June 28, 2021- Threads of my life

So here I am again. Dangling with my feet, my mind and my being, into the frayed edges of depression. If I am honest, I'm no longer just dangling in the nearness of depression, but tangled in the thick strands of it; the same old upholstery of my mind that has been mine since my birth. If you've ever seen the two sides of upholstery up close you know that one side is the pretty side, the outcome of the sewn mess of threads that make up the ugly side. Being tangled is not so bad. It is being undone that I fear most. What is most important for me to keep in mind while I am sometimes feeling like I am losing it, is that so much of what is going on is because of pharmaceuticals. In this particular instance, for me, it is the changing of medications that is wrecking my life right now. This is the bullshit of it all and I can't help but clinch my teeth as a wave of angry tears reluctantly jump from my eyes. 

I've brought this round on myself. Starting in December of 2019, which was 5 years since my last hospitalization, I began a holistic approach to dealing with my entire self. I sought the nutritional and whole food supplementation advice of Dr. Michael Whitman and Dr. Adrienne Hagedorn and have been seeing them on a maintenance basis for over a year now. With the improvement of my gut lining, the ability to assimilate and actually absorb the nutrients, vitamins, minerals, and most importantly the proteins that are the building blocks of my neurotransmitters, I was able to wean off 2 anti-depressants (out of the 4 I had been prescribed since 2014). Anti-depressants have saved my life, more than a few times. They have also stolen it, in months and years at a time. It's not really as dramatic as it sounds, well wait, maybe it actually is. My desire to decrease the number of medications I take for my depression stemmed from my desire to fall in love again, to become emotionally available to others, and to be joyful AND down right pissed off when it is called for. All things that were proving to be impossible on the dosages that I was on. Apathy and the cardboard box life that high dosages of medications can cause were a total pain in my nothingness. And if there is anything I want out of my life, it is for the absence of nothingness. So, I worked with my doctors to wean off the medications. 

And Guess What?- I fell in love.  Boy, he sure didn't know what he was getting himself into, but we sure are smitten with each other. He sure is healing to be around and I find peace in his strength. 

At 44, almost 45, I found myself still dealing with cystic acne. The kind of acne caused by hormonal imbalance. I know, can't a girl catch a break already! I know my hormones are doing something to me but it has been hard to tell whether it's my depression or my hormones that is causing my low mood. They have always worked for and against me most my life. My mental health practitioner suggested a new medication. One that she has seen a lot of great results with and I just wanted to hope that one new pill would do away with the last two meds I was still on and so I agreed to try it. Weaning off anti-depressants, especially one that requires 24 days for half of it to get out of your system, is as fun as having - well I can't even imagine what is equivalent to it- it fucking sucks. The new medication and the withdrawal of the other leaves me feeling so off center. I am writing this for over 2 hours because I can't stay focused. I get up and think I should mow the yard and then instead I make something to eat when I am not hungry. I am irritated at sitting still and irritated at not having a place to sit. All at the same time. I am tearful at church and crying during every worship song and yet I feel more connected to God through those tears. I am so emotional, and it is great and beautiful, and very, very hard. I can't decide whether I want to go and do something or sit and stay. I am raw in every mental and emotional way and I pray that this new pill will do what it is good at doing and that the withdrawal of the other medication just gets on with it already. 

The difficult life of a gypsy with a mortgage. January 31, 2021

Gypsy heart with a 30 year mortgage. It's going to take some getting used to. The only endurance event I ever completed successfully was a marathon. Jobs, relationships, and addresses have not customarily enticed me to endure for more than 3 or 4 years. Which is why 2 ex-husbands, 19 previous "permanent" residences, and 20 some different hospital contracts later- I am not surprised to find myself curious about the prospect of buying an old home in Southeastern Italy for 1 Euro (how do I get the Euro symbol? Must put at the top of my to-do list that I never intend starting on). Wouldn't that just be so "Under the Tuscan Sun" of me? It sounds romantic and carefree, and deliciously carb friendly. Damn you corporate America. What is this stingy hold you have over my life, and others, slivering vacation days like some plastic surgeon shaving off the end of someone's nose. I like my vacations in big honking chunks. "Doctor- take it all off and leave nothing to spare!" Let's give vacation time to employees in days, not hours. Let's take vacations in weeks not days! I'm already thinking like a European. Maybe a life in Italy is not such a bad idea after all. Oh hush, I know. I am already having those practical, life application arguments with myself. Ugh, what if what if what if? Shut your pie hole hussy- life isn't being lived by merely having acceptable responses to all the what ifs about a situation. That's for cowards. Or for people with children and responsibilities. Not for dreamers and doers like me! I'm a vagabond heart with Google translate downloaded on my phone. Nothing has to hold me back. Except for COVID and 29 more years on this mortgage. Closed borders are not a gypsy girl's friend. Mortgage smortgage- that can be dealt with in various ways. Did you hear that? The heavy exhale of a defeated soul. Is being carefree and impractical at 44 3/4 charming and enviable or tacky and childish? Only tacky if wearing big, neon pink hoop earrings. That's my final answer.

Life on the ordinary is difficult. Mostly because I've wrapped up my identity with the doings of my life. The coming and going has been feeding my curiosity for 20 years. Since owning my home here in Southern Indiana I have watched more TV then in all the years combined up to this point. It is NOT who I am. (I will only allow the pandemic a small nugget of responsibility for it's part in keeping me home). Sitting around while time ticks by fuels my restlessness. Gray skies and cold wind irritate the travel bug inside of me. It is the last day of January. (Happy Birthday to my beautiful older sister, Carrie).

Dear God, It's me again. When you nudged me homeward bound in 2018 I obeyed. Your mercy and grace in my life have shown up in fairy tale ways. Ways that I will never earn nor deserve. Thank You. Two words that are used so cheaply sometimes. This would not be one of them. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You. I give you all the glory. IJNIP- Amen. 

Florida bound in 12 days. But who's counting? Go Brooke!

January 24, 2021- looking down the barrel of 45

 I'm looking down the road at turning 45 later this year. Forty-whatyoutalkinboutWillis-five. That's not in dog years either. I have to say I'm not sweating it. Literally, not sweating it because I am not having those crazy hot flashes that I assume could be on the horizon, as my pristine never used uterus and ovaries begin to reign in MENOPAUSE. Which is really kind of a kick in the crotch because if I am honest the last few years have been nothing but men-on-pause. When I decided to move back to my exotic home scape in Southern Indiana, I knew that dating would be a challenge. Wait, there are plenty of guys who would likely take me on a date. So let me rephrase that- finding a man who does not smoke, has a well-paying job, and the capable mental acrobatics that can keep up with my own would be difficult. There are lots of men out there but I require teeth, the absence of facial and/or neck tattoos, and currently single. These are my preferences. Call me judgmental. If I were to tell you my list of ideal qualities- you'd understand how very low my standards have fallen. The caveat to all of this is that I am no longer a prime catch. I am no longer built like a brick-shit house... more of a flabby inflatable jump house, and rarely wear clothing that I couldn't do yoga in (as if I actually did yoga). I'm not trying to date outside of my league by any means. You can imagine my surprise when a dating site hottie matched me and he was 14 years my junior. He wasn't from Nigeria and didn't ask for money and he really just liked older women. Yes please and Thank You. The age difference wasn't the reason we ended things. He ended it I suppose since he was the one who didn't respond to my text messages first. But I didn't throw down any road blocks if you know what I'm sayin. He was a "musician" and lived in his Mom's basement. It was a fun 3 months. Very fun. A LOT of fun. 

Anyway....45. I have decided this isn't my midlife point though. I expect to die at 93. So I have another year and a half before I reach THAT mountain top. It's been a hell of a climb so far. No, I never had children, and that's an unfortunate/blessing from God. The climb has been challenging and I am looking forward to the down hill ease of conversations about bowel movements and retirement villages to tour. I already feel like a senior citizen around my nephew and niece who are far more technologically savvy then I ever want to be. Neither one can brush their teeth above the sink like an appropriate human being. Which oddly makes me feel superior in the technology department. Go Brooke.  

Found this June 19th 2020 in a notebook Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you..

November 5th- St. Vincent's Hospital, Evansville, IN

I watched Dad's face as the doctor went  over the CT Scan results from the evening before. He had swallowed some dye and then imaging was done to see if there was a hole or a fistula communicating between his esophagus and right lung. Dad finally felt hungry today. He looked forward to eating for the first time since his cancer diagnosis in June. I didn't need to hear what the results were. All I could see was despair on Dad's face. He just stared at the wall. It was a look of pain like I've never seen. All I could say was "I'm sorry Dad". He probably didn't even hear me over the sound of the high flow oxygen he was receiving. He stared off most of the day, or had his eyes shut. I hated that he wouldn't talk to me.

How does a daughter help her father during such a difficult cancer journey? Where is the balance between optimism, guarded hope and harsh reality? Being at his side has been a blessing and a curse I watched him become paralyzed to do anything but exist since his diagnosis. He didn't pull himself up by his bootstraps, start living a healthy life and a new fitness routine as if assuming the stance of a cancer warrior. Rather, he seemed to collapse in on himself, so deep into darkness, that daylight caused him pain.

I watched him lose 20 pounds, then 30 pounds and I feared he would actually starve to death. I called Dr. Poirier to talk some sense into Dad about getting a g-tube. Dad reluctantly agreed. He had all the chemo and radiation and now all that was left was for him to do was to get stronger and put on weight.

His lungs and esophagus were irritated from the radiation, so Dad had copious amounts of sticky thick secretions. He was dehydrated, got pneumonia, and then got c-diff. We began once daily IV antibiotics at home. He had nurses, physical therapists and occupational therapists coming by throughout the week.

He finally admitted he was depressed and yet still refused to talk to anyone or take anything for it. He was failing to thrive and my hands were tied on how much motivation, reprimanding and pleading that I could do. He wouldn't hear any of it. So I loved him. I stopped blaming character flaws for his poor health and I cared for him. He was still Dad and yet he became a man who was dying of cancer. I'm sure  that compassion and empathy are more readily available when all my emotional memories and needs were put away. I'm not saying I only looked at Dad through rose colored glasses. I'm saying I chose to look beyond who he was to me and see him as the person who needs me. I had many moments of anger and frustration at how stubborn he was being, but with the help of God's grace I became tolerant of his, understandably, foul moods and depressed outlook. Eeyore must have had esophageal cancer. I started asking myself who he needed me to be. More often than not, all he needed was his daughter in the corner looking out for him. Mom taught me how to be present without being intrusive when she stayed by my side at the hospital in Indianapolis when I had Dengue Fever.

Today, sometime between the news of the fistula and me leaving the hospital for the night, Dad came to terms with something. I'll probably never know what brought it on, but when I was leaving I told him to "Give 'em hell tonight" and he laughed a real laugh. I love you Dad.

November 11, 2019 IU University Hospital, Indianapolis, IN

It's Veteran's  Day. Because Dad's situation is so complex we asked to be transferred to Indy. This is where his post-chemo and radiation surgery will be if he ever is able to have his esophageal tumor resected. We transferred on Friday night. Today will be a week without any nutrition. I want to list briefly how Dad's course has gone.
After diagnosis, Dad did very little to improve his health to take on chemo and radiation. He actually went through them pretty well. He was weak, but also depressed and didn't do much more than go from the couch to the bed.

December 21, 2019

It's been a month today since Dad died.

April 29, 2020: The Truth to live by.

Heavenly Father,

There is such a deafening noise in life that makes it so hard to hear you. I know that you are always there, but I hate how long I can go without connecting to you. Beautiful music that praises your love, grace and mercy tend to make me well up if I have been too long in life and too short in worship. Thank you for this moment that I have with you, and all those before and to follow. You deserve so much more than I have given. You give eternity, and I give mere minutes a day. It is embarrassing how I have disobeyed your commandments while practically looking you in the eye. How ungrateful my heart must be and how utterly profound your love must be. 

I listen for you and expectantly wait for our connection. I know when it is you because you are always strong, and good and right. You make sure that I understand what you mean. These things I have obeyed. In your usual fashion, you fill my life with blessings. The difficult blessings are my badges of honor. I came home when you said to and I battled with myself for the identity that I thought I had to define. I know all to well that those battles are self-inflicted torture. You just want me to be yours. How many times do I need to have you prove that it is your light that feeds me, protects me, loves me and grows me? Not the light of this world, but your light in the world. 

How can I help make things better? The current events filling the world are quite possibly the worst best thing that could have happened. Coronavirus- quarantine, shelter in place, stay home, no work, no gatherings. Just be. It is a place of shadows; this world. The left ear won't believe what the right ear is hearing. Every situation has a side- it's just that the situation isn't one dimensional, but more like a Rubik's Cube. There is an ever increasing demand that there be agreement on all facets of a situation less one be shamed and ridiculed by the Pope, the poet, and the poor man. Living in a time with so much information available irrationally makes us think that our thoughts are the right thoughts and the only possible option. We feed on the news that dresses up our own view point as the Belle of the Ball and be damned if anyone should hint at having more than one Belle at a time. The razor thin line between them and us has gotten so tangled in personal judgments and petty self- promotion, rather than intellectual discourse, that it now looks like barbed wire. Both sides end up a bloody mess. 

I am beginning to understand more about you as The Truth. You never meant for our understanding of your Truth to be engraved in stone, did you? Is it that Truth is what is lived out by loving our neighbor as ourselves? One's behavior, when it is an extension of that love, leads to the greatest experience of truth. Your Truth is giving up our love of ourselves to others so that they are wholly loved by you, through each of us. How did we start believing that truth was all or nothing, black or white, up or down? 

Thank You for this life. IJNIP, Amen.

July 15, 2019 Love is and love does

What makes love, love? 

Love can be a verb. To love someone seems to imply that one somehow demonstrates their love through miscellaneous acts towards another person. Because I love you I...

                      attempt to make your life easier

                      want to spend time doing everything and nothing with you

                      trust you with my story, my joy and my pain

                      hold you with unconditional positive regard

                      want what you want

                      put your happiness at the top of my priority list                                                          There are a lot of things to "do" to show someone you love them but there is also a long list of things to NOT do when you love someone. Because I love you I will not...

                       break your trust

                       disregard your needs

                       be disrespectful of the things that anger you, scare you, worry you or concern you 

                           about us and our future

                       allow another person to harm you if it is within my power

                       use any weapon against you- physical or emotional

But can love really just be whittled down to a list of do's and don'ts?

Absolutely not. In fact, articulating these behaviors does nothing more than make a list of ingredients that may or may not work for you. 

Love can be a noun. A treasure, an emotion, something elusive, a notion, a feeling of familiarity, a quest and a nightmare. Love is and love does and it might not be love if it isn't both. We must be and do love- any and every kind of love. Romantic love. Familial love. Adoration as love, as with a pet. Unconditional love, as is the love from God. 

So where do we find love?  Is it even something that can be found? My belief is that love is like our five senses. Love, like wind or the scent of a rose garden, is experienced on different levels. We can't see, taste or hear the scent that comes from the rose garden, but we can smell, touch, and feel all that creates that scent. So love can be found anywhere and nowhere. It can be created but not always seen. It can exist without being felt. It can be lost, broken, grieved, and damned. It can be sacrificed for the greater good. It can be destroyed in a flash and created in a breath. 

It must be experienced in order to be created and it must be created in order to exist. Be and do, here and now. You are love and your love does.

                      

 

So there I was...: July 3, 2019- too much freedom?

So there I was...: July 3, 2019- too much freedom?: So there I was standing in front of my patient. She was sitting in a chair beside her bed in the Cardiovascular ICU, her thighs being squee...