I thought that if your experience is like my experience then going back to work after a break kind of sucks and no one is very appreciative of what you do. Indeed in most jobs the person with dedication seems to get the least appreciation. But you roll up your sleeves anyway. So though you may not hear it at work because I am not your co-worker or boss, you can hear it from me: Good job (and if your job is staying alive and/or sane and you are reading this, good job on staying alive, but about staying sane….mmmmm, try harder! Wait, that was a note to myself, I really do need to try harder).
Over the break we made up some phrases. One is ‘follow the body’. That means with a rapidly changing condition it is best to listen to what the body is trying to say and work around the body. It beats recovering from having decided days in advance what I will do and then trying to force my body to do it. Another one I am pretty sure I stole is ‘The heart wants what the heart wants’ (that sounds like I stole it, right?). That means, sometimes at the end of the day, unless it is illegal, try to be at peace with your desires, whether sexual or otherwise (oh yeah, that's another post, DESIRE!).
On that note I thought I should put up some yarn porn for the knitters. Yarn is actually so attractive that many species (think kittens and yarn) adore it. In fact, right now, I want to thank whoever got/bought/made me the knitted finger-less hand and wrist warmers. They are striped orange and black with skulls and I am wearing them now like most days to help with the Raynaud’s (all three times I worked on this post!).
See, knitted things are very comfy against the cold, and it is always cold somewhere, that is what knitters tell themselves while stocking up on skeins. Besides, it can literally be done anywhere. The heart wants what it wants, go with it. For example here we have a woman knitting while hanging out in a forge, not the most common knitting venue. Maybe she is having beefcake for breakfast (nudge, nudge, wink) while knitting. She even has a bobbin at her elbow while knitting one of the Men of Steel a scarf, because that is what every blacksmith needs (particularly those with big mustaches!), ya, you betcha, lots of scarves at the forge (???).
As for me, I had the promise and desire to play with my Lincoln logs. They mini-logs with squared off ends much like those logs which Abraham Lincoln made a cabin. I played with them as a child in Surrey, BC. Toys were: paper, my pink rabbit, Light-Bright and Lincoln Logs for toys. Anyway, I actually had bought these Lincoln logs as a gift for someone else. But I thought they were a small set, a bit of nostalgia for them. Except what comes is this giant several feet maple cabinet with brass settings.It turns out I had got some super-duper executive Lincoln Log set which cost more to post than I paid for them, so I kept them. I had great plans with Cheryl, we were going to create the ranch of Bonanza. Actually that was her plan, and I have NO IDEA how she knows the exact outlay of the Ponderosa Ranch (too much summer TV I think!). I didn’t mention that my plan was to build the ranch and then…..BURN IT!!! Woo hoo! I mean, this way I could save Lorne Greene, the great singer of RINGO.
Besides I could also save Micheal Landon, the ‘youngun’ at the Ponderosa Ranch. Okay, now that I look at that in the cold eve of 2:00 a.m. that sounds pretty reasonable but I am sure in the morning there will be some reason I can’t follow my heart and set part of my apartment on fire. Oh wait, it is illegal. See, good thing I had that clause in there, huh?
Instead of more of that brain medication, I think what I really need is some quality time with a hug.
It is cruel and ironic that the one thing I almost never have is human contact, because most contact to me is painful. And I mean physically painful due to the heat of the person or just some sort of reaction where it physically hurts to be touched. A life without touch, without a hug, is kind of sad. I think this is one of the reasons I want a cat badly, because any touch, that physical reminder of love is something I think we all want. And once you have passed that point: the point of accepting in the bones that from now on it is just you, the pain, and the will of how long you can take it, THEN you really want touch. Not that sense of being among people but apart from them. That is loneliness, but also an aspect of so many things, whether it is dying, isolation, fear or pain. Dying is sort of a long to explain place so I’ll talk about that later, but pain is common enough to be universal. Whether it is fever, migraine, broken bone, ripped muscles, pain is pain. Pain makes it hard to think, as there are so many messages coming in.
For me it is as if there is haze plus a cloud of bees stinging me, so feeling that and trying to collect and focus my thoughts to talk is hard, and when someone wants me to repeat things, even harder not to snap, to focus instead.
I am trapped in a burning house of pain and I can't escape much less get out of my point of view to consider, “I think they are just asking for clarification” or “They look like they have had a bad day, I better not make it worse.” Or even sometimes to know where I am, or whether I am on the floor or not. Pain is the baby which will not stop screaming and whether you want to or not it demands your attention. So even trying to speak calmly comes out….intense. And it makes the funny go away, it makes that buffer of social graces go away. Because it just IS.
Yesterday my heart was severely out of order, waking me with erratic heart beats. I had to take 50% more heart medication during the day, which later depressed my heart and respiration until I passed out and stopped breathing (BAD!). Linda got that started only to have the heart go wonky again. It was a stupid cycle which ended up with me stuck in my wheelchair until Linda could come get me.
My day tends to go like this: I have a fuel meter much like a car, only mine is the one which is broken and tells you that you have half a tank and then makes you run out of gas/petrol downwind from a pig farm. So as every day goes on I have less and less to work with and more and more problems: blood pressure, heart rate, respiration – those are the big three: stroke, infarction, suffocation (the bad outcomes). So last night I worked late and there was a delay in the amount of heart medication. That caused erratics at about 25%-33% of heart beats. At 75 beats a minute that is at least 20 or more erratic beats per minute.
That feels like having someone reach into your chest and sqeeze your heart and hold it, for one second, for two seconds, then release it for a beat or two and grab it again (and that is only 10 heart beats). That feeling tends to focus the attention: as the 'hand into the chest squeezing the heart' is bad. Then my heart would have a run of 15-20 erratics so fast that no blood is pumped by the heart, that is how fast it goes, and the chambers are out of synch. That is eye popping stuff. So right now I don’t know whether I am up or down. If I am lucky I can tilt and recline my chair so my airway is clear. Often not. I pass in and out of consciousness. I can’t breath, which means I can’t scream, can’t speak. Problem is that my vascular system gets wonky too and opens or closes a bit at random. It if opens too much, I pass out as there isn’t enough blood going to my brain. But if it closes, then there is so much pressure after a series of erratics, that big huge push of blood, the life preserving measure the heart makes shoots blood up a tiny pipe under enormous pressure. By this time, my left hand and sometimes whole arm is the color of a black grape and shrivelled (as no oxgyen, and sometimes no blood), sometimes just dark purple, and meanwhile that high pressure hose of blood blasts into my brain, into every little capillary. And if just one has a small burst, I get a mini stroke.
A mini stroke can affect memory, or speech, and half or more of my body including making my face droop. That is called a TIA, which means a stroke that where operations (like having a smile that goes up equally) are back working in a few hours to a day. There are actually lots of TIA’s that last longer than a day, but they don’t have a name for those yet (so they call them TIA’s because that sounds better than stroke, doesn’t it?)
“I had a stroke yesterday.” Woah, that is Serious!
BUT “I had a TIA yesterday.”
Response: “Did you get the cinnamon with that, I hear it is pretty good?”
So I was trying, again, after having lost 45 minutes to depressed respiration, to do a little bit of the blog post I wanted to do. To chop it into bits. To be witty and fun. I mean, I am in pain and can’t be touched and so realize I am a bit miserable. Who wants to be known as 'miserable girl'? So I desperately want to be fun, to be funny. But I am having problems and while working I have some erratics and lose time and then I decide, that’s it, I’m finishing this as soon as I get up tomorrow (another story), so I shut everything down with my mouse hand, closing down the computer, the air conditioner. This is when I notice that my left side of my body hasn’t moved. Ah crap! Plus I am only using one eye. I have to transfer out of this chair to get to the bathroom and bed. I try to do that with my good arm but while I can move it a couple feet, I can’t lift the 8-10 lbs of weight to lift up the right side of the wheelchair so I can transfer to my tiny manual wheelchair (waiting for power chair people to change the weight on this). I transfer to go 30 feet to the bathroom. Previously, I have thrown myself, or fallen out the Power chair and tried to drag myself with one arm, but that doesn’t work well. Sigh.
Okay, I need to recline this, particularly if this is going to be a while and I might pee myself, also I need to move my head as near to the baby monitor as possible. That is just a few buttons held down. I start calling: “Linda? Hello, Linda. Linda!” I could try to drive the power chair but since I have bits I can’t feel (feet, an arm, etc), and about one hand I can feel but I can’t always see or stay conscious, or get distracted by pain then that is NOT a good idea (we call that the 'little chunk out of the wall lesson'). So I lie there, calling. I am not oxidizing well and my voice is weak and husky, “Linda, I’m stuck, Linda.” I could push my emergency button for an ambulance, but why? I just need to get to bed. Then the heart hit again and I can hear myself repeating something, “Linda, help, Linda, please, Linda, oh, god” but that is way UP there, where consciousness is slipping away under the blanket of pain.
How long? I don't know but after a time, Linda comes. Sometimes, it is a LONG time, but she comes. And helps me to bed. That is what happens. Linda gives me quiet time in the late evening but I am guessing that is coming to an end, as this risk and incidents increase.
Having something to hold when I am waiting is good. It helps. I think for all forms of pain and lonliness it probably helps. What a better world it would be if we hugged more things (you may love the cactus, but I don’t recommend hugging the cactus). Hug a panda, hug several baby pandas.
The heart wants what the heart wants. There is a solitude which is ‘me’ time, and there is a solitude of longing. Sometimes not even knowing what we are missing until it is filled. Sometimes something that simply cannot be filled but that yearning can be distracted. How about a kitten, don’t you want to hug a kitten, or pet one? I think the kitten in her hair might be a bit much and difficult for combing out later. Still contender for cutest picture EVER.
Now, this is really important for the Seme’s out there who seem, at least in the 1,000 Yaoi stories to simply ignore or grab what they want. Picking up a kitten, a cat to take home and pet is okay. Picking up and taking home a cute guy IN a cat cosplay outfit is NOT okay, well not unless the uke wants that too (oh, and sometimes they really DO!). However attracting someone who is candy to the eye and warmth in the heart with pets (like puppies) is an age old technique.
Okay, a serious warning here for both genders. We all like to look at the boobies, we like to feel the boobie. But whether you are female or male, if that isn't YOUR boobie, just because it is VERY attractive, just because you WANT it, doesn’t mean you can just go get it (and try to remember there is a FACE attached to those boobies!). That is where the ‘no illegal’ comes in. Consensual abduction and groping only please.
On that note, Cheryl, Linda and I went out a few days ago at dusk to see if we could get any squirrel loving. I had one pregnant mother who went straight for the lap and the biggest peanuts (that sounds dirty, but it isn’t). While Cheryl in her cool skull headband attracted about 5 squirrels, all of whom were a bit twitchy. This one is the ‘brave’ one, who seems to be made of rubber (it must be young to be that flexible, you know, like how you used to use your feet as a pillow while reading or read while standing on your head – wait, I actually did that!). We didn’t see many squirrels before the sun went down but soon I will arrive early and they will flood around me. Which brings up the, ‘if you are scared, don’t go into the petting area’ rule. Like not lying to boyfriend/girlfriend you love cats when they scare you, or coming with me if you are terrified of squirrels running up your leg. Because otherwise you will be the person in the back of this picture (I am the one in serenity in the front of the picture).
I think that is it right, a good job, and an explanation of getting stuck at night and then the important stuff, like hug a kitten, or better yet, hug a CAT GIRL, yes, and get all the rabbits and cats to help you do cooking. Now that is a fantasy, but still, if I could get Linda to put on the cat ears I could hug some boobies AND a cat girl at the same time. I only wish there were cats who made food, though they sure know how to turn up when it is around, don’t they?
Well, I did it. I hope you hug in. Next I will try to write the the posts on ‘Normal’, 'Desire part I and II' and ‘The Plan’ – I know part of The Plan involves me cleaning this place up. But that isn’t really fair since I am a person who would have four things out and STILL be yelled out for making a mess. True, you didn’t want to see inside of my desk at school (or locker, yikes!), and I was the person who was doing my homework while the teacher was taking attendance. I can’t help it that pens mysteriously disappear around me, along with keys, important papers that must not be lost, things put ‘away somewhere where I won’t lose it’, combs, prescriptions, DVD’s, books, the top that would go perfectly with this outfit (that is ALWAYS lost, regardless of outfit). It is just my curse.
Have fun, hug, don’t be illegal. Geez, I sound like a parent.
7 hours ago