Energy!

 

Chronic illness cat, you speak the truth.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Here’s to rest.

Wishing you all a restful weekend.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

The most difficult thing in life …

“The most difficult thing in life is to know yourself.” – Thales

I forgot to take my camera to the reunion, so here’s a shot thanks to my alum-mate, Heather (left.) It’s hard to believe I’ve known Gabby (right) since we were in elementary school together!

Last weekend was my ten year high school reunion, and yesterday was my 28th birthday. So much has changed throughout my life, but yesterday I was thinking that most people I know never really feel their age. Parts of themselves feel older, parts younger, and there’s a sense of never really knowing if you’re a grown up yet. Much of me is still the same as it was in high school. I still like a lot of the music I listened to then, I still love to learn, read, write, and create things. I still have many of the same friends, and even some of the same insecurities. I still love Halloween and sweets and look pretty much the same physically. Now, though, I have a better sense of what I want to do in my life, and who I want to be. I’ve experienced more, learned more, and have had the chance to mentor friends younger than me, though I forget, sometimes, that I’m not their age anymore. I’m a little more out of touch with what teenagers are doing and thinking – how quickly that happens! I’m a married woman, for goodness’ sake.

A few days ago, my friend, Rachel, answered these questions and challenged everyone to answer them to learn a little more about themselves. So, I figured that now is the perfect time to do that; to see what my favorite things are now. Here are my answers – some will never change!Color: Darker shades of purple, turquoise, and olive green 
Drink: I drink lots of water!
Food: Right now, I love gyros and sugar snap peas, but I could live on anything cheesy – pizza, macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches …  
Place: The living room in our new apartment.
Dream Travel Destinations: Europe (specifically England, Ireland, Scotland, and France,) Hawaii, and a tour of the United States.
Book/Currently Reading: Currently reading The Monster’s Corner: Stories Through Inhuman Eyes. It’s a collection of short stories by different horror authors.
Male Musician: William Fitzsimmons, Macklemore
Female Musician: Pink, Storm Large,
Band: Incubus, Pentatonix, The Black Keys, Florence + The Machine
Hobby: Singing, writing, reading, crafting, yoga
Nail Color: Toes: FuschiaRama by Wet N Wild; Fingers: Tickled Pink by Wet N Wild (Yay cheap nail polish!)
Morning or Night: Night! 
Movie: I can always watch “A Knight’s Tale,” “Serenity,” or “Stardust.”
Male Actor: I consistently enjoy most things with Johnny Depp or Bruce Willis.
Female Actor: Emma Stone, and Jennifer Lawrence (more for her real-life personality than anything.)

Also, for the record, pretty much any actor that’s worked with Joss Whedon.
Sign: Cancer
Guilty Pleasure: Cheesy romantic comedies, York Peppermint Patties, 90’s dance music
Favorite Flower: Mums (all kinds)
Dream Car: I would love to have a Mini Cooper, but that would be totally impractical.

Good Habits: Drinking water, being frugal and thrift/vintage/antique shopping, supporting local and small businesses, taking my makeup off before I go to bed, and learning to say no.

Bad Habits: Picking at my skin, causing myself anxiety by obsessing over things, eating too much sugar, and taking on more than I should.
Dream House Style: It varies as far as the architecture is concerned, but inside would be colorful and eclectic: a bit bohemian, a bit vintage, a bit dark and/or whimsical.
Move or Stay Put: Stay put. 
Need to make more time for: Working on the business with my mom, exercise, and traveling.
Currently Working on: My health, my marriage (readjusting after mission work,) and creating a better at-home work schedule.

There you (I) have it! If you decide to answer these questions for yourself, take note of what’s changed, and what took you a while to answer. I always have a hard time with “favorite” questions involving music, since my tastes differ from day to day. Food questions are easy, though, because of my undying love for anything cheesy. I look forwarding to seeing what changes within the next ten years. 

Gentle hugs,

Chels

An awesome giveaway with a twist!

My style has always been a little off-kilter, and I love dramatic and humorous touches to an outfit. That’s one of the reasons I love Peach Plum Pear. My new friend, Leslie, is the mastermind behind pieces like the Oregon Trail necklace:

 

I can’t count how many times I died of dysentery on that game …

She also makes some really beautiful jewelry, like this Art Nouveau statement necklace:

Isn’t it lovely?

What’s that you say?

You must see more?

Well, you were probably lured in by the title of this post, so I’ll get right to it.

Head on over to Coco and Cocoa’s blog for her $40 gift card giveaway to Peach Plum Pear!

If you don’t win the giveaway, or if you just can’t wait for someone else to snag your favorite piece, do not passgo:

 

Now, for the twist. By entering and sharing the giveaway, you not only get a chance to wear one of Leslie’s unique creations, but you’ll also be contributing to a great cause. Leslie is a member of the chronic health issue club, who’s been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and other illnesses, as well as adhesions. Adhesions are really painful sheets of scar tissue that can bind nerves and other tissue, in her case, part of her digestive tract, together. Adhesions act like a glue that can cause severe pain, obstruction, and other debilitating symptoms. To learn more about them, go here. Unfortunately, the type of surgery Leslie needs to relieve her of those terrible symptoms is only available in Germany, so she’s raising money for the trip and procedure by selling her awesome jewelry. So, please pass the giveaway and shop info along, and help Leslie reach her goal – she has $19,399.00 left to go! (To donate directly to Leslie, visit her Go Fund Me page.)

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Pet Peeves

I don’t know where the term came from, but “pet peeve” sounds so much cuter than the meaning. Those little, annoying, grating things … to paraphrase some well-written Incubus lyrics, it’s like chewing tin foil.

My list of pet peeves is pretty small. It used to be bigger, but then I grew up, and all that angst and anger at the world started to fade. I’ve always been a “why can’t we all get along” kind of girl, anyway. So, short as the list may be, here it is.

1. People who have a blatant disregard for rules, or think that they don’t apply to them.

Obviously, this one isn’t black and white. Rules can and should be bent or broken when the need arises, but all in all, rules are pretty important. It especially bothers me if someone is breaking a rule that’s meant to keep people safe. The teenager riding his skateboard the wrong way down the middle of a street lane, for instance, got a honk and a call to 911, because his response to my honk made it clear that he didn’t intend to stop. It especially, especially bothers me if the person doing the rule breaking is older than a teenager and should know better and who’s brain development and hormones should have leveled out enough by now to control the impulse even if they do know better. Obey traffic signs, please, people.

2. Loud snorting.

This one is much more specific. There are not many things that make my stomach churn, but snorting makes the list. I’m not talking about cute, funny snorts as the result of a laugh, or a sniffle with a cold. I’m talking that deep-down, sinus rattling, loogie inducing, why the heck is that necessary snort. You obviously have an unbalanced mucus to sinus cavity ratio and are in serious need of some Flonase or Mucinex. Please seek help.

3. When people say they “hate” something every few minutes.

If you’re agreeing with me about how bad something is, and you say, “Yeah, I hate that,” ok (and thank you for agreeing with me.) If you really, truly dislike something, hate is a nice, descriptive word to get your point across. If you hate everything and nearly everyone, however, and feel the need to voice it constantly, we cannot be friends. Even if you’re just saying you hate them when you really don’t. People who say they love everything may be annoying, but it’s much better than hating everything. Hate. Ick.

4. That I can only hear one or two notes of the music you’re playing in the other room or car.

I get it. You’re enjoying playing or listening to one of your favorite songs. I LOVE music. However, when it’s loud enough that I can hear it across a building, or on the road with all windows rolled up, but not loud enough so that I can hear most of the notes/beats, it drives me up a wall. Hearing the same one, two, or three notes out of an entire song is maddening. Even if I know the song, and can substitute what I can’t hear in my head. Bonkers, I tell you.

So, that’s about it. Nothing else I can think of has a big enough impact to mention. What are your biggest pet peeves?

Gentle hugs,

Chels

 

 

Pumped up kicks (fibro style.)

If you have any kind of chronic pain, chances are, shoes (or the lack thereof) are a big part of your life. The tallest heel I can wear anymore is about an inch, and even then I can only wear them when I’m going to be sitting down the majority of the time. So, my sandals, my flat, Keds-style sneakers, and my bare feet are what I put on my feet most often.

When I was a kid in elementary school, it was popular for the girls to get a little crafty with their sneakers. Neon puff paint was the obvious choice, but if you had the allowance a Bedazzler was the way to go. Then, in high school, any sporty girl who wanted to raise money for her team of choice or show spirit for her school learned how to tie scraps of fabric (in spirited colors, of course,) to flip flops and make them snazzy. Now, I’m not saying I support the sudden and unnecessary resurgence of neon, or that I ever liked the flip flops that were big on the flops, but you may want to break out the Bedazzler, folks, ‘cuz this trend is coming back! No need to torture yourself with sky-high heels, either, because, with a little DIY, flats can be sassy, too.

Exhibit A:

The Stud.

The same thing could be done with cool buttons or cabochons.

 

Exhibit B:

The Sparkle.

Think of the possibilities! These things are like tiaras for your feet!

 

Exhibit C:

The Intergalactic.

Dude, whoa. These look way more complicated than they actually are. Sponge on some paint and put random silver dots all over it.

 

Exhibit D:

The Quick Change.

This is my next DIY project. Don’t have access to shoe clips? How about clip-on earring bases? Don’t like bows? Cut out felt shapes in different colors, stack them together and glue. I’m thinking superhero action bubbles (bam! pow!) would be awesome, too. You can get as crazy as you like, because these babies just come right off when you’re tired of them!

 

And finally, Exhibit D:

The Big Faker.

For those of us who mourn the loss of our high heeled friends daily. These would be SO easy to DIY if you’re confident in your basic drawing skills. No paint needed – grab a Sharpie in your favorite color, buy a cheap pair of hi-tops from Payless, and get to doodlin’.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

 

 

Grief and pancakes.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

Oh yeah, and large amounts of bread-y breakfast foods.

Today is the first official day of our 2-week break from the Tri C (even though we still need to clean it,) and my husband from school. Not from life, of course. Darn it.

Tom finished his last summer final on Thursday, so yesterday he decided to host a humongous pancake breakfast for UTA students here at the center. The pancakes were many. As were the piles of bacon and turkey bacon, plus the giant bowls of a variety of fruits, and industrial sized jugs of syrup. As I’m typing I’m wondering if there are any left over for me to eat for dinner …

Anyway. I helped a bit with the preparation, but my dear husband let me sleep in so that all I had to do was come out and eat with friends. Then I went back inside the apartment to work on some painting and plan a little date for the two of us involving all the spare change I could scrounge. The date included dollar menu items and a beautiful local park. complete with sub-100 degree temperatures!

Breaking from the fun, I’d like to mention that since the beginning of the month (well, really all the time,) I’ve had the death of my aunt looming just behind the everyday thoughts. So, whether I’ve been conscious of it or not, it’s affected my mood and my physical health considerably. Now, since I’m in a flare up, the brain fog has gotten worse, and I can barely even track the day of the week, let alone the actual date.

It’s probably for the best, because today I woke up thinking it was the 10th. Even though I distinctly remember looking at my phone for the date to write on a bill I paid yesterday. Denial is a river in Egypt. So, I woke myself up early this morning to do one of my favorite things (though I’m sure I didn’t appear particularly thrilled with life to my perkier than is natural, morning-happy husband.) I got dressed up! Today’s church luncheon in honor of the ladies of the “Greatest Generation” (nicer than “We’re Not Sure How We Made It This Long,” though I’m sure a few of those witty ladies would appreciate that title, too) was a lovely excuse to wear my newly thrifted green dress. Tom commented that it reminds him of a vintage nurse’s uniform, and I have to agree. I also got to wear the beautiful black Austrian crystal necklace a sweet friend gave me on Thursday. I put on my peep-toe shoes and headed for church, ready for whatever my friends needed me to do, since I wasn’t able to participate in the planning. Ice was scooped into cups and fancy, tearoom style dishes were plated. There were decorations in pink and gold, and couples even brought their Keurig coffee machines to grace the drink table. The honorees were so appreciative, and we were all glad to learn more about them. It really was a beautiful event; a new tradition I hope will be carried on for years to come to honor more women.

After helping with cleanup, I stopped by a few local businesses to leave flyers for next week’s fashion swap. Then I headed home, changed into comfy clothes, sat down, and it hit me. Today isn’t the 10th, it’s the 11th. Mom and I bought some silk flowers a few days ago to arrange and put on my Nana’s grave in honor of her and my aunt, since we don’t have a grave site to visit for her. I called my mom to see how she was doing and to see if she wanted to take the flowers to the cemetery, and we decided we’d do it tomorrow when Tom and I come over for lunch.

It’s all the same when you can’t remember the date, right?

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Undergarments = torture devices

 

Can I get an amen?

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Cervix wars.

Note: If you are easily affected or worried by others’ medical stories like I am, and/or are going to have a biopsy or procedure similar to the LEEP, it’s okay to wait to read my story after it’s over, or to not read it at all. I promise. I’d rather commiserate with you than make you miserable!

I dub today LEEP Recuperation Day #3. Here’s what led up to it:

A story I don’t share much, because, honestly, I try not to think about it much, is the story about the invasion of my cervix by pre-cancerous cells. Really, some of my good friends don’t know much about the situation. Not that there’s much to tell. It’s something I’ve been dealing with for about 4 years now, and the 6 month checkups/colposcopies/biopsies have become pretty routine. Each time I get anxious, but my last couple of checkups have really taken the cake in that department.

Let’s call the first one the “false hope” incident. It went as follows: I contacted the women’s health center near my home (not the center that performs the colposcopies, but the one that requires a yearly well woman exam to ensure my birth control prescription gets renewed,) because I had just recently visited the dysplasia center, and wasn’t sure if I needed to make my well woman appointment or if I just needed to make an appointment to renew my prescription. A very sweet, well-meaning nurse informed me that I wouldn’t need to have another exam (sweet,) and I just needed to come in and talk with the doc about my prescription. She went on to ask how my last dysplasia appointment went, and I told her I was still waiting for results. She checked my chart, and was elated to tell me that the results were normal. Now, I tried not to get too excited, because, as you may already know, pap results can be normal while biopsy results may be abnormal at the same time. So, I explained I’d also had a biopsy, and asked if those were just the pap results. She assured me that “all of the test results came back normal,” and I was in complete shock. Seriously, I had to sit by myself in that quiet room for a few minutes for it to sink in. After the shock wore off, I was extremely excited, and shared the news with my family and some friends. For a few weeks, it felt like a baby elephant had been lifted off my shoulders. After 3 years, those low-to-medium grade precancerous cells had finally left my body! Then the results from the dysplasia clinic came in the mail. The results were (you probably guessed this, because you’re smart) abnormal, and I was a dangerous combination of crushed and very, very angry. Punching things angry. As I side note, I just want to say that kind of anger is okay, just as long as you don’t punch anything living; I don’t advise punching anything too hard, either. Fortunately, the office manager I spoke to at the women’s health center was incredibly sympathetic, and we had a conversation about how we both wished the results protocol was handled differently in the JPS system. I knew she couldn’t fix the problem, or the fact that I still had those nasty little cells, but it was helpful to have her to talk to. Sweet lady, whose name I’m sorry I don’t remember, I will always be thankful for you.

By the next 6 month appointment, I had come to terms with the results (again.) I thought things would continue on as they had for the past few years, which I was used to, and I reminded myself to think optimistically. There was a mantra of “the cells can still go away; they haven’t progressed” playing on repeat in my mind for a while. Then came the incident we’ll refer to as the “Why the *?&^ didn’t they tell me that?” incident. After the colposcopy and a particularly painful biopsy that was meant to remove the offending spot on my cervix, I thought, “Finally! Why didn’t they do this before?” When the doctor offered, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. An extra dose of pain was fine if it meant getting rid of the cloud of impending cancer hanging over my head. As usual, I waited weeks for the results, trying especially hard not to get too excited over the prospect of the dysplasia being gone for good. Let’s keep it real – I’m an optimist, but I’m not a fool. When the results came in the mail, though, what I read came out of left field. It was a notification to schedule a LEEP procedure to remove the pre-cancerous cells, and there was something scribbled in the margin about severe dysplasia.

Hang on. Can I just take a second and mention that, while I admit that I wouldn’t have the best penmanship in the world if I wrote that many notes in a day, I’d make darn sure that, if I was a doctor, I wrote patients’ test results and follow-up instructions clearly? Nothing incites a feeling of doom like getting an important message that may be really good or really not so good and not being able to read it. Dear reader, do everyone a favor. If you know a medical professional, or if you are a medical professional, could you please kindly but firmly remind your friend or yourself that legibility can either be sweet mercy or cruel torture? Thank you.

I called the clinic to clarify what my mail meant, thinking that my mild to moderate cells had gotten worse, and found out that the severe cells were in a different spot entirely. Now my not so threatening spot had a very threatening friend. No one had mentioned this to me during the actual exam, and since it’s a teaching hospital, they’re supposed to inform you of every little thing they do when they do it. In other words, someone should have said, “I’m going in for a second biopsy because I see a new area of dysplasia.” All I knew was that the doctor was trying to remove the original cells by performing a more extensive biopsy. All of a suddden, I got to experience a new procedure that involved way more slice and dice than what I was used to.

Needless to say, I was pretty upset. Not so much about the procedure, because it was something I’d talked about with my former doctor as a possible treatment. The LEEP procedure uses and electric loop to scoop out tissue and cauterize the area so that it will heal faster. In other words, they cut out the area, then burn it. If it sounds horrific, it’s because it is. I mean, if we’re going to compare it to other horrific things in the grand scheme, it’s not so bad. If you’re a woman reading this, though, you know that anything involving the maiming or removal of the physical symbols of your womanhood (breasts, reproductive organs, or genitalia) can be psychologically damaging. Frankly, another thing I just try not to think about. What I was so upset about was that, once again, I wasn’t given the correct information the first time around, and I felt violated. I spoke to another office manager, who was nice, but thought that she was talking to me because I was scared of the procedure. When I told her the reason I was upset, she really couldn’t do much but listen. At least she did that.

Fast forward to a few days ago. Fortunately, my husband was able to go with me to my appointment. Also fortunately, the wait wasn’t long, and the nurse and doctor were incredibly informative and asked several times if I had any questions. The nurse turned on one of the machines so I wouldn’t be surprised by the noise, and I had seen the familiar face of my doctor before in another visit. Unfortunately, the screen that magnified the area of the procedure was positioned so that the doctor could view it during the procedure, which means that it was also positioned for my viewing displeasure. I turned my head to the left and the nurse gave me a mask to squeeze for the numbing injection. The whole procedure was over in less than 10 minutes, and I was on my way home. After about 45 minutes, the numbing med wore off and I felt the full effects of the procedure. After taking the Tramadol prescribed for my fibromyalgia symptoms a couple of hours later, I was reminded of how well it works. These past couple of days have also been reminders of how blessed I am to be able to rest when I need to.

Today, 3 days later, I went to see The Amazing Spiderman and eat Mexican food with my husband and brother in law as an early birthday celebration. I have little to no pain from the procedure, I’m following the instructions the nurse handed me, and life is doing what it seems to do best. It’s going on.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

P.S. – If you would like good info about the LEEP procedure or any other procedure, I encourage you to ask for information from the clinic or hospital where you are a patient. You can also check out WebMD here. While there are plenty of medical discussion boards out there, I would recommend visiting them in moderation (or staying away altogether) unless you have a pressing question you forgot to ask your doctor who can’t be reached, or that isn’t explained on a credible website. My body, just like everyone else’s, is just that: mine. No one experience will be exactly the same as another. I sincerely hope yours is a good one!

Today I’m Inspired.

I’m having a bit of a rough day (not feeling well,) but I can’t help noticing a trend on Facebook: inspiration. I’ve seen several stories worth sharing, so I thought I’d share with you!

First, a story about giving. These ladies make me want to give. And bake, but that’s beside the point.

Next, a list of visual inspirations. Consider my faith in humanity restored. (Also, you should head here to my beautiful friend Rachel’s blog, and listen to some music while you scroll through those photos.)

Finally, there’s this. If you don’t laugh, I don’t know what to do with you. You probably need a good cry first. Or ice cream. Let me know. (P.S. – I’m very, very sorry for the picture of the woman in the men’s restroom. She’s clearly inebriated. But it reminds me to count my blessings!)

Thanks, friends on Facebook, for making my day a little less about me and a little more about baking grannies and boxes of kittens.

Gentle hugs,

Chels