MS

When It Rains….

Posted on by tresswann

I am having problems at work.  Change in the organization and I am no longer allowed to work at home, even with the doctor’s note.  I am getting it sorted but in the meantime it’s having a significant financial, mental and physical impact. I have a letter from my doctor saying I should not be in the office when is 85 or more.  Me, I thought 90.  The problem is I commute and am in the subways.  The first time must have been 6 years ago or so and I arrived home with 102.5 fever.  I was in Times Square and all of a sudden could barely walk.  Doctor didn’t know what came first.  Until  I get sorted out, I am continuing to go in.  I see where this is going – oh she can’t be here and she can’t do the work.  So I struggle and husband comes in and helps me home.  It is expensive.

Wednesday, when I left they were announcing delays and signal problems.  Normally,  I would have turned around and gone home and worked.  Wednesday would have been perfect as I had training scheduled with Ireland and they had wanted it early but in the office my best offer is 730 a.m.  The ride which is usually under an hour was almost two and a half.  I can’t sit or stand for long times.  Then just as we started to move,  I heard for real for the first time “Is there a doctor, medical personnel or law enforcement on the train.  If so, please come to car number in the front of the train.”  Now,  I get out in NYC, people are late plus it’s peak so a pushy, fast mob.  Exactly why I travel alternate hours.  I miss my pill which helps me walk.  No water and it can’t be broken apart.  Get on the bus and they announce a detour as the street is closed.  I can’t make this stuff up!

My husband can’t come in and help me because the trains aren’t working,  I have to leave early to avoid any mess.  I do make it through the stations in the high heat.  I arrive at Penn, with  4 minutes to spare for a train to where I need to go.  I have to tell you I love travelling with the construction workers.  They pick me up when I fall and super polite. I had to walk downstairs – numerous offers of help and no one pushed me on the train.  I get a seat!  Settle in like a bird in a nest.  Announcement:  We are experiencing equipment problems.  Really!  Luckily, it sorted out.  I was so grateful.

Cut to this morning – I have on a white toile dress.  Get my coffee, granola with milk, walk into my office/den and left toe goes.  Everything flies all over the place.  Upside nothing broke – not my body, not the cup, not the bowl.  And miraculously, not a drop on the white dress.  I know I fell due to the stress!

But I am now off for a few days!

The Kindness of Strangers and Providence

Posted on by tresswann

Continuing on my “winning” streak.  Monday morning.  The bus is late and doesn’t pull up to the curb.  I have enormous difficulties climbing on.  The good news is that since it was Monday, I could get on.  I made great time.  I was even able to cross Park Avenue in one go without help.  I haven’t been able to do this in months by myself.  There is a security guard in the building who sees me in the morning on his way into work and helps me cross and get in building.  He always tells me he has my back.  And there’s another guard at MetLife that watches out for me and helped me when it had rained and the floor was like icy glass.  I am so excited crossing that I don’t notice the sidewalk is closed.  I have to pick my way to the building entrance in the street.  There is no cut out and after the bus, I can’t manage the curb.  I ask for help and a young guy ear buds and all lifts me up, then asks if I need help with the building stairs.  People always say New Yorkers are rude but I have never found them so.  Perhaps fast and rushed but always helpful.  And that was even when I was well!

I walked well in the .  My left knee started to twinge as I left the office.  My right leg is the problem.  Breezed through Grand Central,  Times Square,  a little buckling.  Penn, just a little.  I always go down to the platform even when they say not to.  Yesterday, something stopped me. My left knee starts to buckle as I am standing there.  It’s odd.  Track change!  People held the elevator for me and I got on the train.  I sit in a car that is way off where I normally get off.  So, I walk to my stairs.  Not bad.  Top of the bannister is gone.  I need this.  However,  I manage to grab on.  I go down stairs one by one sideways.  I see a group of kids at the foot of stairs, look like clean cut teens. Maybe Eagle Scouts?  Crap!  After all this and knee is twinging like mad, I am going to have to say I don’t want to buy candy, chances, donate, whatever.  I go down two long flights of concrete stairs every night.  I do not want to deal.  I get to the second flight and I am beginning to count and I have to go to the bathroom sooo badly.  I get three or four stairs from the bottom and my left knee collapsed meaning I collapse.  Hanging onto bannister with both hands and can I tell you I have on a beautiful cream lace sheath?  Aside from injury, I don’t want this dress ruined.  Teen boys rush up, catch me, straighten me out and help me down stairs.  Nope, not scouts.  Missionaries!  Yup, even offered me water.  That’s what they are doing, offering cold water.  They “saved” me.  And they were there again tonight!  Kindness is all over the place.

May Warrior Check In

Posted on by tresswann

Back for MAY :

How do I feel today – Nice day.  Attended a tea.  I actually did a table.  I was all tizzed about it but think it went well.  However, mixed feelings.  This is my fourth one.  I walked in first time four years ago  in a dress, today with a cane and pants.  But I am walking better than I have due to the drug.

What did you do for yourself today?

See above.  I went to a tea, very girly.  My husband was wonderful and helped set up and breakdown.  There’s a jewelry boutique so I got to shop!  And then went to Odd Job afterwards for this and that.  I didn’t work.  It’s a real break.

What did I eat today and how did it make me feel – BAD.  It was tea!  I did do a smoothy before I went but scones, salmon tea sandwiches, chocolate.  Then Chinese food.  I have been seriously sliding and need to recommit to proper eating.  I need to max the opportunity the Ampyra has given me.

Did I exercise? What did I do? How did it feel – Still not going to the gym or Zumba. But I am walking more.  I will get to gym.  This was the least I have walked all week.

For whom or what are you grateful? What matters most in life?   Grateful for friends and the possibilities of new ones.  Grateful for the people I am meeting through the blog.  Ampyra.  New possibilities.

Do I have a higher purpose or driving force in my life?   Make a mission statement – Higher purpose still not defined.  Beginning to dream again.  Uh, maybe some sort of sharing

How long have I been treated with conventional medicine Ampyra,  two weeks.  And it is working.  I was able to walk longer and stronger.

The first time I had a symptom – June 2004 walking on the beach boardwalk

What symptoms are most troublesome – being off balance and not walking well, wearing ugly shoes and consequently ugly clothes

Do I blame myself for things –  Yes, I am still blaming myself for not being aggressive against this. Still!  And I think always.  It’s funny how we don’t take things seriously

How is stress level? It’s high.  Trying to tone it down.

What can I do tomorrow to make it better than today?   Start over.  It’s a new month. Have a different day.  And yes, I am thinking about things other than disease and death. I am thinking about art and new jobs and possibilities, flowers and spring.

Until next month.

Ampyra Plus

Posted on by tresswann

Well, I started the Ampyra a week ago.  I had fought against taking drugs for ages.  When I finally gave in,  my insurance wouldn’t pay for it.  New insurance pays.  And it’s reasonable.  So, I started it last Saturday.  Yes,   I was/am worried about side effects.  Uh, seizure is one?  Much trepidation.  So far, so good,  no side effects.  And I am walking better!  It’s amazing.  Thursday, I walked 11,000 steps and was not stumbling and half dead, that night or the next day!  I can’t believe it.  I am fearfully optimistic.  On the one hand, I have read the literature.  This is not a cure.  I can continue to deteriorate.  I do not want to think about this.  Here’s where I am going.  I am taking this as a second chance.  I can go back to Zumba.  I need to find my way back to the gym and build those muscles.

This morning,  I went for MRIs.  I have been getting them from a research study.  It was de-funded and the doctor pointed out that it had been two years and since my left side seemed to be having trouble….  This time the insurance is good.  I didn’t want to go.  What is the point?  I know things have changed.  There’s nothing they can do, so why?  Of course, I had to take the spectral leg off for the MRI and the tech wanted to wheel me into to the room in a wheelchair.  NOOOOO!  I stumbled and gimped on it.  Puhleez!

And I am on a roll,  yesterday I went to get a new spectral leg.  I was shown one that had two thin metal strips in the back but my ankle is too wobbly.  However, there is a graphite one with a thinner back and slimmer sole.  I may be able to wear  nicer shoes. I hate, hate looking disabled.  I am like a newscaster behind a desk – everything looks good until I stand and walk!  I am very vain and ugly shoes impact me.  And I don’t buy what some of my friends tell me about being older and not wearing heels.  Okay, I wouldn’t want to wear stilettos anyway but I see no reason why I can’t with practice and determination get back to kitten heels.   Let’s not even consider crutches or wheelchairs.

My goal is to go back to wearing spectral leg only to and from work and to ditch the cane.  Build those muscles.  So, I need to amp the clean eating.  I am on my way.

Visiting the Doctor

Posted on by tresswann

Yes, sometimes I write about what’s going on condition-wise.  Tomorrow, I have a visit to the neurologist.  I haven’t been since July.  She likes to see me every three months.  I delayed for several reasons.  I thought I was  going to be an employee so I would have different insurance.  I was really hoping that by changing the way I eat, I would have positive change.  And frankly, I get tired and depressed hearing about the natural progression of the “disease”.  Last time, she told me I was more spiritual.  My unspoken response – “BS”

Well, tomorrow I am going back.  I am worse.  That’s another thing I don’t like, her denial that I am getting worse. It’s just natural.  One of the things we have been discussing is medication.  She has prescribed Ampyra for me but my former insurance didn’t cover it.  It costs $1300 – 1800 a month.  Now, I can get it for $60.  It works in 60% of the people.  I should be able to walk longer and faster.  I am terrified of drugs.  Also,  she can now prescribe meds that work on relapsing.  However, I have seen for some reason going that route only works for men.

In the meantime, I fell getting off subway on Thursday.  It’s getting harder and harder for me to commute.  My left leg is going.  On a positive note I should be able to get a better brace a.k.a. spectral leg for my right leg.  A new one may allow me to wear nicer shoes which will help my self – esteem.  Donna will know I hate, hate wearing shoes like the groundhog (inside reference) I don’t want to give up but struggling into work isn’t working for me. I like what I do but really don’t want to be there.  I took cabs last week except for the day I fell.  I can’t afford that.  Commutation already is hundreds a month.  I needed a cane to walk in my own tiny house this weekend.  Husband had a thought which may be valid.  I am a woman of a certain age and have been taking Estroven for years.  I forgot to buy some and have been without for a week.  Hot flashes and me don’t mix well.  Back on it so hopefully it will sort some of this out.  Also, my work stress has been through roof .  That’s a topic for another day.

Tomorrow we have a late appointment which means we see all the people who can’t even sit up being wheeled in, beyond depressing, the ghost of Christmas future.

Not optimistic.  Guess I can have a down day or so.

Poster Children

Posted on by tresswann

I have a thing about poster “children”.  When I received my initial diagnosis, me being me, I said let me learn everything about it, I can.  I am notorious for doing my homework.  First thing, we reached out to the MS society.  My diagnosis, which I reject or maybe deny, is PPMS.    Actually, I reject but that’s another day.  So we receive their packet.   Talk about poster children.  The PPMS brochure has woman in a scooter and she talks about how wonderful it is now that she has her scooter.  F’ing excuse me?  Not only is this not what I want to hear, it’s a piss poor message as far as I am concerned.  So, how I am going to cope and fight with this disease is bop around on a scooter?  Really?  Not me, not yet, probably God’s willing not ever.  We start with surrender and acceptance?  Not working for me and I don’t think it should!  We scratch MS society off our list and decide to fly solo.

Next, just this month we receive the newsletter from the Institute that’s treating me.  Monitoring is actually a better description.  See inspiring story on page…  Flip to page.  Another woman saying she wept buckets when they told her to use a cane  but now it is sooo wonderful.  Well, I didn’t weep when we had that conversation. I argued and acquiesced.  I don’t cry as a rule in front of other people.  I work really hard at not crying about this.  When I do, it’s usually frustration and rage as oppose to fear.  I have to use a cane now most of the time in public and it is so not wonderful.  I understand I do need to be safe.

What kind of message is being sent?  Are we Victorian?  Am I supposed to lie back and think of England?  I get it about false hope.  But what about possibilities and determination?  They don’t seem to fit in this “traditional” setting.  Well, I worked for years in fashion and was always considered trendy so this is my take.  Screw these “poster children”,  my trend is not to go quietly into the night or anywhere, not to surrender and not to accept defeat.

Men, Gypsies and a Funeral

Posted on by tresswann

As I said, Joebe passed away last week.   He always called me a Gypsy.  And it wasn’t always positive.    He used to tease me that I could and did move all my belongings in a cargo van.   I had nothing and was free.  Since I married this time, I can no longer move in a cargo van.  I am weighted with both possessions and responsibilities.

Joebe said I was a gypsy and committed to nothing.    He was of an age where he also meant it in the non PC sense of it.  I was amoral, free, uncommitted.  I remember the gypsies of my youth.  I spent the first few years of my life in Coney Island.  The Gypsies would come every spring.  We were always warned that they stole little children and we had better stay close.

Sometimes I didn’t mind when he called me Gypsy because it meant that I was still holding onto that part of me that was uniquely me.  Lord knows he tried to change me.   Like I have said, I have been trying so hard to remember the happy times.  I really can’t.  Every memory just twists.

I met him dancing.  And he was a great dancer.  That’s what won me over. But we didn’t dance because of his jealousy.

Also, after I left my first husband, I wanted to go out with a man who took me to dinner with tablecloths.  My first husband’s idea of dinner out was Fuddrucker’s.  Joebe took me to nice dinners but they were unpleasant as he always accused me of flirting with the busboy or the waiter.   It became easier not to go.

I have always worked with men and gotten along very well with them.  It’s part of the all boy college deal.  During that time, I worked with men and I used to go out with them for what we called burgers and a belt.  I used to stay at my parents and tell Joebe I was eating with them.  With anyone else I could have and would have told the truth.

At his daughter’s rehearsal dinner,  I sat next to her, not her mother.  By this time, I had left him.  But he was always telling me “Pretend to be a family.”  He had had issues with his daughter and had not wanted to go to the wedding. I insisted but I was the one who walked out of the dinner.(I did go to the wedding)  She is 10 years younger than me almost to the day.    So, I would say we really didn’t get on.

Sunday,  I walked into the funeral home.  I think it’s the first time I saw her since her wedding.  She had been the one to initially call me and tell me that her father was in intensive care and she wasn’t sure she had the right person. I got her brother when I returned the call.  She broke away from the people she was with and grabbed me and began to sob.  “Susan, when we went into the house, there was a huge picture of you in his bedroom.  My dad always loved you.  He never stopped loving you.”  This was so hard to hear.  First of all, within weeks of our getting together he practically demanded that I tell him I loved him.  Different generations – what’s love got to do with it.  I was the gypsy rolling with the tide, looking for my good time.  I never told my first husband I loved him.  It’s not something I do.  I hold love close to my heart, my hard gypsy heart.

It has made me reflect what impact do we really have on others?  When I left my first husband, he was more upset I thought about losing the curtains (I took them off the windows) than me.  Joebe told me we were supposed to get married and he was going to be short the money I gave him towards rent.  We did things together afterwards. i.e. daughter’s wedding but I wouldn’t say we were friends.  I do love my friends.    I can’t ask him what was going on because he is dead.  It’s sort of like an open window but one that you really can’t see through.

Of course,  there was the rest of the family to see.  I did love his granddaughter and losing her when I left him broke my heart.  I kept distance from my now husband’s children and his nieces because I didn’t want that hurt again.  I am loosening up a bit and admitting that we can love each other.  Seeing Gabby almost made me cry.  She’s just about grown up and of course, doesn’t remember me.

Now, men.  My husband and I have had many problems and we have come out alright.  Our marriage is strong.  He stood next to me and listened to hearing that another man had always loved me.  He walked into a room of strangers to him that had been family to me.  He literally held me up.  No cane and no one said anything about my walking.  He totally supported me in all ways.

Someone who has this condition said something along the lines of how do you forget you have this?  Well, Sunday once my husband helped me in that door, my condition was the last thing on my mind.  I am larger than this.

So, I am beginning to have memories, not bad ones, just memories.   I hear his voice in my head.  And I am beginning to realize that I’ll never see or hear him again.  That’s the way this works. He’s not the first relationship that I have lost but he was the only one I lived with.  You always think you will see them again and you can be like Bellbottom blues or just surviving.  I was always tickled that I survived Joebe.  Now, there’s this unknown area.

And here’s what’s weird. Joebe gave me amber earrings.  I wear them at least once a week.  I went to put them in on Monday and one fell on the floor and shattered.  Gypsies and dreams.

Mortality, Perspective and Balance

Posted on by tresswann

Mortality has been on my mind a lot.  It’s a milestone year for me and I am feeling it, particularly since my mobility is impaired and seems to be worsening.  I hope I have many years ahead of me, good years but you just don’t know.  I live fairly locally to where I grew up so I was reading the local obituaries to see whose parents had died.  And then people’s ages were getting too close to mine and I even knew some of them.  It started to drag me down so I stopped.

Last week I received a call that one of my exes had a massive heart attack and was in a medically induced coma and the prognosis was not good.  This was someone I had lived with for a few years.  When I left him, he said “But we were going to get married”  Nice of him to let me know.  He wasn’t the first.  I left someone else who then showed me a polaroid of the engagement ring he was paying off on for me.

Joebe passed away on Thursday night and I got the call Friday.  I really thought he was stubborn and cantankerous enough to come out of this.  He never regained consciousness.  This is who he was, he thought he was having a heart attack so he drove himself to the doctor.  Just what they tell you not to do.  My husband has been upset because all week, of course,  Joebe has been in my thoughts.  I have been reminiscing. He doesn’t mind the reminiscing.  They are not happy memories. He does not like that.   I cannot help it.  I am trying hard to remember some happy times.  He was controlling and emotionally abusive.  It is what it is and he was physically abusive just that one time.  I tried explaining to my husband that remembering the bad times is not bad.  I put on the card for the flowers “You changed my life” and he did.  I learned all kinds of things about myself.  I learned how much stronger I was than I thought.

It’s ironic, it’s March.  I met him in March, 21 or 22 years ago.  I never go out on St. Pat’s but a friend, Joe S asked me to go with him as a favor to some event or other.  Joe T called and asked me to hang out so I said next week.  Next week, I went to hang with Joe T and met Joebe.  My parents couldn’t stand him as he was much older than me.  I was living at home after my first marriage broke up and he would call and say “It’s Joe”  and they would say “Which one?”  Drove him insane.  He was jealous and insecure.  He did make me look at where I was jobwise.  I had fallen on really bad times when my first marriage had broken up and was answering phones.  I applied for another job like that and he told me if I kept on looking at the same jobs I would be in the same place.  I left him when I got the job I have now.  At the time I jumped my salary by 50%.  With bonuses the first year, I made more than he did.  We never really stopped talking and this truly irked him, a man of his age being bested by a little girl. He never thought I was very smart and I am.  I am one of the first women at an all boys school and he always said that I got in because I was a girl.  We went to a 25th anniversary of the admission of women and the former president said that admissions my year were blind.  It was incredibly liberating.  Joebe scoffed and said they lied.

He bought me a house.  One of the reasons he bought this particular house was the day we looked at it, three swans floated up.  It was on water and I am tresswann.

I am preparing to go to his funeral this afternoon with my husband.  My husband always maintains that Joebe was my husband.  I lived with him longer than I did my first husband and had more of a relationship with him.

I have kept on saying all week, this is weird.  This afternoon is going to be weird.  I was at the wedding of both of his children, the christening of two of his three grandchildren.  He was one of 5 brothers.  The family liked me.  I have not seen these people in years.  I am going to have to walk into this with a cane.  My husband says to leave the cane behind and he will hold me.  I am blessed.  Things work out the way they are supposed to work out.  I had a really close friend die when I was with Joebe.  He knew him.  He refused to come with me to the wake or funeral.  Walking in alone was one of the hardest things I had done up to that point  in my life.  See, what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.  Today, I will not be alone.  I will be supported by love.

So, perspective too.  On Thursday, I received a call from my agent indicating that he had been told I am not getting a raise for this year.  Can I say livid is too mild a word?  Yes, I worked remotely for most of January and February but I put in mega hours.  I give heart and soul and do excellent work.  I am not just saying this.  And I am hurt by this.  I will address it when I get into the office this week.  But coming in conjunction with Joebe’s death, it’s time to take another look.  If they think I am doing a less than adequate job which is what a non raise indicates to me then I can and will cut back.  If I cut my hours, I cut my income.  What’s money at the end of the day as long as the bills are paid?  Working less hours will let me get home earlier and when I am home earlier and not putting in extra hours, I can do more “me” stuff.  How about the gym? How about art and writing?

I am a Libra and as odd as it sounds, I need to be in balance.  I have been out of balance.  This manifests itself in my health.  Oh, and a side note on stress, I left Joebe and started a new job all in the same month, not too crazy.  I am moving towards this milestone birthday with trepidation.  I am taking these two events as a sign to get back in balance.  Maybe regain my physical sense of balance. We truly do not know when our last day will be.  I don’t want the rest of whatever time I have to be filled with regrets or what ifs.   Carpe Diem.

March Warrior Check In

Posted on by tresswann

Back for March:

How do I feel today – Mixed blues.  Despite the fall and my face, we ran around a lot today.  First thing, we went to Trader Joe’s and Omaha Steaks.  No, no meat for me.  Husband’s youngest just got his first apartment and we filled their freezer.  Then on to the Chocolate Duck, again not for me, getting a class for a niece and Easter Egg supplies for the kids.  Then on to sister in laws to drop off things and pick up Girl Scout cookies.  Not for me.  I don’t eat them, ever.  Visit kids with food, flowers and pyrex for housewarming.   I gimped through everything very frustrating and depressing but I still get going.

What did you do for yourself today?

Well, I blogged and then I am going to make a wrapped bracelet.  And it was fun shopping.

What did I eat today and how did it make me feel – Sigh.  Not good.  I started the morning with coffee and a piece of Christmas pudding.  Toffee crunch after trader Joe’s.  A streusel apple spelt muffin.  Quinoa chips.  Dare I say, steamed pork buns for dinner?  But I have been really good all week, smoothies and salads

Did I exercise? What did I do? How did it feel – Still not going to the gym or Zumba.  Still housebound, still doing the stepper and recently added treadmill.  I am working my physical therapy back in.  Hurt in falls so I am back to square one with Abs.

For whom or what are you grateful? What matters most in life? Grateful as usual to be warm safe and dry.  Grateful that I didn’t seriously hurt myself in my fall.  Grateful for the kindness of strangers.  And my job.  And my stepsons are awesome.

Do I have a higher purpose or driving force in my life?   Make a mission statement – Higher purpose still not defined.  Beginning to dream again

How long have I been treated with conventional medicine Not this month but I think I need to go to the doctore.

The first time I had a symptom – June 2004 walking on the beach boardwalk

What symptoms are most troublesome – Duh, gradually losing my ability to walk and being dependent.  And the falling.

Do I blame myself for things –  Yes, I am still blaming myself for not being aggressive against this.

How is stress level? It’s high.  Now I am really frightened about how things are going down.

What can I do tomorrow to make it better than today?   Start over.  It’s a new month.  I still have new days.

Until next month.

Falling Flat on My Face, February and Fragility

Posted on by tresswann

February has been a hard month for me.  I ended up going into the office only 7 days between the extreme cold and the weather.  I am lucky to be able to work from home and got tons done.  Also,  I welcomed the rest,  few 4:15 a.m.s.  Excellent.  The flip side is I have a tiny house and even to get up and walk to the bathroom, I don’t get in enough walking.  I work in a building where each floor is a city block.  Depending on what my schedule is I can literally walk miles at work.  Ok so now it’s with a brace and a cane but still.

Went to work on Wednesday and took a cab in the morning.  The bus stop was icy.  I went out to lunch but it was only across the street.  My New Year’s plan which has been derailed by the weather is to go to lunch once a week.  I need to reconnect myself.  I swore when this whole thing started that I wouldn’t let this condition/disease confine me or define me.  And just like my ability to walk, it gradually took over.   I am fighting back.  Wednesday night I felt ok and thought I would do my usual Grand Central, Times Square Penn Station deal.  I left work early so I could take an earlier train.  It’s on a track with an escalator so it’s closer and I walk less.  Well,  I started to fall apart in Times Square.  The train is the 4:12, I was on escalator at 4:11  and the bartender literally held the door for me.  I struggled into a seat.  The ride is an hour and that is enough recovery time for me.  My station is the last stop and almost everyone is gone.  I got up and was in the door when the train pulled in.  I got off carefully (I have to hold on) and thought Ok that’s good.  The next thing I remember I was flat on my face with gushing blood.  All of a sudden, thankfully, there were a lot of people on the platform.  Someone asked, “Are you alright?”  Normally, I am very perky and reassuring.  This time I had to say, I don’t know.  Two many literally lifted me up as if I was a rag doll.  Oh, and another thing.  I am not prone to profanity but after saying I don’t know, I added, “I really f–ked up my face, didn’t I” .  I have not fallen on my face in more than 25 years.  The last time I did I was 24, drunk and dancing in a bar in the Hamptons.  Life does change.  So they raised me and my gushing face up.  A businessman provided tissue and blotted at my face.  I thought I had literally split my lip.  Nope.  I am blessed and lucky.  And my legs felt great.  My face took the brunt of this fall.  Now, the railroad guy comes out of the train.  They want to get me medical attention, file a report, get me a cab, call someone.    No.  My husband doesn’t drive.  I refused.  This station doesn’t have an escalator or elevator so I gimp down two flights of concrete stairs normally.  A man offered to help me down the stairs.  I had a knapsack and a pocketbook.   He showed me a badge and said he was a federal officer so my things were safe.  I didn’t care.  I said anyone is welcome to it.  He was great!   He helped me down the stairs which did have patches of ice.  And he got me into my car.  Husband freaked.  Yes, it looks like I went rounds with someone.  He thinks it reflects badly on him.

Then I went into work the next day.  This is the kind of place I work in, people came in and said nothing!   I have a swollen bloody lip,  a scraped bloody chin and huge bruise under my chin.  Husband thought  it would be a problem for me.  If I fall, will they renew my contract?  Actually,  I felt worse when I got into work.  It hit me, all the might haves.  I have been so lucky and so blessed.  This could have been so much worse.  Thursday night, there was almost no one on the platform.

As I have struggled this week I have been thinking.  I changed the way I eat significantly.  Okay, as I have admitted, I have not gone full force.  I still eat sugar. It’s significantly reduced.  Dairy and eggs radically down.  Never much of a red meat eater but more minimal.

I am getting worse not better.  And I hate when people try and whitewash it.  And I know I am lucky, truly.  I am still walking and I am not going to stop.  This month was rough as I couldn’t literally get out of the house.  That meant much less walking though I did try to do at least 30 minutes on the stepper every night.  I couldn’t get to Zumba or the gym.  In fact, I was planning on going to the gym Wednesday night and breaking the ice so to speak.    So, amp up the food plan and the exercise.  Keep moving forward.

On to fragility.  The cell rings yesterday and I am working.  I see it’s my one of my exes.  It’s a wild, wild life.  I keep in touch with all my exes, all the live ones, except my first husband.  I do have two dead ones.  Stories for another day but both died when I was young, one of AIDS, one of cancer.  And yes, for years I had the spectre of AIDS hanging over me.  The one after them said I am never breaking up with you.  Men who leave you die.  Well, I left him and he’s still alive.  After that, I was the one that did the leaving.  I lived with the ex whose number showed for several years.  It was not healthy.  He is significantly older than me.  We would have conversations and he would mention an event and ask if I remembered.  My response was usually “I was three!” or “Uh, I wasn’t born yet.”  We maintain cordial relations but he still can be controlling and domineering.  I let it go to voice, picked up the message and it was his daughter saying we think we have the right person, you lived with my Dad, he’s in cardiac ICU.  I called back immediately and reached his son.  He told me that ex is in medically induced coma, had massive heart attack and they are reaching out to the people that were important in his life so they are not surprised. I am devastated.  He’s tough and ornery so I am not counting him out .  It’s ironic.  He hit me once in the face and the next time, because there always is a next time, I punched him in the chest before he could touch me and knocked him out.  There never was a next time after that.  He said “You could really have hurt me”  I was “Exactly”.  I left. We made our peace.

This is all, the fall, the deterioration and the ex, making me feel fragile.  I am tougher than this.  It literally hurts to smile right now but I am trying.  I can and will rise again.