autoimmune diseases

April Doctor’s Visit

Posted on by tresswann

Well, apparently I was at the doctor’s exactly a year ago and again today.

So,  I am a tiny bit stronger and a tiny bit faster.

I participated in a research study there a week ago.  My MRI is basically the same which is really good.  I know from the mental tests last week that I am more than OK that way.  She reiterated that I have spinal arthritis.

Now,  she  says that I am a tiny bit stronger than last time and a tiny bit faster.  This so works for me.  The gym is working.  She says I need to continue  three times a week!  And I do need to continue with Zumba.  I was thinking of stopping because as much as I love it, it frustrates me.  I seem to be able to do less and less.  When this mess started I used to be in the front row.  However, she agrees that the social aspect is important for me.  I’ll go through the end of this season and see.

On the bad side, she says it looks like Raynaud’s.  My fingers have been turning white.  Just another thing to deal with.

On the up side, there is a new drug that has been tested and works with my symptoms/conditions.  It should be available when I go back.   Down side – it’s an intravenous and twice a year.  We’ll talk about side effects later.  My plan  – get stronger so I don’t have to do this.

March 2016 Check In

Posted on by tresswann

How did I feel this past Month?

A very mixed month with peaks and valleys.  Getting a job and maintaining funding has been consuming.  Some days are great, others less so.  I am fighting the blues. It’s winter so that’s not abnormal. The season distresses me.  My condition makes me housebound more than I’d like.  Also, not having income makes us stay at home – no joy-shopping.  I am in a waiting mode.  It’s never easy for me.  Sometimes, I am a slave to that e-mail, waiting for news, for any movement.

What did you do for yourself this month?

Still with the gym and less so Zumba due to the weather.  I can’t really go out in rain or snow, too much chance of falling.  I have started to write again.  I started journaling in January and am writing in the day.  I have continued to clear clutter.  I am trying to reach out to people/

What did I eat this month  and how did it make me feel –

Back mostly to smoothies.  They really help my system and mitigate my sugar cravings.  I created an alert on my phone to remind me to have fruit in the afternoon and my Bac pill.

Did I exercise?  What did I do?  How did it feel –

It’s exciting.  I am feeling achy at the gym.  I am taking it as a sign my nerves are reconnecting.  On the flip side, I seem a little less flexible and continue to experience balance problems.

For whom or what are you grateful?  What matters most in life?

My friends. The gift of faith.  I have been playing with “The Power of Positive Thinking” and it has reconnected me to faith.  The love that is in my life.  My stepson brought me the most beautiful rose on Valentine’s, unexpected and lovely.

Do I have a higher purpose or driving force in my life?   Make a mission statement –

No surprises.  No mission statement.  Purpose?  Let others benefit by my fight. Integrity.  Principles do count.

Conventional medicine  Just the Ampyra and Baclufan.  Really beginning to get that the right food and rest will do a lot.

Symptoms –  Hands are becoming a problem.  Fighting it of course!  Balance and flexibility which can be addressed with increased determination

What symptoms are most troublesome  – The lack of freedom.  As I write this, the newspaper is in the driveway and I just can’t go out and get it.  My increasing reliance on the cane is hindering me in my job search.

Do I blame myself for things – Of course, between stress, wrong food and not enough exercise

How is stress level?

Still high and who wouldn’t be between money, job and health.  This is becoming my new normal.

What can I do tomorrow to make it better than today?

Remember to breathe. Have faith.  Eat and exercise properly.

Convergence, Synergy, Serendipity

Posted on by tresswann

I have been out of work for four months.  What a strange phrase to use.  Let’s rephrase:  I have not been paid or going to an employer for four months.  Work is continual and takes different forms.

I was/am beginning to feel a little despair, desperation.

I have always believed things happen for a reason.

I also have wanted to take this time to clear up around the house.  I had let everything go when  I had a job.  Plus, I have hoarding tendencies.  I literally took everything off the top of my desk.   I found a little pamphlet that a friend gave me about 25 years ago.  I did warn you.  The pamphlet was an abridged “The Power of Positive Thinking”.  My parents had the book.  I can picture it in the bookcase at the top of the stairs.  As they aged, they moved things and got rid of things.  I don’t know that is a book I ever would have kept.  I never cracked its spine when I was growing up.  But now, I found this little pamphlet and threw it in my bag when I was going into NYC for an interview.  I started to read it.  Last time I was without work and my first marriage was breaking up and I was probably clinically depressed, my mother typed up a prayer for me.  It helped enormously.  There it was in the pamphlet!  A good sign.  The pamphlet was making sense to me.  I do have a deep faith sometimes.  Sometimes, as is natural, it wavers.  I also read and am a huge fan of Julia Cameron – Good Orderly Direction.  There you go and I am off to the races.

Next event:  I am in the car and hear the beginning of an interview with Marlon James, the first Jamaican to win the Booker prize.  I am half Jamaican and read Caribbean literature at uni.  I dabble in it from time to time but had stopped.  So I decide to get the book from the library.  Of course, I don’t remember its name.  When I do the library search, other West Indian novelists show up.  I order some Colin Chaner.

I was a student of Earl Lovelace’s years ago.  I had no idea who he was until 10 years or so, maybe even closer, a friend of mine mentioned him.  I immediately read him and adored it.  His writing was never mentioned or touted at school.  He only taught for a year.   I just found out that a book of his came out to serious acclaim a year after I studied with him.  No one said anything at school.  In retrospect, I wonder.  Was it racial?  Or was it “intellectual”?  This was a department that touted Coover and McElroy.  I decide let me read some more Lovelace.  Another library search.  Ha, there is a book on Lovelace and Caribbean literature on Goodreads.  The library doesn’t have it.  I go to Amazon.  Well, I am not working so I can’t buy it but I will.  I read the blurb and information on the author.  I call my friend and tell her I should have written that book.  I could have written that.

Onto next topic.  Since I have been at home, I have realized that somewhere along the line, I stepped off my life.  I had older women friends that believed I could and would run a major US corporation!  That had not been my interest for years.  When I was much younger, I had had three major ambitions.  First, right out of high school, I wanted to be the next Henry Kissinger.  Then, I wanted to be the next Calvin Klein.  I had a therapist point out that I wanted to be men.  It never crossed my mind.  It was the position, not the gender.  Last, I wanted to be either president of Macy’s or Saks.  I am not aggressive enough and lost that dream.  Still corporately, I was chasing that vice presidency.  I started the job that just ended,  in 2000.  I knew I wasn’t going to stay there.  Ha!  I was there 15 years.  I stopped and stepped off.  I can’t figure out the complete why.  Yes, my parents died. My father’s death left me responsible for my mother.  She had dementia.  I severed relations with my brother.  I married.  He’s an alcoholic but presently in recovery.  That was pure, utter living hell. And I developed this condition.  Ok, I guess putting it down on paper, it’s enough to derail most people.  But like my mother used to say, “Is your name everyone else?”

Next, there’s an annual short story competition that I have submitted to in the past.  Three years ago, the topic was complicated families.  I was excited and drafted an outline of related stories.  I had a central piece firmly in mind.  Work intervened and I put it aside.

Full disclosure:  my father was a writer.  I was always intimidated to write in front of him as it were.  He was very critical.  When he was older I used to take him to the Edgars, the mystery writing Oscars.  It was always filled with “auteurs”.  People always questioned me on what I was writing, shop talk.  At the last one we attended the year he died, we spoke about it.  He knew I wrote at home and wanted to know what was going on.  I told him that I really didn’t think I was going to do anything till he was gone.  He told me to write and write now.  It was the greatest gift he gave me.  However, he died a few months later and it sort of sucked everything out of me.

So, I am home, not going into work and I am going to finish this complicated family 750 word story and I can’t.  I am blocked.  I do not like the way I am writing.  I call my friend and she suggests I write around it.  I am cleaning and praying (due to the Power of Positive thinking).

Next, a friend from high school is also clearing and comes across her journals where my name is mentioned.  I tell her you must be in mine, too.  I pull them out but can’t touch them.  Two weeks ago or so, I am writing in my current journal and my husband questions me about the whole concept. I pull one of the high school ones off the night table.  An unfinished letter to this very woman falls out.  Queue the Twilight Zone music.  I start flipping through this decades old book.  I find writing that is excellent and then realize it was mine!  Talk about squandering gifts.  It is disturbing to me.

Next:  Plan B.  As I was doing this clear out, I came across folders stuffed with my old writing.  I decide I will type or retype this material.  This will put it in a more stable format than yellowing, crumpled sheets and may rekindle writing. Now, over the past few years, I have  been talking to my friend about the great Carib- American novel and we have also discussed themes of the immigrant experience, what you take, what you leave, what you bring back.  Yesterday, I reach into the drawer to start my project .  I am stunned.  It is the “great Caribbean-American” novel, outlined and with some pages!  The ideas are outlined in some detail.    I have no recollection of starting this. I don’t remember writing this at all.  It is decades ago.  It’s not bad, in fact parts of it are good!

The universe has sent me a clear message. It’s time to write.

Resiliency

Posted on by tresswann

I have been without work for 4 months today.

On the positive side, I have been able to have some much needed rest.  I haven’t had to wake up at 4 a.m. ish since then.   My body clock has adjusted or righted itself to a 6:30 a.m. – 7 a.m. rise.  I go to bed around 10.  Finally, after years like a normal person.    I go to the gym.  I eat healthy food – read I have not gained weight at home.

On the negative side, I walk less.  I try but most days can’t get in near the amount of walking I did when I worked.  I would have thought I would have been improving significantly.  I am stressed but in a different way.  I need and want to work.

My walking has impacted my job search.  I know the first interview I went on was ageism and the “disability”.  They couldn’t get me out of there fast enough.  Other ones have been more subtle.  I had two companies that I went through several phone interviews.  I had to get on a shuttle bus for one.  When I was well I couldn’t get in those.  Ask anyone who ever had to take an airport shuttle with me.  The second one was the same day as the shuttle one.  I wobbled.  I need to use the cane.  It is stylish.  I try to wear non cloddy oxfords.  I wear loose pants over the spectral leg.  I disclaim that when I worked I took two subways everyday!  I work into the conversation how many steps I walk in a day – over 8,000.  This is seriously more than most “well” people do.

I have explored some opportunities on Long Island where I live.  The company recruiters have been upfront with me.  I am not cheap.  However, I have lots of experience and am excellent at what I do.  I had several conversations with a major national company out here that would have met my salary requirements.  I didn’t have to walk as my experience in and of itself was kind of threatening.  I was OK .  I made it through phone interviews to an in person assessment.  One person saw me with the cane.  And I walked well!  We had a really great conversation.  I had the experience and the approach they wanted.  This company told me when they made the initial call that they raised the salary because they knew with my experience, it was expected.  I received the standard thanks but no thanks e-mail today. I am finding it really hard to take.  My husband says it wasn’t my walking  but the expense.  I don’t know.  I usually believe everything happens for a reason.  Numerous times in the past I have not been offered jobs that I wanted and maybe should have had and it all worked out.  Sometimes, I didn’t see it at the time but later I did, including two jobs at the World Trade Center where in all  likelihood and seriousness, I would have died.

Finding work has always been hard for me.  This time has been easier for me in a certain way.  I almost always have something in the pipeline.  Years ago,  I was almost always one of two and almost always came in 2nd.  I don’t know where I am now.  Last time I had a termination like this it took me almost ten years to get back to where I was.   I don’t have the time, money or energy for that.

Normally,  I take these setbacks in stride. I was relatively calm four months ago.  Today I wept.  I almost never cry about anything.  My husband  was lost.  I am the strong one.  I don’t get blue.  I snap back.  It’s freaking hard.

It looks like I need to head back into NY.  Like Willie Sutton said, “that’s where the money is.”  I was liking sleeping like a normal person.

I am trying to find that resilience.  I know I am a resilient personality.  It’s hard.  It takes energy.  It takes faith..  If I don’t use the cane, I’ll lurch more.  I don’t know how else to address this.  My mind is fine. I feel “normal”  until I stand up.  I forget my physical limitations.  For the past month or so, in my dreams I find myself walking.  I wake and am crushed.

Digging down to get out.

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

Posted on by tresswann

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Good question.

Right after Thanksgiving, my husband called out to me to come look out the front window.  “There’s something odd out here.  I think it’s a turkey.”

“Really?”  asks I.  This is a man who has had issues in the past. So I gimp out to the front.  I see nothing.  This is not unusual.  I was the child who always finally agreed that she finally saw the constellation or the bride coming out the church door rather than enduring “See?  See?”   I did see JFK on the Belt Parkway though. I am not quick.

“no, no, don’t you see that black thing.”

And there against the fence across the street was a black chicken.

And then, the chicken crossed the road!  Please understand, we live in a suburban area.  The bane of our existence is a used car lot next door to us that houses a massage parlor from time to time.  Across the street on the corner is a former gambling hall.  I was reading news headlines one day at work that the newly discovered bomb plot by either the Gambinos or the Gallos was directed at that building.  The Feds closed that one down.  And wait for it; we had prostitution there, too!  The house that the chicken bolted from we refer to as Sandford and Son.  A  seriously collects junk when he is not “away”.  Also, think from time to time, “junk” is sold from there.  Uh, cars pulling up with engines running and people running in and out?  And the SWAT team was literally there about three years ago.  Police frequent the house (more on that later).  Sometimes, on a weekend we have copter hovering over and doing a sweep.  No, it wasn’t like this when we moved in and who would want to buy this?

Back to the chicken who has crossed the road and is now in our yard.  Now besides the organized and unorganized crime, we also have woods behind us.  So, we have  a fox, opossums, feral cats,  huge raccoons and dogs.  T says “Do you think it belongs across the road?”  It crosses the road and is pecking at the fence.   “yes, why not?”

“Do you think I should go over and tell A?”

Me:  “Yes, I do not want to wake to chicken guts on the front step.”  We feed the ferals and as a consequence birds, raccoons, Fox and possums.  “We do not need to provide gourmet treats for the ‘hood.”

T trundles over and is gone for awhile.

A admits chicken ownership and is stunned that chicken crossed the road.  He has more than one.  It’s a menagerie over there.  In addition to the pitbull that pinned me in the car one day, there is a cat that we feed.  We call him AC for A’s cat.  We discovered this one afternoon when T & A were talking and AC strolled up and ate the food we leave for him.  A says “Oh, my cat never eats dry food at home!”  Uh, why should he, when he eats with us?  There is a macaw and a little dog, too.

So chicken custody determined, the guys begin to chat.  A discloses he’s on probation for DV.  Coincidence!  T just finished.  I did say more on the police later.  If you have been reading me for awhile you may believe that T is a devoted and caring spouse.  He is when he is not drinking.  He’s an alcoholic.  He is not allowed to drink in front of me.  Easier said than done, no?  So, he has been arrested here about 16 times, no joke.  This means police have been here at least 20!  It’s a small block, hidden away.  No one really knows how to get here except for the precinct.  In fact, one night they were over and asked, “Weren’t we here earlier today?”  No, they were across the street.  Fair disclaimer, T ended up in DV because they couldn’t get him on alcohol any other way.  An ADA even told me once, if we could get him in a car.  He has no license so that’s a non-starter.  The DV is the alcoholism.  It distorts people.  The cops who constantly arrested him realized that when sober, he is wonderful.  Over the years, they have liked the work he has done on the house.  “Wow, you redid the floor!”  We have an almost cordial relationship with them.  And we have been to court so often that we are personally greeted, and people look to me for advice.  Luckily, that is all over.

T was on probation for three years and concluded it successfully.  So, he is in a position to advise A and was giving him helpful hints and tips.  We believe it will be the same PO that T had. The first time she came over the house was just after dinner with the kids.  In fact, when there was a knock on the door, we thought one of them had forgotten something.  I had made stuffed pork chops and used rice wine in the stuffing and had sprinkled it because it was dry.  They breathed him and said he was positive.  We later learned that the amount would not have been recognized if he had been driving.  We didn’t know and were terrorized.  They told me that me or the kids would not know if he had been drinking.  So, not right.  We always know.  We have lived with it. And as I said at the time did they really think that having had him arrested so many times I would tolerate it and not call? I was told I could no longer use cooking wine and they made me dump my almost full bottle out.  Then they trashed my house searching for drugs and alcohol.  When they went through my mother’s antique petit-point purse, I lost it.    We have a tortoise shell cat that we took in from outside.  Of course, the cats are freaking out with these strange, hostile people in the house.  Miss Mollie runs out to hide someplace else.  Officer N shouts, “Is that a raccoon?”

Their home visits were fine after that except for the time they came after 10 p.m. when I was getting up at 4 a.m.  They have come over when we have been drinking coffee on a Saturday afternoon or making Easter chocolates!  And we  had no luck coaching Miss Mollie on how to be a raccoon.

Let’s be clear.   I never considered myself a victim, ever.  I called precinct so that I would not be.  Everyone wanted to fit me into a mold just like they do with this disease/condition.  When I work,  I make very good money so I am not dependent on a man.  The house is mine so I can’t be thrown out of it.  I was always being offered help to get a job and find housing.  Where I did feel like a victim was in the hands of probation.  Even though T doesn’t drive or work, he had to be at places that are very difficult to get to without a car.  There were also huge fees that in essence I was hostage to pay.  I was always told I didn’t have to and he would be jailed.  Does this make sense?  I was told I could give him the cash (they only accept cash) and transportation cash.  Uh, especially in the beginning, money was a trigger!  The situation is designed for people to fail and generate revenue for the county.  We had to discontinue our marriage counseling as we were told it was not allowed.  The program he was in was ridiculous and meaningless, no curriculum.  He was told if it was up to them he would not be allowed to live with me.  The people in his “class” terrified both of us.  There was the guy who had thrown his girlfriend out of the car when it was moving and one who said when accused of choking his girlfriend ” But I stopped when she turned blue!”  T successfully concluded the program.

I refuse to be considered a victim with my condition either. I will not conform to people’s expectations.  The child is father of the man.  My mother used to tell me that I conformed to non-conformity.  It’s turned out to be a good thing.  I don’t buy into the whole incurable thing.  As I have said before, I am not going to tout the advantages and delights of motorized scooters.  I hate the spectral leg.  I hate orthopedic looking shoes.  I use funky walking sticks.  And no, I am not going to apply for disability.  I do not walk well.  I am not disabled.  I am able just not as able in certain areas.  By the way when I am working I literally walk or stumble more than the average American! Yes, 8 – 12,000 steps a day.

So, husband is  giving A advice.  This is going to be interesting as I believe she is not as strong as I am and there is a language barrier as well.  And we believe  it will be the same P.O.s that used to come to us.  We would love to be a fly on the wall as they experience the menagerie, chickens included.

Why did the chicken cross the road?  Goes to show that we are more connected than we think.  And the chicken keeps on crossing the road.

 

Valentines – Get Out of the Kitchen

Posted on by tresswann

Well, things have been a bit tough lately with my not working in months.  We have been very frugal and watching every cent.  Last week I went on an encouraging interview.  It was one of those 2 on one deals as well. So, maybe a tad anxiety inducing.  As a treat ( I have a friend who always expresses amusement that I know how to soothe myself) we stopped in at the new Stew Leonard’s on the way home. It’s  a dairy, specialty supermarket.  The first one on Long Island opened not far from us and on the way home.  Feeling optimistic, we splurged on some ribeye steaks and baked clams.

Since Valentine’s was the coldest on record  if not a century, outdoor grilling was a non-starter.  I looked on Epicurious and found a stovetop recipe – 2 minutes on high heat on each side then a wine and garlic sauce.  I have been on the weak side the last few days and have been unable to hold things and off balance. Not sure if it’s stress or weather.  Refuse to believe in deterioration.   T also fancies himself quite the chef.  He said he would do the meat and I could do the sauce. Recipe said 1 tablespoon of oil heated till it shimmered.  “ how do I tell if this is shimmering?”  Mr. Excess had put in what looked like a quarter cup of oil and sprayed the skillet as well.  I said saute, not deep fry.  He dumped some out.  First side seared nicely.  Second side started to smoke and set off our fire alarm.  Cats dived for cover.  We disconnected alarm.  Second steak, first side ,house is getting really smoky.  It is 12 F outside.  T opens kitchen window and front door. T is asthmatic and starts to gasp.  Goes into bedroom and shuts door to try and block smoke.  He comes back out with shirt over his mouth and nose to remove steak.  I start sauce.  Now, part of my condition which has also been getting worse is I get really cold and my hand turns purple and my feet get so cold they burn.  We had worked really hard Valentines making sure I stayed at the right temperature.  At one point I even had on fingerless gloves.  So, needless to say as I am doing sauce I start to shiver and shake.  I make him close the window and door.  Steak was  excellent; atmosphere was smoky but not smokin’ hot.

Badlands

Posted on by tresswann

I have discovered Amazon Prime Music and I am in love and enthralled.  The music of my life at my fingertips, for free.  Well, for the annual membership which I use for tons of other things so this is just bonus.

I think I may be like many people in my age range.  I have albums of my music or as my little nieces say “What big CDs you have:.  I have downloaded some of it on my ipod.  But….  There are all those albums and memories.  I am in Amazon download frenzy.

This weekend  I found Badlands.  Serendipity.  I get through my life with music.  When I lose the music I know I am in bad shape.  After a long bad time years ago, I knew I was going to be alright when I heard Springsteen on the radio and felt joy again.

But Badlands is more .  Years ago I lost the job that I loved.  Why do we say lost?  I didn’t lose it, they let me go.  Eight and a half years of mostly love.  I believe the roots of my present condition hark back to that time.  I used to work insane hours happily.  I didn’t understand why people couldn’t wait till Friday or were upset at Mondays.  I travelled  all over the world for that company.  However, there was one trip.  I was really sick before I left.  I was going to spend two weeks in Japan and Taiwan and fly back to California to work a trade show.  Then I would stay a few days in Los Angeles with my boyfriend’s best friend.  Men who did that trip used to spend some days in Hawaii and their wives would fly out to meet them.  I was unmarried and wanted to go to the beach in Thailand (bucket list though the term wasn’t used then) .  Instead, I had to fly back to California to work.  One of the guys gave me advice on how to fly so sick.  “Blow Afrin constantly up your nose before landing.”  Well it worked.  I made it through landing.  Who knew half an hour later that the pain would be excruciating .  I was really sick.  I was the company’s “little girl”.  The men I had to meet for business were terrified that George (the president) would be furious if anything happened to me.  I was constantly plied with soup. I slurped my way through Japan and Taiwan.    There is a reason for everything .  I was in the same hotel in Tokyo as Mike Tyson.  His posse insisted that I “party with Mike.”  I couldn’t even croak.  Just nodded “no” numerous times and kept on going.  My brush with “destiny”. When stories came out about those girls later,  I totally believed.   I left Taiwan at 11 a.m. in the morning, landed in Los Angeles at 11 a.m. the same morning (international date line) and worked till 11 p.m. that night.  I was so sick I couldn’t think of staying in LA after the show.  Back in NY, I collapsed  in JC Penney’s.  I was diagnosed with pharyngitis.  I truly believe that disregard for my health is a source of my ultimate conditions.  And ironically enough on my return I found as scared as everyone was of telling George being furious if anything  happened to me they were also terrified of telling him that I was too sick to undertake that trip.  So, after all that dedication, passion and bad health, I was cut loose in the world.  I was gutted.  I lost my livelihood and most of my friends.  Well, I guess they weren’t my friends.  Actually,  I do still have some from those days and some have died.  In fact,  I had a card this week from one of them.  But with no money and no job ,  a disastrous marriage, I felt cut off from everyone including myself.  I would wake in the morning feeling as if there was a huge pillow in my face.  I left my then husband ( I love that phrase “my then husband”) and moved back with my parents.  They couldn’t acknowledge depression.  My mother was a pull yourself together type. She said to me at the time I had to learn how to do it myself because she wasn’t always going to be around to do so.

I was back in my childhood bedroom.  Me and my record player.  I started to play Darkness on the Edge of Town and Nebraska obsessively.  Badlands helped me through.  “Talk about a dream, try to make it real.  Spend your life waiting for a moment that just doesn’t come.    I believe  in the faith that can save me .  Raise me above these badlands. For the one who had the notion, notion deep inside, that it ain’t  no sin to be glad you are  alive. I’m gonna find one face that ain’t looking through me.  I want to spit in the face of these badlands.”  And that’s what I did.  I made it through the badlands.

 

And here I am again years later.  Another job “lost”.  Financially crunchy.  Up against those Badlands again.  It all came rushing back again.  This time I do not have my mother to put me back again.  I am starting to crash.  One thing I know I can’t and won’t go back to that freefall again.  Well, I still feel the joy of the music again.  And I still retain my resiliency.  Resiliency feels like a curse sometimes.  I used to tell my mother I felt like a Joe Palooka punching bag.  Every time you hit me I spring back.  My spring is getting kind of rusty.  This time there’s the extra wrinkles:  no parents, my condition, uh, actual wrinkles, a mortgage.  We wonder when I go for a job with my outfit coordinated cane/walking stick what the impact is on the hiring decision.  I had an interview where I had to get in and out of a van.  I would have and have had the same difficulties in the past with heels.  I am not the most graceful or coordinated person as numerous airport shuttle drivers can attest.

I see my resources dwindling as I hold onto faith.  And yeah, I’m blasting Badlands again

February 2016 Check In

Posted on by tresswann

How did I feel this past Month?

Like I always do.  I fell apart after the main event.  Can I say Babka?  But I have been working out and mostly take care of me.

What did you do for yourself this month?

Gym, Zumba.  Gratitude journal.  Applied for jobs like crazy.  Writing a bit more.

What did I eat this month  and how did it make me feel –

Struggling to get back on track.  Still trying to mitigate as the holiday stuff leaves the house.  I started again having a green smoothie practically every day.

Did I exercise?  What did I do?  How did it feel –

Definitely more gym this month and started Zumba.  Zumba gives me joy and frustrates me at the same time.  I can do so much less than I used to.

For whom or what are you grateful?  What matters most in life?

Well things are moving along.  I had companies want to talk to me about jobs.  I was able to pay my bills.  I have amazing friends

Do I have a higher purpose or driving force in my life?   Make a mission statement –

I guess at the end of the day I want my life to have mattered and changed someone else’s positively

Conventional medicine  Just the Ampyra and Baclufan.  Really beginning to get that the right food and rest will do a lot.

Symptoms – Balance is definitely off and my hands are getting weaker but I am fighting.

What symptoms are most troublesome  – The balance and being confined when there’s snow.  Three years ago I could dig myself out in the driveway.  Now I can’t walk outside.

Do I blame myself for things – Sure.  Still not aggressive and focused enough.  I let this into my life.

How is stress level?

Through the roof.  No job.  Confined to the house.

What can I do tomorrow to make it better than today?

Change the food more and keep on plugging away.

Lotteries and Windfalls

Posted on by tresswann

As with many people in the US a few weeks ago, we caught Lotto fever.  Over 1 billion is worth a flutter.  Overall, I am opposed to the lottery.  Originally in New York it was supposed to fund schools.  Really?  And look at the schools in Detroit.  But enough of that.

We bought a few dollars worth of tickets and began to speculate.  What would we do?  Husband announces that first thing we get the absolutely best doctor in the world for what we call MC (my condition).  Ok, you may say I am in denial but it works for me.  Everyone is different.  And after that we would buy a nice house.  We would pay off the one we currently live in.  I must paraphrase Hyacinth Bucket a.k.a Bouquet – the house that is now next to the used car lot with the massage parlor.  The parlor or message store as the police referred to it in a report I made after I had another flat in my driveway is temporarily gone.  Funny enough, as soon as we returned from police, the big sign in the front was gone.  Do I need to say more?

Then after a house for us, one for each of the boys and husband’s sister.  And then?  Well, lots to real charity.  In fact, the other night there was something on the news about local people being displaced and renovations  would have run a few million dollars.   Husband said, “We could have done that in a heartbeat if we had won.”  Well, we didn’t.

Recently, I have undergone significant financial reversals.  No, not the stock markets.  More along the line of no income.  It appears that hopefully after all the belt tightening, this is about to change.  As I anticipate this, another list to make.  Late last summer, a man who saw me commuting, pulled up his pants (nothing lewd here) and showed me a device on his leg.  He thought we had the same condition.  It’s a Walkaid and there’s also another product called Bioness.  They cost a few thousand.  We didn’t have any money when we spoke to the doctor about it and she said it might give me the same results as the Ampyra or it might be better.  It tops my new wish list.  I had to cut back on my traditional donations.  I was an officer at a bank years ago.  One of the first things I did when I received it was write checks to my favorite charities,  My co-worker thought I was odd but it used to give me a kick, almost as good as sex, more like a deep kiss.  Donations to AAUW’s Legal Advocacy fund and the County domestic violence unit.  My two favorites.

So what else have I been thinking about and missing?  Well, as I have said before clothing is my life.  Therefore, I shop.  I love the air in stores, the undercurrent, the lust.  It energizes me.  I remember being in Paris once hungry and tired but in track of a shop I had heard about.  I found it and revived like a flower in water.  Due to my own personal economic downturn I haven’t been able to do it for ages.  I am surprised.  This situation has made me less materialistic.  Clothes and cosmetics aren’t really part of this list. When I received word that things were going to be ok, I admit to flipping through a Smithsonian sales catalog and seeing some Christmas necklaces that would be wonderful for my elves next year.

So what else is on the list?  I want a car.  I wanted one for my milestone birthday.  And not just any car, a “luxury” car.  I am known for saying carwise I am OK with a box, wheels and a radio.  I certainly do not see a car as a reflection of who I am.  My ex-husband and my brother always derided me for that.  I wanna Buick, like the commercial.  It’s cute.  My brother-in-law who is amazing with dealers and dollars couldn’t make it work for me.  The car represents getting something for me and for once not settling.  That’s what it’s about.

This is what I have learned during this setback, downturn, whatever you want to call it.  I no longer want to settle. Not in terms of what I do for a living, not in terms of a car, not in terms of my health.  Oh, right after car on my list I have sliders for Zumba for my sneakers and a personal trainer.

It’s been a huge lesson and one way or another, in my mind, I have won my lottery.

Still Fighting – Zumba

Posted on by tresswann

Last night I went to Zumba.  I have been going regularly for over five years with the same instructor and almost the same group.  I love this group.  It’s a microcosm of life the way I always envisioned it.  There are women of all sizes, shapes, weights, colors, races.  There are even deaf-mutes.  They feel the vibration of the music.  We all have fun.

The first time I went was with a friend who wanted to go to a session at the library.  It was downstairs and I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it but when along for the ride.  She couldn’t do it and I could.  Going upstairs was just the tiniest bit difficult.

The first season I was able to dance in the front.  The music and the dancing connect me with my childhood and my mother.  As I have said before in my house, we danced!  And the music is Caribbean.  I feel it in my heart and bones.  I was finally old enough and secure enough to  just be and do it!  At the end of the first year one of the women asked me if I was recovering from a stroke.

I had to change over the years to being by a wall for stability and balance.  Then in 2012 I had to start wearing the spectral leg.

Two years ago the venue changed.  I had to cross four lanes of traffic without a light.  I missed most of the first winter till it became light.  Now, I need help.  Last year with all the snow and ice, I missed again.

The sessions only run from September to June.  I did most of the classes in the fall.  December there were only two classes.  It started again last week.  It’s now in a gym and I forgot the sliders for my shoes.  The next session I had hurt my back and couldn’t make it.  Last night she started off by playing one of my favorite old songs.  This used to be a no brainer.  I could barely do it!  And then more of the music that sings to me.  What’s horrible about this is my mind  doesn’t realize I can’t do it.  I feel it and then my body is so not doing it.  Yesterday, I used our treadmill for 10 minutes and then went to the gym.  A newer person told me I was doing    great last night.  To me I was not.

So, what’s next?

Well, I am back on track pretty much food-wise.  Also, amped up the steps so it was a little better.

I am angry.  I refuse to continue down a deteriorating  path.  I am going to fight harder – better food, better exercise, better rest.

My goal?  Do a full class by spring.

Keep on dancing!