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Crash

I crashed this week. Fibro flare. Precipitated by the death of my 13.5 year old, 80 lb yellow lab, Penny of Perpetual Motion. I barely got out of bed. Everything hurt. My hair hurt. And most of all, my soul was hurting. I finally went back to work today for 4 hours and my office mate barely spoke to me. I must have offended her in some way and I didn’t have the energy to ask her about it or to deal with it.

Today, I called the vet to help my mom’s ancient three-legged Siamese leave this world. I was horrified to find he was still alive last night and hadn’t eaten in three days and she had twice asked someone else to take him out for burial only to be told “He’s still breathing.”

Mickey was her last mental/emotional barrier to leaving her home. She felt no one would adopt him. Even though I’ve already promised her that my hubby and I will take all three of her cats if something happens. At any rate, it wasn’t right that Mickey should suffer. I told her last night that she should give him permission to go and that if he was still alive in the morning she needed to call the vet. I called the vet. I didn’t give her an option. And I asked the vet to meet me at Mom’s at 2:15 after I got off work.  The vet asked me if there was any possibility she would be saving the cat. I told her I was pretty sure he was too far gone. He hadn’t moved in four days and he’d had nothing to eat or drink in three days.

I called Mom on my way to her house and told her the vet was on the way. She was still in bed so I told her she had half an hour before the vet got there to get her act together. Mom acquiesced and was up and in the living room by the time I got there. The vet called to ask if we still needed her and I told her that Mom said he was still breathing earlier. So she headed in our direction. And I went out to check on Mickey. When I touched him he was hard as a rock so I knew he was gone. When the vet got there, she said “Let’s make sure.” She picked him up and he was stiff as a brick. She said “I’m good, but I’m not that good.” Meaning there was no help she could give him. She got out a heavy duty body bag and I moved him outside where the snowy landscape would keep him until someone could bury him.

I know what she’s lost. I had so much pain from losing Penny I couldn’t cope. Yes, I know she’s in a better place where she can chase the ball again. And I miss her. As one of my friend’s put it, “I can’t even imagine trying to fill that big hole.” Penny was a very big presence in my life, as Mickey was in my mom’s life. Farewell faithful friends!

Penny and Thomas_12Sep2008

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Overwhelmed

It can’t be just me… Life seems to catch up and then overtake me and like a tsunami I wash up on the shore wondering what the hell happened… All my good intentions lie strewn about like so much flotsam… swallowed and vomited up… still recognizable but now I need to gather them back together. Dust them off. Clean them up. Straighten them out. Sort them into categories. Restore some semblance of order.

I struggle. I want to take better care of my senior mother, my senior pets, my neglected husband and myself. And I want to write. And then fibromyalgia confines me to my bed unable to think for a week. And my mother has weekly appointments with physical therapy and the chiropractor and the ophthalmologist and the dentist and the radiation oncologist. And my dog, Penny, needs weekly vet visits. And my husband hates his job and wants to quit. And the house needs cleaning. And I want to be there for my friends as they cry for lost loved ones and rejoice at the end of cancer treatment. And my body craves sleep. And then I can’t sleep until it’s almost time for the alarm to go off. And I go to work because I need health care and money to pay for food and shelter and vet bills….

A Charmed Life

It’s easy to forget to be grateful. Although I try not to, it just happens sometimes. I start ranting and raving and then the reason becomes clear and I stop.  And say thank you. So recently I was reminded again that I lead a charmed life. And I am grateful.

I travel for work. I stay in hotels. Often, the hotel rooms have residual energies. Those energies seem to be attracted to me, especially while I am sleeping or attempting to sleep. I tend to talk to them and tell them exactly what I think of having my sleep interrupted.

In December, I was in San Antonio at one of the newer hotels. I gave up the Emily Morgan after the elevator trapped me for half an hour when I talked back to it. And anyone can feel the ghosts in the Crockett and Menger without even entering them. So I wasn’t expecting any encounters. Monday and Tuesday passed without incident. On Wednesday night I returned to my room about 11pm. I  noticed the note from the housekeeper thanking me for leaving a tip and realized I needed to get change. So I thought about getting a drink in the hotel lobby. When I was unable to convince anyone to join me, I turned on the television. Noting that one of my favorite programs,  NCIS, was just starting, I decided to run down to the lobby and get change and come back and enjoy some guilt-free tv watching. So I got the change, came back, changed into my nightgown and propped myself on the pillows to enjoy the show. At midnight, House came on, so I stayed up to watch. At 1am another episode of House came on and I watched most of it. When I started drifting off shortly before 2am, I turned off the tv and the lights and turned over.

At 2am I was pulled awake by the sound of something sliding down the louvers on the inside of first one closet door and popping it open and then the other door – brrrrrrpppp POP

I started ranting out loud. “All I want is to get some sleep and you can’t leave me alone long enough…” and got up out of bed, walked around the corner and checked the mirror over the sink to make sure there wasn’t anyone in the closet before going over and closing them again. Still ranting aloud, I went back to bed and laid down. And then I smelled it. The aroma of flatulence. And my rant went on “I can’t believe you farted in my room. How could you?!”

Seemingly inspired, I decided I needed to go to the bathroom and went in to use the facilities. I did not bother closing the door, since I had the room to myself. And while I was peeing, I heard it. Someone let a fart rip from the bedroom.

OK, I am NOT alone. Did I freak out? Not in the manner you would expect. I yelled “Really?! Ok that does it now I’m mad” and I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, went over and turned on all the lights and stomped over to the desk chair and sat down arms crossed.

“What was the plan? I don’t think it was a very good one. I’m guessing you think I am rich and you would be right but not in a money way. I have friends and family who love me, a job I love, a warm home and a devoted husband…” I went on in this vein for a few minutes as I mulled my options. I was not about to look under the bed – that’s the last thing you do in the horror movies for a good reason. If I called the front desk, I could panic him and I did not know if he had a weapon. He had to be fairly small to fit under my bed and I was guessing he was young, male and probably Hispanic.

At some point, I heard a rustle from that side of the bed as if he was considering coming out, and I made my decision. I grabbed my wallet and my phone and still talking I headed to the closet and pulled on my jeans, my shoes and a jacket.

“You know what. We’re all human and humans make mistakes. I think you’ve made a mistake. I am going to take a walk and when I get back, you better be gone… for both our sakes.

I unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. Noting the close quarters at this end of the floor, I headed toward the elevator still debating what to do.  In front of the elevator bank I hesitated until I heard the service elevator activate, so I pushed the button and headed for the lobby. Once in the lobby there were people around. Staff at the front desk. Other guests. I plopped in a chair and put my feet up to think.

As I sat there pondering my next move, a gentleman in a suit came over. “Ma’am? Are you all right ma’am?”

I didn’t respond trying to pull my thoughts together.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you all right?”

Finally, I said, “I’m trying to wrap my head around what just happened to me.”

He sat down in the chair next to me and waited. “What happened?”

I started… “I’m used to having visitors who aren’t human disrupt my sleep. I stopped staying at the Emily Morgan because they wouldn’t let me sleep.”

He replied, “Oh yeah! We get about 15 people a year who come over from the Menger in the middle of the night saying ‘I can’t spend another night there’.”

So I told the story about the closet doors and then smelling the flatulence, because they can manifest smells. But, they can’t fart. They don’t have bodies. They don’t need to fart.

He offered to send someone up to check the room. I accepted.  He gave the instruction and continued to sit and talk with me. He told me a story of a quilt on a plantation in Louisiana that kept pulling up when he pushed it down. He finally kicked it off the bed only to find it neatly folded over a chair the next morning. I knew he understood there are some things that can’t be explained by what we know of physics.

We continued to talk. He offered to have the lock checked for key access. I agreed knowing they wouldn’t find any one other than housekeeping and me. We continued to talk. Finally, he offered to give me a new room for the third time telling me if I didn’t move now it would take 45 minutes because the books were closing. So I took him up on the offer and he went with me to the room with a bellhop’s cart and stepped out while I threw everything on it. Then moved me up to the 37th floor on another tower. By the time I slipped between the sheets again I was stone cold sober and still too keyed to sleep at 4am.

And I was grateful. Gratitude for the spirit guides that protect me and who woke me from a sound sleep to keep me safe. Grateful for the seemingly one-sided conversations I have with those guardian angels that probably unnerved a would-be thief enough to deter him from his task. Grateful to the night manager who talked me through my thought process and moved me to a new room.

I lead a charmed life.

Living with fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis for the last 15+ years….

Fighting Fibromyalgia

Reblogged from Creating Chronic Pain Awareness (You can help!).


September is Chronic Pain Awareness Month!  Some of us (and/or our loved ones) are dealing with Chronic Pain on a daily basis.  Sadly, our pain does not end come October 1.I would like readers to share this post (if you don’t mind) and, if you would like your story included, please answer the questions below.  Be sure to link it back to Tracy Rydzy at http://ohwhatapain.wordpress.com or post it as a comment.  Also, please feel free to include the Chronic Pain Awareness logo above on your blog to let others know that you support Chronic Pain Awareness Month and the “Oh What a Pain Chronic Pain Awareness Forum!”  My hope is that by sharing our personal stories, we can create awareness of what it isactually like to live with Chronic Pain and how best to cope with it!

I have created a…

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Time

Time does not exist. It is an illusion. We are all eternal beings having a temporal experience. Time catches us and folds us in, deluding us into thinking that we will never accomplish all we set out to do. Quantum physics is better at explaining it. And occasionally I have those moments where I am in two bodies, two places and I understand.

She is nothing like me, so when I step into her body, into her life for a moment, I am surprised at how it feels. I wonder where she goes when I am there. Does she know I am there? Does she blank out and later wonder what happened? Does she swap with me somehow and borrow my moments? It is disconcerting to realize the body I inhabit in those moments is not the one to which I am accustomed. She is darker, slim and glamorous, and high maintenance. And yet, we both shop for groceries and travel through airports. I wonder if we have ever encountered each other in person. Did we both step through the same airport in the same moment? Or would that violate some portion of the physics? So I go on, through the illusion of moments thinking about the next point in the space-time continuum where the lines cross and I will step into her again.

Voodoo Doll

Last night it happened again. Every nerve in my body fired at a different time and for a different reason. An itch here. A pang there. A cramp. A twinge. A poke. After four hours I swore someone had a voodoo doll of me and just kept poking it and twisting it so there was no way I could get comfortable.

I could blame the invisible aliens like they had in Star Trek Voyager where only 7 of 9 could see them torturing and experimenting on her crew mates.

It may be ghosts or otherworldly beings trying to get my attention. Problem is, I’m much more receptive to them when I get at least halfway toward a sleeping state.

And it always stops at dawn. As soon as the light comes I can sleep easily and then the alarm goes off and I drag my weary self into the day.

Mom says it’s because she worked nights while she was pregnant with me. So I am programmed to be awake at night and sleep during the day.

It doesn’t help. I can be dog tired and still unable to sleep. Some nights even sleeping pills don’t work. And I rotisserize and dream about sleeping.

I wonder what it would be like to sleep undisturbed from night until morning. Actually, lately I wonder what it would be like to just sleep undisturbed for more than two hours.

The Golden Bubble

Recently a friend of mine was talking about her six children, all of whom are homeschooled. She worries for them, because they have a more limited exposure to the world, that others may try to take advantage of them. And I was reminded of a tool given to me by one of my teachers, the Golden Bubble. Also called the Golden Egg, this tool is a kind of forcefield that helps to protect the energy of the one enclosed and also helps those around them.

The principle is, by completely surrounding oneself with a golden mesh that allows only love to pass through in either direction, the wearer protects her/his energy from psychic attack. In addition, because the mesh works both ways, the wearer cannot issue an attack on others.

It is important to ensure that the bubble or egg is a complete form with no gaps under the feet and no areas that are scrunched or wrinkled. The sphere or ovoid should be whole and should completely and smoothly enclose the wearer. The form is infinitely flexible and can be visualized in any way that helps to convey the concept. Some children may find the idea of a forcefield to be easier to understand. Others may find a soap bubble like the ones they’ve blown to be a better way to see it. Some may think of it in terms of golden light or an aura. And still others will relate more closely to the eggshell. It doesn’t matter how the concept is taught as long as they get the idea of a golden glow that protects the wearer and spreads light and love.

Mothers, fathers, or other caretakers can create a bubble around the ones they love and wish to protect before sending them out to face the day. And anyone can learn to put one on for themselves. A child who knows how to create the bubble for herself will recover more quickly if she feels the one her mother made has worn off. And anyone who suddenly finds herself or himself in a fearful situation can put on the bubble to gain courage to do what’s right.

Yesterday, my friend reported back to me that she had taught her children to put on the Golden Egg at my suggestion. And one day when they had company, her daughter Annie, who was usually so good, was acting up, so my friend grabbed her daughter and took her upstairs and demanded to know what was going on.  Her daughter blurted out “I’m sorry, Mommy. I forgot to put on my egg.” Relieved, my friend helped Annie put on her golden egg, and they both returned to the family room in a better frame of mind.

So my reminder to myself is to put on the Golden Bubble.  It’s not about me (most of the time) and I can be more helpful to others (and myself) if I am able to Spread the Light. 🙂

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This link from ROFLCat.com may bring a smile:

http://www.roflcat.com/images/cats/I_Has_A_Force_Field.jpg