I'm the hottest thing walking - er rolling - and acts like he doesn't even notice.  He's a good man.

Halle: I want to say something.
Katie: Then say something.
Halle: Stinky pickles!

My kids acted so happy to see me there and just hugged and kissed me.  Chloe is very nurturing and wanted to help get my food, and make sure I was all set up at the table.  Halle is getting to be a pro at climbing up on me in the chair.  I love it.

I got tired pretty quickly so we bailed out, but we did stop by Grandma Verna's on the way back to the hospital. 

I love my Grandma.  So, so, so much.

At age 98, she is still my biggest cheerleader no matter what I do.  Dad went in her house and got her to come outside to "see who's in the car".  She threw her skinny arms up and said "Oh! Oh! OH!!!" in this high pitched squeak that she usually only does when Dad, Marie, or LuAnn walk in the room.  I feel honored to be part of the Club That Makes Grandma Squeak.  She hugged and kissed me through the car window, then grabbed my hand and just rubbed and rubbed my arm. She told me I look "just great!",  and said she was so proud of me.  That's Grandma.  She always makes us feel beautiful and that she couldn't be more proud of us-even if all I was doing was sitting in a car.  I adore her.

Dad told her I had to be back to the hospital before the clock struck 8, and it was 7:30.  Well, that was it.   Grandma said "Oh get her back there! Go! Go!" waving her arms around like I was running from the law.  It was awesome.  So Dad and I floored it back to the hospital and I'm pleased to announce we got here at 7:41.  NINETEEN MINUTES TO SPARE.  Take that!

Dad rolled me up to my room and stayed for about a half hour with me as I basked in the glow - and exhaustion - of being part of the world for awhile.  It was so fun.  Mat and the kids stayed a bit longer at the wedding then called to report in on what I missed when I left.  They had a great time and so did I.

Can I just say Mat is the best dad ever.  Ever.  Our kids are lucky.



It's early Sunday morning now, and I slept like a rock.  Best rest I've had in over a month.  Probably due to sheer exhaustion, but also I think they're leveling out my medications so I 'can' rest.  I take several meds now...(possible TMI warning)

• I take pain medication every 4 hrs.  This won't be forever.  My back is still quite painful, especially after therapy - or a wedding.  Sometimes being up in the chair hurts a little too after awhile.
• I take an anti spasmatic/muscle relaxant type medicine. (according to my pal Pam, the anti spaz drug is looonnng over due...)  But it helps the muscles in my dead leg not spasm.  Ahhhh. That is a good feeling.
• I take a medication to help the nerves.  Numbness and tingling (the painful kind) are common after spinal cord injury and I have a lot of neuropathy in my hands and feet, especially at night.  They've been titrating the dose this week, and I think we've hit the golden level, because last night I didn't wake up at 3am feeling like my hands and feet are on fire. 
• I take a couple things to keep the ole bowels going.
• I have my usual migraine pill when needed (sometimes the back spasms/pain trigger a migraine.)
• I get heparin injections to keep the blood from clotting.
• Blood pressure meds as needed. Sometimes my BP goes up a little, sometimes it bottoms out.  It's not happening often at all though so I don't need those too often.
• I take Zofran.  Nausea is an enemy.  Zofran is a friend.
• I am still on massive doses of Decadron - a steroid to help reduce the swelling in my spinal cord.
• Sometimes I get a little insulin.  Being on massive steroids can cause glucose level to be whacked.  I haven't needed it much, but occasionally I have a big dip or spike in blood glucose level.  If it's up, I get a little zap of insulin (that "zap" was a holla to Dr. Giddings)  And a few blessed times, it's been low and they "make" me eat.  I could get used to that...

Seems like there may be another one or two but I can't think what they are. Anyway, another long, rambling post, but remember, this is my "journaling to heal".  So here's the summary:

1. I cried yesterday. Pity Party? Yes.  But it's over.  For now.
2. I was mad yesterday.  Done with that too.  It's too exhausting.

So Cousin Stacey, I'm focusing on my "cans".

I can hang with my BFF and get primped for the wedding.  I can hang with my Dad for a couple hours. I can be with my husband and kids in a normal setting for a bit. I can move my whole upper body with no problem. I can see. I can hear. I can think. (no comments from outside sources here)

I can be grateful.  And I am. My great, full heart is absolutely grateful.  I am the luckiest.