Tag Archives: dealing with illness

Pacing myself, Schmacing myself

Living with chronic fatigue and inflammation, the trick is to learn how to pace yourself. Pacing myself is something I’ve never known and might never learn.

Tonight, there is no in-depth and motivated housewifing or organic products to share.  I left work a few minutes earlier so that I may go home and rest since I felt some stress shoving up against the threshold.  The plan was nap, then exercise, then housewife.

But once I was home free, it was so breezy and sunny out….

The plan turned into: go shopping for things that weren’t on the list, reorganize the pantry, refry yesterday’s batch of black beans, make dinner, wash dishes, pass out hopelessly at 6pm with swelling from head to toe, swollen throat and mild flu-like symptoms.

Dang it.

My strength may or may not pick up again and the inflammation may or may not decrease.  At this point, I have to coddle my bratty immune system if there exists any chance of finishing my plans or I’ll end up watching all of Wednesday’s NBC line up.  If I do feel better, I’ll be making more celery juice for wellness and taking advantage of some exotic plants I found during my earlier fake-energy boost exploration.  I discovered a Latin supermarket and bought aloe vera and nopal, the spiky gooey plants that have been Aztec medicinal secrets for centuries.  Getting in touch with my Indian roots. I don’t know how to use them and their exact health benefits, but if I figure it out, I’ll let you know.

via enchiel.blogspot.com

So here is a little treat I prepared a few days ago. Check it out: I created a new page, a link tab of favorite blogs.  The list will be ever increasing, but just a few for now. Gotta pace myself.

https://housewifingaround.wordpress.com/favourite-links/

Shout-out to friends: To those of you who know I have meeting tonight, Husband is out of town so we’re going together tomorrow to another one. Will miss you.

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Filed under Housewifing, Indulgence, Picture of Health, Stimulating the Economy, Under the Weather

I’m A Snake, I’m A Slithery Little Snake

(Scroll down if you want to go straight for the video.)

Housewifing is taking a break.  This project was for the extra time spend in convalescence.  And though I should be in repose, I’m still dragging my butt around trying to get dinner and laundry done, in a scattered manner, mind you, to match me and Husband’s unparallel schedules.  Husband and I are beat up and we’re struggling mighty hard to stay on point, with the added fiasco of creating strict and isolated environments for our cats since they’re going through feral stages (The babygirl is in heat and being a punk, riling up the little boy. They’re  teenagers!).  He continues being a prince for outdoing himself to support me. Gold Stars for him.

Without garrulous detail, I share that I’m going through flares that are telling me to stay home from work.  Since health comes before work you would think I would kindly indulge my aching and spent body.  But since I’m conditioned the American way, if there is no fever, open surgery wounds or broken bones, how dare I spoil myself to choose rest over hard work. I can still walk, can’t I?  That little limp builds character.

Anyway,  I need a mental and physical break, so I’m not going to exert myself today for anything that doesn’t provide income or spiritual up-building.  Instead, I will provide you with a little something that I cannot resist watching over and over until my IQ drops and splatters on the floor.  This is also for those of you who are also exhausted and have better things to do than take it from the Man.

Disclaimer: If you watch this video and are expecting an explanation for the “why”, you wait in vain.  If you think there is meaning behind this, there is not.  If you are offended by the use of the slang word for derriere, this will indeed offend you.  If you watch this and you “don’t get it”, you have a long way to understanding who this author of this blog is.  It may make you question my sanity and think that I made up the whole bit about being sick too.  There is no reason for loving this next video except that I lose about 5lbs from extraneous laughter and generate sufficient endorphins to distract from pain for several hours a time.

Hoping that next time I meet you on here I’m a bit more coherent and don’t feel like kicking little kids, puppies, and co-workers.  Hasta Luego, my friends.

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Filed under Housewifing, Indulgence, Loopy Lupus, Random, Under the Weather

Somewhere Over the Percocet

At work, a small white tablet was found straggling around in my purse.  I heard angel choirs chanting not too far off this multi-dimensional realm.  I split the porcelain little helper in two.  Even before popping the first half, the placebo effect of the hope that was to come was already melting troubles away like lemon drop shots.

All these mornings have been groundhog-ish.  I had an interruption in my regular treatment for the ‘wolf disease’, and so the inflammation and pain came back with a vengeance.  With permission from a doctor’s note, I have stumbled into work late almost every day in the last two weeks.  When I pry my dessert-dry eyes open in the morning, while blood is trashing around in my skull, I begin the process of gauging my pain levels.  Neck: Stiff.  Hips: swollen.  Feet: extra swollen.  Back: stabbing.  Elbows: Stuck. Wrist and Fingers: numb.  Organs: Tender.  I’m exhausted from lack of recuperation, but also mentally, from the automatic conditioning that has set in;  the rapid-fire assessment I make two minutes from wake-up time.  I know the day is going to be a battle and my brain wages war to stay home for an hour or two more.

Eventually I unfurl my spine and muster the bravery to place my feet on the floor.  Morning stiffness and swelling is normal. For the rest of the day, continual movement is paramount, otherwise, my joints will stay stuck in motionless positions.  I still don’t know how to describe many of the symptoms that come with this condition.  The best one yet, which I don’t know if the average person can understand, is that it feels like my blood doesn’t fit inside its veins and my limbs don’t fit inside it’s skin encasing.  The most recent pain is my lower back.  The doctor said there is no damage.  “It’s just inflammation.”  I doubt the words of that arrogant fool, but I’m also helpless in my limited amount of time to take off work and see every doctor for every spot on my body that’s wrong.

My excitement for the Perk was because I had run out of them.  The physician switched me to Vicodin, a very unpleasant substitute which reduces pain, adds headaches, has angered my autoimmune and takes my literal breath away.  This cannot continue.

For that reason, finding a lost little Percocet made my next 4-6 hours.  However, the concern simmers within. It won’t be long before it wears off and no more rogue pills will be laying around to be found.

This is not the most unbearable pain I’ve ever experienced, but it’s the most ongoing pain I’ve ever  had to deal with.  I’m not sure how to do it and when the big picture spans out before my eyes, out of focus and blurry, panic begins to stir.

Am I becoming dependent on a short-term solution?

Am I falling trap to a cognitive dissonance that justifies pill popping. Even if its prescribed?

What constitutes the right to pain killers?

What if you need them to keep your job?

What is the deal with organic herbs that ease pain without causing systematic damage like synthetic narcotics? Why don’t I live in California or Amsterdam?

When will they build a Whole Foods in my neighborhood?

How do I keep my job and my home from being neglected in my condition?

How am I to reduce to a more manageable part-time, if I need to pay for so many medicines, appointments, and tests? How am I supposed to keep my mental peace when its at war with my body?

How am I going to do my part as a capable housewife if I run out of energy too early on the same day that my beloved cat decides to poop on our mattress and pee on all our spare mattresses?

What if  I don’t stop asking all these unanswerable questions and die right here of cardiac arrest?

All these questions ruminate above in my head with great insistence.

They tumble inside my brain like a dryer with damp laundry all they want, but none of it is solvable if i don’t stop the cycling.  Stress exacerbates fatigue, pains, and surrender.  Action however, gets the job done.

I’m a big believer of a mini-break down. If you fight it too long, you’re have a certified melt-down and that’s just too inconvenient for everyone.  After you’re done crying and venting to a friend/family member who provides you a less morbid solution than resorting to admitting yourself in an insane asylum, you wait for your blotchy skin to normalize, you assume rhythmic breathing, you decrease your voice’s pitch from supersonic back to human, send a quick prayer through the proper channels, and you lay out your plan.

As soon as your vision isn’t blurred,  you call all your doctors with reasonable inquiries and requests.  Then you research on acupuncture and and natural therapies because your doctor is bound to take guesses as good as a two-year old.  You buy a box of pinch-proof gloves and an enzyme cleaner for unpleasant odors.  You put aside any feminism and ask Husband for suggestions and to kindly pass the vacuum once a week for you (He won’t know if you don’t ask).  Draw smiley faces on the bills you don’t intend to pay.  Powder your face again if warranted.  Thank your friends for letting you be at your worst with them and still letting you maintain your credibility when the show is over.

Ages 4-7

You also learn to prepare better for next time. It’s time to invest in the sponge bat I’ve been suggesting might be the greatest problem solver in the world.

I especially like this one with the adjustable size for the days my symptoms throw me on the couch and the cats start meowing suspiciously.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Pain killers are a temporary solution. Being in turmoil is inevitable but should always be dealt with.  Being overwhelmed doesn’t have to be the dirty little secret many sweep under the ground as if this life was a summer breeze.  Take meds if you must, but learn how to get on by your own terms. That alone is like natural opiates.

 

 

And that’s the way Sue C’s it. *

*High-five, Glee Geeks!

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Filed under Indulgence, Loopy Lupus, Picture of Health, Post A Week, Stimulating the Economy, Under the Weather

Giggly Truth Serum Confessions

Launching a personal blog is a daunting action.  Most writing usually uncovers pieces of the author’s core, but no matter what approach to manipulate a particular picture of how you want people to perceive you, the truth of who you truly are still glimmers through.  I could have chosen not advertise my story to the public, bypassing the announcement to friends and some acquaintances.  They only would’ve found out about it if they are avid internet surfers or if in ten years this website boomed.  I thought about it long and hard before I set on this bold move of being a little more transparent than the lock-down mode I’d been settling into.  Right before I shared it, I called a family member and Husband for opinions.  I was nervous about the repercussions.  Reporting information and/or stories always create an emotional response, opinions, or critics.  To make this work, I knew it would require a bit of private exposition unless it was purely factual.  And well, it’s not.

But let me tell you, I don’t regret the decision.   The conversation with Husband went something like: We know the situation. We’re handling it. You’re not planning to live a hidden life of illness.  But you’ve been a closed book, even with friends.  It felt like a secret.  It even meant rejecting sympathy when I honestly needed it. Everytime I had to explain someone I’ve been less social or MIA because I was sick, it was like admitting a horrible shame.  My positive outlook toward cope was limited so long as I postponed a genuine explanation, instead of letting it fester on the tip of my tongue.

I said a little prayer and hit send on notifications to all, rather than to complete strangers. Every muscle temporarily froze. So soon after tracking the readers’ traffic chart that this website generates, I stopped checking it every two minutes. Slowly, the tension in my shoulders released and my lungs remembered to expand deeper.  It played out almost like a confession. I didn’t have to go into detail; I didn’t have to go over this long saga of what’s been leading up to this day for so long, but I embraced my reality fully. By the next day, I was catching up with friends that I had reduced contact with for fear of mine and their reaction to this news.

This week – health-wise – has been stupid; however, I’ve been spunkier and more productive than usual.  Not necessarily more physically active, but mentally and emotionally.  Without the burden of trying to conceal that I’m not the firecracker I once was, I was free to talk about other things going on in life and smile easier; despite subtle aches roaming in the body. I felt lighter and lighter as I stopped giving the problem so much attention and focusing on relationships and goals.

Last night, I watched Knight and Day on DVD.  At some point in the movie, Cameron Diaz is administered a truth serum.  It was some experimental technology that made her laugh and enjoy spitting out thoughts on the forefront. I thought to myself, “This is what it felt like this weekend”. No, it is not the Percocet talking. The half- tablet is not that powerful.  I exposed myself a little bit, although of course, just a few aspects of life, not all. I reconnected with friends. I’m doing it through one of my favorite mediums: writing.  And I received an overwhelming understanding and awesome response.  It’s off my chest.  I feel I’ve that I’ve man-handled a huge part of the challenge life has thrown at us.

All this is very mushy and layered. Normally, I would prefer to twist this into some form of sarcastic humor, but as long as I’m in the spirit of motivation, I’m gonna suck it up and continue sounding like a self-help book for another paragraph.  This might be a personal experience, but like I’ve said before, I share to relate.  I hope other people, especially younguns or withdrawn ones who are very aware of this critical and harsh world, can find ways to express themselves. Keeping things bottled in only create stress, a confused heart, a conflicted mind, and constipation. Not out of proportion either. Listing every emotion on a Facebook status is NOT healthy.  There is a balance of knowing who, when, how, and how much, to share. But it’s so liberating, and even surprising, how being genuine and truthful can grow confidence.  It took me a while to come clean, but now I have a buzzing giddiness to brag about, and more space to welcome more challenges.

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Filed under Housewifing, Indulgence, Picture of Health, Post A Week

Gentrifying the Dining Table

When we first got married, our house was empty. We didn’t have a place to eat or sit on. We did everything on out carpet. And I mean everything. *wink* *sorry*

However, I was carrying on a full-time job. So was he, and he travels at really odd hours. We were exhausted and barely able to find 5 relaxing minutes together where we could talk about anything other than settling in our apartment. Also, my health was already mysteriously deteriorating, but I was pushing through it, pumping iron at the gym. This, of course, would dwindle with time. Making meals for two, and one extremely picky eater was new to me. Basically, there was no time to stop and think of fixing up our place to make it a home, not just sleep quarters and a messing area.

As I adapted, haphazardly and by trial and error rather than careful planning, the instinctual nature of any newlywed was kicking in. What’s next after tying the ball and chain? Fix your place up. Make it your own. We’re still working on it, piece by piece. Exhaustion and health bills keep us from the more focused approach to furnishing. These are some of the battles of chronic fatigue, swollen joints and limbs, inflammation headaches.

About 6 months in, my mother sensed  -like moms do- that I was having a hard time keeping up. She bought me a simple bouquet of fresh, blooming, bright yellow daisies. I previously believed this flower was too simplistic. However, it brightened up my house like I hadn’t imagined and I apologized to my new fabulous table center for being so short-sighted.  When I was single, I was the unromantic type who said flowers are overrated. So soon after being bound by law to man, my sexy husband picked up my newfound value for the lifting effect of nature’s little gifts (without my telling him, brownie points!) . The man who said he wasn’t the type to buy flowers was buying roses to a woman who said claimed they were cheesy.

Now, I long for my table to decorated with something alive. I’m much more plant minded.  This week I was buying veggies and fruits at our local produce shop across the street and saw they had a quaint purple gem I’d never seen before for $1.99! Hells yea.

Further now, it’s been a really rough week health-wise.  As a matter of fact, I was buying celery, parsley, and cucumber for an alkalanizing smoothie (I think I Sarah Palin’d that word and I’m not apologizing for it).  I barely had the energy to chop and blend my concoction. My hands were and still are kind of rubbery with swelling. My feets feel like boats. Piles of mail mixed with Husband’s projects seemed to be climbing higher on our table. The couch was collecting a Home Edition line of living accessories for my own planted butt. Ah, but this cute chrysanthemum could charm any home accumulating clutter.

See below the progression of inspiration from something humble sprung from the earth:

Progression No. 1

THE USUAL BAD WEEK SCENARIO

Progression No. 2

 

WILD LIFE OXYGENATING THE ROOM, BECOMING MORE MOBILE

 

Progression No. 3

 

FULL ON INSPIRED, ORGANIZATION ACHIEVED

 

I lie. It was not just pure beauty that led to my pro-activity. By No. 3 my Percocet had kicked in. Which I do not encourage even for Lupsters! I’m taking it temporarily for all the recent damage my frail organs went through and simply because otherwise I’ll lose my day job.  I’m not unaware of the dangers, not to mention potential addiction if usage is extended too long. Just setting up a disclaimer right now. However, I wrote a little song called “I love you Perky-cet”.

Moving right along, building up my home is a slow process in my condition.  Keeping neat and organized is hit or miss. When my husband is in town, he helps with the maintenance. Otherwise, it quickly amounts to a chaos that I’m learning to not be apologetic about anymore.  It’s not easy going to sleep knowing the dishes is working on hardening grit or wondering if I passed out before I closed all dangerous cat nooks.  But everyone once in a sucky day, something awesome and wonderful completely distracts me from pain (No, Perky-cet is not awesome and wonderful) and I can power through achy knees and make my apartment a neat, symmetrical dream home.

*P.S. Sorry about the picture quality.  I’ll be upgrading to stealing Husband’s camera soon.

 

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