March 26, 2013

Journal Entry: 3/26/13

What to write? If I write do I click "publish?"

Polyneuropathy ended up on my reading list today.

Both my feet and hands continue to be tender and weak.

It has been almost two years since the onset of serum sickness, or to be more accurate - an idosyncratic serum-sickness like response to oral terbinafine. I wrote about the serum sickness in an earlier blog piece from July, 2011: Serum Sickness. I was hopeful when I wrote that piece, hopeful that the prednisone would work its magic and my body would rid itself of whatever took hold in my plasma.

But, that didn't happen. I'm not as bad as I was in 2011; nothing close. But, still I don't have my limbs fully back. Maybe I never will. But I don't want things to get worse.

I developed carpal tunnel due at least in part (and maybe in whole) because of the serum sickness. I had carpal tunnel surgery on my right wrist on February 18.

A few nights ago, I awoke from sleep; my left middle fingers were numb. My mind screamed, "NO! This cannot and will not be!! I will not develop carpal tunnel in my left wrist too. GO AWAY!!"

I straightened my left hand out so that my wrist was straight. My right hand and wrist and forearm were in a brace already. I thought about rousing myself to go find a brace for my left hand. I moved my ankles in circles and felt the tenderness in my ankles and feet. My mind wondered to tarsal tunnel; would I develop that too? "Please god, no." I drifted back to sleep.

When I had asthma between the ages of 22 and 42, I used to be afraid to go to sleep at night. The asthma would be at its worse during my sleep. I'd awake in fright gasping for breath with a horrid sea of fluid in my lungs. Often, I'd go to sleep sitting up leaning forward over a husband pillow, hoping that by staying upright I could avoid an asthma attack. It seldom worked.

I've found myself the past months having anxiety when I know it's time to go to sleep. The pain and tenderness are worse when I sleep. When I awake in the morning, it takes a moment for my feet to work properly...to get my balance and footing. Once I start walking, the tenderness subsides. But it is always there at a low level. I want it to go away. I want my hands and feet, my ankles and wrists, back.

After researching my symptoms today, I want an appointment with a neurologist. I called the general practitioner and made an appointment for this Thursday. I want to see if she will refer me to a neurologist. Maybe with a referral I can be seen more quickly. I can't keep living this way. I will not allow this stuff to steal my dream of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail.

As I spoke in tears on the phone with Hubby today, I said, "Maybe I should complain more. I think sometimes I minimize my pain and symptoms. I think to myself, 'Carol, it's not that bad.' And I find myself thinking of Dad and comparing any thing I go through with quadriplegia; nothing can be as bad as quadriplegia."

I guess now, I've complained.

March 21, 2013

Journal Entry: February 15, 2013

From the pages of my journal
February 15, 2013

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My juice and smoothie fast was successful. I guess I went about 25 days. My relationship with food is more intimate and conscious.

Today I hiked a bit over five miles along the Castle Rock Gorge trail off the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia. It was a good, needed hike.

Nary a car was heard on the Parkway and I saw only two hikers on the trail.

After my hike, I thought about stopping at Meadows of Dan at the general store and enjoying pinto beans with corn bread and slaw.

But, as I drove my 1999 Ford Explorer south on the Parkway listening to Yes, I passed by the road that leads to Chateau Morrisette, the vineyards and the restaurant.

Hmm. I wonder if the Chateau is open. That would be nice, some fine dining. Pintos would be nice too...but the Chateau? That would be extra special.

I turned my steering wheel to the east and took a uuie on the Parkway circling back and around onto the side road that leads to the Chateau. I drove the quarter mile down the road and pulled into the gravel parking lot on the right. I saw cars.

Oh boy. Maybe it is open.

I parked my truck and donned my brand new, natural fiber, jewel tone scarf and my purple Company Store down vest. I walked across the gravel lot and through the stately doors. There stood a young lady.

"Are you open?" I inquired.

"Yes we are," she responded with a smile.

"Wonderful. I'll be right back!" I responded with a smile.

Instead of pintos and cornbread and slaw, I ate a scrumptious portabella mushroom with spring greens salad, some veggie and chicken broth, and drank a variety of wines. The red wine aroma was out of this world.

As I chewed the food and drank the broth, I savored every morsel.
I thought about the hands that had harvested the greens.
I thought about the chicken that had given her life.

I drank the apple wine and envisioned the blossoms of the apple tree and the bees that buzz and pollinate.
When I switched to red wine, I recalled the Europeans who first sailed the Atlantic and came upon the North Carolina coast in the 1500s and were overtaken by the aroma of grapes confirming that they were near land.

It was a good day today on the Parkway.

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March 20, 2013

Mother Time & Locksmiths

As I hiked yesterday, the wind was whipping. Its sound like a giant ocean engulfed me and my daughter and my grandpup.

As my manner has become, I began to have anxiety about my business - even out here surrounded by my love, the widespread views of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I've owned a business right at two years. I take ownership probably too seriously. The constant knowing that ultimately I am responsible for other people's actions on the job, wears me out. I have learned that I am not cut out for business ownership; my business now owns me.

I am working to change these circumstances. My plan is that before August, 2013, the business will have lost its grip around my life.

Since January, I've had days where I just break down. I literally lose it, emotionally.

Yes, the business has been very successful. But, I've told my husband more than once, "It has become a monster."

He responds, "No, it's not a monster. It is simply a successful business that has outgrown the way in which it was designed to be run."

Some say, "Just hire out the parts you don't like." Or, "Just hire more people."

But, that's not my problem. I do not want to hire out or hire more.

I want less.

For me less is more.

As I hiked the Blue Ridge yesterday, I felt the ownership anxiety in my body and gut and heart. I have come to despise this anxiety. I've also been having pain in my body when I sleep. No, no, no. That will not be. I will not develop fibromyalgia for this business or for anything else.

As I hiked, aware of my breath so small and the wind so large...I told my mind to still, my heart to calm, and my self to recall the many accounts in my life and in history of how need has been supplied.

I especially thought of the locksmith incident from last year, an incident I have yet to write about where I was way out in the country, at least 45 minutes from a locksmith, and had accidentally locked a padlock backwards with two Great Pyrenees inside the locked enclosure and I on the outside now unable to pry the lock. To get the padlock loose would require a small hacksaw of some kind. After fiddling with it for almost a half-hour, the sun set and I was in the dark, down a gravel driveway out a narrow gravel road in Walnut Cove. I donned my headlamp and was on the verge of tears because I could reach no one on my cell.

Then...a pick up truck hauling a small enclosed trailer stopped at the end of the gravel driveway. A man got out. He let the truck idle in park as he approached me and I him with my headlamp bright.

"Are you the one with the truck?" he hollered at me from the end of the driveway as he came around the front of his truck as it sat idling on the gravel road.

"No, I'm the one with the padlock problem," I hollered back.

"I don't know anything about a padlock," his voice not as loud now as we narrowed the distance between us.

"Are you a locksmith?" I asked in great wonderment as we came face to face.

"I am," he responded. "I got a call from someone out here, up this road, who has locked their keys in their truck. I've never been out here and I'm wondering if I'm going the right way and if I'll be able to turn around anywhere. I just need to find the person who called me. I saw you and thought maybe you were the person."

I was stunned. "Are you an angel?" I asked him with a chuckle.

We both laughed as I explained to him my predicament and led him down to the padlock that needed the hacksaw.

"I'll take care of you. Just let me go get this truck job done first." He gave me his card and returned in about a half hour. He just happened to have his tiny hacksaw and one new padlock with him on his trailer.

That night, he was an angel.

As I hiked yesterday bringing to mind that incident and others where needs get met spontaneously, I wrote a jingle in my mind and put it to memory.

Mind be still
Heart be whole
All is well with my soul
Mother Time will meet the need
Recall to mind her miraculous deeds


I've never heard or used the term "Mother Time." For now, I like it.

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