Productivity is relative.

 

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Yoga and meditation for chronic illness.

Now, first let me say that I’m trying very hard to practice what I’m preaching, here.  I started doing yoga when I was about 12, as I was starting to recover from years of illness, and started doing it regularly as a Junior in high school. I took yoga in college, and have continued to do it on a semi-regular basis since. Needless to say, there are days that I can’t even imagine doing Savasana (Corpse Pose, or the resting period at the end of your practice,) whether it be from lack of energy, pain, or weakness.

A few days ago, though, I was reminded of the possibilities of yoga poses by this article from SparkPeople:

 

Nearly every pose out there can be modified for just about any limitation. Seated poses are great, especially if you work in an office environment, or another environment where you don’t get to stand up and move around much. (Be sure to go to the next pages in the article for specific instruction on seated poses.)

Another thing about yoga is that it regulates your breathing, and causes you to have to focus on your body alone. There’s plenty of quiet time as you’re trying to keep your balance in Tree Pose, or as you’re trying to be aware of your core while pulling your sacrum upward as you pull your heels down to the floor in Downward Facing Dog.

I also came across this link to Yoga Nidra, or Yogic Sleep, which is what many people experience at the end of each practice with Corpse Pose. This goes a step further, adding guided meditation to the experience. It’s said that one hour of yogic sleep is equivalent to three hours of “regular” sleep.

 

Click on the photo for free recordings to use during your meditative practice. I surprised myself by staying in a meditative state for the majority of the 45 minute recording I chose to listen to. I’ve meditated before, but often no more than 15 minutes or so. It helps with the fibro fog and anxiety by calming my brain and helping me focus. I also sleep much better afterward.

Do you practice yoga or meditation for your health? What’s your favorite pose or mantra?

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Listen to the music! How music improves your health and helps you deal.

So, it makes sense that music just makes people feel better (as long as you like the music, of course.) But to read that it can help reduce chronic pain up to 20%, and depression by 25% is just profound to me.

Music has gotten us all through tough times. Most recently, as my mom was suffering from the aftermath of an allergic reaction to the pain meds given to her after surgery (which meant she was completely without pain meds a couple of weeks after her knee replacement,) combined with not having been given her daily medications during her stay in the hospital, I made her an uplifting music list to load onto her iPod. When she was in too much pain to bear, or felt overwhelmingly anxious or depressed, she would put in the ear buds, close her eyes, and “hide” for a while. When she emerged, she was her old self again.

So, I thought I’d share some music with you that I find uplifting. I hope it makes your day a little brighter! If we don’t have the same taste in music, though, just find what you like, close your eyes, tap your feet, and feel better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy listening!

Gentle hugs,

Chelsea

When life gives you hands, make handmade!

Right now is a financially stressful time for us. Tom decided to take a break from school, which means those awesome GI Bill benefits he received for being a full-time student went away and won’t come back until he goes back to classes. Our job as the janitorial staff at the on campus mission where we lived for 2 1/2 years ended shortly after. Add in getting a dog and my dad passing away, and, even with some financial help, we’re pinching our pennies. Fortunately, I’m a habitual saver when we have money to do it. Tom is working part time, and I’m working the arts and crafts scene. I posted on Facebook that I would be happy to do any crafty odd jobs, and got a couple of responses!

A friend said that her little boy couldn’t decide between being a dog or a cat for Halloween, so she bought a couple of headbands with ears on Etsy, and needed paws to match. After looking at photos of the ears, I created these puppies (snort) to match:

 

This picture was taken before I added elastic to the wrists, but this is essentially how they turned out. I put my felt, embroidery thread, and beginner sewing skills to good use. I’m pretty proud of them! It’s not often that I get to do sewing projects for anyone other than myself, and she loved them, so that makes me very happy! I hope her little boy gets lots of play time out of them beyond Halloween.

Another friend asked if I would paint a small canvas with this phrase:

She loves the sentiment, but she wants something that looks more like handwriting, more handmade. She and her family just downsized to an apartment, and she wants this reminder by their front door. I may end up making something similar for myself when I’ve finished hers.

In addition to the odd crafts, Mom and I have been making and listing Halloween-y items for our Etsy shops, and I even set up a booth last Friday at the 13th Street Morgue/Dungeon of Doom haunt grounds. I particularly enjoyed making these skeleton hand earrings (click the image to visit our shop, JuJu Eyeball):

 

In another attempt to pay the bills, and, obviously, as a part of the grieving process, we’re having our estate/yard sale next Saturday.

 

I’m currently making signs, and will spend a large part of tomorrow pricing what’s left in the garage and putting like items together. We recently bought a tent and folding tables to use at arts and crafts shows, so they’ll come in very handy! We’re also borrowing a clothing rack from our friends at the Tri C. Truth be told, I’ve enjoyed organizing yard sales in the past, so that makes this experience a little easier. I like making a “junking” experience a nice shopping experience for people by setting up the way a store would, and I love it when people get excited because they’ve found a good deal. It’s also not your traditional estate sale, since we’re having it at our own home instead of Dad’s, we’re selling some of our own things, and our neighbors will be joining us.

We’re definitely getting creative and working hard for the money, but I’ve been so grateful that Tom has had some extra time to help me with all that’s been going on, and that he’s been able to rest some after his non-stop University experience. I truly believe that everything has worked out the way it’s supposed to, and, even though things are a little stormy right now, I’m going to count my rainbows.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

 

Abercrombie & WhoGivesACrap

Overly sexualized ads geared at young people. Clothing that rarely fits a body that has curves, or that is tall, short, or anything other than built like an average-sized wooden dowel. The same 4 colors everywhere you look: blue, pink, red, green. (To be fair, there’s white, grey, black, and brown, too.) Often uninspired design. And now, this: http://elitedaily.com/news/world/abercrombie-fitch-ceo-explains-why-he-hates-fat-chicks/.

I mean, really. Does this guy want to run his business into the ground? What parent in their right mind could support this kind of business ethic? After all, it’s mostly parents buying clothing for their children, or giving money to children for them to buy the clothing, that keep this business going. Yes, we get it, your brand is exclusive. Every brand markets to a target audience. It’s smart to define your clients in a way that makes to you, so that you can better sell to them. It’s not smart to be a jerk.

That said, Abercrombie isn’t the only brand that seems to perpetuate the idea (mostly aimed toward women) that being thin is the only way to be beautiful, cool, wanted. They also perpetuate the idea that men have to be buff, virtually hairless, and tan. Goodness, aren’t we hard enough on ourselves already? We have to grow up too fast, go to college, get a degree, find a career path, marry, have beautiful children before a certain age, make more than a million dollars to be able to retire, enjoy an active lifestyle, eat healthfully, maintain and acceptable number of relationships, have interesting hobbies, and strive for youthful beauty at all costs the whole time? No thanks. I’m not buying it.

I think we could all use a little more of this in our world.

More of this.

And this.

This, too.

So, spread it around.

And, for goodness sake, genuinely compliment someone on something other than their physical beauty. It’s nice to be admired for the way you look, but we’re all so much more than that. We’re intelligent, emotional, passionate creatures that deserve to be recognized as beautiful for who we are.

Oh, also – shop at thrift stores if you’d like to stick it to the man. You can score Abercrombie & Fitch (and any of the other big brands that demand we submit and conform to their standards of beauty) for a fraction of the ridiculously high retail price, and support a worthy charity at the same time.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Put a little love in your bod.

Just a few important reminders!

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Insomnia. Friend or foe?

I just realized why it’s so often that I can’t go to sleep even though I’m beat. (Other than the fact that my sleep cycle changes at least 4 times a year, and I have a problem turning off my brain or ignoring certain pains.) It’s the quiet. The peaceful, dark quiet. It’s a rarity in my life right now, and I’m enjoying it every chance I can get.

Seriously, folks, I never thought I’d count sleep problems as a blessing. Right now, though, I’m listening to the dry leaves blowing in the wind outside my window, and reveling in the perfect quiet of the building. All day I’ve been on edge, despite my efforts to focus on gratitude, immerse myself in work, and talk to the people I love. It’s been one of those days that I could go from screaming to crying to laughing to silent within a matter of minutes. In case you’d like to know, it’s partly due to my hormones, which are easily scrambled, even by medication that’s supposed to be the same thing I was taking before that worked so well but cost nearly $100 a month. Anyway, I sit here, typing, listening to the most subtle sounds, and I realize that I’m calm. Ok, so maybe that’s part Elavil, but I’m not kidding when I say that I absolutely cannot get away from the noise in this place during the day. Not even in our apartment, old and thin-skinned as it is.

Here’s something you may know all to well or you may not know at all about FMS: symptoms include light and sound sensitivity. I got a double whammy of that with the epilepsy, I think. Even though I’ve become accustomed to the ringing phones, slamming doors, loud group conversation, other various (usually electronic) noises, and bright fluorescent lights,  it’s very clear to me once they’re gone how the unstoppable assault on my senses not only slowly chips away at my sanity, but affects me physically.

Unfortunately, due to the physical and mental limitations that have become my norm, leaving the apartment also replaces any energy I have with fatigue and anxiety. The grass is always greener. I guess some would say the grass is brown on both sides, but I’m for optimism all the way.

So, I sit here, soaking up the silence.

Close my eyes, let it lap at my feet like waves.

And drift out into a sea of rest.

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!

Inspiration of the day – Let’s go Matt, let’s go!

Oh, man. I cried like a baby.

So, for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, here’s Matt and his amazing parents, teachers, and classmates:

http://sports.yahoo.com/blogs/highschool-prep-rally/inspiring-elementary-schooler-cerebral-palsy-runs-amazing-400-154523256.html

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Arthur Boorman’s inspirational story.

This post is under “I want a smile,” although it may give you a good cry! I’m inspired and humbled by this man’s story. And I bawled like a big old baby.

It’s so often that people have to take their wellness into their own hands when doctors don’t have the answers. His story is a testament to determination, faith, and the amazing ways the human body can work and heal when we don’t give up on it.

Off to do a little yoga now.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

P.S. – If you would like to check out the instructor/program Arthur used, here’s the website. I have to say, the videos are a little corny, but the guy is an ex pro wrestler, haha. It’s not the type of yoga I’m use to (DDP only incorporates some yoga postures, and there are lots of traditional yoga styles to choose from) but I do know that ashtanga yoga has helped with my fibro pain, the joint pain caused by my hypermobility, and my energy level. I’m going to make a commitment right now to start a regular practice again, and I’ll log my progress on the blog!