Learning Acceptance

I think I have been taking a sabbatical from writing. It hadn’t been my intent but it seems it just occurred.

I think I felt blocked in a way. I have had a lot of writing ideas so that wasn’t it. I had personal things that I needed to process and until I processed them -maybe not fully but processed them enough – I felt like maybe my writing would not feel authentic.

I was upset over something very personal that I could only touch on vaguely in my writing. So much wanted to come out and that stuff was better for a private journal than a blog.

I have had to decide where my line is in what I share on my blog. Just because I’m upset with someone doesn’t mean I need to air that in my writing. Sometimes it is ok. This time it wasn’t.

So I had to come to some acceptance with that family issue and I have had to try to come to acceptance with some other things that seemed to be causing me stress.

One such issue is my ongoing pain. I am sooooo much better. I am so very blessed. But there is still pain. I can’t seem to use my right arm ( which is my dominate arm) fully or for very long without some pain. I also get flares. It happens when I “overdo” in some way. The problem is I never know exactly what will trigger it. I am learning though but I still get surprised. A lot.

Ice packs have become dear friends. I have been known to walk through the grocery or hardware store sporting an ice bag of some sort under my arm. Ice really is my savior.

I have had to reach an acceptance with this pain. If I had to live like this I certainly could. Would it be ideal? No. Sometimes it’s really sucky. But I’m improved. I’m out living life.  I’ve lowered my nerve pain meds a lot. Hoping to lose some of the weight I’ve gained. Which is another area of acceptance I’ve had to reach. I can’t hate myself bc I don’t look the way I want. I am trying to embrace that I may never look like I really want again.

My body has been through hell. Three surgeries in one year and the last -fat grafting-was supposed to be liposuction on my abdomen that would make me look better and sadly I hate the outcome but the fat had to come from somewhere

So I’m trying to accept this. I’m into being in shape and being skinny. It’s how I grew up. Skinny was good. And sadly I was a chubby kid and That fact was reinforced often by schoolmates and Neighbor Kids. I have spent years battling my minds critical view of my body.

So for me it’s a mental exercise in trying to accept myself as I am now. I’m 54 and I’ve had many surgeries and cancer and I’m menopausal. I can work hard as I’m able (I limited in my activities bc of my nerve damaged right side) but I’m likely not going to look the way I want to ever again. I might but it may not happen and I want to be able to accept that. I don’t want to feel embarrassed for my husband to see my nude body. But I am. He thinks I’m beautiful. I have a hard time seeing what he sees. But I’m lucky that’s what he sees

I really am a work in progress on this acceptance thing. But I’ve come to realize that acceptance doesn’t mean giving up. It means that in this moment in time I accept that this is where I am.

I accept I still have pain but I won’t quit trying to find improvements. I just began laser therapy. It might help.

I do have gratitude for how far I’ve come and I’m thankful I found this brilliant nerve surgeon who wanted to help me as best he could.

I am accepting that my body isn’t what I want to to be. But really if that’s a worry in my life I’m pretty blessed seeing where I was two years ago.

As far as my family issue. I’ve had to forgive and I have had to give much of this to God. I can’t control someone else’s journey and I accept that. And I accept that where i am now – on the edge of this persons life – that I can’t do anything but let them know they are loved. That’s what I can do.

I think maybe I’m in a growing phase. Learning that I can’t be in control all the time.

My two sons just graduated high school. I have been waiting for this day! I feel like we’ve finished the first of a set of hurdles. It’s been a ride. But they begin college in the fall and now it’s up to them. They have all the tools to succeed.

Then going away is bittersweet for me. My role as Mom will change. It already has. Though I’m still buying the things on the “what to bring” list the College provides. It has to get done by someone and they seem oblivious to the fact that College is six weeks away. I, however, am ever aware. But soon I have to let go. I have to say “you need to try to figure this out  “ and let them muddl through.

Part of me can’t wait to boot them out the door. The other part is terrified. This is another thing I have to find acceptance with. I have to let go. I don’t know if I’ll grapple with the empty nest thing, I have my mom living here so I still have a bird in the nest to care for. But I think I’ll miss them more than I am imaging now. . And I know it’s time for them to fly.

But the acceptance comes with letting them do the flying. Letting them steer their course. I know they’ll need me once in a while. (At least for $). But I have to give this one to God and let go of my need to be in charge. I will always be their biggest fan even if they don’t realize it.

I also wonder what do I want to do? If I could catch up on all the things I’m behind on what do I want to do? There’s so many things. Some not attainable now. And some doable.

Since I had cancer I’ve been on this “you gotta live now” motto. And since I’ve been feeling better and have had less pain I want to avoid putting off things for later -when I can. But I can’t do all the things on my list now bc I have responsibilities to others that are a priority. I’ve had to accept this knowing it’s ok to take things a step at a time.

But my biggest question is who do I want to be now that all my kids will be gone from home? I think this is something that I’ll have to feel out.

If anything – I have begun to accept that I don’t always have immediate answers for so much in my life. I am learning to accept that sometimes we just have to wait and see.

And there is some excitement in that for me.

On the Bay.

I was out on my kayak the other day and took a short video. Sometimes the freedom I feel and the beauty of being on the water is just something I want to share with everyone.

Here’s a short kayak ride on the Indian River Bay in Delaware.

Meet Ziggy

Rats! That’s what we had. Many many many of them. I hated to have to kill them but we did and most are gone. Some still hide in the barn. We didn’t put the poison boxes in there. The cats will take care of some and hopefully scare the other off.

Cats? We have them. They just came almost two weeks ago. Three of them. I was leery about getting a cat because our cat Mango was hit by a cat last November but then came the rats. And I decided we needed cats.

So they are here. Two are feral. Jet and Honey. We got them from the Humane Society of Carroll County – they have a barn cat program. Cats are free. We made a donation. They spay/neuter and give them their shots. Pretty good deal. But these guys are as feral as they come.

They are being acclimated now. They are living In crates half covered with towels so they feel safer. After about two weeks we can let them out and hope they stay around and hunt. They won’t ever be friendly – this I am fairly certain of.

Jet will allow you to touch him without clawing you. But he’s sort of in a trance and this is almost two weeks in. He has a bed that’s like a ball and he’s all hidden in there. He comes out at night to use his litter box and eat. He’s gorgeous – all black with huge beautiful eyes.

Honey is striped with honey color. She’s pretty but get your hand near her and she hisses. She stays hunkered down in her crate behind the bed. Eats and potties when we are away. It doesn’t help that her next door neighbor -Ziggy- hissed at her on her first day here. She arrived a bit later than than Jet and Ziggy because she was getting spayed. So her acclimation will be a bit longer. Sometimes I look at these ferals and wonder if acclimating will make a difference. Will they stay? At least I’m teaching them where they can get some good food. I do worry that the males will fight. We will see. I think Ziggy will be the king here. He’s bigger and bolder.

Ziggy came to us from a friend of my neighbors. The family was moving to a rental while they built a new home and cats were not allowed not even indoor/outdoor ones which is what Ziggy is. Except now he’s indoor in a barn and outdoor whenever he wants. Ziggy is very friendly. He seemed to know right away that this was his new home. We have acclimated him for almost two weeks but it just felt ok today to let him out of his crate at his dinner time. He ate some then stretched out then began exploring the hay loft of our barn. He was dirty in minutes. I left his bed outside his crate and we put an extra bed in the loft but he seemed to like the hay. Tonight we left the small “cat” door – which was a goat door years ago- closed so he can’t really get out of the barn unless he jumps out of the loft. Which he didn’t seem in any hurry to do.

Ziggy is laid back I think. Though I’m still getting to know him. Funny thing is that I am allergic to cats but I’ve been close to him and petted him and allegies haven’t bothered me too much. Doesn’t matter though we need cats and it’s nice to have a friendly cat. I feel bad for the ferals but it’s just how they are. We will take care of them and hope they stay.

I think Ziggy will stay. He reminds me of a cat I had as a kid -Mittens- but he’s much bigger. He seems smart. So we will see. I’ve enjoyed taking photos of him. I missed that after Mango died.

Barn cats are workers and they do a job for us but they are also our pets. They will get a good home and we will love them and enjoy them (If we ever see the ferals). But if they choose to leave I won’t go looking for them. Well maybe Ziggy as he’s tame and less elusive then I think the other two will be. So in a way it’s really their choice to stay or not. I hope they do.

So stay tuned for more pictures and tales ( pun intended) of our new barn cats. Well at least one!

Update- Ziggy was still in the loft this AM. He seemed happy to be out and about. Kevin gave him some love and off he went again. He still has to get used to the sounds and the horses and chickens running around as I have some escapees from the enclosure daily. It’s a whole new world for Ziggy.

Ziggy exploring the loft.

Anyone seen the Pied Piper?

Rats – they bit the Babies in their cradles, and ate the cheeses out of the vats, and made nest inside men’s Sunday hats….

That was a line from a play I was in when I was about 7 years old- way back when I was in a private all girls school. I don’t recall much of the plot but I do recall following whomever it was that played that part of the piper out of the auditorium. I think it was an adult and I was a rat (I’ve been called worse.).

Anyway this line from the play comes to me now daily (amazing what we can recall from our childhood) bc we have rats! Rats! In the chicken enclosure. Lots of them. I’ll call it what it is – an infestation.

And they are cute rats. Well ..until you see the tails. They kind of gross me out.

I’m told rats and chickens kind of go hand in hand. And since we have been here 7 plus years now I will agree. I had seen a rat once or twice over the years. And that was after we got chickens. When we moved in there were those rat poison feeder things all over. That should have been for-warning that rats had been here prior to our moving in.

But before I ever saw a rat I got barn cats. Three of them. And I’m thinking this might be why I only saw a few rats here in all those years and now I’m seeing so many. We don’t have a barn cat now. One retired across the street at our neighbors home where he chose the cushy life of an indoor cat who sometimes gets some outdoor time. – and the others have passed on.

I never thought the cats were controlling the rat population because I never saw a rat carcass. I only saw mice and birds left for me in the center Aisle of the barn. Someone even told me cats won’t kill rats but maybe they kill the little ones? I don’t know. But it seems like the population explosion here kind of coincides with the loss of our last cat last November.

Yesterday afternoon I caught motion out of my right eye as I was feeding the chickens and ducks meal worms. I figured it was a rat. Hubby Kevin had recently seen a couple rats looking at him from their holes in the ground -so he got some poison safe for other critters and poured it in the hole. I wanted to avoid the coop for a while because I didn’t want to see dying rats dragging themselves around my paddock and coop area.

See I hate killing things and Kevin -Bless him – knows this. So he tries to spare me from it and maybe his attempts at killing which included the poison and flooding their holes were half-hearted. After all we had only seen a few rats. But the other day Kevin saw one gallantly walking to the coop from the barn. I found a bag of chicken scratch chewed open and it’s contents spread across a work table in the barn. My son Zach reported seeing some rats in the coop. He would spray them with water to scare them off. Hmmm….I began to wonder if maybe we had more than we originally thought. And they are getting bold.

So back to yesterday. I saw the movement under the coop and figured it was a rat looking out at what I was tossing to the chickens. We have two coops and two chicken enclosures for two different flocks and I didn’t think any rats were in this enclosure but I guessed maybe they moved here after the Flood. You know the one hubby Kevin created by spraying the hose into their holes.

Only I would take photos and video of my rat problem! See they are kind of cute!

Well I was curious and I walked over to a covered run that extends out of the coop and leaned down and peeked in and what I saw was like fours sets of eyes looking at me and some busy critters jumping into and out of the coop where we have the food. And they weren’t chickens. Rats!

Whoa!

We all just stared at one another and then I began counting and holy of all things holy we have a problem! Darn it. I began looking at those cute little rats with their little ears and wiggly noses – they are so cute – well not the tails. Why are the tails so creepy?

The rats just kept doing what they were doing which was stealing my chickens feed and not caring I was there- and the little ones kept staring at me. Very brazen. The chickens are either fearful of them or used to them dining in their house.

Let me just stop here and say that my rats though a huge problem because of the sheer numbers of them are not the rats you see in the city. These are country rats and not the giant dumpster divers you see in the city. Country rats are not as bad as city rats. They hang in barns and chicken coops just getting into food not trash cans (though i suspect if they had a dumpster they might dive in it.) Anyway country rats aren’t as gross as city rats. I say this all in jest it but I kind of believe it. Do you like my rationalization here?

I thought back to the tale of the Pied Piper- could I get them to follow me to a safe place. Though I think in the real tale they are led to their deaths. In my grade school tale they were just led “out of town” because you know … little Kids. (I’m adding this link to the summary of the Pied Piper story. It’s scary… maybe I wasn’t a rat maybe I was a kid. But why did we do that play in 2nd grade. The ways of the world in 1970! Let’s freak the kids out! Here is the link.)

But I don’t think my fantasy can work and I think there are way toooo many for humane trapping. Like I want to say I saw maybe 10-15. Maybe more. I know… some of you experts will say -oh there are more. I know. (Insert sheepish grin emoji here. )

And when so many people would have run at the mere mention of rats I don’t. Ok if one got too close I might have run because of rabies fears. They don’t scare me like a big spider does. Gah. I even thought maybe I could hand feed them some of the meal worms I was doling out. Ok – No I didn’t but See how I am? I will not be party to their deaths. But killing them is what is coming. This is not a job for hubby Kevin – I’m calling in the big guns. Let them kill my rats.

I got online to my Carroll County farm exchange Facebook page and asked for exterminators names for rat infestations and got the name of one who uses safe products to get rid of them. We will be calling them asap.

Poor rats. They don’t know what’s coming. But It has to be. I may have actually spoken to them and told them to pack their bags. I have a tendency to talk to all animals. So now you know some more of my crazy. But we all have some crazy. At least I know they don’t really understand me!

Now I have to re-design our feeders. We (aka hubby) had recently made some out of PVC pipe and placed them in the coop. I now realize this has to be reworked. I don’t need food in the coops. Food can mean rats dining there. Having the rats in and out of there is not good at all. So back to the drawing board.

And I think it might be time to get some more barn cats.

I’ll keep you updated.

—-

If you are at all curious take a look at this video. You will see rats and some chicken poop -so don’t look if you can’t take either of those.

Can I Draw?

I remember sitting in art class as a young girl and being petrified. There was usually an assignment to draw some object and I’d look around me and the other kids seemed to be drawing something that resembled the object that stood atop a desk or table. I looked at my scribbles and my insides would jumble up. Then I’d just give up and draw whatever suited me. Usually I would draw a little cartoon my bff and I drew on all our secret notes. We called it a pulb. I can’t even remember how to draw it now. It’s not in my head anymore. I would make twenty of them on the paper.

Ultimately I had to hand in something that resembled what the teacher asked for. Many students art were placed on the walls lining the hallways. I can’t recall mine being there ever.

This may not have bothered some kids. They would draw the best flower or cow or building they could and hand it in and be done with it. I was driven mad by inability to create a nice drawing. I wanted to be able to draw and I wanted it to look just like the cow or the flower that was the model for our assignment.

The things I could draw when I was young were limited. I mentioned the pulb. And I drew tons of smiley faces. But when my fascination with horses bloomed I spent hours and hours drawing horses. Some I copied and even traced so I could get the feel of how to draw the neck or the head. Some of the drawings came out of my head. None were very good but it was my love for the horse and the time spent being in the moment of drawing it that seemed to be satisfying to me.

Another period of drawing came when I became enamored with houses. I loved to go into other people’s homes and see what their floorplans were like. I imagined Home floor plans when I looked at houses from the outside. I guessed where the rooms might be placed based on the where windows were . I perused floor plan magazines spending way too much time for a eleven year old going over every detail of the plan.

It was then I began to draw my own floor plans on graph paper. I made drawings of floor after floor. (I guess it’s not shock that later in life I wanted to be an architect. Something my grades and math skills never allowed but I did major in urban planning.).

I never tired of drawing floor plans and I also began a fascination with maps. (Again this plays into the urban planning major).

I spent all that time drawing and I never felt I was an artist. I wrote back then too. I wrote stories and poetry. I dreamed of authoring a book.

I was the dramatic poet in high school penning love poems to boyfriends. I took a pottery class in high school and loved it. I never made anything good but the wet clay between my fingers was so relaxing.

I never thought myself creative though. It was just stuff I did. When I was a kid you didn’t major in art. My dad wanted me to major in business in college because that’s how I would get a good job. Creative stuff wasn’t going to provide for me in the future.

I didn’t picture having a creative life even after I discovered photography when I was just 22. I fell in love. I loved the technical aspects of photography and the feeling of that camera and the power to capture an image I found beautiful or captivating. I have thousands upon thousands of photos.

I longed to dig deeper into the art. I took classes and was discouraged after one classmates portrait assignment blew mine away. In fact many of my fellow students had much better darkroom skills than I did. I stopped classes soon after but I never stopped taking photos.

It wasn’t until I became a member of a creative group online that I actually allowed myself to say I am a creative. I may not be earning money being creative but I am one. I’m a creative.

I have to say that I’m proud of much of my photography and sometimes the photos that resonate with me aren’t my best shots. They are the ones that convey some meaning to me. A memory, how I felt at that moment. For me each photo has my story in it.

I realized it’s the actual creating that is what matters to me more then the outcome. It’s how I feel doing it. Just walking around with the camera and looking at things differently bc I have that camera in my hand- that’s a feeling I love.

The same goes with writing. Most of the time my pieces that I wrote never turn out the way I thought they would. My writing takes on its own form as soon as I sit down to do it. That’s the part I love.

Creativity is about outcome yes – but it’s also so much about the process. At least for me it is. I think about Michelangelo on his back for so much time painting the Sistine Chapel. It had to be about the process. It took him like 7 years I think. And what about Picasso and Van Gogh? Their artistic styles were so different. Picasso’s work made no sense to many. But it did to him. And when people look at art they get their own feelings about it.

My photo of the Baltimore harbor (see below) means something to me that was personal bc I was there and moved by the scene before me. I know it was winter and I was in the Marriott hotel inside and I took the photos through the window. I had been there to watch a Christmas boat show – a getaway with my husband. See? I have a huge memory of that photo. To someone else looking at it it will mean something entirely different. How cool is that?

So in my creative evolution I’ve become more fluid. I’ve wanted to try more things. I took a glass cutting class where we made some cute trivets. I wanted to keep that up but it didn’t stick. I began painting furniture which I loved but had to give that up bc of my nerve damage to my arm.

I never thought that I wanted to try drawing bc of my past fears. But recently my husband and I found ourselves perusing the aisles of a Michaels craft store (where items are way too pricey btw). Aisle by aisle I became inspired. And then it happened -my husband found a book of animals to draw. The fire lit inside me and before I knew it I was in line with the book and sketch pad and pencils.

It turns out I love to draw. I ordered myself a beginner book. The animal one was a bit hard.

I often think what I’ve drawn stinks. Then I go back after a day or two and I look and think it’s not so bad. I don’t think I’ll ever draw well. In my dreams I want to draw like the artists that can take a photo and draw it and you can hardly tell the difference between the two. I think that’s a huge gift and I don’t think God gave me that one. So I have to tamp down my hopes some.

I kind of want to find some drawing style that is me. But right now it’s the process that I love. I like the time lost in the learning. In the past I’m not sure I would have been as patient. I would have given up. But now it the process that benefits me. It’s akin to some meditation. It’s the same thing as my photos and my writing. All outlets for me.

So can I draw? Yes. Can I draw well. Not really -but I might get better. It doesn’t really matter though does it ?

choices and boundaries

Sometimes the wind gets knocked out of us. Sometimes literally like when we take a sudden fall – then you get that awful feeling that you cannot take a breath in for what seems like an eternity. Then you gasp and take the sweet air into your lungs- things begin to seem more clear  – less frightening.  Then sometimes the wind gets knocked out of us figuratively – some news or event might trigger this syndrome – while your breath is really there you still feel like you are drowning. You don’t know when you can come up for that deep breathe.

Sometimes I feel like I am in waves getting pummeled and then getting up and drawing breath in only to be pummeled again. 

Its been a time- feeling like the wind is constantly being knocked out of me- me trying to come up for air. Me wanting to write about things but feeling like I can’t or shouldn’t or both. But I think I can write now- but should I ?  I need to.


Sometimes people you love make terrible choices. People you love ignore your advice and offers to help.  Sometimes it is just too hard to watch.

Thats where I am. I can’t watch.  Someone in my family has made some very bad and risky choices.  I have confronted this person and they don’t want to stop and they don’t want help. They want me to accept their choices and I can’t – they are not safe choices.

In this “you do you” society (which has been created by the millennial genre) we are called upon to accept everyones choices.  Hey if you are into it then it’s ok.  To a degree I love this philosophy – I want people to feel empowered to reach for the stars, find your voice, live your truth. But the philosophy gets dicey to me if it becomes a way to enable bad choices. Hey if you are into it then its ok. Nobody is supposed to question anyone or warn them if their choices seem to be dangerous of even illegal.  We don’t want to hurt anyones feelings.  You Do You can be taken too far.

And I am not a person to enable anyone when I know their choice is harmful to them or illegal.  But what do you do when someone doesn’t want to hear your advice or offers for help?

I think there are as many answers as their are situations that we may encounter. It depends on the nature of the relationship  and I suppose the degree to which we each are able to watch things take a tail spin.

I just cannot watch.  I realize how little I know this person. That saddens me.

In light of the risky choices being made I had to create a boundary to not only draw my line in the sand but to also help save my sanity.  I knew I could not live day to day chatting with this person knowing what I knew.  Getting together and sharing space would just be too awkward now.  And they liked their choices and found nothing wrong with them. That is their prerogative I guess.  Sadly, they did not want to stop the behavior even in the wake of not being in contact with me and as it turns out other members of the family. I couldn’t watch the train going down the wrong tracks. I don’t want to see it crash.

What is left is heartbreak. I call it collateral damage. The family member assures us that there was no intent on hurting us. But sometimes our choices bring on damage that you can’t imagine.

The breath is knocked out of me. I am sad and angry. I promise myself I wont let this persons choices wreck my day. But it permeates it when I allow it too. It has effected our family unit. What a heartbreak.

I keep asking why? Why these choices? I have always been a why person. I have been to therapy and I have been told that sometimes there isn’t an answer to a why that makes any sense. And I suppose that is true.  I know this person has some buried sadness and pain. But even with all this I can’t figure out why these risky behaviors were chosen.

I know this person needs help but they have to really want it. When they shut out that possibility its so defeating for those who want to help. I want to shake them, I want to hug them, I want to scream….I want to help – but I can’t – not now.

For now,  I am not engaging in contact with this family member. I have made it clear that I need a break. I cant have daily interactions with this person knowing what I know – and frankly I think they feel the same.  A boundary is a consequence and a choice. Its my choice to set the boundary.  It is what I need in order to try to cope with this hurt.

I am sure some people reading this can relate- they may have been on one side or the other of this wall.  I know there will be a time where I can check in with this person but not now.  My open hand is always there if they want to accept help.  Always. Anytime.  I haven’t shut my phone off or blocked this persons number.

When you love someone it is so hard to see the person choose something that can hurt them and even others. It is hard to see the wall go up when they feel their choices are being questioned.  It is hard to not want to try to control it all. It is hard to know you have no control.  I know that the consequence of my boundary isn’t enough to make this person stop their behaviors and I am afraid of the the real consequences that may await them.

So I try to let go and live my life. Sometimes I wonder if I can ever forgive this person for the collateral damage they have caused.  The air of sadness that has permeated us. The feeling of rejection. That we aren’t important enough – that their bad choices are better and more important than the family that loves them. It hurts a lot and it angers me too… and then there is the need to help them that pulls at me – nags at me like itchy wool. Sometimes it all blows my mind and thats when it feels like the wind is knocked out of me.

But I get up again- brace myself and wait for the next wave.

 

 

 

 

What to say- and a painful setback

I see spring making it’s way to me.  I feel the warm sun as the angles change. I think about sitting out in the heat. I hope for an active summer. I want that.

I have been very mute lately when it has come to my writing. I have been blocked. There has been so many things happening in my world that I have become so overwhelmed and the words that need to spill out won’t.

Some things I just cannot yet write about – they are just too personal. I have always hoped to be as authentic as I could be when it came to my writing but so many things I just cant speak about now. It seems that God continues to test my faith. Is it that? Or just random hard crap that is bound to happen in some part to most of us- maybe some of us get more challenges than others.  I don’t know but my faith remains steadfast though I do shake my fist sometimes and ask why?  I think God gets it.

Anyway so what do I say? Maybe today I will write about things I can write about and maybe at some point I will feel ready and able to write about some of the other stuff. And maybe the stuff I don’t write about that is blocking me will take a step aside to allow my words to flow.

There has been a shift somewhere deep inside me this last year or so.  Sometimes I wonder if it as a result of all the surgeries I have had- all that anesthesia to my brain. Maybe its the pain I deal with- but I feel different. Not horribly down, but down sometimes and flat other times and sometimes I feel like me but with shifted worldview. I even went to my doctor to see if I am depressed and according to the questionaire I am mildly depressed. So I was prescribed an anti-depressant. I don’t do well on Anti-d’s typically -but I was given one that is in a different class than other ones I have used. All of those were for anxiety and depression and none ever worked right or I got some nasty side effects from them.

Anyway I haven’t take the Anti-d yet. Thats because I am now taking some other new meds for pain. My pain has returned – this time likely because of a failed fat graft. I have learned they can fail- die- form cysts etc. This graft in particular was put in an area in my posterior axilla (back of armpit) where the hope was that the stem cells would work to rejuvenate radiation damaged tissue.  I felt that graft with my fingers right after surgery. I worried that it felt really big in there and it sat in an area where I have had quite a bit of pain. But for over three months I didn’t notice anything. The grafts under the scars were doing well and that graft in the axilla wasn’t a bother- until it was.

A few weeks ago, I had a weekend where I did so many things (because I was able to finally do things again)and I can’t tell what may have set off the fury under my arm. Unloading boxes into my new kitchen after our reno was completed, I did a little barn work, I did a little working out.  Whatever it was set off a fire if intense pain that seemed to worsen each day thereafter. I called my nerve surgeon and gave me prednisone in hopes that we could calm down whatever was acting up. Prednisone was an elixir like no other. But as soon as the pack was done back came the pain. Stabbing, burning, searing, aching- crappy pain. Oh and this time swelling too. It just wasn’t feeling right under my arm.

When my nerve surgeon saw me he ordered an ultrasound and blood work and he added antibiotics because of low grade fever and the swelling  – and he ordered an anti-inflammatory – but no prednisone.  I begged for prednisone – it helped so much. You can only have so much prednisone I am told. Nothing has worked as well as that prednisone pack – not even medical marijuana. But maybe I don’t take enough MJ-I don’t want to feel “high”. My surgeon suggested trying opiates if needed. I haven’t taken opiates in months and want to avoid them if possible. I just want prednisone- it is hard to believe it is more dangerous than opiates.

I am back to limited mobility once more. I see the plastic surgeon next week who did the actual grafting. He did confer with my nerve surgeon about my setback and did feel it likely is the graft causing the pain. He did say he can take it out- which means surgery of some sort.

So frustrating.

I keep thinking how can I make lemonade from this? Maybe tack on a facelift or some tweak while I am under? God knows I have aged a bazzilion years since this all has started. I deserve some tweak – fillers don’t cut it!  Well if nothing cosmetic can be done, perhaps he could add more grafts under the scars that were treated before- I was going to need another procedure anyway- but that involves liposuction and that has a longer recovery time. so we will see.

I am looking at this as a setback. Pop that graft out and hopefully that area that has been my most painful area since I began this pain crap will settle down so I can enjoy my summer.  I had been looking so forward to summer before this setback. I am trying to keep a positive attitude. Sometimes that isn’t so easy for me.

It is funny how pain can become such a focus when it is intense and when it is dialed back or gone you can so easily forget you had it. I have kept marching forward looking for things to ease my pain and understanding that those that try to help me are not always sure things will work- I am kind of a guinea pig I guess.  I just keep the faith.

So I sit here looking at the sun across my pastures and I wait for spring and the warmth. Our home renovation is finished with some minor tweaks here and there. I have an office and I have a kitchen that is so pretty I hate to soil it with cooking.  I remind myself that through hardships there are always blessings. I see them each day even if I don’t always acknowledge them. Lately, things have been hard for me and for my family.  I search for my words and for my authenticity. I will keep it as real as I can and maybe in time I will have more to say. Ill know what to say….