I wish I could remember when I began riding my bike on a regular basis and when I discovered that I could! It was a new taste of freedom. Maybe I'll come across the date, or close to it, as I review some of my past written and typed ramblings.
This morning, as I reread the following ramble and then drank in the photo of the Roan with my grandpup Yerba, just staring at it, remembering that very day which I recall well, my body in the present just crumpled at the thought of hiking that expanse now. Instead of that reality causing me discouragement, it made me laugh! That's a good sign! :D Especially since I woke up so blue this morning.
Yes, I may never again be able to hike the Roan Highlands. But I was able to in the past, and I have that memory in the present to help lighten the burdens of life, a bit.
And maybe, with a little (or lot of) luck, I will be able to hike it again someday.
Until then, I'll keep on biking. At least in the warmer months. Not sure about the cold months yet. So far, biking-in-the-cold is not my cup of tea.
Interesting how memory of a past event is in the present. And in the next instant, that present becomes the past and a memory for a future present.
*** From the archives:
September 22, 2014
I love riding my bike along the Greenway.
I am addicted...and it is good.
I drink in the...
breeze
sunshine
aromas
wildlife...
and freedom.
My legs and feet turn the wheels round and round propelling me forward.
My senses take in the grandeur of the moment.
Any pain I have at those moments, goes by with nary a notice.
I am reminded of the hills and mountains that I love so deeply.
And my heart sings.
I picture the highland balds of Roan and of Grayson.
And my heart soars.
I recall backpackers and hikers I've met in the past along the trail.
And my heart warms.
I imagine climbing rough terrain, conversing with other backpackers, setting up camp for the night.
And my heart wonders.
Another world, a world in which I feel at home.
A world where I feel I fit.
And I think.... Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe someday I'll be able to hike long distances again. But, if I never make it by foot alone to Mt. Katahdin, I'll at least take a visit by vehicle someday.
But I think about it often.
What to write about...
Next....
Or later......
Or maybe someday.
If I do write, dare I display it?
Who would read it?
Who will it offend?
It will always offend someone, even though I don't like offending people.
I don't like conflict.
Offense is conflict.
And then there's defense.
Offense.
Defense.
Us.
Them.
As I rode my bike today, my thoughts meandered to one of my often-thought-about subjects.
I have become somewhat asocial, in a sense.
Not anti-social.
But asocial, not social.
I seldom seek the company of others.
I often analyze how I have come to this place of solitude.
Perhaps solitude is the wrong word.
I'm not a monk or a hermit.
But I am alone often, but not really alone because people are all around.
Alone in their giant tin cans on wheels.
Talking on their phones or listening to music.
But not live music, recorded music.
Before the gramophone, all music was live.
People picked up instruments and made music.
People sang and whistled and hummed.
That is something else I often think about.
As I ride my bicycle alone on the Greenway.
With music playing into one ear.
Songs coming from my cell phone to my Blue tooth via satellite from Pandora which creates algorithms according to songs I have preselected.
I don't know what an algorithm is, but it's a fun word to say.
Sometimes I choose to turn off the algorithmically-selected music.
I take the ear bud out of my ear.
I let birds sing to me.
And the leaves.
And the breeze.
And people occasionally pass by.
We always nod to one another, and sometimes speak.
A couple days ago a biker caught me dancing beside the trail as I listened to the music playing through my earbud that only I could here.
He laughed heartily.
I did too.
In our way of life, with every decision we make, we always keep in mind the Seventh Generation of children to come. When we walk upon Mother Earth, we always plant our feet carefully, because we know that the faces of future generations are looking up at us from beneath the ground. We never forget them.
~Oren Lyons, Faithkeeper of the Onondaga Nation
Quoted in the book Walking on the Wind: Cherokee Teachings for Harmony and Balance by Michael Garrett.
I've never thought of it like that.
"It" being the generations to come looking up from the ground, as I feel that ground beneath my feet.
Step after step.
Most often, I think of ancestors as I walk the soil.
Until I'm tired on a walk, I am quite conscious of the blood spilt from past generations.
The peoples who once dwelt here.
The animals.
The plants.
So much life and death, and life and death, and life and death, and life...
I have called it "blood soil."
But I've never thought of future generations looking up at me from the soil.
It conjures up kind of a spooky image.
But I get it, from a figurative sense, whether Lyons meant it figuratively or not.
Of course, I am most always cognizant of the impact I make upon the earth.
Upon her resources.
Upon future generations.
I'm just one person, and I do the best I can.
Though it never seems enough.
Recently, I again see photographs of the destruction caused by Daesh. (ISIL)
The extremists not only rape the people, they rape the earth.
Of course, the USA is not innocent in the matter.
Sadly, I help fund the machine with my tax dollars.
I hiked 4.85 miles yesterday.
Quite a feat for me.
Hiking is much harder on me than biking.
On my hike I saw 3 turtles, 4 deer, 1 chipmunk, a bunch of water bugs, and a few birds.
I saw 0 humans. No cars. No people. No voices.
It was quiet in the woods, a bit too quiet.
So I kept my eyes and ears keen for any bears.
Fortunately, I saw no sign of bears either.
After my walk, on my drive home, I passed the movie theater. The Peanuts Movie was playing in 3D.
So I went.
I was the only person in the theater.
Zero people at the state park where I hiked.
Zero people at the theater.
I kind of felt like Charlie Brown as I looked around the empty-except-for-me theater and as I thought of my lone hike earlier in the day.
Seven generations.
Currently, a generation is considered to be around 25 years.
In the past it was considered to be around 20 years.
Seven generations from now will be around the year 2190.
Seven generations ago was around the year 1875.
I'm writing again.
I often think about writing.
So much to share.
Not enough words.
Not enough pictures.
Not enough time.
That's how it seems.
But I really don't believe that.
I choose to believe that there are ample words and pictures and even, time.
Perhaps that is a delusion on my part, or an illusion.
Reminds me of the time when I realized that I do not manage time.
I move through time.
I manage my responses.
As I've started to blog again the past few weeks, I've been reviewing past posts.
It's fascinating to me!
Which makes me laugh.
I am so glad I know how to write and that I have a record of events.
When satellites crash, all my internet writings will crash with them.
Perhaps, maybe, one day, I'll get around to a hard copy form of the more pertinent entries.
One day in the future, I might have some distant relative or progeny take an interest in this ancestor.
In the last year, about the only thing I've been writing are notes and records regarding my health.
Beginning some time in 2014, I started regularly typing my notes for the two doctors who help me manage my care.
One is my neurologist.
The other is my chiropractor who I see for nutrition and functional medicine and, occasionally, for chiropractic.
I usually print three hard copies of my notes.
One for the each doc and one for me.
Up until June, 2015, my notes were 'just the facts mam.'
No frills.
No emotion, that I can recall.
Just stats and symptoms and patterns and responses.
Then in June, 2015, I started to see improvement in my symptoms.
And, my notes started exploding a bit...with exclamations of ecstasy! :D
I now label it the "good stuff."
On November 2, 2015, I had to see Neurologist for an in-between-epidurals appointment.
While I waited in the examining room, I reread my notes.
I wrote a couple more items that I had forgotten to list in the typed notes.
And I doodled on the "Good Stuff" section.
I doodled a mountain scene on Neurologist's copy.
He liked it, this artful addition to the "Good Stuff" text.
When he spied my copy and its doodles which were different from his, he really liked those.
"Wow. Look at yours! You've got some talent."
That made me laugh.
You know those pharmacy reps that visit doctor offices and leave note pads and Kleenex and pens and clever little figurines and pamphlets and free drugs?
Well, I think they should donate doodle pads and drawing pens around the waiting and examining rooms.
The doctor's office could have a bulletin board for those who want to share their doodles.
A board filled with patient doodles.
The past week I complied a timeline and information about the past 4-1/2 years living with nerve damage.
I want a separate blog entry with that information.
The timeline is presented in bullet-format.
Initially the timeline was brief, but has expanded from when I first posted it. It's still "brief" compared to everything that's happened.
Seems all my posts are working drafts. Much like life.
***
The nerve damage began in 2011 and has been an ongoing nightmare.
Since the onset, I have tried acupuncture, juice and broth fasts, diets, supplements, herbs, medications, coffee enemas (to help liver function), massage therapy, bicycling, water exercise, physical therapy, occupational therapy, psychological counseling, meditation, visualization, and possibly a few other things. Some approaches have helped; some haven't. When I try a new approach, I typically give it at least 90 days before deciding whether or not to continue.
I am not the only person to develop nerve damage while taking oral terbinafine. I have since learned that many drugs can cause nerve damage.
My symptoms started in feet and legs; I thought I was just becoming clumsy.
Shortly thereafter, I began to notice it in my hands and arms; my smart phone became heavy.
Once I realized that something was going on, I immediately quit taking a drug I'd been on for about six weeks: terbinafine (generic oral Lamisil).
But it was too late.
Within a week, all my limbs turned to rubber.
The initial symptoms were clumsiness, inflammation in all my limbs and extremities, low level persistent pain, shooting pains, numbness in toes and fingers, tenderness in palms and soles, and a stocking-and-glove pattern with a pins-and-needles feeling.
As time went on, other symptoms developed including lumps in my wrists and hands and ankles that would move around when pressed, and the bizarre sensations (especially in my forearms) of heavy wet sand moving about like mercury and of something trying to bend my bones internally.
Symptoms have slowly spread up my limbs and to my neck (10/2015) and partially up my back (11/2015) and to my jaws (01/2016).
Some of the initial symptoms (such as pins-and-needles, numbness, shooting pains, and numbness) have abated and are no longer ongoing, but occasionally they reappear.
Some of my symptoms mimic ALS: muscle atrophy, weakness, appetite suppression. weight loss (30 pounds in a year), heaviness of limbs, and fatigue.
The nerve damage dictates my life.
Every decision is based around the disability and what will help me each day to continue to function.
I've had to learn to move my entire body, from head to toes, differently so as to prevent injury.
I've had to even adjust how I chew food, and swallow.
I have to choose where best to expend the limited energy that comes with the disability.
Like everyone else I live my life moment to moment.
Unlike others, I live my life in 12-week cycles, the goal being to keep my limbs functioning until my next round of spinal injections.
It is my new normal.
Many of my previous later-life goals are now wishes.
I am not accepting defeat.
I am accepting reality, knowing that reality can turn on a dime.
As of this writing, my reality appears to be turning, in a good direction.
I hope so.
***
In early spring of 2011, I took a medication, oral terbinafine (brand name, Lamisil), to treat a long-standing toenail fungus which had not responded to previous treatments. Six weeks later, my limbs turned to rubber. I stopped taking the terbinafine.
In May, 2011, I received my first diagnosis: idopathic edema. I was put on medication and was custom-fitted with compression garments that stretched from fingers to armpits and toes to groin, on both sides. I received weeks of occupational and physical therapy. All to no avail.
In July, 2011, I received my 2nd diagnosis: idiopathic serum-sickness-like response to oral terbinafine. The treatment? Low dose prednisone until symptoms disappear. The longest cases seen by the two different doctors I then consulted were 12 months and 18 months. Prednisone kept me from becoming bedridden, but symptoms slowly worsened.
In January, 2013, I began to consult neurologists. In February, I received carpal tunnel surgery on my right wrist. It helped the numbness in my fingers, but nothing else.
In April, 2013, the doctor who was prescribing my low dose prednisone wanted me to consult yet two more specialists (another neurologist and another rheumatologist) which would be at least a six-week wait. I was fine with that. But, instead of taking low dose prednisone to continue to manage my symptoms for those six weeks, she told me to take more Xanax. She refused to refill my 5 mg prednisone prescription; she was concerned about side effects. So was I, but everything else I was trying wasn't working to keep me functioning. The prednisone was keeping me from becoming bedridden; Xanax would be no help. I was livid. I argued with her, but she would not change her mind.
So, after researching the web for over six hours and after three phone calls, I discreetly and quietly and illegally ordered my 5 mg prednisone tablets from India. Sounds crazy. But I was desperate. Prednisone was the only thing that was keeping me from becoming bedridden.
That same April, 2013, a friend suggested her neurologist, and I made an appointment. He would be the third neurologist I had consulted since January, 2013. The previous two had no diagnosis for me, other than carpal tunnel.
In May, 2013, that neurologist, who is my current neurologist, gave me my 3rd diagnosis: polyradiculitis. The treatment, until an underlying cause could be determined? Corticosteroids. No wonder the prednisone was helping me.
Polyradiculitis is a rare type of peripheral neuropathy in which multiple nerve roots are swollen at the spinal cord. My nerve roots that are effected are the lumbar and cervical nerves which extend through both lower and upper limbs and extremities and can also cause symptoms in the neck. Like other types of peripheral neuropathies, there is no cure for polyradiculitis, unless an underlying cause can be found and treated. Until then, the patient figures out how to manage as best they can. Polyradiculitis can produce some symptoms that mimic ALS.
In May, 2013, I began receiving steroid injections in the base of my palms.
From mid-April, 2013, through December, 2013, I received acupuncture on an almost weekly basis. I also consumed herbs compounded specifically for my condition.
The nerve damage continued to slowly spread and worsen.
In August and September, 2013, I had to downsize my pet-sitting business by around 90%.
In January, 2014, we quit the palm injections and I began receiving spinal injections: a steroid lumbar epidural and steroid cervical neck shots. It was like night and day; I awoke the next morning and could make a fist for the first time in over two years. I got good relief for 4 weeks and then the effects would begin to wear off. I received epidurals and neck shots about every 6 weeks between January and July, 2014. Then, for insurance and medical protocol reasons, I had to go to every 12 weeks. Since July, 2014, I have continued to receive them about every 12 weeks. Without them, I'd be bedridden. But even with the epidurals, my symptoms slowly continued to worsen and spread. (Steroid injections generally have less systemic side effects than oral steroids. But I still need daily, low dose, oral steroids to keep me functioning between epidurals as the effect of the injected steroids wears off.)
In latter May, 2014, I began researching the medicinal benefits of cannabis, especially regarding neurological disorders. On May 19, 2014, my path had crossed with "Jason (trail name Rising Tide), who was in process of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. In 1999, Jason was injured in an auto accident and suffered a severe spinal cord injury which left him paralyzed, a quadriplegic. Doctors told him he was permanently paralyzed; he would never recover. Fortunately, they were wrong. He attributes his recovery to time and "lots of weed." I was almost speechless as he shared his story with me. In my mind, I have recounted, that encounter, countless times.
In January, 2015, I added the medication hydroxychloroquine (Plaquenil) to my daily regimen and have continued to take it. The only other daily pharmaceutical I currently take is prednisone which I've been taking since July, 2011. I occasionally need a hydrocodone and occasionally, alprazolam (Xanax). I swallow around 28 pills a day. Most are supplements to address immune function, nerve damage, and side effects of medications.
On May 22, 2015, I received an email announcing that the Stanley Brothers CW Botanicals had begun shipping Charlotte's Web™ Hemp Extract to all states except Florida and New York. Charlotte's Web™ is a cannabidiol-rich hemp strain.
On June 10, 2015, as a six-month experiment, I added Charlotte's Web™ Hemp Extract to my regimen. I began to feel incremental, slight improvement on June 15, 2015. As of this blog entry, I am still improving.
Beginning in July, 2015, I have slowly felt my muscles regaining ability. I began to feel my thigh muscles working. I began to be able to lift my arms with less assistance.
From July 1, 2015, through the current date (November 10, 2015), I've been able to manage symptoms with lower daily doses of prednisone compared to my daily doses from July, 2011, through June 30, 2015.
In mid-July, 2015, my blood tests revealed that I am vitamin B6 toxic which can also cause nerve damage, muscle weakness, fatigue, appetite suppression, and heart burn; all of which I manage. I have since adjusted my diet endeavoring to lower the B6.
In August, 2015, for the first time since I started being tested in 2013, my nerve conduction study and electromyography tests showed that the nerve damage is no longer progressing and has, in fact, reversed course. My body, with a little help from friends, has stopped the progression. Better yet; it's correcting itself.
From August 24, 2015, through September 21, 2015 (which were the last four weeks preceding my routine 12-week spinal injections), I did not experience the severe limb heaviness that I did in the previous "last four weeks" routines. That severe heaviness became one of my worst symptoms. As the medication from my every-12-week injections would wear off, I'd begin to feel like I had the weight of a dead body strapped to me, or like my limbs were filled with tiny magnetic slivers and the earth was trying to suck me to its center. The heaviness was severe. The dread leading up to those routine rounds of "last four weeks" was almost as bad as the reality.
In August and September, 2015, my hand grip strength showed an improvement of around 37% compared to May and June, 2015. That put me at around 42% of normal.
In August and September, 2015, my walking speed showed improvement of around 85% compared to May and June, 2015. That put me at around 100% of the average speed of a sixty-year-old female.
In September, 2015, for the first time since I began receiving lumbar epidurals in January, 2014, my epidural made me sick. So sick, I had to go the emergency room about 24 hours after receiving the epidural. Consensus is, since I'm getting well, the medication in my epidural is now too strong.
In early October, 2015, I was able to clap my hands for the first time since the fall of 2012.
In October, 2015, I was able to stand up and pedal on my bicycle for the first time since I started biking with nerve damage.
On October 26, 2015, the nerve damage moved into the nape of my neck on the right side. I was very discouraged. A week later I had to get steroid shots in my neck. My doctor encouraged me to not be discouraged; it's just a side track and not unusual for the nerve damage to move there next.
As of November, 2015, it appears the Charlotte's Web™ (CW) is helping significantly. As stated above, I began to notice improvement 5 days after starting CW. Another factor that may be involved is hydroxychloroquine which I began taking in January, 2015. That drug can take up to 6 months to start working. My gut feeling is that CW has been like a linchpin, adding a missing ingredient that has catalyzed my endocannabinoid system to start working more effectively which may be producing a synergistic effect for other systems to also work more effectively. I am continuing to slowly regain function in my limbs. How much I will improve and for how long remains unknown. I have been and still am keeping notes and records.
My next epidural and neck shots are scheduled for December 14, 2015. The medication dosage in the epidural will be lower than previously. It will be my 10th epidural since I began receiving them in January, 2014. It will be beyond my dreams if I do not need that epidural. 'Til then, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing.
Timeline update: 11/10/15 - 12/23/15
On November 24, 2015, the nerve damage moved into my lower back and up my spine on both sides. It spread upward for about two weeks, stopping below my shoulder blades. I have not had shooting pain; but rather, lots of weakness and strain-type pains.
Around that same time (the week of November 23, 2015), which was post-epidural-week number nine, my overall symptoms worsened which is the normal pattern between epidurals. I was hoping that this routine pattern might not happen this round and that I would be able to at least delay the December 14th epidural. I was quite depressed with the increase of symptoms confirming that I would need that epidural. But, even with the increased symptoms, comparatively speaking, I guesstimate that I was still around 25% better compared to post-week nine in June, 2015, and probably 10% better compared to post-week nine in September, 2015. If not for the nerve damage spreading to my neck and back in October and November, 2015, I would have estimated that I was 40% better compared to June, 2015. Again, just like the previous round in September, I did not experience the "last four weeks" severe heaviness. That is encouraging, to say the least.
On December 10, 2015, my six-month Charlotte's Web™ Hemp Extract experiment which I began on June 10, 2015, was over. The improvement has been significant. So I will continue taking Charlotte's Web™ and assessing.
On December 14, 2015, I received my routine 12-week epidural. Due to my improvement since adding Charlotte's Web™ (CW) to my regimen and because my last epidural on 9/21/15 made me sick, my neurologist reduced the medication in my epidural by 50%. (That is HUGE!) Around March, 2015, I had asked the neurologist if we could increase the amount of medication in my epidural to maybe give me more and/or longer relief. He responded, "No. You are as high as you can go." And now, at the end of my six-month CW hemp extract experiment, that same medication which I had previously asked about increasing was decreased by 50%. It really is a big deal. December 14, 2015, was my 10th epidural since January, 2014.
How am I faring on the 50% reduction? I estimate that I'm receiving around 70% to 80% of the relief that I normally have by this time after my epidural. Not bad, since I had a 50% reduction in medication. I do miss the larger relief, and the comparative 70/80% relief has caused me some discouragement and depression. But, I'm handling that and adjusting and getting 'back on my game.' It will be interesting to see how I fare as the effects of this epidural wear off.
My next neurology appointment is on Monday, January 25, 2016, to get shots in my neck if I need them. My next epidural will probably be on Monday, March 7, 2016.
***
Between 2011 and 2013 I consulted at least eight different medical professionals before finding my current neurologist. Some of those consults were helpful; some weren't. A few were harmful. By the time I found my current neurologist, I felt I had to be my own defense attorney. If he didn't 'hear' me, I was ready to hire a patient advocate. Thankfully, he did hear me and continues to help me manage the condition.
I could write multiple rants regarding a medical practice/system that requires patients to jump through multiple hoops proving they really are in pain when they are just trying to figure out what's wrong and how to get relief. That story line is far too common in the USA's outrageously expensive, insurance run, medical industry.
Maybe with a new look, I'll start posting more blog entries? Maybe?
I've been thinking about writing about my reactions to the movie, The Martian.
I've seen it five times!
Five times! Oh my word!
So many parallels to what I've lived and continue to live through managing nerve damage. I won't go into the parallels here and I may never write them down. But they are in my head, and my limbs, and my heart...at least for now.
I literally knew nothing about The Martian until October when I saw its trailer roll across the theater screen before Everest played. I saw Everest the day before my first view of The Martian. (Everest is really good too, but I've only seen it once. The scenery is spectacular. The scale of the size of the climbers to the mountain, incredible. I saw the original Everest on an IMAX screen a few times back in the late 1990s; it's a documentary and one I'll not forget, at least as long as my brain continues to remember. Like Shakleton's Antarctic Adventure, which I saw more than once in that same IMAX.)
The disco soundtrack music in The Martian is especially significant for me. Since maybe May (?), 2015, disco has been one of my main body-and-soul recovery music genres. Ain't that funny.
My disco music has rooted me on as my nerves and muscles, and many abilities a non-disabled person takes for granted, have been coming back to life this past summer as I continued alone, but not alone, to just keep my limbs working. I'm still working at it. It takes priority over everything else in my life and continues to be my focus every single day.
And there, in that movie, was my music.
It sounded through the theater speakers as Mark Watney alone, but not alone, comes to terms with what seems to be impossible circumstances. And actually they are because it is a science-fiction movie.
All so serendipitous.
Last time I checked my life, and symptoms and struggle, are not science fiction.
My new favorite quote is,
"You just, begin."
~Mark Watney, Space Pirate
My second new favorite quote is my own,
"Wherever I go I'm never alone; I always bring Mia Long."
~Oneperson, Discoverer ;)
"At some point, everything's gonna go south on you and you're going to say, this is it. This is how I end. Now you can either accept that, or you can get to work. That's all it is. You just, begin. You do the math. You solve one problem and you solve the next one, and then the next. And If you solve enough problems, you get to come home."
~Mark Watney, Space Pirate
October 28, 2015, marked the day when ten years ago I officially left The Way.
But the bigger milestone than that 10-year anniversary is: I've now spent half my life as non-Way and half as loyal-Way; 28 years 'in,' 28 years 'out.' I'm at ground zero, so to speak.
I'm 56 years young. I got involved with The Way in Fall, 1977, at 18 years old. I 'left' The Way in Fall, 2005, at 46 years old.
28 in; 28 out.
It's kind of like I've been born again. *biggrin*
I say "officially" left because on the afternoon of October 28, 2005, Hubby was on the phone in the kitchen and I was on the bedroom phone. On the other end of the line on two different phone extensions, were the husband-and-wife team whom we had served with for the previous seven or so years. At that time they served as the state and region coordinators. I was letting them know I was leaving.
"Unofficially" I'd been 'leaving' The Way for at least eight years prior to October 28, 2005.
In a sense, I'm still unofficially 'leaving.'
*** Dump Two
The Way always stated (and probably still does) that a person can't "join" The Way, that there are no "members" other than the Board of Directors/Trustees. Right! *sarcasm*
All a follower has to do is commit her soul and her marriage and her family and her finances and her time and her identity to become likeminded and grow into the "new man" and live love according to The Word. The Word says to demolish your human logic and every imagination that exalts itself against the knowledge of God and bring into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ. The only way to have the knowledge of God is through God's rightly-divided Word, the Bible, of which there is only one right interpretation according to whom it is written and the context and various layers and nuanced definitions; otherwise, it's not rightly-divided. That Word is the end and the beginning of knowledge. Whatever does not line up with that standard is, at the least, unproductive evil; at the worst, destructive evil.
But you can't join The Way.
So no worries! (another *sarcasm*)
I once believed all that.
I don't anymore.
It tires me to think about it!
So I mostly think about other things these days.
*** Dump Three
One thing I'm thinking about is closing toss & ripple. By closing I really mean going dormant. I'd disable 'comments' and leave the blog be. I've thought about really 'closing' it from all public view, but other folks have links to entries which I think are important. I don't want those links to disappear.
How about yet another blog? I don't know. Most of my other start-ups end up flat because I don't post on them.
Nice thing is, I can choose.
*** Dump Four
Choice.
Wow, what a concept.
I remind myself regularly that I have freedom (at least in part) to choose...not according to another's dictates, whether that "another" be person or spirit or holy writ. I can choose based on what I deem important and/or desirable, on what will energize me and make life meaningful. I can choose based on the collective knowledge and experience and genetic code and whatever else is all wrapped inside, including intuition.
*** Dump Five
My health is faring well comparatively.
Except that the nerve damage moved into the nape of my neck on the right side on 10/26/15. I don't feel like typing out the details which includes the pattern over the last few years. But it scared and scares me. I ended up at Dr. Neurologist yesterday and got around 10 shots in my neck; it's 3 syringes, but around 10 pokes. I have a headache today. But Doc is good and quick with that needle.
From 9/22 through 10/17, I stayed at 1.25 mg of daily prednisone and was able to function. That hasn't happened since July, 2011, when I started taking daily prednisone. (I had to increase my daily dose beginning 10/18/15 which is a typical pattern in my 12-week cycles. I received my epidural and neck shots on 9/21.)
I was more social in October than I've been in the whole past year put together. It's time I back off again. And that's okay.
Between 9/24 and 10/24, I biked 243 miles over 23 different days. My goal was 600 miles this 12 weeks. But weather and now my neck condition and business workload are probably going to make that non-doable. And that's okay. It's been raining heavily again this week.
I can still pedal my bike standing up, and I can still clap my hands.
I'm still on tap for my lumbar epidural and more shots in the neck on December 14. But, I'll get less medicine in the doses. That upcoming round of injections is kind of scary too. I'll have to prepare a bit differently.
*** Dump Six
I love to ride my bike. It's my new passion and a good one. I could dedicate a blog site to my bike Olivia, and I'd include my 1999 Ford Explorer, Sir Edward.
At the top of my fullness-of-life rides is where I road on October 12 - the Railroad Grade Road between Fleetwood and Todd, NC, in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was a big day for me; to ride 20 miles on a paved road where cars drive; to ride in this strange place alone, though it wasn't really strange because I was with the trees and the river and the wildlife and my mountains. Though there are cars and trucks, they are few and drivers are biker friendly. I still felt somewhat naked along the road, exposed, vulnerable. Yet awed by the beauty.
Olivia along the New River. Railroad Grade Road. Fleetwood, NC.
At the top of my whew-that-was-close rides is my October 20th Salem Lake trip. A big, beautiful German shepherd lunged me as I was cycling by he and his walker. I figure I was going 7 to 9 miles an hour. I felt his top tooth hit my knee as he pulled away ripping my pants; he didn't break the skin. I pedaled faster to get away as I stuck my hand in the torn hole checking my knee for blood.
~whew, that was close~
The dog was on a leash. Since I wasn't hurt I didn't turn back. I did warn three approaching cyclists; two of those were elderly. If I see that dog out there again, I'll have to dismount and talk to the walker. Hopefully, the owner has sense enough to not allow that dog where there are bikes.
The Salem Lake trail is a 7-mile, dirt, loop, road around Salem Lake. The dirt road is about the width to fit one and one-half cars. Only authorized motorized vehicles are allowed and are seldom seen. Walkers, cyclists, dogs on leashes, horses are all allowed. I've ridden the loop at least 35 times since the spring.
*** Dump Seven
On October 1st, I finally put flowers on my parent's gravesite. Dad died in 1996 and Mom in 2009. I selected the flowers and greenery and fruit, and arranged them myself. I like how the arrangement turned out. I think Mom and Dad would too.
Before visiting Mom and Dad's gravesite, I stopped in at the Catawba County Museum of History. It was fascinating going through the exhibits looking for names I knew; the polio camp; prohibition; pottery and arts; and all sorts of stuff. I bought a book for my daughter from the bookstore; she requested a copy over a year ago. A photo of most of Mom's family takes up a whole page in that book. The boys are missing; I think because they were serving in the war.
After I visited Mom and Dad, I met up with an ex-Way friend whom I hadn't seen since the early 1980s; she left The Way in the latter '80s. We "got in the Word" together in 1977. About five years later, she moved to the west coast and just moved back east this past year. Her 5-or-6-year-old granddaughter joined us for supper. We ate at Mellow Mushroom where a balloon lady just happened to be spreading smiles; she made a lady bug for Friend's granddaughter. Friend's daughter, whom I hadn't seen since she was a toddler, stopped by after supper to pick up her daughter who proudly showed Mom her lady bug.
That was quite a day.
Stepping back in time.
Surreal.
On the way home Pandora chose Forever Young to play through my Explorer speakers.
Bob Dylan was singing.
Pandora is god. *biggrin*
***
Forever Young
Bob Dylan
May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.
May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.
May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.
