Finding a reason to stay around...

A head's up about the following: It is about suicidal ideation, something I am sometimes challenged with.

I have waffled whether or not to post this. And I may put it back in draft after posting it. It may be disturbing for some readers. It may also enlighten, giving a tiny glimpse, a surface view, of part of what goes through the psyche of the one entrenched in the throes of deep depression or anxiety, where life takes on the hue of hopelessness and one's self as worthless. These distortions loom large, and the afflicted feels the only escape is death.

I know what to do when these episodes descend. So I really don't want any "advice." And, I'm fine now. The episodes rarely happen these days; for that, I am grateful. But I'm not so naïve to think this darkness will not revisit. I'm glad I have a light.

On 11/11/18, three days after the recent episode, I wrote a poem.

On 11/14/18, almost a week after the episode, I wrote the following piece. At the end of it I include something I wrote on 11/08/18, the day of.

***

November 14, 2018

How much of my feeling of pointlessness is due to my illness?
How much is due to the changing seasons of life? Empty-nesting? Aging?
How much is due to our 24/7 news-on-screens that never shuts down?

In the airwaves all around us.
The fires.
The floods.
The mass shootings.
The tensions.
Trump's looming largeness.
And yet he is such a petty man.
Divisive rhetoric all around.

I feel I am not alone in this feeling of pointlessness.
My pointlessness is not all due to loss.

I endeavor to own my losses and to recognize just how good I have it.
Compared to most of the world.
And that I should be thankful.
I have food, every day.
Too much food.
I have clothing, every day.
I have shelter, every day.
I have transportation, every day.

Last week, when the suicidal ideation engulfed me
I hung on
I knew it would pass
But when it is present, the self feels totally without value
Utter worthlessness

Used to be, when the kids were young, and I would have engulfment episodes
I would think of the kids
That was my reason to keep living
I couldn't do that to my children - commit suicide
I just couldn't

My suicide plan then was foolproof. I don't like making messes that others have to clean up, so I would do myself in at the local lake. I'd drive to the lake with pistol beside me. Before getting out of the vehicle, I'd swallow the Xanax - however many pills were in the bottle. I'd then take the pistol, exit the van, and wade into the lake up to my armpits, keeping the pistol out of the water. I'd then wrap my lips around the barrel and pull the trigger. If the bullet didn't kill me, I'd have a back-up. I'd drown. And the fish could eat me. There'd be no physical mess. At least, not much.

But last week, as I battled thoughts of suicide, I knew I didn't have the energy to carry out that plan. Nor the physical strength to pull a trigger on a pistol. It'd just have to be Xanax and the bathtub. I wonder what the significance of drowning is?

Last week, as I thought about leaving this realm, my brain in a vice, my heart gouged with a gaping, empty hole, I wrote the following in my Sudoku puzzle book. Sudoku, one of my current go-to therapies.

I wrote:

11/08/18
...my note would say:
"I cannot continue in this non-existent existence. I'm sorry I didn't get the house cleaned. Here are all my passwords. Please keep in touch with each other and take care of the earth. If there's an afterlife, I'll see you there. I could have said goodbye directly before leaving, but it's just too painful. I'll miss my pets, and bike, and the woods."

And I think of my blind friend, the schnauzer. And when he looks at me, even though he cannot see me, his eyes say, "I love you so very much Carol."

I need to stay around, at least for him.

***

~my friend and I~
~the blind leading the crippled~

I believe...

Santa's deer appeared in our back yard on Christmas day, around 4:30 PM.

Rudolph was the only one missing...

November, 2018: Pedal Carol Pedal

Listed below are my first and last log entries of my November, 2018, rides. This same post, with the entire log and a few more pictures, can be viewed at my cycling blog.

~*~

Daylight savings time ended November 4. So, try as I might, I haven't been able to always finish my rides before sunset. And I'm glad.

The night rides have been magical, especially the two on the New River Trail. There's a feeling of wildness, of freedom, to be in the woods at night with no people around. Just the trees and the trail and the wind. The sky and the stars and the moon. The river and deer and rocky cliffs. And knowing that other critters are watching a two-legged on two wheels roll through the darkness.

Even though I received my (23rd) epidural on October 29, I've had a rougher-than-normal-rough November; first and foremost physically, which contributed to the mental and emotional hardships.

The difficulty-increase was due to a few factors. Two of those are:
1) my 10/29 epidural didn't work as well as I was hoping/anticipating.
2) the weather has moved into her cold season, along with less sunlight and (this year) more precipitation.

In spite of the added difficulty, I have continued to cycle. The extra effort it takes to prepare (such as added layers of clothing) makes it more challenging. What motivates me is the joy of the ride, knowing the freedom and relief and high that arrive at some point during the ride; at least most of the time. To be able to move my body at a good pace and without having to contemplate simple movements, such as putting on socks, is freedom to my soul.

Hubby John set up my indoor trainer. It's my best indoor cycling experience yet! A couple years ago, I rode John's bike set up on a different trainer. I didn't like it, but endured. Last year I joined the YWCA. That worked okay, but it took a lot of effort to get there and then clean up afterward. So, this year, I have a new trainer that was gifted me by my neighbor. And, since I now have a 2nd bike, Bleu, my beloved bike, Olivia, is on the trainer. And I've learned how to play YouTube videos on the TV. Me likes! I'm hooked on Ryan Duzer's videos.

The links in my log below connect to corresponding tweets about the ride.
"Putw" means the link is to my public Twitter account.
"Prtw," to my private account.

~*~

Total November miles = 176.

First Entry:
• November 4 (putw) & (prtw): 24.2 mi. Solo w/Bleu. New River Trail in Virginia. Foster Falls->Allisonia->Foster Falls. 1st section of my 6th thru-bike on the NRT. Didn't want the day to end. Daylight savings ended today, so I rode in the dark the last 2-3 miles. 6 deer, 4 different spots. 1 ran in front of me, like an escort, for maybe .2 mile. She'd stop & look back at me. Her white tail was like a pendulum. It shone in the dusk of evening. 2 crossed in front of me. Flock of robins - I guess 40 to 50. Geese in the river - heard but didn't see. White bird in the woods. A cat, on the trail, in the dusk, hunkered & watchful as I pedaled by. Met 2 couples. 1 from Columbus, OH. The other from Charlottesville/Blacksburg, VA - the guy had a 1990s Trek!! It was purple. On the drive up, in Tobaccoville, I called 911 twice. A man in a van following a teenage girl who was walking. Stopping and talking to her through his van window. She was silent, determined, walking. Probably Daughter-Dad thing going on, but who knows?

• (Click here to view the middle entries).

Last Entry:
• November 29 (prtw): 17.7 mi. Solo w/Bleu. Muddy Creek Greenway. Winston-Salem, NC. Was gonna ride inside, but then the temperature reached 50F. Hit the greenway 3:30ish & rode into sunset as the temp dropped. So glad I weathered it. Saw Josh & Aaron throwing football at Jamieson Park. That was fun. Rode the hill 2x. Got a text from Drake Passage this morning. From friends on the National Geographic ship, Explorer, on their way to Antarctica. That is way cool...!!

~Indoor trainer with Olivia~

~Moon over Hiwassee Bridge. Bleu leans~

~New River Trail. 11/19/18~

~Bleu. Birds. Moon~
~Mt. Airy Greenway. 11/21/18~

~Greenway courtesy. Bleu leans~

~Mt. Airy, NC. 11-25-18~

In route, Round #23.

Haven't felt much like posting on toss & ripple, obviously.
I am still writing. But most of it is not for public consumption.
I have posted a few poems at my poetry blog.
I continue to log my bike rides on my cycling blog.
Here's a link to my most recent cycling log: October, 2018, rides... It includes a few pictures.

~*~

Son backpacked to Mt. Everest base camp in September/October. I'm still saying, "WOW..." He arrived back home safely (and mostly in tact) on October 12. What a trip! Here's a photo he took from the summit of Gokyo Ri, 17,575 ft. That be Everest! In the back. Middle left.

Mt. Everest from Gokyo Ri

Pic by Josh

~*~

I received my 23rd epidural this past Monday, 10/29/18.
Relief is sweet.
Below is my trail guide for this round, #23.

October 29, 2018 thru January 21, 2019

I am committed to selfcare & emotional wellness.
With selfcare I am caring for others.

I do not have to explain to anyone my lack of commitment to activities outside of selfcare. Even if I weren't disabled, there is no need to explain or apologize to anyone, though I'm sure I will.

Remind myself, "Easy. Easy." Listen to my body & soul.
Lower expectations to regulate frustrations.
Weather is always changing, "It's wind, man. It blows all over the place."

May I be present.
May I have ease of well being.
May I be peaceful.
May I embrace 10,000 sorrows & 10,000 joys.

The good, the bad, & the ugly - we all share the same air, water, & soil.
My experiences & knowledge count.
I have intrinsic value.

Countdown:

Week 1: Completed M, 11/05/18: easy does it
Week 2: Completed M, 11/12/18
Week 3: Completed M, 11/19/18

(Sophie: 11/12-11/17)

Week 4: Completed M, 11/26/18: easy does it

(BONIVA: Sa, 11/24. TG: 11/22. D: 11/24-12/12. O&G: 11/24-11/26.)

Week 5: Completed M, 12/03/18: easy X2 does it

(D: 11/24-12/12)

Week 6: Completed Tu, 12/11/18: easy X3 does it

(Neck shots. D: 11/24-12/12.)

Week 7: Completed Tu, 12/18/18

(D: 12/14-12/16.)

Week 8: Completed Tu, 12/25/18

(BONIVA: Sa, 12/22. John bday: 12/22. Xmas: 12/25. O&G: 12/24-1/03/19)

Week 9: Completed Tu, 01/01/19: easy does it

(NYD: 1/01. O&G: 12/24-1/03/19)

Week 10: Completed Tu, 01/08/19: easy X2 does it

(O&G: 12/24-1/03/19)

Week 11: Completed Tu, 01/15/19: easy X3 does it
Week 12: Completed M, 01/21/19: easy X4 does it

(Epidural #24. BONIVA on Sa, 01/19/19.)

JCHW, CEO ~cyclist. explorer. overcomer.

Trail Guide #23. On the fridge. 

~*~

For Halloween, I dressed up as a peace-cyclist. ;)

Halloween, 2018. Peace-cyclist.

~*~

The Lion King is one of my favorite Disney movies.
I relate to this clip.
I include the account in one of my recent poems.



~*~

Calculating...

I don't feel like writing the whys, whats, and what-nots behind and around my following journal entries.
Perhaps sometime later I'll write about some of that, and perhaps not.
Suffice it to say, I'm hoping I can carry through on my plan.
That I can start organizing our home.
And, simultaneously as I hopefully work my plan, that I'm inspired with a sustainable maintenance plan, which will involve hiring help.

My body and brain responded to my epidural on August 6, 2018, like they used to respond prior to my surgery on August 30,2016.
Same for my neck shots which I received last week on September 18.
I'm hoping my body's and brain's responses to the recent epidural and shots is a pattern.
If it is, I can maybe make headway on the home front.
It's a long path, but hopefully, I'll be able to trek it.

Speaking of paths, Son is currently in Nepal hiking to Everest Base Camp.
I can't quit saying, "Wow..."

~*~
Adapted from journal entries, 9/21/18 & 9/22/18

So many things to do
Responsible things

So many things to see
Enriching things

So many experiences
To be

To be
Causes me pause

Scripture says,
Where there is no oxen
the crib is clean

The less I own
the less I am responsible to care for
in the material world

How will I ever get my house clean?
Organized.
Minimized.
A haven for art, living, creativity, warmth, kindness
An expression of the significant happenings
in my little world
in my family's little world.

It feels so overwhelming
But my overwelmth is nothing compared to floods, fires, and wars.

I figure with my health adversities
I have about 6 to 7 decent weeks out of 12.
There are 52 weeks in a year.
So I have around 28 decent weeks a year.
Three of those are spent on vacation: Prep, vacay, recoup time.
Which leaves me with 25 weeks.
Take away 2 for margin.

I'm left with 23, maybe 24, weeks a year that I can work,
one day each week, on getting the house in order.
Which is only 23, maybe 24, days per year.

But I can't spread out the work over 23 to 24 non-consecutive weeks.
That's not doable for me.
I will not stay motivated.

Breathe.

Let me take it down to 22 weeks per year.
It's better to give myself that extra margin.

One day a week for 22 weeks equals 22 days.
Which is about equivalent to 7 three-day weeks.
Or equivalent to 11 two-day weeks.

How much can I work on a project in one of my good weeks?
Three days?
21/3 = 7 weeks.
52/7 = 7.5 weeks.
That'd be 1 three-day week every 7-1/2 weeks.
That is not consistent enough to keep me motivated and feeling successful.
And 3 days a week is probably beyond my limit.

So, why not 2-day weeks.
That would be more doable.
I'll calculate using 55 weeks, instead of 52.
It's easier.
55/11 = 5 weeks.
Every 5 weeks, focus 2 days on a house project.
I can work in 2-hour intervals, for a total of 4 to 6 hours per day.

That could work in weeks 2 and 7 in my epidural cycle.
Those are probably my best weeks.
Week 2 is a week after I receive my epidural.
Week 7 is a week after I receive my neck injections.
But, the next 5th week would be week 12, and that won't work at all.
So, I can shoot for 1 day during week 8 or 9.

Then start the cycle again.
Two days in weeks 2 and 7, and 1 day in week 8 or 9.
That only comes to 20 days per year, I think.

Maybe sometimes maybe I'd be able to put in one day during weeks 3 or 4.
But, that isn't my goal.
My goal will be focused on 2 days in weeks 2 and 7.
Then 1 day in week 8 or 9.
I need to see progress and feel successful.

This will work if I can do it, maybe.
If I can do it.

Mountain to Bleu

Prompt: mountains

~*~

Sometime in the 1970s, the rock and roll band Mountain released a song named Mississippi Queen. I don't know the lyrics except for "Mississippi Queen (guitar riff) Do you know what I mean (guitar riff) Mississippi Queen (guitar riff) She taught me everything." I don't know if the band is singing about a woman or a boat. Regardless, I really like the song. I think it's one of the best air-guitar songs ever recorded. Mississippi Queen sometimes plays on my Pandora stream in the Bachmann-Turner Overdrive genre.

Pandora is an online music venue. I select a song or artist from Pandora's options. Then Pandora works its magic and plays music from the genre of that artist or song. Through Pandora, I discover artists I've never heard before, and I discover songs that I've never heard from artists whom I already know.

I can tap a thumbs-up or thumbs-down on my device screen for each song Pandora plays. If I thumbs-up a song, it goes on my playlist and Pandora searches for more songs of that type. If I thumbs-down a song, it won't play again, and Pandora will avoid that type of song. So before I tap thumbs-down, I make sure I really don't like that song. If I'm not sure whether I dislike or like a song, I don't give it an up or down, and the song will play again later.

I often play Pandora in the Shuffle mode where it picks songs from my various chosen genres. Children's songs, like from Red Grammar and Jack Johnson. 1970's light rock, like The Doobie Brothers and BTO. Southern rock, like the Allman Brothers and Marshall Tucker Band and Lynard Skynard. Songs from musicals, like from Oliver and The Sound of Music and The Lion King. Bluegrass, like John Hartford and Doc Watson. Celtic, like Natalie MacMaster and The High Kings. Contemporary Christian like Todd Agnew and Third Day. Disco like Donna Summer and Rick James. Folk, like John Prine and Arlo Guthrie. Other favorites are Carole King, James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, Michael Jackson, The Band, The Beatles, Three Dog Night. The list goes on. Lots of '70s sounds. I also like more contemporary artists such as Fun and Bruno Mars and Andy Grammer.

I drive a 1999 Ford Explorer. His name is Edward. I knighted him a few years ago when he turned 200,000 miles. Sir Edward isn't equipped with a USB port where I can plug in my smart phone to allow what is played on my phone to play through Edward's speakers. So I use a Bluetooth adapter.

I set my car radio at 87.9 FM and plug the adapter into the lighter socket. I tap Bluetooth, turning it on, in my cell phone settings. After a minute or three, my phone connects with the adapter. I tap the Pandora app on my phone, select a genre or "shuffle," and a concert begins playing through Edward's speakers. I sing along and sometimes drum my steering wheel. Amazing that we can play songs from a phone through car speakers.

When I ride my bike, I put a Bluetooth earpiece in my left ear. The Bluetooth connects with my phone. I tap Pandora, and I have music for my bicycle rides. I place my phone in a zipper pocket-pouch which is attached to my bike.

I often lose cell service on my mountain day adventures. Pandora has an offline mode, but sometimes it doesn't work. In that case I often listen to a CD while driving Edward. Or, if riding my bike, I listen to the wind and birds and tree frogs and crickets and river rapids and the crunch of gravel beneath my tires. Sometimes I sing as I pedal along, making up songs that I can't remember later.

I bought a new bike this week. The bike shop ordered it for me a couple weeks ago. I really like Ken's Bike Shop. It's small, locally owned, and they take good care of me and my bike, Olivia. I'm sure they'll do the same for Bleu, my new bike. I haven't taken Bleu for a ride yet, except around the bike shop parking lot.

Bleu is a Trek 820. I wanted another bike just like Olivia, a Trek 3700. But 3700's are no longer made. The 820 is the closest model to a 3700. The 820 only comes in a black and blue color. So, I've named her Black Beauty, or Bleu for short. I hope Olivia doesn't get too jealous.

Bleu. 9/11/18, the day I bought her.

"Cult behavior is human behavior..."

8/20/2018
9:30 AM

Reading on Amazon.
The viewable sections in the Introduction to Escaping Utopia: Growing Up in a Cult, Getting Out, and Starting Over by Janja Lalich & Karla McLaren.

I read a review of the book earlier today. Then went to Amazon to "look inside."

The little I read stirred feelings of value for my life, feelings of substance for what I've lived. Through my experiences I have gained knowledge and that yucky word "wisdom." What other word can I use besides "wisdom?" Hmmm ..."know-how?"... I like that better.

My Way years are becoming more chronologically distant, so I think about them less. But that does not mean those 28+ years are irrelevant. Those years are very relevant...even if I'd never joined The Way.

But I did.

The Way and its doctrine were a part of my very core through those decades. With every decision Way doctrine and its accompanying judgment were in my mind. The doctrine took precedence. It was the roadmap displaying the right route, even if the route felt not-right.

To me, that is the most distinguishing factor of a "cult" - doctrine over person.

If a person's experiences/observations/perceptions/intuitions/ideas don't line up with the doctrine, either the person is inherently wrong or has received wrong information. Correct information lines up with the doctrine. All information and experience must somehow fit within and/or be explained by the doctrine. The person cannot trust their own experiences/observations/perceptions/intuitions/ideas if they are contrary to the doctrine. Any questioning or thought or exploration is carried out within the confines - the borders and undergirdings - of the doctrine.

This line from the Introduction is maybe the best way I've heard the word "cult" put into perspective:

Cult behavior is human behavior...

The context of that line is:

In fact, the behaviors, social pressures, and controlling structures that create cults exist (to some degree) in every human group. Cult behavior is human behavior--and by studying cults, we can learn remarkably useful things about the social world and our place in it.

So, does that mean, because of my experiences with cults of different flavors and especially my decades in The Way, that I know "remarkably useful things about the social world and [my] place in it"? Maybe I do. That's a thought.


~*~

Reading further through the Introduction, I came upon a definition of "cult" which, to me, is similar to my "most distinguishing factor." The attributes described in the definition below are derived from (or rationalized by) the doctrine.

Definition of cult, quoted from Lalich and McLaren:

A cult is a group or relationship that stifles individuality and critical thinking, requires intense commitment and obedience to a person and/or ideology, and restricts or eliminates personal autonomy in favor of the cult's worldview and the leader's wants and needs.

One of the books I found most helpful after leaving The Way was Dr. Lalich's book, Bounded Choice: True Believers and Charismatic Cults. It helped me understand more clearly the mechanisms, and thus behavior, undergirding true believerism. This new book, Escaping Utopia, sounds similar but broader and, I'd think, deeper in scope.

Bounded Choice was published in 2004. Escaping Utopia in 2018.

Chunks to Cairns

August 12, 2018

My personal life seems to be taking on some kind of organic organization. Of course, as soon as I write this, that may crumble and life is humdrum chaos again.

Humdrum chaos.
That's an oxymoron.
But that's how "it" feels.

Maybe that's a coping skill. The chaos is so overwhelming that it cycles into apathy, or humdrum. But one can't live like that on an ongoing basis. And if they do have to live "it" in order to survive, the price is high. It takes a toll, a chunk. Many chunks.

Perhaps one can then take the chunks and build a cairn.

My definition of cairn is: a rock stack marking a path or something significant.

Two Oxford Dictionary definitions are:
~a mound of rough stones built as a memorial or landmark, typically on a hilltop or skyline.
~a prehistoric burial mound made of stones.

So where was I?

Ahh, my personal life and the organic organizational feel to it. This is a good thing, if it is actually a thing and not a momentary perception. And if it is a thing, I think it stems from setting aside Wednesdays and arranging that day around the writing workshop at night. The priority isn't biking that day.

I love biking. It's become my full time job....

I'm getting off track because I'm starting to write to explain for a reader.
Stop it Carol.
Plus readers can come to their own conclusions with what is stated.
Their own applications.

It's time to type up my next "Help Map" and magnet it to my refrigerator. I type these up every 12 weeks, to help me make it to my next epidural. I put a check mark beside each week when that week's complete.

This is round #22.

~*~
Help Map:
August 6, 2018. thru October 29, 2018

I have value.
My experiences & knowledge count.

I am committed to self-care & emotional wellness.
I do not have to explain to anyone my lack of commitment to activities outside of self-care.
Even if I weren't disabled, there is no need to explain.
I do not need to apologize, though I'm sure I will.
With selfcare I am caring for others.

Listen to my soul & to my body.
Nothing else takes priority.
Pace. Rest. Movement.
Nutrition. Happiness. Writing.

Weather is always changing.
"It's wind man. It blows all over the place."

May I be present.
May I have ease of well being.
May I be peaceful.
May I embrace 10,000 sorrows & 10,000 joys.


Countdown:
Week 1: Completed M, 8/13/18
Week 2: Completed M, 8/20/18
Week 3: Completed M, 8/27/18 (BONIVA on Sa, 8/25/18)
Week 4: Completed M, 9/03/18

Week 5: Completed M, 9/10/18
Week 6: Completed Tu, 9/18/18 (neck shots)
Week 7: Completed Tu, 9/25/18
Week 8: Completed Tu, 10/02/18 (BONIVA on Sa, 9/29/18)

Week 9: Completed Tu, 10/09/18
Week 10: Completed Tu, 10/16/18
Week 11: Completed Tu, 10/23/18
Week 12: Completed M, 10/29/18 (BONIVA on Sa, 10/27/18 ~4 wks) (Epidural #23)

Carol Welch, CEO
~cyclist. explorer. overcomer.

~*~

Roots, no longers, healing springs...

In the last few years, I've said to Hubby, "I think I know what it feels like to be old." ("Old" meaning "elderly." But I didn't use the word "elderly" when talking to Hubby; I used "old.")

I've said that because of polyradiculitis and the hell it's been to live, including the side effects of long-term steroids.

The slowness of my body. The muscle atrophy. The thinning hair. The thinning, fragile skin. The bone loss. The heaviness. The trembles. The fatigue. The cognitive dysfunction. The isolation. The monitoring for diabetes, glaucoma, adrenal and heart dysfunction. The assistance I sometimes needed to bathe and dress. The assistance I still need to trim my fingernails and toenails.

The giving-up much of my 2D and 3D social life. The giving-up of walks and hiking and backpacking and my dream of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. The giving-up of cleaning the house, gardening, doing the laundry, meal prep, shopping...that kind of stuff. Though I do occasionally shop in short intervals, and can now sometimes even do laundry.

Then there are/have been the symptoms that typically aren't necessarily associated with aging. Iron deficiency. Vertigo. Migraines. Numbness and pain and tingling and bizarre sensations in my limbs. To name a few.

Poly means many or multiple.
Rad means root.
Itis means inflammation.
Multiple roots inflamed.
Nerve roots at my spinal cord, inflamed.

My whole body is affected. But the symptoms have become less severe since adding Charlotte's Web Hemp Extract to my regimen in 2015 and since my revision hip replacement surgery in 2016 to replace the recalled, defective, metal-leaching implant. Again slicing open my left thigh about six inches, downward from my hip. Cutting through layers of skin and muscle and tissue.

I have a scar there from my first hip replacement in August, 2008. I also have a deformity alongside the scar, a lump. It's supposedly fatty tissue that built up after the first surgery. I recently read that some lumps are caused by leaching metals. I wonder if that was the case for me. I'm not going to ask about that; there's nothing more to be done.

I saw the orthopedic surgeon last Thursday, August 2nd. I sometimes still have low level pain in that hip, and sometimes a catch...

And here I am. My mind going all over the place. This subject is so huge. Huge. Because I live with pain all over my body. Literally. The soles of my feet, the palms of my hands, my shins, my forearms, my biceps, my knees, my thighs, my left hip area where the scalpels have gouged and danced. And my low back. And migraines, which have mostly abated since I gave up cheese and yogurt and sauerkraut and pickles.

But, thankfully, I no longer suffer intense pain. The pain now is mainly tenderness. Sometimes an electric bolt. Most often a low ache, soreness. Occasional numbness in two of my fingers. My routine lumbar epidurals and neck shots give relief.

I no longer suffer the other bizarre symptoms inside my forearms. Feelings of heavy, wet sand moving around like mercury. And little Mario men all lined up on either side of my forearm bone, their feet pressed against my bone while they play tug-o-war pulling on my tendons, back and forth, back and forth. And the pins and needles in my wrists and hands and fingers and ankles and feet and toes. The numbness in my fingers and hands, like I was wearing boxing gloves.

I no longer have the severe weakness in my arms, so much so that I couldn't lift a soda can to my lips.

I no longer have pain in my neck and jaws. I occasionally still have weakness in my jaws, but not like it used to be.

I no longer feel the weight, like I have a dead body strapped to me. Or like my body is filled with slivers of iron and that Earth is trying to suck me into her magnetic core.

Those were such bizarre times. And it's only part of the story. It sounds unbelievable. It was a terrifying time.

I still have to move slowly, deliberately. I'm used to it now. It's my new normal.

But, my pace has picked up from the terrifying days. Hubby recently said I now move a little quicker than his mom. Or maybe it's that her pace has slowed down. For a few years, my pace was slower than hers. She's 83. I'm 59.

But when I'm riding my bike, I can move fast, for me. An observer wouldn't even know I'm disabled, until I dismount. Those wheels are my freedom.

I'm going to Virginia tomorrow to bike a section of the New River rail trail. As usual, I'm going solo. But I don't feel alone on the trail. Because of the trees and the birds and the deer and the cows and the river and the rocks...and the history. People once rode a train on that trail to get to the healing sulfur springs of Grayson County.

On my own...

From my journal, adapted.
~*~
Monday, August 6, 2018
10:35 AM

I don't know what to write. I need to write like no one is listening, and I need to write like everyone is listening. And that really makes no sense. It is a polar extreme, which may not be true to fact but is true to feel. And if that makes no sense, well then, it makes no sense. At least in this linear dimension of logic. The dimension where science is absolute.

But is that really true? Absolute science? Isn't science about discovery?

Well discovery is science, isn't it? At least part of it.

I don't think of discoveries as absolutes.

I'm not a scientist. I have no formal degree.

What is science? What is the etymology of the word?


From Online Etymology:

"mid-14c., "what is known, knowledge (of something) acquired by study; information;" also "assurance of knowledge, certitude, certainty," from Old French science "knowledge, learning, application; corpus of human knowledge" (12c.), from Latin scientia "knowledge, a knowing; expertness," from sciens (genitive scientis) "intelligent, skilled," present participle of scire "to know," probably originally "to separate one thing from another, to distinguish," related to scindere "to cut, divide," from PIE root *skei- "to cut, split" (source also of Greek skhizein "to split, rend, cleave," Gothic skaidan, Old English sceadan "to divide, separate").~

From late 14c. in English as "book-learning," also "a particular branch of knowledge or of learning;" also "skillfulness, cleverness; craftiness." From c. 1400 as "experiential knowledge;" also "a skill, handicraft; a trade." From late 14c. as "collective human knowledge" (especially that gained by systematic observation, experiment, and reasoning). Modern (restricted) sense of "body of regular or methodical observations or propositions concerning a particular subject or speculation" is attested from 1725; in 17c.-18c. this concept commonly was called philosophy. Sense of "non-arts studies" is attested from 1670s.

Science, since people must do it, is a socially embedded activity. It progresses by hunch, vision, and intuition. Much of its change through time does not record a closer approach to absolute truth, but the alteration of cultural contexts that influence it so strongly. Facts are not pure and unsullied bits of information; culture also influences what we see and how we see it. Theories, moreover, are not inexorable inductions from facts. The most creative theories are often imaginative visions imposed upon facts; the source of imagination is also strongly cultural. [Stephen Jay Gould, introduction to "The Mismeasure of Man," 1981]

In science you must not talk before you know. In art you must not talk before you do. In literature you must not talk before you think. [John Ruskin, "The Eagle's Nest," 1872]

The distinction is commonly understood as between theoretical truth (Greek episteme) and methods for effecting practical results (tekhne), but science sometimes is used for practical applications and art for applications of skill. To blind (someone) with science "confuse by the use of big words or complex explanations" is attested from 1937, originally noted as a phrase from Australia and New Zealand."

These are interesting lines:

probably originally 'to separate one thing from another, to distinguish,'...'to cut, divide,' … 'to cut, split' (source also of Greek skhizein "to split, rend, cleave," Gothic skaidan, Old English sceadan "to divide, separate").

Sounds like a cult: to separate, cut, split, cleave, divide.

~*~

I awoke crying this morning. I felt very alone in my misery. I get my epidural today. It's my 22nd epidural, or thereabouts. I got my first one in December, 2013.

Hubby used to go with me when I'd get my epidurals, or at least meet me at the doctor's office. I get epidurals every 12 weeks. He's not coming today. He didn't come last time. And, I'm pretty sure, he wasn't with me the time before. That's 36 weeks. Or is it 24?

Regardless, it hurts.

One reason he hasn't come, and maybe the only reason, is that his work commute is longer since he started working in Cornelius a year ago. A one-hour-and-twenty-minute commute, one way. More, depending on traffic.

What bothers me most though, is that he's made no offer to come or meet me, and he doesn't bring it up, even when I email and verbally tell him the upcoming pet sitting & epidural schedule. That's what really hurts. My feelings translate it into, I'm not a priority.

Which isn't true.

Hubby does a lot to help me manage. Living the hell of this disease would be even more horrible without his support. And I'd have to give up working with pets altogether if not for Hubby. And even though the pets are a lot of work, I feel their love and support. I feel their companionship. And, at the end of a pet client stay, I feel good about myself. That I've contributed to another's life. Not just the pet's humans, but the pets themselves. I've made their life happy for awhile, and they do the same for me.

I'm tired of writing for now. More later, maybe.

My epidural appointment is at 2:40 in King. I'll enjoy the drive.

~*~

Added note, beyond the story: Hubby and I discussed the epidural visits in more depth later. He'll probably go to my next one. He's a wonderful man. I don't want any readers to get the wrong impression. The above is how I felt at the time.

Watch & wait

I've felt disoriented lately.

Today, I've had to collect saliva throughout the day at five different designated times for an adrenal function test.

I also picked up my two dachshund friends, Greta and Otto, this morning. They are staying with us through Sunday.

And I am visiting some cat friends once a day through Saturday. Three cats in one home - Oliver, Sarabi, and LiLing.

Sarabi is new to the trio and keeps her distance from me for now and waits by her feeding spot checking me out. She knows, "The feeder is here."

Oliver is an adopted stray. He adopted Luci, his human, last year. Since Oliver was once a stray, Luci lets him in and out of the house whenever Oliver asks, for the most part. But for my first visit last year, Luci was concerned Oliver may not readily come back, since he didn't yet know me.

On that first day, Oliver avoided me and was skittish. Not unusual for a cat, or many an animal when they are first getting to know a human. I respect their space and simply hang out after doing my house and pet sitting duties. I don't try to get them to like me. But I try to let them know that they can trust me.

On the second day Oliver was standing on his hind legs, frantically pawing at the sliding glass door wanting to go outside. I obliged; he was too distraught. He came back after 20 minutes, and I let him back inside.

He was a changed cat, at least in our relationship. He rubbed against my legs, his purr box humming. I told him, "I get it Oliver. I'd go nuts if I couldn't visit the woods." He's not been skittish since.

Lucky, one of my previous cat clients before I had to downsize, would always hide from us pet sitters. I'd often find her under the bed hiding in the lightweight muslin-like material that sometimes covers the underside of box springs. She wasn't the only cat that had discovered how to make a hole in that material and then climb inside it like a secret hammock.

I'd lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, on my back, and turn my head to see Lucky under the bed at the other end in her hammock. Lucky would stare at me, checking me out.

After about 1-1/2 years, Lucky decided all was okay. One day I arrived, and she greeted me, purring and rubbing against my legs. From then on, she always greeted me with purrs.

I collect my last saliva sample tonight between 10PM and midnight. I'll swish my mouth with water for 30 seconds and then spit the water out. Then wait 3 to 5 minutes, wash my hands, put the one-inch cotton roll under my tongue for 20 minutes, and write my identification on the appropriate vial. After 20 minutes, with clean hands, I'll take the cotton roll out from under my tongue, put it in the vial, tightly cap the vial, and place it in the refrigerator with the other four vials which are in "the provided resealable bag with orange absorbent shipping pad." Tomorrow I'll put the sealed bag with the five vials in the provided box and mail it from the UPS store, after I visit the cat trio and before I visit the orthopedic surgeon.

Backyard and Beyond

Our front yard was flat and grassy, with a giant oak tree.
Under the tree, a concrete sidewalk extended straight from the street to the covered front porch which was a step up from the sidewalk and bordered in red brick.
The porch floor was made from polished, red stone pavers of different geometric shapes held together by concrete between the pavers.
The straight sidewalk was replaced in later years after a driveway and carport were added.
A new sidewalk was laid that went straight from the driveway and then took a 90-degree left turn to the porch.
But the tree remained undisturbed.

On the right side of our house, a grassy hill sloped down extending beyond the back of the house to a flat area where Dad grew a garden.
As a youngster, I used to roll down that hill, just for the fun of rolling.
Sometimes I'd camp out, by myself in a sleeping bag on that hill, stargazing and looking for space ships and hoping I'd meet extraterrestrials who would bring peace or take me away.

On the left side, the hill sloped down to the back of the house where there was a first-flat area, before the garden-flat area.
On that left hill, there was a 3-foot high, 2-foot diameter, cement cylinder with a cement top.
That was the well.
Sometimes the electric pump for the well would break or the power would go out.
Our neighbors, the Younts, would let us have some of their city water until Mom and Dad got the pump working again or until the power came back on.

A swing set stood on that first-flat area.
Sometimes I'd pretend the swing set was my ship; I was the pirate.
Other times I was a princess.
It wasn't a swing set with individual swings.
Instead, it held a wooden-slat porch swing.

Beyond that first-flat area, the hill picked up again and sloped downward about 12 feet to the other flat area where the small garden with lots of weeds grew.

Beyond the weedy garden lay the horse pasture which grew grass and trees and weeds, including jimson weed.
A creek flowed through the back half of the pasture.
It was big enough that it had a swimming hole.
Sometimes us kids would catch crawdads, and then let them go.
We'd make bowls out of the sparse gray clay.
Most of the creek soil was red mud and sand and rocks.
After the clay dried, we'd paint the bowls purple with polkberry juice.
Sometimes Marie and I pretended to be Cherokee or Apache with our ponies on which we rode bareback.
We gave the ponies baths in the creek.

Beyond the creek were woods, still in the pasture.
That's where I smoked my first cigarette when I was in 6th grade, but I never picked it up as a habit.
It's also where I experienced my first French kiss, in 6th grade, with Mark, who was a year older than me.

In our neighbors' yards us kids, boys and girls, played pick-up football and rolly bat.

We played American football, not soccer.
I was a fast runner and a good tackler.
I always aimed for the ankles when I tackled.
And I could put a good spin on a football for a decent spiral.
We didn't wear any protective equipment.

Rolly bat didn't involve running or tackling.
A batter faced a pitcher, and everyone else stood wherever they chose in the outfield.
The batter hit the softball, and if the ball was caught before it hit the ground that outfielder became the batter.
If the ball hit the ground, outfielders would go for it.
The outfielder who got to it first would roll the ball aiming to tap the bat which the batter had laid flat on the ground.
If the batter didn't hit the ball very far, the batter could call "pin," or something like that, which let the batter stand the bat upright, with the head of the thick end on the ground while the batter held the end of the handle head to keep the bat upright.
It was harder to roll and tap a pin bat than a flat bat.
If the roller was too far from the bat for a roll to reach the bat, she could relay the ball by choosing someone to toss the ball to.
And then that person would roll the ball to try to tap the bat.
If the relay receiver didn't catch the ball, the play was dead.
If a roller or their receiver tapped the bat with the ball, the roller became the batter.

We played tag, hide-and-seek, and sardines all over the neighborhood.

In hide-and-seek everyone hid except for one person, who was the seeker.
There was a home base, and if a hider tagged home before the seeker tagged the hider or the base, the hider didn't have to help the seeker.
When a seeker tagged the base before the hider or tagged the hider, the hider had to help the seeker.
Since I was of small stature, I could hide in small places.

In sardines one person hid and everyone else was a seeker.
When a seeker found the hider, the seeker hid with the initial hider.
Eventually hiders were all squished in the hiding place, like sardines in a tin.
I can't recall what happened once the last seeker found the sardines.

There were 20 or so of us kids.
Adults did not supervise.
But sometimes they joined in on rolly bat.

Riding the Ararat

One of my writing projects is writing my riding. I started a blog just for that purpose, A Bike and Its Girl: Adventures with Olivia.

I also opened a private Twitter account to post each ride. That way I have a quick reference log, sometimes with pictures. It's a real hassle to transfer pictures from my phone to my computer and then to my blog. Much easier to link to a Twitter update for the pictures. The links, hyperlinked at the end of this post, link to either my private or public Twitter account.

Below is a copy and paste of my most recent post from Adventures with Olivia.

***

Trying to recall what year I first rode the greenway in Mt. Airy. My mind wonders, 2014? 2015? Did I even own Olivia in 2014? I'll have to ask next time at the bike shop and see if they have the date I purchased Olivia.

The first time I rode that greenway, it was divided into three separate segments. Ten to twelve months later I debated with myself whether or not I wanted to hassle with driving to three different locations to ride each section. The "give-it-a-go" side won. When I arrived at my parking destination, I discovered that the three sections had been connected to form one continuous, approximately seven-mile, greenway. I was delighted! This week, while reading some Mt. Airy greenway history, I learned that the three sections were connected in 2016. So I'm guessing I first rode the three segments in 2015. I have no idea how many times I've ridden the Ararat since then. A lot.

I enjoy this greenway because, for one thing, it's mostly flat. There is one very short, steep hill and a few other slight inclines. And it's paved. So it's an easy ride, which I often need due to polyradiculitis. And Mt. Airy is typically cooler than where I live in Winston-Salem. Even a couple degrees helps when it's in the 90s.

I enjoy the Ararat River which parallels most of the winding greenway. Two great blue herons reside there. I don't know if it's the same herons year after year, but looks like it to me. I guess I've seen them on 90% of my rides. When they fly, they look like a pterodactyl, or at least pictures of what scientists believe pterodactyls looked like.

I see groundhogs almost every time I ride there. They make me chuckle, the way they scurry-waddle. More than once a groundhog and I have spooked one another because we don't hear or see each other until we're right beside ourselves.

I always count it a good ride when I see a groundhog or eight, and/or a heron or two. I've also seen deer and snakes, and of course squirrels. And there are lots of songbirds at the northern end, including red-winged black birds. The songbirds often fly along with me as I zoom on Olivia. Makes me feel like Snow White.

This year I noticed the greenway sign reads "Granite City Greenway." I hadn't noticed that before. I wondered, Why is it called Granite City?

I've since learned that Granite City is a nickname for Mt. Airy which is home to the world's largest open face granite quarry known as North Carolina Granite Corporation.. I don't know anything really about quarries, so I don't know what "open face" means. Next time I drive out Pine Street as I'm going to Meadows of Dan, Virginia, I'll take a left onto Granite Quarry Trail which is where the quarry is located and see what I can see.

After the three greenway segments were connected in 2016,Mt. Airy's greenway system was named Granite City Greenway. However, the segments will also retain their original names of Emily B. Taylor Greenway, named after a late former Mt. Airy mayor and commissioner; and Ararat Greenway, named for the river the greenway follows.

Mt. Airy also bears the nickname "Mayberry." The late actor Andy Griffith was born and raised in Mt. Airy. He starred as Sherriff Taylor in a TV series based in the fictitious town of Mayberry, North Carolina, which many say is based on the town of Mt. Airy. In the show, reference is made to the fictitious town of Mt. Pilot. The real town of Pilot Mountain is only 11 miles from Mt. Airy. The show also references Siler City and Raleigh, both of which are actual cities in North Carolina.

Needless to say, Mt. Airy is home to many things Mayberry.

*~*

Riding the Ararat, 8/17/17

Riding the Ararat, 6/14/18

Riding the Ararat, 8/17/17

Riding the Ararat, 6/14/18

Riding the Ararat, 8/17/17

~*~

Below are links to some of my rides on the Granite City Greenway, which I have affectionately renamed Groundhog Greenway. I plan to add to the list as I make my way along the Ararat.

July 6, 2018:

14 mi. Solo. Mt. Airy Greenway.
4 groundhogs, multiple sightings. At least 1 of the teens.
Both herons.
Rainy drizzles. 75 degrees. Nice!
Met Lewis at AutoCave.
Thanked them for greenway magic, waters in the coolers, especially since I forgot mine.

July 2, 2018:

18.9 mi. Solo.
Mt. Airy Greenway, aka Granite City GW, aka Groundhog GW.
Northern sections 4x.
Tough ride today. Weak. Fatigued. Prolly have 2 up prednisone tomorrow.
5 groundhogs, incl the 2 teenagers.
1 heron 2x.
They brought me smiles.

June 21, 2018:

20.5 mi. Solo. Mt.Airy Greenway.
6 groundhogs, including those 2 teens.
Also saw 1 dead groundhog. :(
Lots of songbirds. Flew along with me.
Both herons! Yay!
Green snake. Saw it 2x, going 1 way & then the other. We spooked each other 1st time. Also spook with 1 groundhog.
I inquired about the snake. It was a rough green snake.

June 16, 2018:

16.7 mi. Mt. Airy/Granite City Greenway. Solo.
Riverside Pk. -> VFW -> Riverside Pk.
Part of northern leg 4x.
1 heron.
5 groundhogs. 2 of them were the same teens I saw Thurs.
Birds were quite active.
Think I'll rename it Groundhog Greenway.

June 14, 2018:

Delightful ride. today.
21.5 mi. Solo. Mt. Airy GW, parts of it 4x, + ride thru VFW Memorial Pk.
Tweet pics linked. I also saw a greenway sign that calls it Granite City Greenway? I'll have to recheck that. Saw police escort a man w/a 6-pack of beer away from the hammock garden.
Also saw 5 groundhogs: 1 sow & piglet, 2 teens, & 1 young adult
One of the resident herons.
Lovely lilies...Creek grasses...Creek humans...

Monday, May 14, 2018:

Monday ride, Mt. Airy Greenway.
Saw 7 groundhogs. A record! They always make me chuckle. 2 were li'l pigs w/Mom. Pic is of groundhog hiding pipe or den.
Saw the 2 resident herons. 1 in graceful flight over Ararat River.

May 8, 2018:

Water & hammocks, a little greenway magic.
Yet more magical are...
two young groundhogs playing chase,
swallowtails in flight,
Mom pushing teenage son in his wheelchair,
Dad helping young daughter to balance on 2 wheels.
Good things I see while cycling.

March 16, 2018:

After 1 month break, I'm back in the saddle.
Greenway welcomed me with 8 deer a-runnin' & a donkey.
Stay away vertigo.

December 18, 2017:

Sweet freedom! Wheeee...
Cycling is life. Life is cycling.
Hay-rolls a' resting along Ararat River. Mt. Airy Greenway.

August 17, 2017:

Lovely day on the Mt. Airy Greenway.
Next stop - Blue Ridge Pkwy.

Whirled Peas

I've been avoiding writing again.

Is it avoiding? I don't think so. What it is is not having the energy to get words from my feelings to my head to my fingers to the keyboard to the screen. Nor having the energy to pen by hand, if desired.

I thought yesterday something like... Your pressure is self imposed. You have started different writing projects and do none. Why? Why do you do that? Even if you were well, you wouldn't have the time for all those different projects. Maybe writing isn't as necessary as it used to be for you?

But I do want to do the projects, don't I?

I want to write to discover my beliefs, my purpose, my wisdom. I want to write to create flow on a page, or a screen as is the case. I want to write the questions into fluid form, and perhaps write into the answers.

It boils down to, I want to discover me and value me and know me. To know thyself.

I'd love to have energy and time to read books and books and books. To paint and to draw and to play with clay. To form. To flow. To ride the river of thought and dreams and imaginations, which aren't just dreams and imaginations, but are a reality somewhere, in some dimension.

I'd love to have energy and strength to clean my home and organize the oh-so-many paper stacks and the shelves and the closets and the thirty-plus packed boxes draped with sheets and stacked behind the living room sofa.

I wish I had energy and strength to garden and preserve the bounty. To volunteer at a food pantry, or with Hospice, or with the disabled & bicycles.

I wish I had energy and strength to cook and invite friends over for a meal and cards or talk or board games.

I wish I had energy for friends.

I wish had energy and strength and finances to travel. To see with my own eyes the wonders of Iceland, our Great Lakes, the Everglades of Florida, the redwoods and sequoias, Australia, the plains of Africa, the tribes of the Amazon, the Orient.

I wish unicorns and gnomes and elves and fairies were real.

I wish people would treat one another and our planet with kindness.

I wish the world would have peace.

Rote and linear

Do I take my walker? Do I not take my walker?
I don't want people to think I'm trying to gain sympathy. I mean, am I really disabled enough to have to use a walker?

It doesn't matter what people think. What would be easier on you, walker or trekking poles?

Walker it is.
With a wrist brace on each hand and wrist, I unload my bike from Edward the Explorer and load the walker.

See? That doesn't sound like someone who is disabled. Unloading your bike?

Stop it. You have shared and can still share why you can cycle and how it is that you can load and unload a bike into the back of an Explorer. And it doesn't matter what people think. You know. Your loved ones know, and that's what really matters.

My wrist braces support and help give me strength. They are light blue in color, a terry-type cloth with three Velcro sections to secure them around each wrist and palm. I have quite a few pairs. One for sleep, one for being in public, one for grungy work. I remove the metal inserts and gel cushions and hand wash them every so often. I buy a new pair if needed for my wardrobe when I attend a wedding or some similar social event, which is very seldom.

I drive to Dr. Neurology. I don't park in a handicap space. I don't need it today. I open Edward's rear hatch decorated with stickers, mostly about hiking and biking. I unload my walker. I put my water bottle in the pocket carrier of the hiker's hip pack attached to my walker. I place my canvas blue-with-black trim tote bag that carries my other hip pack which serves as my wallet and carrier of essentials, and my planner and Sudoku books into the wire basket which hangs under the walker seat.

I walker-roll into the waiting room. It's packed. Not unusual. One person is waiting at the check-in window. I roll up behind them, turn my walker around, click on the handlebar brakes, and sit down. It's a comfy walker. It's name is The Phoenix, or Phoenix for short.

Phoenix and I wait my turn.

When I get to the window, the receptionist warmly greets me. But she has a puzzled look on her face as she scans her computer screen.

"Do you have an appointment today?" she asks.

"Yes. At 1:40. It is Tuesday. Isn't it?" My mind retrieves the date and time, thinking back to when I got my epidural six weeks ago. "Yes, I'm sure it's today."

The receptionist chuckles as she tries to remember what day it is and confirms that indeed it is Tuesday.

"I don't see you on the schedule," she informs me.

"I got an email confirmation. I think it was a confirmation?" As I pull out my phone to access my emails, my memory quickly sees the email from the neurologist's office. Well, two emails which appear to be duplicates; they arrived in my mail box at the same time. Neither of which I had opened. My mind's eye sees the subject line of each email. Shit. I think those were just invoice notifications.

I open my email box on my iPhone. Yes, the duplicate emails are an invoice notification, not a confirmation.

My eyes swell with tears. Okay, Carol. Don't freak. If he can't see you today, you'll just have to cope. Up your prednisone higher than usual.

"It's an invoice, not a confirmation. I don't have an appointment card because I always just use my planner. Crystal knows. I see him every six weeks."

The receptionist picks up on my distress. "Okay. Don't worry. Let me go talk to Crystal."

Surely they'll get me in. They know I need these shots.

But if they can't, you'll just have to figure it out.

"Okay. We'll work you in."

"Thank you. Thank you. Is it about a two hour wait?"

"Probably. He's going on vacation at the end of the week and will be gone for two weeks. So the schedule is packed full."

No biggie for me. There is most always a wait. It's the biggest complaint about this doctor. On the other hand, patients still come. He's really good with those needles. I've had to wait two hours before when I wasn't a work-in. I don't mind the wait. The relief to come is worth waiting for.

We chat a moment as she gets me on the schedule. I pay my bill.

When I roll around, I see a line has formed. About five people. They all move to one side and let me roll by.

~*~

Around 4:00 I'm in the examining room. Now another thirty-minute wait. I pull out my Sudoku and continue to work a puzzle.

Doc enters the room around 4:30. He greets me with his regular cheer. I could be cynical and think, Sure he's always glad to see me. I pay my bills. But I really don't think that's why he's warm and welcoming. Besides, the last two years he has given me two complimentary nerve conduction studies.

We chat a moment and he asks, "How's the Sudoku going?" My last appointment when he entered and I was working a Sudoku puzzle, we had a discussion about it. And the number nine. I showed him how to do nine-overs, also known as casting out nines, an old school method of checking addition and multiplication which is really cool.

"I don't seem to be getting any better. But I still enjoy it. You know, I can always work Sudoku. I mean when I have brain-fog-brain-mud, I can work Sudoku. I think maybe because it's so linear? Does that make sense?"

"It does." He responds as he is looking over my shoulder at my puzzle book.

"How about 120 milligrams today," he states somewhere between a question and a statement.

"I'd rather go with 80. Last time I got 80, I think. When I got 120 some months back, I had too many side effects."

"Hmm. Let's do 120." He responds.

I don't argue the case. I could probably use the 120. I'm not doing too well compared to my usual six-week interval.

120 it is.

"Okay. I'll see how I do with the side effects."

I'm back to my Explorer by 5:00.

Later I wonder if Doc can assess how much injectable steroid I need just by looking at me.

I received this round of neck shots on 6/26/18. By 6/28 in the morning, I'd lost 3 pounds. At least 2-1/2 of that from nerve inflammation reduction. It happens regularly. Should no longer amaze me, but it does.

~*~

Funny how, when I have brain-mud, I can work Sudoku. I can also work at my 2-hour/week job at an art studio, transferring payments in increments usually of $12.50 and $25.00 onto index-sized green cards that are arranged alphabetically by the artist's last name.

Brain-mud doables. Rote and linear.

I often work Sudoku as I fall asleep at night.

Fields of Gray

I seldom post about or talk politics. Or religion for that matter. I don't have energy for debate or even discussion. It can drain me. So I avoid such for my mental and emotional and physical health.

Actually I don't like to debate, even if I had the energy. There was a time I did. Maybe when I saw things more black and white. But was it really debate, or me just trying to change the other person's mind? Maybe that's what debate is, at least in part.

Things I think about.

I lean pretty far left in my ideal world. I wish people could freely migrate. I wish money didn't exist. I don't like guns for killing. I wish we didn't kill animals for consumption (though I am not a vegetarian, so that's hypocritical of me). And that when we do kill them, it shouldn't be for sport. And that those we kill to eat should be treated humanely. But then how can killing another for my own consumption ever be humane?

Things I think about.

But my far-left leaning ideal isn't practical and will never work in this world; greed doesn't allow for such. So I vote with that in mind. Maybe crimes against humanity are in there too - as far as my ideal not being practical. And as far as peace without weapons. But then, outside of severe mental illness, what are the reasons people resort to crime?

Things I think about.

Usually my political talks are with Hubby, Daughter, Daughter's partner, Son, and one friend. Not all of us are politically left-leaning. That said, none are far right; but rather, more middle-right. A couple of us even voted for Trump, but those couple aren't Trump loyalists. So, we have one of those mixed families. And we still love each other and respect each other. Politically-mixed families. One reason I wish Roseanne hadn't been cancelled (though I never watched a lot of Roseanne) and one reason I like Tim Allen's show, Last Man Standing.

Things I think about.

So, what was I gonna write about? Oh yeah...that I seldom post about or talk politics.

But, I want to put some of my thoughts out there regarding some of the stuff in the news. Even though I seldom voice my thoughts (except in private conversation as noted above), I do read, both right and left, and center. I sign a few petitions, and I send emails from time to time to my representatives. How much influence those small actions have, I don't know. That said, I am a believer that enough small actions combined, can influence. And I vote. Before I vote I read up on the people and the issues on whom and which I'll be voting.

I have lost sleep over Trump and his policies. Especially the children in the holding centers. Especially the littlest ones - five and under. When I read the words of a pediatrician who toured one of the twelve-and-under facilities, I think it was in Texas, and learned the caregivers could not touch the children to comfort them, I was horrified. Yes, horrified. I thought, What the fuck is wrong with these people!?! "These people" referring mainly to the policy makers. From what I gathered the caregiver wanted to pick up and comfort the child that was in distress that the pediatrician was witnessing at that moment, but the pediatrician was told that touching the children was not allowed. Surely though, they could touch babies? I mean, if diapers need changing, etc., they have to touch them. Maybe it was limited to what was deemed only "necessary" in the physical. (I couldn't find the article I initially read, but I found this on which, in the context of comforting the child, states "...we were told that they couldn't pick up the children and hold them.".)

That night I barely slept.

Trump harks about crime committed by people who are in our country illegally. I really question how much crime is committed by those people versus us legals, proportionally speaking. I don't think any of the mass shootings have been by illegal migrants. I think most mass shootings have been committed by white males. People are murdered daily in the US. I speculate most of those murders are committed via gunshot. How many are committed by illegals? Recent crime in my local area isn't committed by illegals. If it is, that isn't reported on the local news.

I've read a bit to try to get a grasp on asylum seekers, who, from what I gather, have recently been charged as criminals when in the past they were given a court date to reappear to decide something about their status. Trump stated only 3% return for their hearings. I read elsewhere, that listed a government source (I'm pretty sure it was a government source), that 75% return, if I understood what I read correctly. (I can't find the article I initially read, but here's one with similar information.) Trump lied stating we have 1000s of immigration judges. For him to not allow two-hundred-something judges to be added to the three-hundred-something we already have so that these cases can be expedited and so that the current children may be more quickly reunited with their families, is cruel.

I think Trump's bullying and degrading rhetoric has been a catalyst for both the left and the right to ramp up their own dehumanizing rhetoric. I hope that doesn't sound sanctimonious. Maybe it does. But, still, his normalization of such is toxic.

He so reminds me of Craig Martindale, one of the past presidents of The Way International.

I was recently updating my Way story again and came across a line about Martindale's obsession with "keeping the Household pure." "Household" refers to followers of The Way. And it was an obsession. Sniffing out any gay people and then kicking them out, sometimes literally. One Corps guy told me that he caught some gays in the act in a bathroom at the Rock of Ages and used his cowboy boots, literally kicking them. Sometimes folks weren't even gay and the decision was based on suspicion and so-called revelation from God. Kicking out people, again by revelation, for not following any number of "directives," as The Way called them.

When I read the line in my story about Martindale's purity obsession, Trump's toxic Nationalism came to mind. No, it's not identical, but the mindset and some of the tactics are similar.

I went along with Martindale's mark-and-avoid. One time I even called our leadership on a believer, who was a friend of mine, and reported her for having debt. She was going to the Advanced Class and believers were supposed to be out of debt to go.

I did that.

I sent back a letter in an envelope to an ex-Way friend and wrote something like "mark-and-avoid" on the outside of the envelope. If I recall correctly, I didn't even open the envelope. I did call our immediate leadership and asked what to do and followed his directions.

I did that.

I can't think of other incidents at the moment. I'm sure there are more.

My did-thats were wrong. They were cruel. They were dehumanizing, treating people as things. All to support a doctrine and practice that, at the time, I believed was God-ordained and the right thing to do. It was a slow process to get me to that point. I made little compromises along The Way.

Well, that isn't what I planned on writing. I was going to write more about politics and some of the current issues/events I've read about and my thoughts about such.

*~*

I just searched my blog to find a specific post about Trump. In my search I discovered that I've posted more than I thought about our current politics and Trumpism.

Black-and-white thinking brought to mind a Bruce Hornsby song which, to my recollection, I heard for the first time a few months ago. This video brought me tears, mostly thankful ones...



~*~

Details

June 21st
Time to pay for the yard cart sticker. It's due by the end of the month. I waited until after June 20, since the 20th of each month is when the credit card cycle ends. Try to space out expenses.

On my laptop, I type in the online address that is printed on the paper renewal bill. The site comes up. "Under maintenance. Please check back later," or something like that, displays on the screen. So I call the phone number listed on the paper bill. I tap the prompts to get to phone payments. The automated line allows for certain payments, but yard cart stickers isn't one of them. It's after hours, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow.


June 22nd
Website is still under maintenance.

I call the phone number again and since it's operational hours, I can click a prompt to talk with a person. I tell the lady that the website is down and that the phone line doesn't have a prompt to pay for yard cart stickers. No news to her. She takes my payment via phone.

And then I call the surgeon's office to make a follow-up appointment for July or August, and I get a message that their phone systems are down. So I don't talk to anyone there. I'll try again Monday.

And then....

***

I don't feel like typing all these details.

So stop. They aren't important anyway.

What I really want to write about is what a rough day I've had. All the little details are part of the reason for a rough day. Details that, if I didn't have the health adversities I deal with, wouldn't be major stressors. They'd be irritants. But not tasks that require such exorbitant amounts of cognitive and physical energy.

I could simply type the Panera Bread scenario.
But what for? It's all too much.

***

So...
This morning...

After taking care of D, our canine friend who is staying in our home...

After deciding, No. I won't take my laptop to Panera. I'll take my journaling book and a couple books I'm reading through. The logistics of carrying my laptop bag and a book bag into Panera while having a trekking pole in each hand and then ordering and then setting up my laptop and using my iPhone to connect to the internet - that will take too much physical and cognitive energy. And I want to have energy to bike today...

After filling my water bottles and putting them in the soft black cooler with the shoulder strap and putting my books in a carry bag and filling the extra water pitcher, thinking that if I ride my bike I'll need the extra water...

After putting the straps on my shoulders - book bag, cooler, hip pack...

After putting some kibble in my hand to give to my canine friend as I leave...
.
After picking up the extra water pitcher by its plastic carry handle...

And after making sure the TV is turned on because D is blind and the sound helps him navigate the living room...

And after giving my friend his Carol's-leaving kibble treat by tapping my leg so he follows the sound to the dog bed and then tapping the bed as I lay down the kibble...

And after making my way to the stairs and then saying, "Bye, bye D. I'll be back in a few hours," ...

I slowly open the gate that blocks the stairs (since D is blind), close the gate, check my balance, hold the rail, and carefully maneuver down the stairs.
Then I'm through the den and the office and laundry room, out the door, and through the garage.
I close the garage door via the keypad on the outside of the garage,
hobble to the Explorer,
unlock the Explorer with the fob which hangs on a carabiner that hangs on my hip pack,
unload my load into the passenger's seat,
hobble around to the driver's side,
open the door,
start the engine and turn on the air conditioner because it's 90 degrees out,
carefully climb in making sure my foot is secure on the running board,
plug my bluetooth phone adapter into my lighter so I can connect to Pandora on my phone,
close the car door,
take down the sun shades,
click on Pandora from my phone and select the Way Over Yonder genre which begins to play through my car speakers,
rest for a moment,
prepare the details for my upcoming pet visit,
back down the driveway while deciding which route to take,
stop,
pull on my seatbelt,
wait for a car to pass,
back into the road,
and am on my way to another canine friend, S, to give her a lunchtime potty break.
All with deliberate, focused thought and careful, slow movements.

I drive the longer route which has less traffic, less taillights, is slower, and requires less thinking.
Pace yourself Carol. One thing at a time.

I don't feel like typing out the details for S's visit which I have to prepare before I arrive in her driveway. If I don't get into her home in a certain amount of time, she starts barking because she hears my vehicle in her driveway. And her barking can set off the house alarm. I know all that because it has happened before.

At S's home I start to feel weaker. Nothing I've not felt before.
And them my tummy does its bloating scenario. Again, not new but odd because all I'd had in the morning was my smoothie and 6 cashews.
What the hell? Why is this happening now? Maybe I've just overdone myself again. I've allowed my self to get too tired. Why do I keep working and pushing? I have disability now.
But you've already downsized again. You want to work.
But maybe I just can't do the day visits with other pets when we are keeping a dog in our home. Or at least make them even more minimal. I'm fucking exhausted. When will I ever learn?

After S does her business and after we sit outside for about 10 minutes, we go inside.
I rest on the couch. S drinks some water.
We go back out to see if S needs to relieve herself one more time before I leave.
We go back in.
I write a note for S's humans, and I send them a text. They like both a note and a text.
I put S in her crate along with a treat.
"Bye Miss S. I'll see you next time..."
I set the alarm, lock the locks, and get in my vehicle.

I'm feeling more exhausted. I have another stop around the corner to care for some feline friends. Their humans are out of town. I'll lay down there and rest.
Keep moving Carol. You can lay down soon.

As I am backing out of S's driveway, I hear a crunch.
Oh shit. I ran over one of those solar lights.

Earlier this week I noticed those solar lights and wondered if they were new. I had the thought then, I hope I don't run over those sometime when I'm backing up.

I get out of the Explorer to check the crunch. The light is on its side, the top of it dug into the red dirt and detached from its short pole. The globe is crushed. But the light is still on, so it's still working.
Damn.
Carol you have to clean it up.
Keep pushing.
Pace.

I retrieve a couple grocery bags out of my vehicle. I started keeping a grocery bag stock in my vehicle some seven years ago when I started my pet sitting business.

I use one bag as a mitten to pick up the broken globe pieces. I put all the pieces and parts in the other bag and then put that bag in the bag I used as a mitten. I also turned the light to "off," thinking, I better find where to turn it off. Don't want to start a fire. I doubt it'd start a fire, but with my luck? I slowly hobble to the carport and place the bag on the bench, hoping S doesn't hear me or sense me and start barking and set off the alarm.

I hobble back to the Explorer. I don't bother with my seat belt; I'm literally going around the corner to my next stop. I pop a pill for my tummy hoping it brings relief within an hour.

I'll spare the details at the two felines' home - mail, packages on the front porch, trash and recycling bins, plants, and stuff. There are a lot of details to pet sitting, especially when folks are out of town.

Once in the house, I say hello to the cats. One is deaf so I approach her cautiously to make sure she sees me so I don't startle her.

I have to lay down. I feel kinda faint. I feel weak and trembly and my palms and soles are tender. But I can't lay down, my tummy is too bad off.

So I use pillows to prop myself up on the bed. I stay there for an hour rubbing my bloated belly. One of the cats lays with me.

While I rest on the bed I text S's humans to let them know I crumpled one of the solar lights. They both respond with a laugh and that the lights don't cost much and they are so appreciative of all I do. No biggie. Good folks.

After an hour I feel some relief in my tummy and it has shrunk to a more reasonable size, but I'm still weak. It's normal, these bouts, even when I don't overdo. But I've again overdone between my injections. I upped my daily prednisone last week, which is also normal. But still, too much doing. I get my neck shots Tuesday.

I care for the cats' litter boxes and food and water. I tell them bye and lock up.

Next stop - the credit union and then Panera.

***

But now I don't feel like typing the Panera scenario, so maybe I'll write about that later.
And maybe not.

All that said, as I was climbing into my Explorer after my Panera visit, I told myself, Still, I'm lucky. I don't live in a cage, and I have my family.

I wasn't able to bike today.

***

A poem I wrote last week: It Again

***
***

PS:
I don't believe this.
Well, actually I do.
Right after posting this blog piece, I sign into my FedEx account to update instructions for an upcoming delivery that FedEx emailed me about, and the site states: "Customize delivery options are unavailable at this time. Please try again later."
I have to laugh.