The older I get, the less significant time seems to become.  Or more significant, depending on how you define significance.  There are seemingly fewer minutes in the day.  There are seemingly fewer days in the year.  I remember when the two months of summer break felt like a decade and the school year felt like a lifetime.  But now, with only two short weeks left in the boy’s kindergarten year, it seems like only yesterday we had our first meeting with his new teacher.  Like only a week ago, he was gone to his dad’s for the summer.  And in the blink of an eye, he will be back there again for this summer.  Part of me, I suppose the more selfish part, is looking forward to his (and my) vacation.  I will still see the girl as normal, but I won’t have child or children around every day.  That part of me looks forward to me time.  That part of me looks forward for the opportunity to do what I want, rather than what is expected of me.  That part of me looks forward to shucking off a good portion of responsibility, even if it is only for a short while.  But the rest of me dreads his departure as one might dread the amputation of a limb.  As I dread each and every time I have to say goodbye to one of my children.  More often with the girl, but in no way less painful.  You’d think I would have gotten used to the idea by now.  I’ve been saying temporary goodbyes to one or both of my children since the boy was a year old and his father “decided” to be a father.  Granted, there isn’t the stream of tears that once followed his departure, even if only for a weekend.  At least not an outward display of them.  But there is still the inconsolable pain of loss in my heart.  Thankfully this gradual shortening of time does make their times away seem slightly less “significant,” if not any less painful. 

But really, why does time shorten as years on the planet lenghten?  I remember when an 8 hour day was more than sufficient to finish any project I decided to take on.  In my mind it still is.  But in reality, 8 hours is a drop in the bucket.  In reality, I can lose an entire 8 hours to researching the compatibility of Rock Band and Guitar Hero games and equipment.  Or more recently, researching wedding invitations and photographers, only to not find a suitable option for either.  Apparently time has a cruel sense of humor.  The older I get, the more I have to accomplish, or alternately, the more I take on.  And the less time I seem to have.  Does this time-warp phenomenon only exist in my life, or is it universally true?  I could have sworn it was only 10am five minutes ago.  Only now I look at my clock and realize I have less than an hour left at work.  Where did the day go? 

It might be different if I accomplished something every now and again.  Or even if I just sat, but had incredibly prolific thoughts all day.  But no.  I simply maintain.  I maintain a household, barely.  I maintain a couple children, most of the time.  I maintain a functioning body and mind, sort of.  Even my maintaining is lacking in accomplishment, and I swear it’s because I just don’t have the time to do it right!  10 years ago, I could get things done, done well, and still have time to party all night and do it all again in the morning.  15 years ago I could write an impressive 10 page report in a couple hours.  And 20 years ago, days seemed like they would never end. 

Today?  Today I accomplished nothing.  Today I will feel hurried and tired all day.  Today the sun will go down before I realize the time.  Today I will go to bed exhausted, far to late, and dread tomorrow as I fall asleep.  And in two weeks I will have all the time in the world, yet will accomplish nothing with it.  And two months later, the boy will come home. The school year will start anew.  And life will keep on trucking at far to fast a pace, leaving me gasping for breath until the end.  How very depressing it all is.

I’ve been playing hooky from my blog lately.  Not exactly sure why.  Maybe I’m tired of whining about how I feel.  Maybe I’m having some guilt about blogging when there are a MILLION other things I should be doing that I’m just not.  Maybe I’m being lazy.  Whatever it is, maybe I’m over it.  Maybe I’m not. 

So how do I feel I (don’t) hear you ask.  Well.  Lyme disease sucks.  It really does.  Physically, I have more bad days than good days.  There is pain, pretty much everywhere.  Some days it’s not so bad.  Some days it’s excruciating.  Think of a body part…yeah, it hurts there too.  So that’s fun.  Also, there is the “floaters,”  the harmless little black lines and spots everyone has in their eyes from time to time.  Only, mine are multiplying like horny rabbits and are always there.  Seriously, the words on my computer screen are dancing right now.  It makes reading anything very difficult.  And a new addition to the eye thing: now there are white, or bright spots along with the black spots.  It must be similar to what celebrities see after being flashed with a thousand flashbulbs on a regular basis.  My ears, constantly ringing.  Constantly.  It’s like after going to a really good rock concert, only I don’t get the perk of actually going to a really good rock concert.  It makes me very sensitive to sounds.  Annoying sounds are that much more annoying.  Loud sounds are that much louder and more grating.  Even whisper sounds drive me nuts.  I’m seriously craving a sensory deprivation chamber right about now, but all my problems are internal, so that probably wouldn’t work anyway.  I’m nauseous, and my appetite fluctuates between famished and I never want to eat again.  I almost always have a headache.  At the moment (I think) I am developing a nasty cold, since I’m stuffy about 50% of the time and there is a golfball-sized lump where my left lymph node should be in my neck.  My hands and feet swell randomly.  I’m tired and achy when I wake up in the morning, every morning.  After my shower (at $5 per shower thanks to needing a 6×6 tagaderm patch just to take a shower…gift ideas anyone?) and coffee, I am fairly awake for about 2 hours, then back to sheer exhaustion until I finally make it to bed at night.  I have cotton mouth pretty much all the time thanks to the pain meds, which don’t full work.  I get horrible stomach and muscle cramps thanks to the antibiotic infusions every 12 hours.  And now I’m on ADHD meds for the severe memory lapses and brain fog, so who knows what kind of side effects that will bring.  The antibiotics are also bringing about all the “normal” antibiotic side effects: candida, indigestion, digestive issues, upset stomach, etc, etc.  Probiotics are holding it off to a tolerable level, but then that just adds another couple pills a day to choke down.  Yea! 

Then there is the emotional stuff.  Long term pain = depression, of some sort or another.  I’m cranky most of the time, which I very unfairly take out on Mr. W (who is taking this all very well considering) and my kids, unfortunately.  (If only the ex-men would call more often to take the brunt of the crank!)  I’m feeling extremely unattractive, undesirable, un-everything thanks to a new, very short hair cut that I’m really  not liking (the showering thing, it only made sense to make my “getting ready” routine as easy as possible),  the bloat/weight gain that makes it difficult and uncomfortable to get dressed in anything but sweats, and, oh yeah, there’s the 4 inch long tube sticking out of my chest, just above my left boob, which requires wearing a sports bra to bed every night, and I’m already pretty flat in that area.  Like I need the extra compression.  My upper body has become a no fly zone, and with my flat-chested sports bra “lingerie” and my extremely short hair, I’m feeling more an more like a boy in the bedroom.  Not so great for the “mood,” at least on my part anyway.

Aren’t you glad you asked? 

Beyond the Lyme, I’m prepping for Christmas, which incidentally will be held over New Years in my house as the kidlets are with their dads this year.  Money is tight, but on-line shopping has provided me with some fantastic deals over the last couple months.  Yea for being proactive in something. 

Mr. W got a new job, starting just after Christmas.  Fortunately it’s like a 40% pay raise and in the field he loves.  Unfortunately, his office is about a 1 1/2 hour commute each way, even with public transportation, and his hours may be sporadic due to the type of work he will be doing.  So he won’t be home much during the week.  But we will be moving somewhere near the middle in the early Spring, and hopefully his new connections up there will throw out some info on jobs in my field of work and then we can move all the way up there.  I’m not planning on changing jobs any time soon…well at least until after I A) graduate, also early spring, and B) get the tube out of my chest and resolve all of my health issues.  “Nice to meet you on my first day of work.  By the way, I’m going to need to work a half day once a week so I can meet my home nurse, and I need at least 2 days off a month for doctors visits, and will probably average 1 other day off a week for just general sickness, and that doesn’t even touch any kid-related time off…thanks for the job.”  Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well with a new or potential employer. 

And speaking of new jobs, one of my best girlfriends is starting today at her new job, here, with me.  Yea!!  We met briefly in basic training (different squadrons there), and went on to Tech school together.  Although we were in different classes for the same career field, we had the same circle of friends and lived in the same hall.  We went to our first base together and managed to work out being roommates there.  Our friendship didn’t do so well in the dorm setting.  She was a party girl and I grew tired of that pretty fast as I was more interested in boys, and yes I do mean boys.  Looking back, I had pretty shitty taste in males!  I married ex #1, despite her loathing of him and warnings about him.  I even left her off the guest list to our wedding.    Anyway, we both eventually transferred and went on with our lives.  You know my story.  She went over-seas.  Grew up a lot.  Had a son.  Moved back stateside, and we reconnected about 5 years later, our friendship re-growing on a much more adult level.  Long story short, she was looking for more security for her and her boy, and my office was looking for more reliable new employees.  I introduced the two and wa-la.  She starts today.  All around, it’s great.  I have a close friend who is actually geographically close.  My kids and her son get along great, and they all have had a shortage of “at home” friends up to this point in their lives.  And she’s getting the security and benefits she needs for her and her son, while working decent hours.  I get a reliable, hard co-worker among a group of (mostly) assholes and slackers.  Win-win-win all around!

So that’s that.  I’m successfully dizzy from watching the letters dance on my screen, my fingers are starting to tingle from actually using them.  And I need a smoke and a coffee refill.  Oh, yeah, and I should probably get to at least one of those previously mentioned MILLION things I need to get done, like, yesterday.

Just in case I slack on the blog again for a while…

So after totally inundating myself with information, and then cleaning up the mess after my brain exploded all over my desk, I finally called my mom.  My mom is, well, my mom,  but she is also an RN who has been nursing for over 35 years.  She’s had the formal training, but unfortunatly a giant majority of her nursing time has been spent in the psych ward, so while she gave me her opinio, she insisted that I talk to my step father about it.  So she called him and had him call me. 

Initially when I told him of my dilemma, he immediately went full Portacap (chest thingy).  He explained both procedures to me, and took into account my lifestyle in his recommendation.  The Portacap isn’t exposed (unlike my previous assumptions) so the risk of infection is crazy-reduced.  It’s actually inserted underthe skin and virtually undetectable, except for the little scar opening to put it in.  The needle that is used pierces the skin to access the cap.  The PICC line, on the other hand is “like two half-straws dangling from your bicep” all. the. time.  So there is the risk of infection, sepsis (that nasty thing you can DIE from), and of course there’s the aesthetics of it, even with a sleeve to cover.  So he was all about the chest port…until I mentioned that my needle would remain in me for a week at a time since the plan is for once or twice daily infusions.  Would that be an issue with my kids?  With my activity level?  Which, granted isn’t the highest on a 1-10 scale, but still…  At that point, he reluctantly changed his recommendation.  He was thinking on a dialysis point of view, where treatments are two or three times a week, so the needles are removed after each treatment.  He admitted the whole needle-sticking-out-of-my-chest thing was a little more risky than the PICC line, so yeah, go with the PICC.   And then he proceeded to tell me in VERY. DETAILED. INSTRUCTIONS. all the things I will do and need to do and should do and shouldn’t do, yada, yada, yada.  Don’t get me wrong.  I totally appreciate the information and advice.  Small doses are better for me at the moment though.  My memory is, well, non-existent at the moment. 

Seriously.  I have to write notes to  myself on my hands during the day.  Hopefully between washing my hands in the bathroom and getting back to my desk I can remember what it is I washed off so I can rewrite it.  And then I count on Mr. W seeing it when I get home so I will actually remember what it is I needed to remember.  Yeah.  It’s like that.  I can’t even remember how I started this post.  The fabulous Girl from the Ghetto left me some comments on a couple other posts from late last week (I think) and I had to go back and read my posts because I had no idea what she was talking about!  Yeah, that bad.  Losing your mind really sucks!

Ok, I re-read what I started this post with, and in case any of you are wondering, I’m aiming for the PICC line.  It makes more sense for me, and it’s technically the short-term option, and I’m holding on to the hope that this will be a short-term treatment…hope, hope, hope…  Of course, that may all change when I see the surgeon on Monday for my consultation, or my veins collapse during the procedure, or I throw up all over the nurse during the procedure…  In case any of you are totally twisted interested enough to want to see what is going to happen, search “PICC LINE” on Youtube.  There are oodles of videos of people actually getting it done.  Strangely, I couldn’t watch.  Normally that sort of thing doesn’t bother me, but something about knowing I was actually going to have it done made my stomach turn in a way I’ve never felt before.  Of course, stranger than that is that there are actually VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE OF THE PROCEDURE!  Freaky! 

Oh, one other symptom I don’t think I’ve mentioned before: Floaters.  In my eyes.  I’ve always had them, but now, they’ve gone all bunny-like on me and there’s like a million little floater babies and aunties and uncles and grandparents.  It’s a freakin floater family reunion in there!  Makes staring at a radar screen and discerning between an airplane return and something in my eye a little difficult.  Plus my vision has been cycling in and out of fuzzy for weeks, so, yeah…

And because I can’t remember if I’ve ever posted all my symptoms for all you lovelies who care (or don’t, but you’re still reading, so yeah), here is a rough list:

• stiffness and cracking in my neck and shoulders
• joint pain, started with the knee, now in every joint
• (see above) arthritis-like stiffness and pain in my fingers and toes (typing sucks. writing is worse)
• headaches
• insomnia
• floaters (in the eyes)
• fuzzy vision
• acid reflux
• migraines (not to be confused with headaches, two TOTALLY different animals here)
• short term memory loss
• long term memory “issues”
• “brain fog” ie. forgetting why I went to the fridge by the time I get there, forgetting names, can’t find words, using wrong words, spelling simple words wrong, lost thoughts, inability to concentrate, inability to take in information, etc, etc, etc
• “urinary issues” ie, I need to pee constantly, or can’t pee
• mood swings
• depression (esp. post-partum)
• anxiety
• body pain that feels like it’s in the bone (not an official symptom name, but I can’t remember what it actually is)
• heart palpitations
• indigestion
• “bowel issues” (yeah, not going there)
• nausea
• vomiting
• fatigue
• muscle weakness
• muscle spasms
• muscle pain
• can’t hear (or maybe I just can’t decipher, but either way, most of the time I have  no idea what’s going on)
• constant ringing in my ears

I’m sure there are more, but have I mentioned?  I can’t remember shit!  Seriously.  I had to go back to see if I had written insomnia 5 symptoms after I wrote insomnia!  Blah!

Update: There are things I left of the list that are just a little to personal to post.  And there was something I wanted to add, but went to the bathroom after publishing, and subsequently forgot by the time I got back to my computer.   Also, I forgot to title this post.  This. totally. sucks!

I know it’s been awhile, but, yeah, life is sucking right now.  Well, not totally sucking, but stressful.  Totally stressful.  And a little bit of sucking.  Adding to the stress.  So overall…

First the good news:

The boy does not have Lyme Disease!!  Yea!!  But the bad news accompanying it: He does have an Iron deficiency.  Which would explain his extreme tiredness and general crankiness, all. the. time.  But that means he needs another blood test to see exactly what the deficiency is and how bad.  Yeah, suckiness.

Also on the good news front, we may be selling the house, like soon.  We got an official offer two days ago and are now hashing out the details of the deal.  Yea!  But the stress with it: we have to find a new house (to buy or rent) pack this house, and move by the end of November.  Yeah, suckiness.  The possible buyers are first-timers so they are hoping to get in on that $8000 tax thing that ends November 30th.  Yea!  Nothing like a rush to get your blood pumping!  Did I mention suckiness?

So, some good news, but a lot of stress.  Stress is great.  It’s wonderful.  It helps with sleep, and bodily healing, and relationships and everything! (I figure if I keep saying it maybe it will come true…)

And then there is the Lyme, which pretty much encompasses everything bad in my life.  Ever.  Seriously.

So, I’m not getting better.  This all started in July, and 3 months later I’m actually getting worse.  The pain, while not as severe (or maybe it is and my tolerance is just getting higher) is getting more widespread.  Like my entire body. The. Whole. Thing.  So there’s that.  But also, I’m getting new symptoms.  I think I mentioned my spinal tap, you know, when they removed my spinal fluid from my spine! Yeah, that was fun.  Anyway, it came back negative for MS, and also for brain damage.  Yea, right?  But wait, there’s more.  I’m having increased neurological symptoms. Memory lapses, poor short and long term memory.  Temper flares (severe).  Mood swings (also severe).  Difficulty (major) concentrating on anything. Speech problems.  Not actually speaking, but finding words..simple words.  Even typing this is difficult at the moment.  So no brain damage…yet.  Pain is part to blame for the mood swings and general brain fog too.  It’s very distracting to be in pain all. the. time.  I’ve heard that when you break something or experience some severe trauma that your brain shuts off the pain receptors to protect you.  That doesn’t seem to be the case for long term pain.  Long term, fluctuating, total body pain.  Yep, the pain receptors keep on functioning perfectly.  It’s hard.   On my body.  On my mind.  On my mood.  On my entire being.  But, yeah, that’s the rest of it.  Basically, the doc figures the little bastards that are causing the Lyme have found their way to my brain and while they haven’t damaged it yet, they may.  The spinal tap and MRI won’t show them since they are little bastards bacteria actually inside my brain, so without the damage there is no way of for sure knowing they are there.  But by symptom tracking (the best friend to any Lyme sufferer anywhere!) we are pretty sure they are in there.  So, agressive medicine time.

I’m getting an IV line put in.  I have basically two options here, both not appealing, both having a time frame of 1 to 3 months, or longer, depending on how I respond.

Option 1: a Picc line.

They put a line in my arm into my vein (or artery, whatever) and I self administer the antibiotics twice a day.

Option 2: a portcap.

They put a quarter sized cap thats about a half inch thick in my chest, either just below the clavicle, or possibly under my breast (for appearance sake only).  Then they stab the cap with a needle (the needle gets changed weekly) and leave it there for me to self-administer the antibiotics.

Both lines are run through my body to about the same area, going towards my heart.  The Picc line is cheaper, and won’t leave as big a scar, but it’s in my arm, which I tend to use more than my chest.  Also, I have these two 45lb people I routinely carry around with my arm, so yeah, there’s that.  The port is a more extensive “surgery” so I get to be put out (bonus) but of course that means more money for the anesthesiologist and all.  And besides, not a fan of those guys anyway.  There is a slightly greater chance of sepsis with the Picc line.  Sepsis is when an infection gets in your blood and you go on a nice date with Death, hopefully leading to nothing more than a good-night kiss, but with a good posibility of a love at first sight moment lasting for all eternity.  Yeah, that serious.  But the place the IV hooks to is much more secure, and smaller.

Besides the implant, I also will have a nurse.  Yep.  My very own home-visiting nurse.  She (or he) will come to the house to show me how to administer my antibiotics when I first get it.  Then she will visit once a week to change my dressing, check my lines and site, and if I get a port, change my needle.  This goes on,well, until it’s done.  Like I said, estimating 1 to 3 months for now, but who knows.  Yeah, complete and utter suckiness!

Mr. W isn’t doing well with all this.  He hasn’t for any of this really, but now it’s worse.  We are fighting, well, technically we aren’t even talking at the moment, but that’s from not wanting to fight.  I’m hurting and cranky and bitchy and hiding it all the best I can (apparently not the bitchy part) because I don’t feel like I can talk to him about it all.  It’s not just that he stresses, but I feel like somehow he’s making it about him.  And it’s not about him, dammit!  My mom does the same thing so I just learned not to tell her anything.  I don’t want it to be like that with him.  I’m so frustrated with it all.  I need a vent.  I need someone to spew to who will just listen and comfort me and not try to fix everything and not get visibly stressed everytime I bring it up.  I need to be held and babied a little.  I need someone to tell me everything is going to be alright, even if neither of us believe it.  I need to believe it, even if it’s just for that moment in time.  I’m scared.  I’m frustrated.  I’m depressed.  I’m in pain.  I’m not doing well at all and I have to fake the funk for work, for my kids, for my parents, well my mom at least, for the ex-men.  I’m tired.  Tired of the pain.  Tired of being sick.  Tired of being limited.  Tired of faking it.  Just tired of everything.  Yeah, not doing well at all.

So, that’s where I’m at today.  Tomorrow will be a new day.  Maybe better, maybe worse.  Maybe the same.  At least it’s one day closer to something else…although I don’t know what that something else is yet.  Just getting through today…

Next week will mark two whole years since I left my (marital) home and moved an hour away (closer to work) with just my children.  I marvel at how much has changed since then!  I was in my lowest of lows at the time.  Miserable is a day in the park compared to what I was going through.  I was lonely, angry, depressed, medicated, counseled, sad, disappointed in myself and in life.  It was just bad.  I found what little comfort I could in my children and when they weren’t around, in a sadly misguided relationship with someone who admittedly helped me through those times by providing me companionship and comfort in the form of what I thought was true feeling, possibility, hope.  Within a couple months I found the “love” that was declared was nothing more than a kind of misplaced devotion that was moved to me during hard times with his wife.  (Yeah, I’ve been that girl…)

That kind of devotion, the infatuation, the lust, the worship, even.  It’s not unpleasant.  In fact, it can be downright intoxicating.  I’ve caught my fair share of admirers.  I’ve even allowed myself to get caught up in the moment with them, feeding on their unbridled declarations of adoration like it was a drug, usually using them up completely before moving quickly on to my next hit.  I’ve left a small trail of broken hearts and/or broken spirits in my wake, never really caring because, really, are they that pathetic?  That’s  not my fault!  I was the man that mothers warned their daughters about, only, I wasn’t.  I was something worse.  I was a girl who played the man’s game better than the boys.  Even two separations and two children apparentlyhadn’t brought me to the light.  At the time I split up with ex#2, I was so completely engulfed in darkness and despair that I didn’t, no couldn’t care enough about another person to realize what was going on before it was too late.  I couldn’t care enough about  myself.

“Do you know what it is to feel the light of love inside you? And all the darkness falls away.”  –Dave Matthews Band, “Shake Me Like a Monkey”

“Why, yes, Mr. Matthews.  I think I have…”

Admittedly, Mr. W and I didn’t have the most promising start.  Both fresh out of not just relationships, but marriages.  Both with children we felt we were neglecting.  Both dealing with a million and one things in our own lives.  We came together in what would probably be considered, even by us both at this point, a time of weakness, for all the wrong reasons, and in the wrong way to start a relationship (physically).  But who said either of us was looking to start a relationship?  Yeah, not so much.  It was a “friends with benefits” sort of scenario if I’ve ever seen one.  But then something strange happened…the darkness began to fall away…

I really never knew “it” could be like this.  I’ve come so far in the last two years in so many areas of my life, directly because of Mr. W; his companionship, his support, his friendship, his love.  He’s never forced anything on me, consciously or otherwise.  The most appealing part of our relationship (well, besides the way it started) was always the lack of pressure.  I didn’t have to think or do or worry or stress (when things were good at least), I could just be.  And now that we’ve worked through all those rocky times, and things are good, the just being is bliss!  Yes, we have worries and stresses and things to think about, but we do them together and we’ve found a way to do all that without putting the pressure on each other or our relationship.  This is how it should always be.  …and I call him Mr. Wonderful!

Mr. W stood next to me in that darkness.  No, he crawled into the hole with me and sat next to me until I’d let him hold me.  Then he held me until I was ready to think about the light.  Then he listened to me talk about the light until I was ready to move towards it.  And slowly, we walked into the light together, holding hands the whole way.  He didn’t pull or push.  He stayed right at my side as I did it on my own.  He gave me back my strength while seemingly doing nothing at all.  Sure we’ve had our moments in shadows during our relationship so far, and I’m sure we will have some downright eclipses sometime.  But I’m willing to bet, all those times we struggled and fought and went through the darkness, if either of us had bothered to look down, we were still holding tightly to each other’s hand.  I’d put my life on that!

There are times, maybe I’m out and about on my own somewhere, when I will get a glance or a comment or a flirtatious moment from some nice looking man and I’ll admit, I sometimes get the blushes and the little stomach flip and I feel a little hint of that old me buried deep in the past and begging for a hit.  But only sometimes, and less and less often for every moment I spend in my new, most wonderful life with my most wonderful mate*.  And less than a moment later.  A split second, a breath, and without even trying, I know who I have truly loving me at home.  I know what I have.  I know that it’s everything I’ve always wanted and so much more.  And I will never give any of it up for anything in the world.  Not for a secret hit.  Not for a few moments of flutter.  Not for the unknown.  Not for the possibility, because quite frankly, there is no possibility.  I won’t give him up.  I won’t give us up.  Never.

* from dictionary.com

Mate:  –noun

1.  husband or wife; spouse. 
2. one member of a pair of mated animals.
3. one of a pair: “I can’t find the mate to this glove.” 
4. a counterpart. 
5. an associate; fellow worker; comrade; partner (often used in combination): classmate; roommate. 
    

   friend; buddy; pal (often used as an informal term of address): Let me give you a hand with that, mate. 

6. Nautical.   a.   first mate.     b.  any of a number of officers of varying degrees of rank subordinate to the master of a merchant ship.    c.   an assistant to a warrant officer or other functionary on a ship. 
7. an aide or helper, as to an artisan; factotum. 
8. a gear, rack, or worm engaging with another gear or worm. 
9. Archaic. an equal in reputation; peer; match.

I think that works wonderfully!  Well, except for the “nautical” stuff, but he is the Navy boy, so I guess he can handle that part of the definition on his own.  

I’ve been meaning to post about my acupuncture experiences since I started them and a recent health study/questionnaire from the VA actually asked about any “alternative health treatments” I’ve sought/received so I figure now is as good a time as any.  The questions have helped me intelligently categorize my treatments with my reasons for seeking treatments, so all the better since my mind is so very unfathomably complex and brilliant (read: totally scattered and muddled) that me just winging it wouldjust cause more confusion, probable headaches, possible seizures…or at the very least banging of your head against the wall to uncross your eyes…

I’ve heard fantastic success stories about all three treatments, but these are just my experiences:

Massage:

First “alternative health treatment” I ever tried was massage.  I’m sure there are millions of people out there who get, or have gotten massages before.  No biggie.  I still haven’t quite deciphered all the different massages: hot stone, deep tissue, reflexology, Swedish, aromatherapy, sports…the list goes on.  I always thought you just go in and someone rubs on your sore spots for a while and then you feel better.  And then I opted for my first deep tissue massage.  OH THE PAIN!  Yeah, came out feeling SO much worse than when I went in.  And during, I was gritting my teeth so hard for the hour so as not to scream that I gave myself a wicked headache.  But I figured that is just how it’s supposed to be.  Yeah, it hurts but it’s all for the best right?

And then I made friend with a wonderful massage therapist (Y) who pointed out the sore error in my thinking.  It doesn’t have to hurt.  As a matter of fact it’s not supposed to hurt if done right.  And she emphasised this point by giving me several deep tissue massages that – are you ready? – didn’t hurt one bit!  And I felt better immediately.  She even took care of the soreness from lifting weights that I had when I was working out.  In my mind, it was as though she placed her hands on the spot that hurt (usually in my upper chest and armpit area – from benching) and then remove her hands and the pain was gone.  Simply fabulous, she is!  She works with the body to eradicate pain, stiffness and soreness.  She is the first (of many) therapists who has actually taken the time to take a physical overview of me prior to the massage (rather than simply asking where it hurts, or what I want her to concentrate on).  She asks about past injury, tender areas, soreness, stiffness, sleeping habits, the whole deal.  THAT is how a massage therapist should work.  It’s a pleasure to see her, every time I see her.  Totally non-invasive with immediate results.  Fantastic!

What massage has done for me (on a much higher and consistent level when I started seeing Y):

• general muscle soreness – alleviated
• mild joint pain – alleviated
• tension headaches – soothed
• sore back/neck/shoulders – well, of course
• insomnia – I was able to fall asleep and stay asleep!
• post-workout sore muscles – completely gone
• general relaxation – well, you knew that part

Reiki:

At Y’s suggestion, I began seeing my “Reiki lady” when things were rough in my life.  I had just started dating Mr. W seriously, but as you may recall we had quite a few ups and downs before we leveled off to the “wonderful” we are now.  I was also still hot and heavy on the battle front with the exmen, so stress was high, and my spirits were low.  You can read about my experiences with her here, and here.  Y also began training in Reiki, and would practice on me from time to time back then, and I’ve gone to see her for treatments a couple times since.  She even gave me a quick, on the spot treatment at work on a particularly bad day.  It was amazing. 

I wasn’t feeling spectacular physically at the time, and emotionally, I was a wreck.  Mr. W had just returned from Iraq, and we weren’t doing well.  I’m sure there were other stresses involved as well.  I just felt heavy.  I felt like there was this thick shadow weighing on me constantly.  I felt as though my head and shoulders were dropped to my knees and that the crying was going to begin any second.  Y ordered me to sit down at her desk (she works in my office) and relax as she placed her hands on my shoulders.  Five minutes later, seriously five minutes later, she removed her hands and it felt in that moment like she had brushed away that shadow and heaviness in that one movement.  The world was literally brighter in my eyes.  My head was higher, and the feeling of tears was completely gone.  Amazing.  It was literally that quick. 

Normally Reiki sessions are 30 or 60  minutes, possibly longer.  For those that don’t know, it is “energy healing.”  The therapist opens him or herself to not only your energy, but also the energy that exists all around us and uses herself as a channel to bring in good energy, healing energy.  Unlike a normal massage, this is done fully clothed, and the therapist may simply place their hands on certain parts of your body, or may not touch you at all.  They seem to focus a lot on the areas of the 7 chakras (tail-bone, lower belly, solar-plexus, mid-chest, throat, forehead, and top of the head) but other areas as well. 

For me, its a lot in the feet, legs, and shoulders.  Some therapists who have been doing it a long time, or are just a little more in-tuned to the world may be able to read other parts of you, or give guidance passed from spirit guides, animal guides, angels, or what have you, depending on what you, or she, believes in.  But whatever you believe, you can’t deny the existence of energies all around and even if a person doesn’t believe in the healing possibilities of energy work, it can’t possibly hurt, so what’s the harm in trying? 

I have sought Reiki massages for:

• depression and anxiety – greatly reduced, more with each successive treatment
• focusing – accomplished
• lifting my spirits - accomplished, with amazing results!
• increasing energy – accomplished at the time
• getting to know myself – yep, that too

One side effect I may have mentioned before is the “floaty” feeling that lingers for awhile (up to 2 hours for me).  As Y describes it, the feeling of “not being in your body.”  Not a bad thing, but something to be aware of if you have plans immediately after. 

Acupuncture:

By far the most intimidating thing I’ve tried so far.  I don’t like needles, and as much as I’ve heard that it doesn’t hurt, seriously, someone is going to put needles in my skin?  How could it not hurt?!  But in the desperation of the “mystery pain” that didn’t respond to any pain meds that would leave me conscious, I succumbed to the hope of feeling even slightly better.  Luckily, tow of my co-workers, Y and the fabulous D, both use acupuncture for pain management, as well as for other things, both see the same practitioner, D on a regular, bi-monthly basis.  So I picked their brains and made an appointment.

My first appointment with SAM (Super-acupuncture-mama) was 2 hours long.  (All subsequent ones have been an hour)  Our first hour together was an introduction period wherein we went over my entire medical history, including the physical, mental, emotional aspects, bowel movements, bladder function, sleep patterns and disturbances, emotional history including divorces, sexual relationships, etc, etc, etc.  She had 3 full, handwritten pages of info on me by the time the hour was up.  Everything.  Yes, I will admit that some of the questions she asked were a little more in depth than I was initially prepared to divulge despite, or maybe due to her very grandmotherly aire… –but I sucked it up and answered truthfully, and I’m glad I did.  She immediately recognized patterns in areas of my life, tied to different channels and meridians in my body.  Even the time of night I woke up fit.  My first visit was prior to my Lyme diagnosis, and after our introduction, the first thing she asked was if I had been tested for Lyme or not.  Hmmm…

The second hour began with her going over the equipment (the needles, metal, solid, thin as a hair, smooth – virtually impossible to catch any fluid even if attempted) and the acupunturing itself.  She then had me disrobe down to my undies and had me lay face down on the table (a normal massage table, you know the one with the hole for your face).  She started with my back and shoulders…about 30 there…and moved on to  my arms, hands, top of my head, legs, upper butt (sciatic nerve) and heels.  I probably had clover 50 needles in me total, and although I was a little anxious about whether or not I could move at all lest I dislodge one, or worse, stab myself (incorrectly), I didn’t feel a thing once they were all in.  Seriously.  I wouldn’t lie.  If there were 50 total, about 5 of them stung a little when inserted (like a mild mosquito bite), I felt a slight pressure of her inserting about 10 of them (zero pain), and the rest I didn’t feel anything at all.  Nothing.  Really, I felt nothing.  And as I said before, once they were all in, I couldn’t even concentrate on a spot that I knew there was a needle and feel it.  NOTHING!  All fears dispelled.

As far as after effects, SAM explained that I may not feel anything for a couple days.  There is a possibility of slight (small, 1/4 inch diameter) bruising, but that occurs more with older folks.  Other than that, I was a little foggy from the short nap I got in during the treatment period.  But two days later, no pain.  For four days straight.  Now, I had been in constant pain (averaging between 5 and 8 on the pain scale) for about 3 weeks with no relief, ever.  And those four days were glorious.  But the pain came back.  I’ve been seeing SAM weekly now for a month and I am virtually pain free.  There are flickers here and there, a little soreness or stiffness at times, but nothing even remotely close to what I was feeling before.

Other things she is working on for me:

• emotional well-being (anger and occasional weepiness) – greatly reduced
• waking up at 3am – done
• waking up at 1am – done
• other general insomnia – greatly reduced
• headaches – haven’t had one in weeks
• allergies – reduced slightly
• joint pain, stiffness – greatly reduced

And yesterday I mentioned my cold, and tendency for getting 2-week long colds every month during the winter and she not only promised a combination of acupuncture and Chinese herbs would make this my best-feeling winter ever, but she also got rid of the head stuffiness, reduced the watery, stinging eyes and runny nose, and eradicated the waves of nausea I was having earlier in the day.  Yea!

Note: I know it is very important to drink plenty of water after a massage or Reiki treatment (I do after acupuncture as well, just in case) due to the release of toxins into your body.  Massage releases all those acids that cause most of the muscle pain, especially post workout and you really don’t want that stuff just sitting in your body.  The water helps to flush it out before it can sit in your kidneys or elsewhere.  It probably isn’t a bad idea to drink water before as well, unless you are like me and will need to pee shortly there after.  It’s hard to get in that relaxing place while doing the pee-pee dance after all.

No, seiiously.  Yea!  While a diagnosis of Lyme disease isn’t exactly good news, it is waaaay better than the alternatives of MS, cancer, or worse! 

My doc’s office just called to tell me that my blood test (one of 9 that the ER didn’t do) came back positive and I’m going in today to do what?  I don’t know.  A lady I work with has it, so I pumped her for info of what to expect.  I guess I’ll be getting an IV of antibiotics, possible several of them over the next month or so from what I’ve read.  Plus other possible meds.  From the symptoms I gathered from my co-worker and online (gotta love WebMD), I may have had this for like 10 years or so.  Hmmm…see boys (ex-men) I’m not really crazy!  I guess anxiety (check), depression (check), joint pain (check), general “fogginess”/forgetfulness (check), spacial problems like bumping into things (check), headaches (check), and other random crap (check, check, check).  Some of these things, like the unexplained knee pain (which is the joint it usually attacks first), have been going on since the late 90′s.  And we all know I’ve had my bouts of depression/anxiety. 

But all in all, I say yea!! 

ps.  I had my first acupuncture experience yesterday…more about that later…

Remember the good old days when you were all too eager to please your prospective mate, when you actually got greater pleasure out of doing all those sweet things for him/her than he/she even did?  Young love, honeymoon stage, whatever you call it, it all comes back to being nothing but a phase in the relationship.  But why?

Why is it the flowers and foot-rubs end?  Why does the sweetness and tummy-butterfly-flutter end?  Why does the constant consciousness of your “other” end? 

I remember the days when Mr. W would ask to rub my feet, nightly.  I remember when he told me how beautiful I was on a daily basis, sometimes more.  I remember when he was willing to do almost anything for a smile.  I remember when we couldn’t keep our hands (and lips, and …) off each other.  I remember when we could talk for hours and not even realize it.  And now?  Now we go to sleep at night.  Now we can go hours without saying a word.  Now I fish for compliments.  Now I have to erupt spell out my feelings of low to get a response from him.  Don’t get me wrong, his responses do end up being totally fabulous, but I miss the days when he just knew, and was ready to make it all better before I even realized what was going on.

I realize that I’m probably not the same as I was either.  But, just as he doesn’t realize his changes in specific, neither do I.  All I can say is the overall aura of our relationship has shifted to some other place and while I am fully prepared to take half the blame, I’m really not ready for the shift itself.  Problem is he probably won’t tell me my part of all this, content to stay quiet for his percieved peace’s sake, so I stay here blaming myself in the dark.

I started noticing these changes little by little over the last months, since his return from Iraq.  Something shifted in that time away, and while we have (probably) worked out the tension and thereby all but eliminated the conflicts, there is still something…different.  It has all become more poignant over the last weeks, with little expressed sympathy over my dad, and moreover, with the absence of the historically present overcompensation of loviness that used to accompany my son’s departures to his dad’s.  (34 days until I see him again!)  There was a time that he understood my bouts of depression that sometimes preceded and always followed a newly empty house.  There was a time that he would overcompensate, showering me with love and attention, taking my mind out of despair and onto some other distraction.  He got to the point (in all his wonderfulness) that he even launched pre-emptive strikes on my depression, making plans for my child-less time in advance, giving me something to look forward to.  But that time has apparently passed.

We’ve been a little pick-y at each other over the last week.  Granted, I blame myself for most of that.  He has been stressed over a test (which he passed yesterday, YEA!!) and school.  He also has been having some trouble in dealing with my kids…which worries me.  What if, instead of growing to love them even more, he ends up growing to dislike them?  I know they are a handful, and annoying, and at time royal pains in the ass, but they are my babies and he needs to love them and like them.  There is no other option.  Of course I haven’t been dealing well with those thoughts.  I get on mom-defense and lash out a little.  Add to that my tiredness, my own stresses, probably a little bit of PMS, and the imminent departure/post departure depression that has been knocking at my door, and I’m not being very pleasant or forgiving.

Dammit!  Since this is my blog and my space, I’m going to air my probably unjustified but no-less-real feelings here:  I’m bummed about a whole slew of things (my kids, my dad, my stresses).  I feel like I’m getting fat and unattractive.  I’m tired all the time.  And quite frankly I’m not getting some nearly as often as I’d like due to the tired/stress/general crankiness of us both.  And he’s supposed to fix it all, tha’s his job! (I told you this would be a little unjust)  I remember when I hit my all-time low, post separation from ex#2, mid-custody battles, pre-to-post bankruptcy, taking happy little white pills and mind numbing bigger white pills regularly, etc, etc (etc, etc, etc) and  it was Mr. W who pulled me out of that hole.  He breathed life back into my self-esteem.  He got me to a place where I could stop the anti-depressants and cut back a lot on the migraine meds.  He had my back and held me up against the emotional beatings I was taking from my exes.  He reminded me to love my children unconditionally, and to tell them, especially when I was the maddest.  He helped me keep my temper in check and suggested this very outlet for those times that were the hardest.  He got me into the gym and reminded me (although at times a little drill-Sergent-ish.  Yeah, he convinced me to eat flax seed wraps while throwing away all the chocolate in the house!  Sacrilege!) about the importance of a good diet.  He did all these things for me, and so much more.  (And that’s why I call him Mr. Wonderful!) 

But Mr. Wonderful seems to be on vacation lately.  Or asleep.  Or…I don’t know, but I want him back!  I love my Mr. W, infinitely.  Not for what he does/has done for me, but for who he is.  But I also love him for how he makes/made me feel, mostly brought on by all the wonderfulness that used to ooze out of his pores.  I need to get him sweating again!  I have issues, and I know it.  But he used to know it too, and was not only ok with it, but motivated to support me through and help me overcome those issues…used to…  I know he loves me as much as I love him, and it’s not a conscious change on his part, but I miss it nonetheless.  Not that an actual honeymoon is in our future (financial/kid matters), but I would at least like to think about one before it’s declared over and done with!

I have a “crazy neighbor lady,” or at least that’s what Mr. W calls her, as would most who came across her on a bad day.  She screams at her daughters, at her grand kids, at nothing.  She beats on the walls or whatever else is in her house.  We live in townhouses, so we can hear her clearly through the walls.  Sometimes they are harsh words she is screaming, and sometimes it’s just screaming.  Not the scream of fear or physical pain, but rather something darker.  A strong, almost gutteral scream that sends chills through me.

She has been through a lot in her life: loss of loved ones, betrayal by those she trusted, and depression.  She says she’s trying to get her life back together.  Has been trying.  But still she screams.  She had help at one time, in the form of those happy little pills and a new someone she trusted.  But he convinced her to stop taking them, that she didn’t need them, and then he betrayed her too.  And tonight seems to be another bad night for her.

I worry about her.  I understand her.  I want to help her.  I’ve been there.

I’ve had my bouts with depression, the last one bringing out that voice, that scream, that sound that is so familiar when I hear it echo through the walls of my home now.  I never knew I had it in me, but I do and it scares me at times.  I took the happy little pills and things got a little better.  I found my support in Mr. W and things got a lot better.  But the struggle still exists for me, probably always will.  My next round of betrayal hasn’t come, and may never, so I may be able to stay off the pills…maybe.

I remember how I felt in those moments.  The helplessness.  The overwhelming feelings.  The total loss of control.  I remember my screams and how it terrified me.  And on nights like this one, when I can hear her through the walls, the feeling returns just a little.  It angers me to think that so many are content to look down on her and dismiss her pain.  “She’s nuts.”  Yes, in all probability she has a chemical imbalance in her brain which makes her predisposed to depression and inhibits her ability to deal or function as a so-called “normal” person does, but that doesn’t make her crazy.  She’s in pain.  She needs help.  She needs support which I know she isn’t getting.

The worst part of it all?  I can’t bring myself to help her.  I’m afraid of her in a way.  I’m afraid of her reaction to me “butting in.”  I’m afraid of the reprecussions of it all.  And I’m afraid of the memories of myself.  So I sit, and listen, and hope with all  my might that someone will help her…and I’m ashamed that I’m not strong enough or brave enough to be that someone.