Sticks and stones...

While I've been dealing with my skyrocketing blood pressure, my dad decided to join the fun. He and I both have problems with something that none of our doctors have ever diagnosed. He deals with more reflux/indigestion while I have nothing but the excruciating pain in my gut. Feels like I've got knives sticking in me from the front and back and lasts for ten or more hours. Both Dad and I have had test after test, both have gone to the ER, etc. without any luck. My problem started when I was in college. Back then, I'd go to the infirmary and they would give me a sedative. Nice. Wake up twelve hours later with no pain. Unfortunately, the real world isn't so accommodating. About 15 years ago, I had an ultrasound on my gallbladder, but it showed nothing conclusive. Six years or so later, I started a battery of tests that my doctor said he could do to eliminate causes one-by-one. First, an ultrasound on the gall bladder, next an upper GI test, then a laparoscopy to look at the esophagus and stomach lining. I don't know what would have come next. The first two didn't indicate any problem, but the laparoscopy revealed several ulcers, and my doctor decided these were probably the cause of all the pain. I told him how much I doubted that since for years I had been taking massive doses of Ibuprofen to kill the pain, which had likely caused the ulcers. He refused to keep working through the tests until the ulcers cleared up. I have to confess that I was fairly disgusted with him since he wouldn't listen to me, so I never went back. And of course, my pain continued. Since then, I have been eating massive amounts of peppermint candy after reading that it helps with digestion, particularly the muscles used in the process. I can usually get some relief from the pain, but it's often after four or five hours of sheer misery. I had given up on finding a cause and had self-diagnosed myself with IBS. Plus, I have cut so many foods from my diet. Now get this--drinking too much caffeine and/or eating fatty foods cause the most pain. Aha, you say. That sounds like a gallbladder problem. Uh-uh, I say. I've had at least two ultrasounds showing nothing wrong with my gallbladder. I had given up trying to get help. Until now.

My dad has had the problem for as long as I can remember, and like mine, his pain has increased over the years. Last week, he went to the ER for the second time in a month, and once again, after load of tests on almost every organ in his body, he left knowing no more than when he arrived. However, after running a high fever over the weekend, he went back to his doctor on Monday, still in quite a bit of pain, and his doc said to go back to the hospital, that he would call ahead and get my dad admitted. The doc recommended a surgeon who began the testing again. Thankfully, this guy was willing to look carefully at the gallbladder rather than pass it by for lack of info. He decided to do surgery very late on Tuesday. Turns out, Dad's gallbladder was inflamed with infection, swollen and full of gallstones so tiny that the doctor said it was like sifting through sand. The infection could have caused worse problems had it gone unnoticed. Yesterday, I asked one of his nurses why there weren't any better tests for the gallbladder. She explained that it was like looking into a deflated balloon--it's has a thin wall, but without the air, the wall isn't stretched enough to see inside. She also told me about a test that measured the activity of the gallbladder instead of the organ itself. She was surprised neither of us had even heard of it.

So I've decided to see if I can get that test done. If I could be rid of this plaguing pain, I would be willing to undergo surgery even though I said I would never have it again (I react violently to the anesthesia).

No telling what they'd find...

(Image is entitled "Hollyhock Seeds" and can be purchased from FoundDays at Etsy.)

PS--My dad is back at home and doing just fine! Thanks for asking.

Five, four, three, two, one...

Now that I am into a more reflective time of self-examination, I'm much more aware of how seemingly unrelated events cause the most revealing thoughts to pop into my brain. Oh, it may take a few days, but it happens. For example, while getting an acupuncture treatment two weeks ago, I was telling my chiropractor--aka my acupuncturist--that I felt hyped up and couldn't relax. I had been feeling like that for several weeks, and I was erroneously thinking it was just an elevated mood. Apparently, a recently increased dosage in one of my medications was sending my blood pressure into dangerous territory. I freaked out when I got my BP reading and read about the numbers, especially the word "crisis." Yikes. Spent that day and the next four--including a weekend, which is why I couldn't get in to see my internist sooner--being extremely cautious, including making the stupid decision to stop taking most of my medications. I've been fighting taking the Hormone Replacement drugs due to the increased risk of heart attacks and strokes, and most of the other meds have some mention of the same side effects. I debated going to the Emergency Room, but part of me thought that was overreacting. As it turns out, my decision was serendipitous. One of the other meds was the one that was causing the problem. My internist, whom I saw ASAP, lectured me in no uncertain terms that I might have caused a worse situation by quitting my meds cold-turkey and that I was very fortunate indeed and to call her no matter the time, day or night, if something like that ever happened again. Phew, she chewed me out! Once it was all over and I felt calmer, I suddenly remembered something the chiropractor said about my hyperactive, manic feeling--"You jump into everything feet first, full tilt and give it 150%. You don't hold anything back, and it wears you out to do that." Of course, he had no way of knowing that it was the meds causing the problem, but I've been a patient of his for the past two+ years, so he knows me fairly well. I started going to him when I needed treatment for a pinched nerve in my neck. I forget the correct medical term, but there isn't really a nerve being pinched, although that's exactly what it feels like. Anyway, I had always viewed my initial energetic ventures into jobs and projects as stemming from a caring attitude. I always want to do everything perfectly (as if!), and I really care about the people involved. I was surprised to think that the physical aspect could have had as much of an impact as the emotional one. I've always thought that the emotional stress caused the physical problems. Maybe the combined results of both is what always pulled me down into a pit. The most unfortunate outcome, regardless of the cause, is the way others reacted to my decline, not to mention my own guilt for not meeting my own expectations. For that reason, I've been reluctant over the past year to get involved with anyone on any level to keep from feeling the pain and hurt when I don't meet their expectations.

The thought that I could get involved in something without launching myself into it is my pop-upped thought of the week.

(Image is entitled "Rocket to the Moon" and is available from Etsy shop loriontdorr. Do you see it?)

House cleaning and Hormones and Hatters, Oh My!

Now that I'm back to my usual good-for-nothing self after my tornadic, frenzied cleanup, I think today calls for a tea party. I've been neglecting Dorothy and Alice far too much lately, and they are pretty peeved about it. All work and no play just isn't their cup of...well, need I say it?

So today is devoted to sipping tea and enjoying time with friends. And what do I find but that things are out of control! Dorothy has been doing so much research on hormone replacement for me that she believes she has lost her brain and needs to find the Wizard. Oh dear. She's helping me since I continue to doubt those questionable little pills. We discussed yet again the need to consult someone who can thoroughly explain the difference between my current hormone treatment and the bioidentical hormone therapy. I've already given the boot to the phyto-hormones since my history indicates they will be of little use to me. Alice, meanwhile, has been rather distant since I failed to make it to the theater to see her latest movie. She is also miffed due to the rather blah reviews it received from the critics. Apparently, no one consulted her on the cast or storyline. I tried to explain that while it might be a story about her, it wasn't her story to claim, i.e., she didn't write it so why would anyone ask her opinions. That did not go over well. And since she is madly in love with the Mad Hatter, or rather the Hatter from this movie, she is quite disappointed that...oops, bad form to reveal the ending, right? Ah, well. I obviously have been out-of-touch for too long. I didn't realize that they needed me so much. I had thought that they were here for me.

I guess we are all here for one another, no?

(Image used is entitled "A Cup of Tea Solves Everything" and is by whatnikkimade at Etsy.)

Inside my skin...

Yesterday I was supposed to go to work and help with a payroll project. I emailed them on Friday and said I would be there. Then I just didn't go. I tried, but I couldn't make myself walk out the door. I haven't gone in four weeks. I've never been like this. When I knew that something important needed to be completed, I was the one who always bent over backwards to do everything I could to make it happen. I don't even feel bad about not going, and I haven't tried to go in today.

I think I've quit caring. I don't like being this way. One one hand, it feels so selfish and just wrong. On the other, I almost feel like I'm rebelling in some strange way, like a little kid who is saying "nah-nah-nah, you can't make me." Ever since I had that meltdown a few weeks ago, I've been getting more and more like this little brat, with an attitude of "don't tell me what to do or I won't do it just for spite."

I've always carried around a lot of guilt because I felt like I wasn't good enough or strong enough (mentally or emotionally). I was even told that I didn't care enough when, in fact, caring too much was what created the problems. I felt a lot of guilt over the last six or seven months when I opted to stay home from work. Guilt for not doing enough for my employers as well as guilt for creating our difficult financial situation at home. I mean, really major guilt trips. Now, I've gradually come to realize I'm not feeling guilty at all. Not about anything.

I'm becoming someone I never thought I could be. I don't think I like me this way.



The image used in this post is from a 2004 exhibition by Elizabeth Ingraham, a faculty member at UNL's Hillestad Textiles Gallery, and is entitled "Guilt." Her exhibition was titled "Information, Memory and Desire: Skins," and the lifesize figures were created from various fabrics and findings. The exhibition annoucement had this to say:

“Through a series of life-size, dimensional female skins, I am exploring how expectation, desire and convention - our own and others - form casings which shape our deepest selves and which become so familiar they seem like our own skin,” Ingraham said.

She likened the skins to costumes and camouflage, saying that they describe emotional states, conceal and reveal identity. The works are tactile as well as visual and are designed to be touched and handled by the viewer - unzipped, unbuttoned, entered, read and rattled."

Read more about her at culturalterrain.com or at monet.unk.net and see more of the "skins"--Duty, Denial, Regret, Baggage, etc.--"...the guises in which women enrobe themselves."

Rescue me...

We have three Golden Retrievers that are our children. We love, pamper and spoil them. I think there is nothing cuter than a Golden puppy. Who can resist those soft little bundles of fur that wriggle and cuddle and make cute puppy noises? We started out getting puppies, but the last two we've gotten were rescued and around two years of age. Both were abused and had some behavior issues as a result. It is a tremendous joy to rescue an abused animal, but they require a lot of time and attention. Not everyone can give that time, and not everyone understands the special needs of an abused animal.

Our first rescue was from the local Golden Retriever Rescue Club over six years ago. Her story is awful. A breeder who had around 40 Goldens was mating smaller ones to get a miniature version, something that would be totally awesome to those who love Goldens. Our Maris was one of only two that she had successfully bred. Based on some of her behavior, Maris probably was abused during early leash or show training up until she was about two years old. Then, unfortunately, the breeder abandoned her animals, leaving them in small puppy size cages in a warehouse with no ventilation for 28 days. I won't go into the details--they are gruesome. When the GRRC got there, half of the dogs were dead, and the other half dubbed "the bones bunch." We have always had very large dogs, males weighing between 100 and 120 pounds, so we had been looking for a smaller Golden. The first day "the bones bunch" was in an adopt-a-show, my other half just happened to attend and put our names on the list for both of the small dogs. We were first on the list for the one we eventually got, but later that week, we were told that her behavior issues were the worst of any Golden they had ever rescued. They decided not to adopt her out, and I asked them to contact us if they ever changed their minds.

The foster mom tried to help Maris but wasn't very successful. She kept her for six months, and then, possibly in frustration, decided that our vet references had been so stellar that she would consider letting us "try her out." Otherwise, the fosters were going to keep her. The foster mom's biggest concern was that we had two other Goldens, and she felt that putting Maris with other dogs would exacerbate the problems. We begged her to let us have a chance, and it turned out that it was probably more helpful than hurtful to have Maris be around other dogs.

When we got to the foster home (per our appointment), the smallest Golden I've ever seen was walking around at the front glass door. I ran up the steps and I don't think I rang the bell, walked into the house and sat on the floor. Maris was cautious, but she came and got partially in my lap, and she licked my face with one very gentle kiss. The fosters were astonished because Maris had never exhibited any kind of reaction to anyone before. It was obvious that we were meant to be. We were to take her home for the weekend and bring her back on Monday if we changed our minds. I knew there was no chance of that happening. I was recovering from the worst depression I've ever had, a deep pit that I believed had only one way out. I needed Maris as much as she needed me. Thankfully, I was still around to rescue her, but in truth, we rescued each other.

Needless to say, this littlest Golden stole my heart. Her eyes gave away her lack of confidence and trust. I was able to stay home at the time, and I worked with her for months, trying to help her unlearn her drastic survivor and emotional behaviors. When she ate, I was right there beside her, constantly touching her and her bowl, letting her know that the food was hers and no one would take it away. She gradually stopped scooping up all of the food in her mouth like a squirrel and taking it away to hide and eat. I walked around with treats in my pockets that I would surprise her with so she would learn that food wasn't scarce. I kept an eye on her when she was outside so she wouldn't eat any poop. We put out a giant bucket of water, praying that she wouldn't drink every drop of it, as she was wont to do. She did not want to be touched and hated to be held or groomed. She would growl and occasionally bite if we did any of these things or if she felt threatened. I wouldn't back down, didn't scold her for reacting that way and continued to touch and stroke her fur. She was like a rag doll at first. She had no muscles to speak of, and I decided that a daily body massage would not only help her as her muscles strengthened, but would also be another way of therapy. Gradually, she lost most of her behavior issues, but her ordeal left deep scars. To this day, she does not have the exuberant personality of a normal Golden. She is quiet and subdued most of the time. She is cautious around people, doesn't run to them, and gently raises her paws as a greeting. She is anxious when daily activities are the slightest bit different and paces when anything in her comfort zone changes. But she has become, hands down, the sweetest dog we've ever had.

After all she went through as well as the problems that can come with over-breeding, I'm not surprised that she's had several physical problems. Goldens are prone to getting cancer, and Maris has had three different kinds--a rare gum cancer, a skin cancer and a rare eye cancer. We never want to do anything that puts our babies through unnecessary pain. We consider their age, overall health and look to our wonderful vets for advice on how to manage any problems. We firmly believe that the animal's quality of life is the main issue, and we try not to make emotional decisions.

We are now having to consider whether or not to have Maris' eye removed. She had half of her lower jaw removed several years ago, and she has managed quite well. My heart and my head are battling with this decision. Although I have loved every Golden we've ever had, Maris and I have a very special bond. We are soul mates in so many ways. She has been a joy and a treasure in my life. We both have been to the edge but survived our darkest hours. She and I both guard our hearts carefully. We proceed down the path of life cautiously, but we do keep going.

I know that I will lose this most special gift we've been blessed with at some point down the road. I've often said that I think God gives special needs children to very special people who can love and accept them unconditionally. I believe the same thing about Maris. She was given to me because we needed each other. Some people don't understand depression. They think it is just sadness or a phase. Those are the kind of people that wouldn't understand a gift like Maris, nor would they have been patient and understanding with her behavior. I'm so thankful that I was entrusted with this little angel.

And hopefully, God will prepare for another one to find us when Maris is gone.

(Image in this post is entitled "Golden Retriever" and is by Ron Krajewski of dogartstudio at Etsy.)

Me and Flick...

I have always been active and in fairly good shape. I never thought about how the last six months of inactivity would affect my body. I was spending too much time thinking and not moving. Ouch, but that has taken a toll.

We have been cleaning out the garage for several weeks in anticipation of an inspection, and yesterday was the longest cleaning day we've had. This morning I couldn't move. Major lower back spasms. Majorly painful. Never had anything like this before. I've been doing some very careful and slow stretching as well as moving around slowly. I can't remember if it's heat or ice I need. Going to look that up next.

I'll be pulling out the walking shoes and the exercise mat soon. When I can move again. Right now I'm kinda stuck.

(Image from "A Christmas Story.")