Form VS Function 

Our adventures in Karavaning have officially beat me to a pulp, I could hardly get up for more than two hours at a time before having to crash again. My body is trying to decide if it wants to seize up or give up while my mind is still running in manic mode. I know I have had times when my depression will affect my thoughts and speech but this time it’s because I’m so exhausted that the function is not there. My Mind is forming all the words and thoughts but it’s coming out in mumbled spats. They don’t even count as sentences.

Sweet Nothings 

Since the begging of time – ok let me rephrase that.

Since the beginning of our marriage, I have come up short when it comes to bedtime comfort. My husband has won on all battlegrounds to space, coverage, and timing. I never fall asleep before him – unless sick. Due to synchronized rolling the blanket end up on his side and the man sleep like an octopus or heat seeking lizard, very cuddly. For the first part of our marriage, my side of the bed was to a wall to keep me from being pushed off.

After twenty years there have been improvements, but for the most part, I have accepted my fate and love to harass him for it. Imagine my surprise when I woke up the one night to discover I was in the middle of the bed and crowding in on his side.

The reason was, of course, the thick comforter had listed off to his side leaving me exposed to the harsh winter elements. In my attempt to reposition myself back onto my pillow my husband started to stir and mumble something. Thinking he was asking me what was up, I began to sass while pulling them back to my side.

Me: No more blankets for you!
Dirk: muttering
Me: What?
Dirk: More muttering
Me: What did you say?
Dirk: (Barely audible) Nobody’s home.

And truly nobody was since he has no recollection of the whole event.

Medical History – Raging Twenties

I didn’t discover I was Bipolar till after I had my daughters, but the signs were all there and Dirk’s and my journey to discovery starting with us deciding to get married. At the time I was only nineteen, but he was twenty-one, and his mother was dead set against us getting married – I had my first emotional breakdown while listening to my future mother-in-law belittle me -refusing to let Dirk marry me. Luckily he didn’t listen to her. Up until two days before the wedding, she wasn’t coming.  She caused a lot of stress in our marriage till she died of cancer in 2000.

We learned I was pregnant with our first child soon after my second breast surgery and turning twenty, but at six months in I pulled the muscles that hold the womb (see I told you records are important – Hip incident) and was put on bed rest. I also had to use a sling for the last three months. My first daughter was born August 1994 – after pushing her way out – literally. She was willing and ready to greet the world, but my body would not go into hard labor, even with Pitocin they had a hard time regulating me, either I would shoot off like a skyrocket – with a tiny bit given – or would stop.

I developed a severe case of Bronchitis and Phenomena that lasted for four months and into the start of my next pregnancy. My health was poor throughout, and I still had problems with the muscles that hold the womb, having to wear the sling for the whole pregnancy. At three months I ripped the placenta away from the uterus wall and was confined to bed for the remainder of the pregnancy. My second daughter was born September 1996 after the same Pitocin ordeal. I was twenty-two years old.

Because of the emotional and physical stress of the pregnancy, I went into a depression which at the time they thought was post-pardon till after six months and off the meds I started to get worse than before – throwing things, hiding/running away. I was sent for psychological treatment, and that open the can of worms – Bipolar Disorder.

So now with being a new mother of two very active girls I had to start to learn, deal and manage my emotional problems, I had to handle an overbearing mother-in-law, who now wanted us to divorce. Medication was not enough as my physical health started to deteriorate quickly and my anxiety Continue reading

Medical History – the Early Years

Ever get tired of explaining your medical history to a doctor even after they are holding the three-page report in their hands. It amazes me that even when they ask for it, they never take the time to read it. I’m going to be breaking up this up into sections – there is a lot to tell. lol

I had a late start on life, by two weeks. Not sure if it was me or my mom deciding not to have kids at the last minute, but into the world, I came and made a big impression within a few month. Weighing in at twenty-five pounds at three months. Luckily I stayed that way till I way three years old, but we always wondered what that weight did to my early bone structure.

There were two times that I almost drowned. Once at age six months at Lake Powell and around age three on the Pacific beach. I have also been known to walk on water – running from water moccasins. (story to come)

When I was five years old, I started seeing a chiropractor because they thought I had scoliosis, this started my lifetime love begging to be popped. It was also around this age that I received 2nd-degree burn over most of my back after falling asleep next to a fireplace – was dying off after getting out of the bath. Dried off a little too much.

At age six, we discovered that I have Herpes simplex 1. Passed down from my father, who got it from his mother. If you don’t know anything about cold sores, you should be aware that they are not genetic, but will be hereditary because they are viral. We learned that to keep my kids from getting them while young, that whenever I had outbreaks that I should not be around them.  I get it in my right eye, mouth and one in a while, my ears and nose. The cornea of my eye is warped, and as long as it doesn’t get any worse, I won’t have to have the transplant. I was told that seven years ago – so far so good.

The summer of my seventh year was my first known concussion – An aerosol canister exploded into the back of my head. You can read that story under I Shouldn’t Be Alive.  I said first known because I’ve lost count how many times I’ve been knocked unconscious, but it all comes back to this being the root of the problem.

My ninth spring year I ran a pitchfork almost all the way through my left foot – didn’t break the skin through the top but you could see the metal trying to push up. My toes tend to lock up and cramp easily because my foot can’t flex as well as the other. This is also the same side that gets more charlie horses.

My first big horse training accident happened when I was eleven – a mare kicked me in the shoulder blade and chin – still have the scars and dislocating jaw to prove it. Followed by being thrown the next spring into a steel post by the same mare. After a few more rodeos my mother decided that the horse needed to go – that and the horse was crazy enough to rip her hoof off.

From the age fifteen to sixteen I was knocked out several times – was ran into by athletes while cheering (on numerous occasions) or had a ping pong paddle thrown at the back of my head to name a couple. My future husband and friend accidently spilled hot wax into my left ear when I was sixteen. Burning the channel and making me partial hard of hearing. I tease my husband about it – that it has something to do with my vertigo.

My first surgery was when I was sixteen on my left knee. They cut nine inches of muscle away from the bone so that my knee cap could return to its proper place – also repaired the chips and cracks in the knee cap. Had to wait till after I recovered to get my driver license. The next two surgeries, when I was seventeen – were on both my ankles. They removed two extra bones. The day after my nineteenth birthday, I had a fibrosis tumor removed from my right breast. Little less than a year later,  another fibrosis tumor was removed this time from my left breast. (stories to come)

Also when I was seventeen, I slid from my horse bareback – riding in stormy weather -into another steel post and damaged my right hip. This was two week before I graduated from high school and my entire side of my right leg and hip was still bruised as I picked up my diploma. In college, I played a stupid game off of a tall slide – lost and broke my tailbone.

I also have had a few emotional traumas – attempted rape when I was four and abusive boyfriend in high school, it was also during my sophomore year that I attempted to comment suicide twice, but I will not tell those stories here. (story to come)

What sounds like something not important, could play a big part in your future. Keep records – you never know how things will relate.

 

A Numbers Game

An event that took place a couple of years ago.

It was required of me to have more blood drawn, and I was doing ok until the nurse that was to do the procedure refused to listen to my instructions. I could tell by the way this conversation was going that I was leaving bruised.

Me: You will need to use a butterfly needle to draw my blood because my veins have a tendency to collapse. Also, I don’t do well with needles – you can go ahead and get everything ready, have the needle set to go in but could you just give me a moment to prepare, and I’ll give you the go ahead?
Nurse: I don’t think I could do that. I’m so used to just getting it in and over with.

I try again to explain that I will just need a moment. The nurse is not paying attention because she is pulling out vials and the wrong size needle. The nurse then proceeds to examine my arms for the better vein, after flicking both sides a few times, she chooses the right arm and binds it up.

Me: Please use a butterfly needle, I don’t like it when you have to keep poking me because my veins collapse and I bruise really easy.
Nurse: This is a good vein. I won’t have any problems getting blood from it.

She commences to pull out a standard needle. My nerves come unhinged. I look her straight in the eyes and pull my arm away from her.

Me: You are not listening to me!
Nurse: I’ve been doing this for 35 years, I know what I’m doing!

I’m not one for playing the top that game, nor am I one for throwing my weight around but something about that 35 years got to me, and I snapped.

Me: Well I’ve been working with this body for 41 years, and I know what it can handle!

That is the first time I had ever thrown my age in someone’s face or remembered my actual age in a long time.

No More Cooking

A few years back my health took a turn for the worse as foreign objects began to invade my system.  It turned out to be the best weight loss program as I was ever on – losing five pounds a month. When ascertained that the deterioration was ovarian cysts – surgery was set up and was told there would be no more baking buns for me.

My husband reminded me that not having an oven didn’t matter. Many years previous to this – for my safety our doctors had said that cooking was unwise and recommended that we not have any more children.

During both my girls delivery, I had to be on Pitocin – since my body will not go into hard labor. The strain on my system triggered major depression episodes which lead to the detection of my Bipolar. The Doctors wanted to make sure that I didn’t get pregnant again suggested an operation. At that time Dirk had the procedure as it was easier to stop things at his end than on mine.

My Hysterectomy was able to salvage one ovary but not before I had lost over twenty pounds and spent sixteen days without food or sleep – if I had only known then it could have given me the world record. I don’t suggest trying it – it was horrible, and I was not in the best frame of mind.

But from all this, I have learned more about my body. After being freed from the rupturing cysts – my crippling periods and debilitating lower back pains were gone. It’s amazing that cutting out a bad part would suddenly improve other parts.

So now my mother call us the sports models – Dirk has no yeast to make the dough, and I have no oven to cook in. We are pretty much just left having food fights without the clean-up!