I have been thinking a lot lately, which can be a dangerous thing, but I have decided to share some of these meanderings through my mind. I have been mostly thinking about what I have. Well, let me be honest, it came originally from my dwelling on what I have not....until one day I was standing at the sink and turned on the water. Magically, it came rushing out. Clear clean water. Yeah, so what you may be thinking (or if you are regularly reading this, you may already know where I am heading), but there it was, clean, clear, safe, water. I could just hold a glass under the faucet, and there it was, water to drink. Amazing. How did I end up being one of the fortunate ones?
How did I end up being born in a place where this is totally taken for granted. I realized at that moment, how incredibly lucky I am. I am not walking 3 miles, to get a little bit of clean water to drink. I am walking to my kitchen sink. Then I started thinking about all the other things that I have that make me feel incredibly lucky. I won't bore you with all these, it is the same things most of you have. A roof over our heads, a car or at least public transportation to get from here to there, a telephone, the internet, wow. Really, how did I end up just plopping down in the middle of a place where things are easy. But yet we complain. Well, I guess I should not use "we", I complain. I imagine you do to, it seems pretty normal for those of us who have everything, to think we want or need more. I wonder what the person in Africa, who has to walk those 3 miles are dreaming about? Maybe the same things as I do. But, I bet there is a huge difference too.
Then I realized how lucky I am because I have done a lot in my life time. Possibly because I have never settled down into a family, or a relationship, I have had the freedom to do a lot of living. I have had so many adventures, that I can't even remember some of them. How lucky is that? I have traveled through most of these 50 states, 7 European countries, and most of Canada. I have experienced other cultures either through living with them, or being friends with a vast variety of people. I know what living in Appalachia feels like, where blue grass music was born. I have had numerous Native American friends and been very lucky to be invited into their culture (my mother was born and raised on the Fort Peck Reservation, which was just one of many times I was living close within this culture). I have done so many things that some people only dream of....walking on fire, shooting class 5 rapids, living in the 60's and 70's (enough said,,wink wink), living through 2 volcanos, 3 hurricanes, a few tornados, one major flood, numerous blizzards and ice storms, and a sand storm. I have met famous people, and people who should be famous. I have even attended an NFL game.
I have hiked in majestic mountains, walked across prairies and on beaches. I have flown in the skies in small planes and jets. I have seen the glaciers in Glacier National Park that are now almost gone. I have watched Old Faithful shoot toward the heavens on countless occasions. I have ridden in semi trucks, rode with a motorcycle club (gang really), lived in a motor home and a teepee. I have lived in very large cities, medium size towns, and a tiny little village. As the song says, "I've been everywhere, man".
Then there are the things that were not easy, but I still feel very lucky to have been placed in these situations...working with children with leukemia, people with Alzheimer's, teens at risk. I have been involved in various churches, a separatist lesbian community, practiced Buddhism, and have many friends who are witches who have shown me how to love the Earth and all it has to give us. I have been involved with a school for psychic healers, where I was there to help them learn by rating their readings/healings of me.
I have lived within the creative community of the arts and performing musicians. I was a starving artist, I have performed in bars, and for crowned heads in Europe. I have lived a life where money did not matter, when my father was considered quite wealthy, as compared to now (and other times in my adult life) where I am living below the poverty level.
I could go on, I could go on for hours....I am so lucky. I also feel very blessed by the people who have come and gone in my life. I have had long lasting relationships with childhood friends, and brief encounters that were all intense and lovely and full of learning opportunities. I have had amazing kindness shown to me, as well as cruelty and abuse. I have cried over lost loves, lost friendships, lost pets. But, I have laughed, and laughed hard and long. I am so very very lucky.
How did I end up being who I am? Nature? Nurture? I believe by being mostly open minded and non-judgemental (or at least I try), this has allowed me to take in all these varied and marvelous adventures in life. And, it is all an adventure, now isn't it? One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite television shows was by Ed Chigliac on Northern Exposure. I don't remember the exact quote, but it was something like "all we have to do is wake up each morning and we have the possibility of another adventure". I like that. Even now, even when my body feels like every single one of these past listed adventures has taken a huge toll on it....waking up each morning still holds numerous possibilities for a new adventure. I may not hike the Appalachian, but something else just as wonderful will come along. I just have to wait, and be open. My adventures are not over. I am lucky. Because not only do I have endless opportunities for wonderment and awe in my life.....I can turn on the water, and take a drink right from the tap. How did I get so lucky?
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Entitlement
I haven't felt like writing in the past couple of weeks. I guess because nothing has come to me that made me feel passionate, or angry, or happy, or whatever it is that makes me want to share my ideas with you all. But today, I got a post on FB that made me stop and think, you may have seen it. It is a pic of a youngish looking ER doctor, who is complaining because the person he is working on is covered in tattoos, has a lot of bling, smokes, and eats at fast food restaurants. He said this is what is wrong with our system. It isn't the medical system that is broken, it is our social system. Well, yes and no.
The first thing this brought to mind is when I was working, within a medical clinic setting where most people there knew I was on medicare/medicaid, a rumor was spread about my spending habits. Basically, someone overheard me say that I wanted an Iphone. It went from this statement, to my supervisor being called in to warn him that someone who is working and claiming to be on SSDI with medicare and medicaid is buying things like an expensive Iphone.
Ok, lets get real here; there are many things wrong with this picture! First, how me saying I wanted an Iphone, transferred to me going out and actually purchasing an Iphone was the first assumption that was just wrong. Next, the fact that anyone can tell me how to spend my money, is just wrong. Also, for those who get all paranoid and freaky about how can I be on SSDI and be working...yes, you can be on disability and work. They actually encourage it. So, what this brings up is: if you are poor, and you are using money that basically you worked for most of your life (I have been giving up a portion of my check since I was 16 to that fund), then apparently people around me have the right to monitor my spending habits. If I am living on a fixed limited income, well by golly, I had better look like I am poor. Nothing new and shiny for me! BTW, I don't even own a trac phone. You see, I can say I want something, it really doesn't mean I am going to get it.
But, this is a good example of how those of us who have had to swallow our dignity, to push away our pride, to become less than....because of something that is totally out of our control, has forced us into living a life we were not planning. Yes, there are those who abuse the system. There are those who have figured out how to screw the government out of money. We say they feel "entitled". But, isn't the example I use above just as bad? Why are people who are working "entitled" to tell me how to spend my money? Why should this be an issue in my work place? Why do they even listen to rumors in the first place? Why wouldn't they just come to me rather than telling my supervisor? Yeah, to me none of this makes any sense.
When I questioned the reasons behind this inquiry into how I am spending my money, the explanation was as follows: "I think it is because there are people here who are working really hard for their money, and to see someone who is on disability affording things that they can't, gets them upset"....ok, wait red flag, red flag..... First, and again....I don't have an Iphone, or any phone that is not connected to a land line. So, this should be a non issue to begin with...maybe we should start talking about rumors....but, that was not the case...the case was "people who are working hard for their money".....Oh, I guess that means because I am on disability, I am somehow taking it easy for mine? I remember working prior to getting sick. Work was most of the time enjoyable, fun, easy. I didn't think twice about getting up in the morning, showering, eating breakfast, and getting out of the door on time to drive to work. Well, since becoming sick and being on disability, just getting to work is more work that most people do at their actual job. I remember a few days during the winter, that by the time I walked through the snow, shoveled to get my car out, and got in the car.....I sat there and cried. I was too exhausted and too much in pain to even think about going in to work....but I did. Did I take a few more breaks that day? Maybe. But, just to be clear, that did not mean I was in some worker's lounge with my feet up, or chatting with co-workers. No, what that meant for me was that I just stayed at my desk and answered the phones, and did some paper work. I tried not to do any extra running around. So, I don't think that because I was on SSDI, somehow my job was any easier than theirs' was. In fact, I would say, I worked even harder for my money.
Why? Why would I do that, when all I would have to do for work is "run out to my mailbox". I have heard that one too. "Yep, that is her job, she just has to open her mailbox and laugh all the way to the bank." I know there is a perception that many people who are on public assistance want to be there. I don't believe this. I think if anyone was given a way to go back to work, or earn money in a way that was acceptable, they would. It is easy to look at someone on public assistance and think that they are the problem. I don't think "they" are. I think as long as we can look at "them", and think it is "their" problem, well then it can't be ours. It is an us and them thing. We are not in their shoes, that is because we want to work. "Look at whoosywhatsit over there, was on public assistance and pulled herself right up and out of there and is now working. If she can do it, so can wheresywhosit." And that is where the conversation ends. It is their fault. Or maybe it is the system's fault, it got people all used to depending on it, so it could be the system's fault. " Well, it is either the person's or the system's, but it sure isn't mine. I have a job, I like to work. I may not even like to work, but I do because I do not want to be a drain on society. I do not want to be one of THEM. And, what would we be if we did not have THEM?" I think maybe the answer to that question is easy to answer. We are them, and they is us. We say they think they are entitled to all this and that, and that is the problem. We feel entitled to judge them because they receive all that they feel so entitled to. So, we are all entitled. The meek shall inherit the earth. I think maybe, just maybe the "meek" are those of us who are living on public assistance!
It is so ironic to watch our culture. We don't like people who feel entitled, yet we put up on reality (ha ha) TV people who have lots of money and little sense. They become our heros. We think that it would be great to be just like them. We all want to have 200 + cars and motorcycles in our garage (Jay Leno). We worship those that can throw parties for 300 people each night in their mansions (Dennis Rodman and other sports heros). We are told if we work hard, if we follow our dreams, we can get there too. Every night there is another example of this put before our very eyes. Rappers/musicians who make it out of poverty and are dripping in bling and extravagance. They did it. Those that can throw away money are our heros. Politicians who help keep the very rich, the very rich....they are heros to some people. They promise that if you just act/think like them, you will be rich too.
I was thinking the other day about how companies used to take care of "us". You put in years of dedicated service, and the company would take care of you. The church would take care of you. Your neighbors or extended family would take care of you, if you could not work. Now, no one is taking care of anyone. No one wants to be a "them". So, in order not to be a "them" we have to keep all that we get. We have to buy things like Iphones that show that we are not a "them". And when one of "them" gets out of line and tries to look like one of "us", my God, get out the regulations that tells us how to keep them down. Humility is a good weapon, use that one.
So, this doctor, the one who is upset because he is treating a young woman who is poor, living on disability and has the nerve not to eat well, or at least quit smoking....well, she is the problem. Not him, he has to work with THEM. Good him.
Last night, I used up about 3 hours of my life trying to figure out how $80 in food stamps per month is going to allow me to maintain a healthy diet. Don't get me wrong, I am so grateful for those $80. I certainly can eat lots of beans and rice. And I will. But, I would like to have some variation in my diet. I searched the internet for hints on how to eat organic, local, healthy and the diet I am recommended to follow to reduce inflammation to slow the progression of Dercum's Disease. It is not going to be easy. Almost makes me want to throw in the towel and go buy some hamburger, and the cheapest most fatty at that. I can afford that, and probably get about 10 meals out of a pound. But, that isn't good for me. So, I have to work just a little harder to maintain a healthy diet. So, I am kind of getting paid for doing a job, I am getting paid to figure out how to stay healthy and not use up any more of this money they are "giving" me, so I won't be a "drain on society".
I know I get fuel assistance this year. But, what does that mean? How much will I have to come up with myself. I won't know until November. The thing is, I don't have any extra money to pay for fuel. So, how low will I have to keep my thermostat this winter, to make that heating oil stretch. Last year it was 55 during the day, and 50 at night. This is not good for my health. Being in the cold makes my muscles tense up, then it makes my pain flair. This causes more trips to the doctor, looking for those drugs that prove to everyone that I am just an addict. Yeah, I asked for this. And, I am entitled to this by God. Maybe the thinking is: if we make her keep her house so cold she can't stand it, she will by God get up and get to work, then she can stay warm!!
No, what I really want is a job. I want to feel good, to go out and feel useful. I want to help others, I want to do good things. But, apparently while swimming through the gene pool, I didn't pick up much that was very helpful toward accomplishing those dreams.....I am entitled, to all the judgement that keeps Them from becoming Us. or visa versa, it really doesn't matter any more....and I still don't have an Iphone.
The first thing this brought to mind is when I was working, within a medical clinic setting where most people there knew I was on medicare/medicaid, a rumor was spread about my spending habits. Basically, someone overheard me say that I wanted an Iphone. It went from this statement, to my supervisor being called in to warn him that someone who is working and claiming to be on SSDI with medicare and medicaid is buying things like an expensive Iphone.
Ok, lets get real here; there are many things wrong with this picture! First, how me saying I wanted an Iphone, transferred to me going out and actually purchasing an Iphone was the first assumption that was just wrong. Next, the fact that anyone can tell me how to spend my money, is just wrong. Also, for those who get all paranoid and freaky about how can I be on SSDI and be working...yes, you can be on disability and work. They actually encourage it. So, what this brings up is: if you are poor, and you are using money that basically you worked for most of your life (I have been giving up a portion of my check since I was 16 to that fund), then apparently people around me have the right to monitor my spending habits. If I am living on a fixed limited income, well by golly, I had better look like I am poor. Nothing new and shiny for me! BTW, I don't even own a trac phone. You see, I can say I want something, it really doesn't mean I am going to get it.
But, this is a good example of how those of us who have had to swallow our dignity, to push away our pride, to become less than....because of something that is totally out of our control, has forced us into living a life we were not planning. Yes, there are those who abuse the system. There are those who have figured out how to screw the government out of money. We say they feel "entitled". But, isn't the example I use above just as bad? Why are people who are working "entitled" to tell me how to spend my money? Why should this be an issue in my work place? Why do they even listen to rumors in the first place? Why wouldn't they just come to me rather than telling my supervisor? Yeah, to me none of this makes any sense.
When I questioned the reasons behind this inquiry into how I am spending my money, the explanation was as follows: "I think it is because there are people here who are working really hard for their money, and to see someone who is on disability affording things that they can't, gets them upset"....ok, wait red flag, red flag..... First, and again....I don't have an Iphone, or any phone that is not connected to a land line. So, this should be a non issue to begin with...maybe we should start talking about rumors....but, that was not the case...the case was "people who are working hard for their money".....Oh, I guess that means because I am on disability, I am somehow taking it easy for mine? I remember working prior to getting sick. Work was most of the time enjoyable, fun, easy. I didn't think twice about getting up in the morning, showering, eating breakfast, and getting out of the door on time to drive to work. Well, since becoming sick and being on disability, just getting to work is more work that most people do at their actual job. I remember a few days during the winter, that by the time I walked through the snow, shoveled to get my car out, and got in the car.....I sat there and cried. I was too exhausted and too much in pain to even think about going in to work....but I did. Did I take a few more breaks that day? Maybe. But, just to be clear, that did not mean I was in some worker's lounge with my feet up, or chatting with co-workers. No, what that meant for me was that I just stayed at my desk and answered the phones, and did some paper work. I tried not to do any extra running around. So, I don't think that because I was on SSDI, somehow my job was any easier than theirs' was. In fact, I would say, I worked even harder for my money.
Why? Why would I do that, when all I would have to do for work is "run out to my mailbox". I have heard that one too. "Yep, that is her job, she just has to open her mailbox and laugh all the way to the bank." I know there is a perception that many people who are on public assistance want to be there. I don't believe this. I think if anyone was given a way to go back to work, or earn money in a way that was acceptable, they would. It is easy to look at someone on public assistance and think that they are the problem. I don't think "they" are. I think as long as we can look at "them", and think it is "their" problem, well then it can't be ours. It is an us and them thing. We are not in their shoes, that is because we want to work. "Look at whoosywhatsit over there, was on public assistance and pulled herself right up and out of there and is now working. If she can do it, so can wheresywhosit." And that is where the conversation ends. It is their fault. Or maybe it is the system's fault, it got people all used to depending on it, so it could be the system's fault. " Well, it is either the person's or the system's, but it sure isn't mine. I have a job, I like to work. I may not even like to work, but I do because I do not want to be a drain on society. I do not want to be one of THEM. And, what would we be if we did not have THEM?" I think maybe the answer to that question is easy to answer. We are them, and they is us. We say they think they are entitled to all this and that, and that is the problem. We feel entitled to judge them because they receive all that they feel so entitled to. So, we are all entitled. The meek shall inherit the earth. I think maybe, just maybe the "meek" are those of us who are living on public assistance!
It is so ironic to watch our culture. We don't like people who feel entitled, yet we put up on reality (ha ha) TV people who have lots of money and little sense. They become our heros. We think that it would be great to be just like them. We all want to have 200 + cars and motorcycles in our garage (Jay Leno). We worship those that can throw parties for 300 people each night in their mansions (Dennis Rodman and other sports heros). We are told if we work hard, if we follow our dreams, we can get there too. Every night there is another example of this put before our very eyes. Rappers/musicians who make it out of poverty and are dripping in bling and extravagance. They did it. Those that can throw away money are our heros. Politicians who help keep the very rich, the very rich....they are heros to some people. They promise that if you just act/think like them, you will be rich too.
I was thinking the other day about how companies used to take care of "us". You put in years of dedicated service, and the company would take care of you. The church would take care of you. Your neighbors or extended family would take care of you, if you could not work. Now, no one is taking care of anyone. No one wants to be a "them". So, in order not to be a "them" we have to keep all that we get. We have to buy things like Iphones that show that we are not a "them". And when one of "them" gets out of line and tries to look like one of "us", my God, get out the regulations that tells us how to keep them down. Humility is a good weapon, use that one.
So, this doctor, the one who is upset because he is treating a young woman who is poor, living on disability and has the nerve not to eat well, or at least quit smoking....well, she is the problem. Not him, he has to work with THEM. Good him.
Last night, I used up about 3 hours of my life trying to figure out how $80 in food stamps per month is going to allow me to maintain a healthy diet. Don't get me wrong, I am so grateful for those $80. I certainly can eat lots of beans and rice. And I will. But, I would like to have some variation in my diet. I searched the internet for hints on how to eat organic, local, healthy and the diet I am recommended to follow to reduce inflammation to slow the progression of Dercum's Disease. It is not going to be easy. Almost makes me want to throw in the towel and go buy some hamburger, and the cheapest most fatty at that. I can afford that, and probably get about 10 meals out of a pound. But, that isn't good for me. So, I have to work just a little harder to maintain a healthy diet. So, I am kind of getting paid for doing a job, I am getting paid to figure out how to stay healthy and not use up any more of this money they are "giving" me, so I won't be a "drain on society".
I know I get fuel assistance this year. But, what does that mean? How much will I have to come up with myself. I won't know until November. The thing is, I don't have any extra money to pay for fuel. So, how low will I have to keep my thermostat this winter, to make that heating oil stretch. Last year it was 55 during the day, and 50 at night. This is not good for my health. Being in the cold makes my muscles tense up, then it makes my pain flair. This causes more trips to the doctor, looking for those drugs that prove to everyone that I am just an addict. Yeah, I asked for this. And, I am entitled to this by God. Maybe the thinking is: if we make her keep her house so cold she can't stand it, she will by God get up and get to work, then she can stay warm!!
No, what I really want is a job. I want to feel good, to go out and feel useful. I want to help others, I want to do good things. But, apparently while swimming through the gene pool, I didn't pick up much that was very helpful toward accomplishing those dreams.....I am entitled, to all the judgement that keeps Them from becoming Us. or visa versa, it really doesn't matter any more....and I still don't have an Iphone.
Friday, September 10, 2010
My Big Grey Cat With Green Eyes, I love you.
Today I took my beautiful cat, Indigo to the vet to have him put down. So, tonight, although I am more tired than I should be to try and write this, I want to pay this cat, a little tribute.
I was living in North Georgia, when I came across a flyer advertising kittens. I wasn't really thinking about getting a kitten, but the flyer was so catching. I called the number and went to the house. OMG. They had something like 8 female cats, all deliver about 10 kittens each at relatively the same time!! I had never seen so many kittens in one place, all just running around. It doesn't make for easy choosing, but I ended up with 2, Indigo and his sister a little calico I named Kahlo. (named after women artists, the Indigo Girls, and Frieda Kahlo).
I brought them home to my little cabin out in the woods, and realized that Indigo was not the sharpest cat I have ever had. He used to climb the walls of the log cabin, get up under the ceiling and then could not get down. I had to get the ladder out, and rescue him. This happened at least 3 or 4 times a day! Once they were able to go outside (all shots and fixed), they discovered that they could climb a tree off my deck that led to the roof.....where I would have to go get them at least...you got it....3 or 4 times a day. Oh would I get mad. Inside was one thing, but this tree/tin roof thing..well...that was a little different. Yes, it was like a cat on a hot tin roof, and it wasn't like a cat on a hot tin roof...it WAS a cat on a hot tin roof. I would have to go get him, because his little paw pads would get burned up there.
One day, it was cool and overcast. I decided to see if he could come down on his own. I left him up there for 2 days. I put some water up there for him, but I figured he would come down when he got hungry...nope not him. He would stick his tiny little head over the end of the roof and meow at me with lots of angst. So, I crawled up there and rescued him once again.....this went on for months.
The other fun little game we played, was how many times a day we can step on the kitten. This poor little guy, at the time had grey eyes, grey fur, on a grey carpet in a cabin with poor lighting....luckily he never got hurt, but I would get major scratches on my legs.
What saved this little dear one, was his purr and his love. This little kitten was pure needy love. He would come over to me, to anyone...and want to show his love. He would purr and rub his head all over me. He would then settle in for a nap in my lap. I would sit for hours, reading with my little "man" (the only one in the house). He was a lover boy.
The next adventure that we had together was my move back to Vermont. I had a pick-up with a cap, and he and his sister made that their home for about 2 weeks. The place where I was staying had dogs and other cats, and they were afraid for my cat's safety. After two weeks, I had to get them out of that pick-up. I was driving up the road one day (way back in the boonies) and found an abandoned shack. My friends knew who owned it, so we got permission to keep the cats there. I would go up every day, bring the dogs (my dogs) and visit them, feed them and such. Everyday, Indigo would meet me sitting on the door step like he was waiting. (which I am sure he was). One day, his sister didn't show up. I found out that she had decided to adopt another family, as she was not a camping kind of cat....or a much smarter kind of cat. However, Indigo stayed in the shack, (which was kind of amazing, as there was no way I could block it off to predators, I just prayed a lot!!!) I don't remember how long my poor cat stayed in the boonie Hilton, but too long for sure.
I finally found a place for all of us to land, and there we stayed for 2 years. This however, was inside and with another person who loved cats....had 4 of her own. Indigo could go no further than 2 adjoining rooms in the house. However, I believe after the camping experience, this didn't bother him too much. He was becoming quite the meatloaf cat, as he couldn't really exercise much. I think at his most, he weighed around 22 pounds.
Next we moved here, to the house I bought. It was perfect for him. He (and my dogs) could let themselves in and out on their own. Indigo, I think because he was raised around dogs, was much more "dog-like" than feline. When I came home from work at night, he would run to meet me just like the dogs. He was never picky in what he ate, if it was in his bowl, he would eat it. Sometimes when the dogs would bark at things, he would look at me with a funny look on his face, and meow at the top of his little kitty cat lungs....I think the funny look was he never quite figured out why he was doing this.
Once, and I mean once....he caught a mouse. Now, this is an old farmhouse....so, this is not for lack of having all the hunting material he could possibly ever want.....he just didn't want. I used to joke that the mouse was a kamikazi...and jumped right into his mouth. That was a big day around the sub-dude ranch.....so named for him. (not a typo, it is a play on words that I used to use as my answering machine message). He was one big, subdued hombre.
So, we lived quite happily for the next 11 years or so. I noticed that his eye was runny, but he seemed fine in all other aspects of cat health. Then he started sneezing and coughing. But the scary thing, was his, in- the- middle- of- sleep- yowls. I thought he was dreaming. But, now his nose was running. Again, he did not seem sick, but about 2 weeks ago I took him to the vet. She found a lump on his gum, but thought maybe it was an abscess, and gave him an injection of anti-biotics. She told me if that didn't work, and if the lump did not shrink or the other symptoms clear, then it was most likely cancer, and warned that there was not anything that could be done for that.
The day after I brought him home, he became obsessed with being on me. As I stated, he was a very loving cat, and always wanted to sit in laps getting petted, but this was different. If I went to the bathroom, he was jumping up on my lap. When I was in the kitchen, he would reach up and put his paws...ummmm claws....into my leg and try to just hang there. I spent the entire day giving into his needs. We slept on the couch together all day long...and night. He would look deeply into my eyes, and I could feel that he was giving me a message. The next morning when I went to feed everyone, he was no where to be found. This was extremely odd. I looked everywhere, and called out for him...but he was not there. A day and a half later, he showed up at dinner time. I put some food into his dish, which he normally gobbled down like the dogs, but he just kind of licked it. He used to always come to me when I called him, and where ever I would pat my hand, he would lay down in that spot; but now, he would just lay on the back of the couch, close to my head, and sleep. I would invite him onto my lap, but he would just look at me in the eyes for a few seconds, then turn his head away. (He was my heating pad for my sore thighs and knees, he always would lay there if I would pat those areas, and purr and keep them warm for me).
A week went by (I think). He would eat a little, but would still not engage with me. Then yesterday, suddenly he started wheezing. Not only that, but it sounded very "wet". Also, his whole face looked misshapen. His nose was kind of pushed over to the side. I decided this was it. I called the vets office and made an appointment. I called a friend and asked him if he could come dig a grave for him in my yard. And at around 3pm on 9/9/10 my beautiful grey cat with big green eyes crossed over the rainbow bridge.
The vet's office was very good about how they set up the room, and about giving me time to be with him. We positioned him in his favorite sleeping pose, all curled up with his paw over his eyes, and wrapped him in muslin. I then put him in a pretty purple cotton pillow case, and brought him home and buried him.
But, the story doesn't end there, because if you know me, you know there is a coincidence...a spiritual show if you will.
Last night, a friend who came over to say good bye to him, questioned me about doing this as she thought it wasn't time. Of course, that put all sorts of doubt into me. The vet tech who gave him the injections looked him over after the first injection that calmed him, and said she was sure it was time. I won't bore you with all the reasons why, but it did make sense to me....but there is always that doubt. As he was laying on the table (which they had draped with fleece so it wasn't a cold sterile exam table (nice touch I thought), they left me alone with him for around 5 minutes before they came in with the final injection. Of course, I used that time to shed many tears, pet him, and hold him, and tell him how much I loved him. (which I had been doing for the past week too). I also called in my spirit guides and helpers to assist him with his transition. I told him who I thought would be coming for him, and to look for them.
On my way home, I decided to take the back road, as it is beautiful and less traffic. I was still crying. On the radio was jazz ballads which were very soothing. I asked the guides to give me a little sign if he was with them. I was listening to a song that sounded familiar, and though to myself "Isn't there a song that has the word Indigo in it?" I thought about putting in a CD of the Indigo Girls (his name sake) but that just didn't feel right. The announcer came back on air and said that the song he had been playing was "Misty", he then said "and now I have a beautiful rendition for you of a song played by Thelonius Monk, it is "Mood Indigo".
I knew, they were with my cat. He was safe and being greeted on the Rainbow Bridge.... they told me so. Until then, I had been crying. When I heard that, I kind of gasped, almost ran off the road...but then smiled. He was ok.
Some people say after they put down a pet, they see them. That hasn't happened to me with Indigo. But, all day today, I have heard him. I hear him purring, which he continued to do up until the very last seconds of his life on this Earth, in that beautiful, soft and silky kitty cat body.
So, rest in peace Indigo, our fourteen years together were good. I and your dog buddies will miss you, and we loved you very very much, but I am very happy for you......Happy First Day in Heaven Mr!
With thanks and gratitude to Amy at ORAH, and those that helped him transition.....you all know who you are.
I was living in North Georgia, when I came across a flyer advertising kittens. I wasn't really thinking about getting a kitten, but the flyer was so catching. I called the number and went to the house. OMG. They had something like 8 female cats, all deliver about 10 kittens each at relatively the same time!! I had never seen so many kittens in one place, all just running around. It doesn't make for easy choosing, but I ended up with 2, Indigo and his sister a little calico I named Kahlo. (named after women artists, the Indigo Girls, and Frieda Kahlo).
I brought them home to my little cabin out in the woods, and realized that Indigo was not the sharpest cat I have ever had. He used to climb the walls of the log cabin, get up under the ceiling and then could not get down. I had to get the ladder out, and rescue him. This happened at least 3 or 4 times a day! Once they were able to go outside (all shots and fixed), they discovered that they could climb a tree off my deck that led to the roof.....where I would have to go get them at least...you got it....3 or 4 times a day. Oh would I get mad. Inside was one thing, but this tree/tin roof thing..well...that was a little different. Yes, it was like a cat on a hot tin roof, and it wasn't like a cat on a hot tin roof...it WAS a cat on a hot tin roof. I would have to go get him, because his little paw pads would get burned up there.
One day, it was cool and overcast. I decided to see if he could come down on his own. I left him up there for 2 days. I put some water up there for him, but I figured he would come down when he got hungry...nope not him. He would stick his tiny little head over the end of the roof and meow at me with lots of angst. So, I crawled up there and rescued him once again.....this went on for months.
The other fun little game we played, was how many times a day we can step on the kitten. This poor little guy, at the time had grey eyes, grey fur, on a grey carpet in a cabin with poor lighting....luckily he never got hurt, but I would get major scratches on my legs.
What saved this little dear one, was his purr and his love. This little kitten was pure needy love. He would come over to me, to anyone...and want to show his love. He would purr and rub his head all over me. He would then settle in for a nap in my lap. I would sit for hours, reading with my little "man" (the only one in the house). He was a lover boy.
The next adventure that we had together was my move back to Vermont. I had a pick-up with a cap, and he and his sister made that their home for about 2 weeks. The place where I was staying had dogs and other cats, and they were afraid for my cat's safety. After two weeks, I had to get them out of that pick-up. I was driving up the road one day (way back in the boonies) and found an abandoned shack. My friends knew who owned it, so we got permission to keep the cats there. I would go up every day, bring the dogs (my dogs) and visit them, feed them and such. Everyday, Indigo would meet me sitting on the door step like he was waiting. (which I am sure he was). One day, his sister didn't show up. I found out that she had decided to adopt another family, as she was not a camping kind of cat....or a much smarter kind of cat. However, Indigo stayed in the shack, (which was kind of amazing, as there was no way I could block it off to predators, I just prayed a lot!!!) I don't remember how long my poor cat stayed in the boonie Hilton, but too long for sure.
I finally found a place for all of us to land, and there we stayed for 2 years. This however, was inside and with another person who loved cats....had 4 of her own. Indigo could go no further than 2 adjoining rooms in the house. However, I believe after the camping experience, this didn't bother him too much. He was becoming quite the meatloaf cat, as he couldn't really exercise much. I think at his most, he weighed around 22 pounds.
Next we moved here, to the house I bought. It was perfect for him. He (and my dogs) could let themselves in and out on their own. Indigo, I think because he was raised around dogs, was much more "dog-like" than feline. When I came home from work at night, he would run to meet me just like the dogs. He was never picky in what he ate, if it was in his bowl, he would eat it. Sometimes when the dogs would bark at things, he would look at me with a funny look on his face, and meow at the top of his little kitty cat lungs....I think the funny look was he never quite figured out why he was doing this.
Once, and I mean once....he caught a mouse. Now, this is an old farmhouse....so, this is not for lack of having all the hunting material he could possibly ever want.....he just didn't want. I used to joke that the mouse was a kamikazi...and jumped right into his mouth. That was a big day around the sub-dude ranch.....so named for him. (not a typo, it is a play on words that I used to use as my answering machine message). He was one big, subdued hombre.
So, we lived quite happily for the next 11 years or so. I noticed that his eye was runny, but he seemed fine in all other aspects of cat health. Then he started sneezing and coughing. But the scary thing, was his, in- the- middle- of- sleep- yowls. I thought he was dreaming. But, now his nose was running. Again, he did not seem sick, but about 2 weeks ago I took him to the vet. She found a lump on his gum, but thought maybe it was an abscess, and gave him an injection of anti-biotics. She told me if that didn't work, and if the lump did not shrink or the other symptoms clear, then it was most likely cancer, and warned that there was not anything that could be done for that.
The day after I brought him home, he became obsessed with being on me. As I stated, he was a very loving cat, and always wanted to sit in laps getting petted, but this was different. If I went to the bathroom, he was jumping up on my lap. When I was in the kitchen, he would reach up and put his paws...ummmm claws....into my leg and try to just hang there. I spent the entire day giving into his needs. We slept on the couch together all day long...and night. He would look deeply into my eyes, and I could feel that he was giving me a message. The next morning when I went to feed everyone, he was no where to be found. This was extremely odd. I looked everywhere, and called out for him...but he was not there. A day and a half later, he showed up at dinner time. I put some food into his dish, which he normally gobbled down like the dogs, but he just kind of licked it. He used to always come to me when I called him, and where ever I would pat my hand, he would lay down in that spot; but now, he would just lay on the back of the couch, close to my head, and sleep. I would invite him onto my lap, but he would just look at me in the eyes for a few seconds, then turn his head away. (He was my heating pad for my sore thighs and knees, he always would lay there if I would pat those areas, and purr and keep them warm for me).
A week went by (I think). He would eat a little, but would still not engage with me. Then yesterday, suddenly he started wheezing. Not only that, but it sounded very "wet". Also, his whole face looked misshapen. His nose was kind of pushed over to the side. I decided this was it. I called the vets office and made an appointment. I called a friend and asked him if he could come dig a grave for him in my yard. And at around 3pm on 9/9/10 my beautiful grey cat with big green eyes crossed over the rainbow bridge.
The vet's office was very good about how they set up the room, and about giving me time to be with him. We positioned him in his favorite sleeping pose, all curled up with his paw over his eyes, and wrapped him in muslin. I then put him in a pretty purple cotton pillow case, and brought him home and buried him.
But, the story doesn't end there, because if you know me, you know there is a coincidence...a spiritual show if you will.
Last night, a friend who came over to say good bye to him, questioned me about doing this as she thought it wasn't time. Of course, that put all sorts of doubt into me. The vet tech who gave him the injections looked him over after the first injection that calmed him, and said she was sure it was time. I won't bore you with all the reasons why, but it did make sense to me....but there is always that doubt. As he was laying on the table (which they had draped with fleece so it wasn't a cold sterile exam table (nice touch I thought), they left me alone with him for around 5 minutes before they came in with the final injection. Of course, I used that time to shed many tears, pet him, and hold him, and tell him how much I loved him. (which I had been doing for the past week too). I also called in my spirit guides and helpers to assist him with his transition. I told him who I thought would be coming for him, and to look for them.
On my way home, I decided to take the back road, as it is beautiful and less traffic. I was still crying. On the radio was jazz ballads which were very soothing. I asked the guides to give me a little sign if he was with them. I was listening to a song that sounded familiar, and though to myself "Isn't there a song that has the word Indigo in it?" I thought about putting in a CD of the Indigo Girls (his name sake) but that just didn't feel right. The announcer came back on air and said that the song he had been playing was "Misty", he then said "and now I have a beautiful rendition for you of a song played by Thelonius Monk, it is "Mood Indigo".
I knew, they were with my cat. He was safe and being greeted on the Rainbow Bridge.... they told me so. Until then, I had been crying. When I heard that, I kind of gasped, almost ran off the road...but then smiled. He was ok.
Some people say after they put down a pet, they see them. That hasn't happened to me with Indigo. But, all day today, I have heard him. I hear him purring, which he continued to do up until the very last seconds of his life on this Earth, in that beautiful, soft and silky kitty cat body.
So, rest in peace Indigo, our fourteen years together were good. I and your dog buddies will miss you, and we loved you very very much, but I am very happy for you......Happy First Day in Heaven Mr!
With thanks and gratitude to Amy at ORAH, and those that helped him transition.....you all know who you are.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
slip and fall
It's been awhile. I want to write, but every time I try, nothing comes out. I think between the pain that I have been experiencing, and the recent death of one of my very favorite uncles, I just haven't had the energy to come up with anything to write about. Fall is almost upon us, I suppose that could render some kind of reflection, or thoughts about what is to come. I used to love fall. I loved getting new clothes, or at least getting the old clothes out of storage (and that $20 bill that seemed to have been forgotten in my coat pocket), and dressing in a way so I could be warm in the morning, but cool in the afternoon. I did like the way the air felt lighter, crisper, and the big sky in Montana was always so blue. Yes, I loved fall back then. But now....
I should love it, I am in Vermont, home of the king of falls, the showboat of all of the falls in all of the states, the stereotypical image of fall. It is beautiful. The first time I saw a mountain side ablaze with the near neon blast of color, I actually welled up. I had never seen anything like it. I haven't grown complacent about those colors; Mother Nature still amazes me, awes me, and makes me realize that I am one lucky woman to be able to bear witness to all that she provides. But....she also provides that thing...that stuff....that horribleness that one can only enjoy while young, agile and healthy. That stuff that is cold, and when you are not watching will bury your car....the terrible "S" word....snow.
I used to love snow. I was even called "the Snow Queen" amongst friends. Snow was fun in every way. Fun to walk in, especially when it is really really cold and the way it squeaks when you walk on it. It is fun to play in and with, snow forts, snow balls, snow sculptures. Not to mention skiing, sledding, ice skating...all the things that would make me plead, beg, pray for snow. But the best, that first real snow storm. How it makes everything quiet, and white and clean. How beautiful and sparkly it is in the sun, and the most beautiful shade of periwinkle blue that shows itself right before sunset. Yes, this is all beautiful, and marvelous, and wonderful, and blah blah blah.......
Now, because I am an old person (only in body mind you) that has been forced to walk like some web footed fowl with arms out to my side, rocking from one foot to the other in very slow small steps, I hate snow. I don't like that it is slippery. I don't like that is cold and wet. I don't like that if I fall, I may very likely break my ass, or leg, or arm, or hip. It is too much fear. I don't like fear. Even the cold that once felt refreshing and invigorating, now seems to have found the entrance to every joint I have on this body, and it makes them stiff and they creak and grown. No, I don't much like this cold and snow business.
Not to mention the hassles this stuff brings to me. I have to shovel, not only the side walks, but my roof! I can no longer do this, so I have to become some beggar woman asking neighbors to please help me. Then, and this is the worst.....there is the heat bill to pay. I start stressing about this in the spring. Living on a small fixed income is not conducive to a stress free fall/winter. It isn't like I can just put on more layers and huddle around a little electric heater...oh no...I have all manner of pipes that can freeze and burst....I know, it has happened...a lot! So, not only do I not have the money to pay for the heat, now add the heat guy, and the plumber. (oh and if I am really nice, and feel like I can expend it...a few dollars for those helping with the shoveling). So, whatever money I may have for things like food, clothing, entertainment (yeah right) now goes to winter maintenance......and I would like to add, this means sitting in a cold and drafty house with the thermostat turned all the way up to a balmy 50 degrees. Ah yes, ain't this the life?
So dear readers, at this point I am almost sure I can hear you all, in unison saying..."Get the hell out of Vermont". Makes sense doesn't it? But wait, then I would miss stuff...like that first snow flake landing on my tongue. That first big snow where all you can do is cuddle up inside and sit and watch the absolute beauty of the show Mother Nature is providing. There is also a community that comes with the white stuff. People helping others with shoveling, or just mentioning the fact that we weathered another great storm. There are more community dinners and potlucks, filled with delicious things like hot soups and stews. So winter is not a dark, lonely time of the year, if you don't want it to be.
But, I still do kind of dread it, and welcome it all at the same time. Maybe it is the survivor in me...ahem, the stubborn survivor in me...."I'll tough it out, I can get through anything!" Maybe it is just that I am a Northern woman, and that is where my blood just wants to be. Maybe it is that I can't fathom having to pack up and move.....maybe there is some kind of magnetic force right under Vermont that grabs us, and won't let us go.
Running with that theory...I may be onto something. I have noticed that there are a very high number of like thinking people in this State. Mostly it is people thinking good thoughts, caring thoughts, you know...love your neighbor kinds of thoughts. Maybe that white stuff and the dropping thermometor keeps those out that can not feel that same magnetic pull. There is a joke about that, the weather keeps away the undesirables. Maybe?
So, for at least one more year, I will bitch, moan and complain about the weather. I will absolutely freak out because I won't know how I will afford fuel oil. I may slip and fall on the ice and snow, or hurt my back shoveling. I may not see very many people, or go out to do as many things. But, I will still be here. I will every once in awhile marvel at the beauty. I will snuggle down into my comforter and blankets, gather my animals around me and smile as I drift off to sleep. (Think about it, when you freeze to death, you basically just go to sleep.....I had heat stroke once...it wasn't pretty!!!)......but no, I just mean go to sleep all toasty warm in my bed.
So, let the fall begin. The seasons change and so do I, and just like the winter with it's harshness and beauty, I find myself sorting through the winter in my soul, with it's harshness and beauty...there is something to be said for hibernation.
Happy Fall Everyone......
I should love it, I am in Vermont, home of the king of falls, the showboat of all of the falls in all of the states, the stereotypical image of fall. It is beautiful. The first time I saw a mountain side ablaze with the near neon blast of color, I actually welled up. I had never seen anything like it. I haven't grown complacent about those colors; Mother Nature still amazes me, awes me, and makes me realize that I am one lucky woman to be able to bear witness to all that she provides. But....she also provides that thing...that stuff....that horribleness that one can only enjoy while young, agile and healthy. That stuff that is cold, and when you are not watching will bury your car....the terrible "S" word....snow.
I used to love snow. I was even called "the Snow Queen" amongst friends. Snow was fun in every way. Fun to walk in, especially when it is really really cold and the way it squeaks when you walk on it. It is fun to play in and with, snow forts, snow balls, snow sculptures. Not to mention skiing, sledding, ice skating...all the things that would make me plead, beg, pray for snow. But the best, that first real snow storm. How it makes everything quiet, and white and clean. How beautiful and sparkly it is in the sun, and the most beautiful shade of periwinkle blue that shows itself right before sunset. Yes, this is all beautiful, and marvelous, and wonderful, and blah blah blah.......
Now, because I am an old person (only in body mind you) that has been forced to walk like some web footed fowl with arms out to my side, rocking from one foot to the other in very slow small steps, I hate snow. I don't like that it is slippery. I don't like that is cold and wet. I don't like that if I fall, I may very likely break my ass, or leg, or arm, or hip. It is too much fear. I don't like fear. Even the cold that once felt refreshing and invigorating, now seems to have found the entrance to every joint I have on this body, and it makes them stiff and they creak and grown. No, I don't much like this cold and snow business.
Not to mention the hassles this stuff brings to me. I have to shovel, not only the side walks, but my roof! I can no longer do this, so I have to become some beggar woman asking neighbors to please help me. Then, and this is the worst.....there is the heat bill to pay. I start stressing about this in the spring. Living on a small fixed income is not conducive to a stress free fall/winter. It isn't like I can just put on more layers and huddle around a little electric heater...oh no...I have all manner of pipes that can freeze and burst....I know, it has happened...a lot! So, not only do I not have the money to pay for the heat, now add the heat guy, and the plumber. (oh and if I am really nice, and feel like I can expend it...a few dollars for those helping with the shoveling). So, whatever money I may have for things like food, clothing, entertainment (yeah right) now goes to winter maintenance......and I would like to add, this means sitting in a cold and drafty house with the thermostat turned all the way up to a balmy 50 degrees. Ah yes, ain't this the life?
So dear readers, at this point I am almost sure I can hear you all, in unison saying..."Get the hell out of Vermont". Makes sense doesn't it? But wait, then I would miss stuff...like that first snow flake landing on my tongue. That first big snow where all you can do is cuddle up inside and sit and watch the absolute beauty of the show Mother Nature is providing. There is also a community that comes with the white stuff. People helping others with shoveling, or just mentioning the fact that we weathered another great storm. There are more community dinners and potlucks, filled with delicious things like hot soups and stews. So winter is not a dark, lonely time of the year, if you don't want it to be.
But, I still do kind of dread it, and welcome it all at the same time. Maybe it is the survivor in me...ahem, the stubborn survivor in me...."I'll tough it out, I can get through anything!" Maybe it is just that I am a Northern woman, and that is where my blood just wants to be. Maybe it is that I can't fathom having to pack up and move.....maybe there is some kind of magnetic force right under Vermont that grabs us, and won't let us go.
Running with that theory...I may be onto something. I have noticed that there are a very high number of like thinking people in this State. Mostly it is people thinking good thoughts, caring thoughts, you know...love your neighbor kinds of thoughts. Maybe that white stuff and the dropping thermometor keeps those out that can not feel that same magnetic pull. There is a joke about that, the weather keeps away the undesirables. Maybe?
So, for at least one more year, I will bitch, moan and complain about the weather. I will absolutely freak out because I won't know how I will afford fuel oil. I may slip and fall on the ice and snow, or hurt my back shoveling. I may not see very many people, or go out to do as many things. But, I will still be here. I will every once in awhile marvel at the beauty. I will snuggle down into my comforter and blankets, gather my animals around me and smile as I drift off to sleep. (Think about it, when you freeze to death, you basically just go to sleep.....I had heat stroke once...it wasn't pretty!!!)......but no, I just mean go to sleep all toasty warm in my bed.
So, let the fall begin. The seasons change and so do I, and just like the winter with it's harshness and beauty, I find myself sorting through the winter in my soul, with it's harshness and beauty...there is something to be said for hibernation.
Happy Fall Everyone......
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Creativity is the Word..
Good Morning to everyone. I haven't written for awhile, partly because I have not been feeling good, but also because I have been trying to work around that not feeling well. So, I don't really know what is going to come out today, I decided to just do a little stream of consciousness writing....it may be interesting???
So, one of the topics I have been wanting to write about it creativity. I am so thankful and grateful that I got this gift times ten. I believe creativity is what has pulled me though this illness. I seem to be creative in almost everything I do. The other day, I was feeling pretty good, and on the days I am feeling good, I like to use one of my creative talents, cooking. So, the pictures above are a plate of my fried green tomatoes, with prawn and raw cow milk dill cheese. I love to have fried green tomatoes in the summer. My version is a little more healthy than the traditional, and they are if I don't say so myself, to die for! I don't deep fat fry these, I saute them in olive oil. I used cracker crumbs, made from rosemary crackers. They were delicious. I am trying to eat a diet that concentrates on reducing inflammation. It is basically the Mediterranean diet. So, part of my creativity is used in cooking meals that are good, nutritious, and will hopefully help the pain decrease. One of my new favorite things to do, is to think of a dish such as bagel and lox, and figure out how to use the basic ingredients to come up with something completely different. For this, I used brown rice and quinoa as the "bagel", and into this I mixed smoked salmon, dill, red onion, capers, and a few sun gold cherry tomatoes cut in half. Then I make a sauce (cream cheese), with olive oil, lime zest, lime juice, and a little creme fraiche. I also add just a tiny bit of agave nectar. Good for me, and good to eat too!!!
So, cooking is how I use my creativity, especially on the days I feel pretty good. I also included a photo of the Plainfield Co-op where I do my shopping. I feel very lucky, as this photo is taken from my front door. The Co-op is the blue building. My other goal I may have mentioned in other blogs, is to do a little exercise every day. I used to have a goal of hiking the Appalachian Trail, then I down graded that to the Long Trail, then I thought well maybe Spruce Mountain (a local mountain peek, and nice hike), and now, I try and I am not always successful to walk to the co-op everyday. While this is sad for me, to watch this progression of the illness, I am very grateful that I am still walking to the co-op, but even more wonderful, is that I have this beautiful place, filled with healthy, organic, local food right across the street from me. And what is even better than that, are the workers who I get to see every time I go there. And, the community members that shop there are also pretty great. It is my touch with human contact each day, and I think that is important. So, I feel very lucky to have this little business across the street. I also feel extremely lucky that I can still walk over there, without a walker!!!
The reason I haven't been writing is a good one. I have been finding creativity and partaking of it's healing potions. I have also been creating art, and I even got out the mandolin and played with that a little again. I have a goal, and that is even if this illness is trying to take me down, cause me pain in every little place in my body...well, I am going to fight back with creativity. It is my weapon of choice. I gladly take up a little creativity and mix it with a little creative energy and come out with the wonderful elixer of pain distraction. It doesn't always work, another reason I have not written is I have been laid low with pain. But, I don't want to talk about that. I am tired of that subject, and tired of that feeling.
I have also been visiting my lovely owlbox. Unfortunately 2 of the owlets have died. I wanted to do a tribute to them in this blog, but I couldn't get the picture I wanted to use to load. I did include it on my FB page. But, another pain distraction I have been using is taking screen shots of the owlets. This is so much fun, as they are like little prehistoric looking, feather covered softballs with tiny little wings....and such humor. I get hours of pleasure doing this! I hope to share some of these here with you, and especially on FB.
So, there you have it, again...not a great piece of writing (I will once again just to write), but if you are someone who is in pain, who feels like life is over because everything you dreamed of doing is no longer within reach, well, I am hoping you too can use some creativity to make this illness and/or chronic pain a little more bearable. I hope you too can cook up something that helps you feel better (yes bad pun), and that you can find something to do that makes you feel like you are still learning, and giving back to this universe we live in! Namaste
Thursday, August 19, 2010
disability awareness
I just had a most unpleasant experience, although it didn't directly involve me. As most of you know, I am a faithful follower of a family of barn owls in San Marcos, CA. This is a web cam, and on the side of the cam window is a chat. I love this place, as I watch the owls which are at times very amusing, always entertaining, and educational. I have met some wonderful people in the chat, some I know will be lifelong friends. These people come from all over the world, there are millions watching, and quite a few that chat. Usually, the chat is fun, funny, informational, and for me very supportive. There are a few rules we are asked to follow in chat, one being no caps, as that is considered yelling.
Well, here in lies the rub. I know, from being on other sites where people with disabilities frequent, that using caps is acceptable for the visually impaired. Tonight, a person (we don't know if people are male or female if their screen names do not imply, so I am just going to say she) came on, saying she was new, was visually impaired and wanted to know if she could use caps. Let me also explain here....there are people we call mods who are the people who make sure that people are following the rules. They regulate and sometimes "police" the chat room to make sure that it remains "g" rated, and friendly etc. Then there are the MODS, who are the chatters, named MOD for Molly Obsessive Disorder. Ok.....
So this person asks if using caps are ok, and a few of the MODS or chatters answered with: This person is lying, and is an attention seeking troll, as if they could not see, why would they be in a chat room. or if you can't see, why do you need to cap only yours, that does not make sense, you should know what you are typing. or and this one really got to me....."we are not a regular chat, we are family, and if is a choice to be here" OMG!!!!!
First, just basically....these MODS who responded in that way have no say over the rules in the chat room anyway....it is between the mods and the person who posted the simple question.....that being said:
I am sooooooo upset. This is just another example of how people with disabilites are treated every day. I am upset with myself too, as I just basically said that those comments made me sad, and upset, and should not have been made.....but then I left. I just felt like if i stayed in there, I would end up getting kicked out. I know I would have started a chat war, and I don't want to do that. I did go to Molly's site on FB and write about it there. And I am writing here. Why are people so insensitive? Why can they not see that what they are basically saying is: we don't accept you, because you are different. Where is the love people? where is the love?
I know, I am more sensitive to this because of what I face everyday. I actually had someone tell me that I didn't look like I needed my disabled parking plaquard. I got out of my car, the person looked at the plaquard and then me, and said..."Are you using someone elses car? I answered no. Then he said..."well, then you must know someone with a disability". Yes, I tried to explain it to him, but he just shook his head and walked away. I already wrote about the pharmacist.
I go onto the owl web site, because it is a great distraction from my pain. I love watching the owls and chatting to people all over the world. It takes my mind off of my life, my pain, and helps me laugh and feel good. Should not people who have visual problems be afforded the same benefits? Just because someone, somewhere, decided that all caps in a chat room means yelling.
Once again, I am not writing something that is a wonderful piece of literature, it is just a rant. But, I hope that you read this, then go out and take this rant into the world. Do something that helps people become aware of the world from someone with a disabilites view. The world is hard enough to get through. Compassion. We need so much more of this. Is it possible to teach it?
I wonder if those chatters realized what they were saying, or if they are sitting there smuggly thinking that they smashed another troll. HOw can anyone be so judgemental? My heart is hurting....are there any pain killers for that?
Well, here in lies the rub. I know, from being on other sites where people with disabilities frequent, that using caps is acceptable for the visually impaired. Tonight, a person (we don't know if people are male or female if their screen names do not imply, so I am just going to say she) came on, saying she was new, was visually impaired and wanted to know if she could use caps. Let me also explain here....there are people we call mods who are the people who make sure that people are following the rules. They regulate and sometimes "police" the chat room to make sure that it remains "g" rated, and friendly etc. Then there are the MODS, who are the chatters, named MOD for Molly Obsessive Disorder. Ok.....
So this person asks if using caps are ok, and a few of the MODS or chatters answered with: This person is lying, and is an attention seeking troll, as if they could not see, why would they be in a chat room. or if you can't see, why do you need to cap only yours, that does not make sense, you should know what you are typing. or and this one really got to me....."we are not a regular chat, we are family, and if is a choice to be here" OMG!!!!!
First, just basically....these MODS who responded in that way have no say over the rules in the chat room anyway....it is between the mods and the person who posted the simple question.....that being said:
I am sooooooo upset. This is just another example of how people with disabilites are treated every day. I am upset with myself too, as I just basically said that those comments made me sad, and upset, and should not have been made.....but then I left. I just felt like if i stayed in there, I would end up getting kicked out. I know I would have started a chat war, and I don't want to do that. I did go to Molly's site on FB and write about it there. And I am writing here. Why are people so insensitive? Why can they not see that what they are basically saying is: we don't accept you, because you are different. Where is the love people? where is the love?
I know, I am more sensitive to this because of what I face everyday. I actually had someone tell me that I didn't look like I needed my disabled parking plaquard. I got out of my car, the person looked at the plaquard and then me, and said..."Are you using someone elses car? I answered no. Then he said..."well, then you must know someone with a disability". Yes, I tried to explain it to him, but he just shook his head and walked away. I already wrote about the pharmacist.
I go onto the owl web site, because it is a great distraction from my pain. I love watching the owls and chatting to people all over the world. It takes my mind off of my life, my pain, and helps me laugh and feel good. Should not people who have visual problems be afforded the same benefits? Just because someone, somewhere, decided that all caps in a chat room means yelling.
Once again, I am not writing something that is a wonderful piece of literature, it is just a rant. But, I hope that you read this, then go out and take this rant into the world. Do something that helps people become aware of the world from someone with a disabilites view. The world is hard enough to get through. Compassion. We need so much more of this. Is it possible to teach it?
I wonder if those chatters realized what they were saying, or if they are sitting there smuggly thinking that they smashed another troll. HOw can anyone be so judgemental? My heart is hurting....are there any pain killers for that?
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Never Heard Of That?
Ok, another blog that is basically a rant, as I have to write about this or I will just wallow in it, so may as well get it out.....I can't sleep. I have had sleep problems for many years, but this is a little bit different. Yes, no sleep can make for some interesting thoughts and behaviors. Sometimes it is even funny....like when you fall asleep while writing to someone in chat.....but it isn't all funny.
I have these lipomas all over my body. The ones that hurt the worst are on my upper thighs/hip region, my rib cage, and my abdomen. These things cause excrutiating pain. They burn, sting, feel like a deep bruise, and basically don't let up. They are worse when they are first forming. Then, they seem to come and go, or more realistically, they swell and hurt and then go down and don't hurt as badly. But, they are a literal pain!
The worst, and what is causing me to come here and cry, is trying to sleep. I can not find a comfortable position to save my life! I have always been a side sleeper, almost all my life....I can no longer do this. When I am so totally exhausted that I do fall asleep, I tend to roll onto my side and then YOWZA....I am wide awake because it feels like I have been stabbed. The lipomas in my upper/outter thighs (hip area), are very painful to the touch.
I also have these little pockets of fat filled pain on and around my lower spine. (where arthritis is also present). So, laying on my back is also one exercise in futility. I can sometimes find a partial sitting up position to be somewhat comfortable. This is the way I can usually fall asleep, and why I tend to fall asleep while I am on the computer, or watching TV. But, and maybe I should say butt.....there is also tailbone pain. When this strikes, it absolutely takes my breath away. It feels like vice grips are squeezing my tail bone. I don't know if this is caused by lipomas or if it is something else, but this pain would have me running to the ER if it lasts much more than an hour....luckily, it hasn't, or has responded to pain killers.
Ok, so I can't sleep on my side, or back...well......the lipomas around my rib cage, and lower (mostly) and upper abdomen area are also screaming their little fatty tumor heads off. The other day I was visiting yet another specialist, this one the gastroenterologist....and he was doing his exam and said "Oh, it feels like you have a hernia, has any one told you that?" I told him I thought it was a lipoma, as they are everywhere if he continues to feel around....he did, while I bit my tongue and winced. He just looked as me with a strange kind of puzzled look on his face. I told him what I think these are, and he said "Never heard of that". Well, whatever, but these are what keeps me from sleeping on my stomach.
The other day, I went to a PT. I thought maybe a combination of pool therapy, and a walker may get me able to walk more, get a little more exercise. So, in order to do that, I was subjected to more poking and prodding. He feels all these lumps, and says "Hmmm, what are these?" I tell him and he says...."Never heard of that". I tell him that I know that strengthening muscles are usually the answer to help with pain, and that may be the case here....but what really hurts are the lipomas in my thigh area that seem to be pulled downward by gravity when I am upright and walking. He agreed that the pool is the best place, and wants me to hold off on the walker. I am ok with holding off on the walker, and I LOVE pool therapy.....but, will it make the pain of the lipomas go away? Not sure, and of course, since he had "never heard of that"...how can he answer that.
To make a long story short, since I have been in the hospital, I now have 3 rare illnesses. One may have cleared up following knee surgery a few years ago.....that would be great, as apparently PVNS is difficult to get rid of. My diagnosis after being in the hospital are some kind of myositis, and rhabdomyolysis. I don't know that much about the latter, but the former is....you guessed it...rare! But, most of these specialists have heard about this diagnosis.....
Ok, now here comes the diagnosis that no one knows about...Dercum's Disease. It is the fatty tumors, the lipomas, and possibly inflammation in the fat cells. I wish it would be easy to lose weight and make it go away, but it doesn't work that way.....so, since no one really knows what it is, no one knows how to treat it.....no one is coming up with any way to help me with it....
There is one doctor in the US who researches and understands this disease. She is in San Diego. I am trying to figure out how to get to San Diego to see her. It isn't easy with no money. But, where there is a will, there is a way.
But until then, I guess I will continue to toss and turn trying to find a comfortable way to exist in this world....yes, I didn't say sleep, as it is not just trying to sleep, it is trying to live.....I toss and turn even when standing up! I will continue to have to toss away and turn down invitations to parties, get togethers, movies, etc.......I will continue to have a social life that is mostly on the computer and phone. (thank God for those friends who have stuck by me, and who call and keep in touch with me. I am an extrovert, I like to be around most people, this forced isolation makes it difficult to remain positive and content in my world. The adventure of never knowing how I am going to feel each day, makes planning anything in advance almost impossible).
Until then I will continue to try to forget about those comments, those experiences like the one at the pharmacy...because the only thing I have found that makes my life a little more tolerable is narcotic pain meds. There are two kind of responses when people find out I am on narcotics....either they hold out their hand, or they become judgmental. That makes me want to cry. (Again, I thank God for those friends who understand, and do not challenge me, or suggest a better way to deal with pain, as in the many years I have been dealing with this, there really isn't much I have not already tried. The odd thing about this illness I have, different approaches work, for awhile, then seem to quit. I have tried naturopathic, chiropractic, homeopathic, energy healing, many many different kinds of medications, meditation, physical therapy, prayer, art therapy, talk therapy including CBT, EMDR, narrative, and other approaches, and massage.....whew....and I am not sure that exhausted that list).
So, I will continue to try to educate, to explain, to ignore, those who can't possibly understand what it is I am going through, because they have "never heard of that".
I have these lipomas all over my body. The ones that hurt the worst are on my upper thighs/hip region, my rib cage, and my abdomen. These things cause excrutiating pain. They burn, sting, feel like a deep bruise, and basically don't let up. They are worse when they are first forming. Then, they seem to come and go, or more realistically, they swell and hurt and then go down and don't hurt as badly. But, they are a literal pain!
The worst, and what is causing me to come here and cry, is trying to sleep. I can not find a comfortable position to save my life! I have always been a side sleeper, almost all my life....I can no longer do this. When I am so totally exhausted that I do fall asleep, I tend to roll onto my side and then YOWZA....I am wide awake because it feels like I have been stabbed. The lipomas in my upper/outter thighs (hip area), are very painful to the touch.
I also have these little pockets of fat filled pain on and around my lower spine. (where arthritis is also present). So, laying on my back is also one exercise in futility. I can sometimes find a partial sitting up position to be somewhat comfortable. This is the way I can usually fall asleep, and why I tend to fall asleep while I am on the computer, or watching TV. But, and maybe I should say butt.....there is also tailbone pain. When this strikes, it absolutely takes my breath away. It feels like vice grips are squeezing my tail bone. I don't know if this is caused by lipomas or if it is something else, but this pain would have me running to the ER if it lasts much more than an hour....luckily, it hasn't, or has responded to pain killers.
Ok, so I can't sleep on my side, or back...well......the lipomas around my rib cage, and lower (mostly) and upper abdomen area are also screaming their little fatty tumor heads off. The other day I was visiting yet another specialist, this one the gastroenterologist....and he was doing his exam and said "Oh, it feels like you have a hernia, has any one told you that?" I told him I thought it was a lipoma, as they are everywhere if he continues to feel around....he did, while I bit my tongue and winced. He just looked as me with a strange kind of puzzled look on his face. I told him what I think these are, and he said "Never heard of that". Well, whatever, but these are what keeps me from sleeping on my stomach.
The other day, I went to a PT. I thought maybe a combination of pool therapy, and a walker may get me able to walk more, get a little more exercise. So, in order to do that, I was subjected to more poking and prodding. He feels all these lumps, and says "Hmmm, what are these?" I tell him and he says...."Never heard of that". I tell him that I know that strengthening muscles are usually the answer to help with pain, and that may be the case here....but what really hurts are the lipomas in my thigh area that seem to be pulled downward by gravity when I am upright and walking. He agreed that the pool is the best place, and wants me to hold off on the walker. I am ok with holding off on the walker, and I LOVE pool therapy.....but, will it make the pain of the lipomas go away? Not sure, and of course, since he had "never heard of that"...how can he answer that.
To make a long story short, since I have been in the hospital, I now have 3 rare illnesses. One may have cleared up following knee surgery a few years ago.....that would be great, as apparently PVNS is difficult to get rid of. My diagnosis after being in the hospital are some kind of myositis, and rhabdomyolysis. I don't know that much about the latter, but the former is....you guessed it...rare! But, most of these specialists have heard about this diagnosis.....
Ok, now here comes the diagnosis that no one knows about...Dercum's Disease. It is the fatty tumors, the lipomas, and possibly inflammation in the fat cells. I wish it would be easy to lose weight and make it go away, but it doesn't work that way.....so, since no one really knows what it is, no one knows how to treat it.....no one is coming up with any way to help me with it....
There is one doctor in the US who researches and understands this disease. She is in San Diego. I am trying to figure out how to get to San Diego to see her. It isn't easy with no money. But, where there is a will, there is a way.
But until then, I guess I will continue to toss and turn trying to find a comfortable way to exist in this world....yes, I didn't say sleep, as it is not just trying to sleep, it is trying to live.....I toss and turn even when standing up! I will continue to have to toss away and turn down invitations to parties, get togethers, movies, etc.......I will continue to have a social life that is mostly on the computer and phone. (thank God for those friends who have stuck by me, and who call and keep in touch with me. I am an extrovert, I like to be around most people, this forced isolation makes it difficult to remain positive and content in my world. The adventure of never knowing how I am going to feel each day, makes planning anything in advance almost impossible).
Until then I will continue to try to forget about those comments, those experiences like the one at the pharmacy...because the only thing I have found that makes my life a little more tolerable is narcotic pain meds. There are two kind of responses when people find out I am on narcotics....either they hold out their hand, or they become judgmental. That makes me want to cry. (Again, I thank God for those friends who understand, and do not challenge me, or suggest a better way to deal with pain, as in the many years I have been dealing with this, there really isn't much I have not already tried. The odd thing about this illness I have, different approaches work, for awhile, then seem to quit. I have tried naturopathic, chiropractic, homeopathic, energy healing, many many different kinds of medications, meditation, physical therapy, prayer, art therapy, talk therapy including CBT, EMDR, narrative, and other approaches, and massage.....whew....and I am not sure that exhausted that list).
So, I will continue to try to educate, to explain, to ignore, those who can't possibly understand what it is I am going through, because they have "never heard of that".
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