Monday, December 13, 2010

The Jabberwocky

I started this a few days ago and decided to finish it.  I tend to do that.  I start writing, I get inspired, I get distracted, then life takes me hostage again.  But I know it's important to keep account of feelings, especially when we'd rather not...


I cried this morning and remembered   ...   I can slay the Jabberwocky.   I watch a lot of t.v. 

I'm unsure if it's the whole "reticular activator" theory, but I seem to be more aware of wheelchairs everywhere I go.  I'm not a "gleek", but I really enjoy the show and unconsciously focus on Artie, the wheelchair-bound student that sings in the Glee Club.  I identify with the chair and loving to sing and keep an eye on his character.  For the Christmas episode, his girlfriend asks Santa to give Artie new legs and through a series of good will choices, he ends up with a robotic system that enables him to walk.  I've seen it on the net and it's roughly around $100,000.00.  Then I'm listening to the Bruno Marz song "Just the Way You Are", and I do a mini spiral into the whole, "Will I find someone to love me just the way I am, and will they think I'm perfect?" thought pattern again.

After watching the DVR recording of Glee, I went on to watch Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland.  I think it's great regardless of popular opinion.  Alice thinks of 6 impossibles before doing the impossible, and that last one was, "I can slay the Jabberwocky".  And I thought, nothing is impossible, especially when I have God's constant peace and assurance stabilizing my every step so that I can confidently walk forward.

But yes, it's Christmas time and my 2 year anniversary is coming up.  This year has been one of challenges and triumph......and then more challenges.  Isn't that the way life is?

I'm afraid of being alone, even though mom (my pillar of strength) and many friends remind me that I don't need to fear loneliness.  And I know that God will never leave my side.  Mom says that I don't need a man in my life, then I think of Adam and Eve.  I'm pretty sure that God knew that we could or would get lonely and need companionship.  A special relationship between two people meant to spend their lives with each other.  Sigh.


But enough of that.  For now I'm staying busy with eBay, Christmas shopping, bills, friends, and work.  I'm grateful for everything I have,and for what I DON'T have.  Looking towards the future and knowing that I have loved ones holding my hands as I take those next steps make it worth while.  It's the journey after all, isn't it?

I CAN slay the Jabberwocky.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Work it out!

I'm pooped. Today, I officially started REAL physical therapy. I knew the time had come so I signed up for more outpatient physical therapy. It's an out-of-pocket expense, roughly about $180/45-60 min. session,but I've been loved on a lot with monetary donations and decided that this is where I would spend it. Rehab will take months, if not years, to achieve the desired results....a.k.a. walking, so I'll still be trying to get financial aid. I'll haggle with the Rehab Unit director, call my HMO, stalk my doctor's for letters requesting treatment and coverage at this facility, and if all else fails, I'll write Oprah!


I am working with a crazy woman named Gloria and I love it. She worked me so hard that I'll be going to bed early for once. The initial evaluation was hard to hear. Evidently my entire back is too weak to support myself and will require a lot of attention and work. While working out I knew that this is what I wanted, what I had waited for. I don't think I've ever wanted anything so bad before, so worked through the pain, I twisted, scooted, plopped, raised, I turned, basically everything I was afraid to do. I trust Gloria and Northridge Hospital Medical Center. I'll keep this blog updated with the physical journey.Oh! And on a final note, I did a transfer today (moving my body from surface to surface) for the first time without a board! whew

Ok, now for some zzzzzzs.
G'nite.

Friday, October 15, 2010

The Hills Are Alive - With the Sound of ......


I came home to a nice quiet house which is rare and most welcome.  After a long Access ride and 4 stops, stretching from Manchester to the far ends of the San Fernando Valley, while surrounded by the sounds of KRZA a.k.a. La Raza radio station  (Mexican Polka and love songs), yes, quiet is most welcome.

Usually I'm greeted by 2 overly excited doggies (which I love) and a soundtrack of mom cooking/bustling around the house, Ollie and/or Kat talking, watching t.v., playing games, listening to music to workout to, and the animals stampeding up and down the stairs while conversing with one another.  All this is accented by overtones of the house phone ringing incessantly with calls regarding home repair, my brother's friend's phone calls, lawyers and collection agencies looking for my dad, who is M.I.A., and charities looking for donations.  (You donate once and you're on the "hot" list, I swear!).  


We also have something called "dueling banjos".  It's the sound of all the t.v.s on at the same time.  Due to the build of the house and the physics of acoustics, me and Ollie play "dueling banjos".  You know like when a commercial comes on at about 10 decibels louder than the program you're watching and you adjust to not hear the commercial, then adjust the volume again so you can hear what's going on in the show you're watching??? lol. Thank God for DVR.  In addition to our capability to skip t.v. commercials by watching recordings, I've conformed to watching t.v. on my laptop with headphones and watching actual t.v. at about 2 a.m.  


2 a.m. is one of my favorite times of the day.  It's quiet.  I can watch t.v. or read, but then I won't get any sleep.  So, I  end up staying up late if I know I'm off the next day.  :)

And, occasionally we have guests, my brother's close friends, which love to hang out at the house and talk about life because they're at the age where life is becoming more "real".  You know, the mid to late 20's.  Everything old to us is new to them and they have to share, sometimes commiserate.  Me and my brother tend to be great listeners and attract people who want to share.

Don't get me wrong, I love having company now and again, but sometimes, sometimes, SOMETIMES


I  -  just  -  want  -  quiet........



Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Pay It Forward

Sorry, this is a wordy one. :)

I'm secretly apathetic towards most things.  I'm the person that loves to support from afar, never up close and personal; like giving for fundraisers, blood donations (well I guess that's pretty up close and personal), donations of time and money to worthy causes.  Never once have I desired to step out and initiate a movement partially because I'm apathetic towards educating myself about a topic and partially because it's time that I don't want to promise anyone if I can't follow through, though in every social circle I'm a part of, exists amazing people that selflessly fight the good fight.  Ones who protest and push for equality, justice, acceptance, peace, provision and truth.

Locally, there are many who use their artistic gifts to put together fundraisers to support causes and needs that often go overlooked.  A select few have gone as far as leaving the country to physically involve themselves; South America to build homes, Mexico to support the Zapatista Movement, Sudan to be ministry (not just support it),  the Middle East to support peaceful solutions (while often risking their lives), Tibet to fight for independence, and so on.  One of my girlfriends even met the Dalai Lama, the Dalai Lama! These are selfless acts fueled by passion and conviction.

Within a new circle of friends, those with SCI (spinal cord injuries), I've seen even more feats of the human spirit triumphing over some of the worst physical conditions.  Your mind and will are strengthened and pushed beyond boundaries when free of the body and all material things that you attach your body to.

I experience guilt for my lack of desire to get involved with things outside of my immediate consciousness .  Even now, while in the "bonus" time of life, I haven't done more, knowing that I possess ability, resources, and a passionate fire waiting to be released at the right time.  I've done some public speaking and have had a radical change in demeanor (meaning I'm not as much of a crazy bitch, lol).  Nothing really gets me angry anymore aside from ignorance.    Yet I still resist being a part of bigger things that could help people because it never feels quite right.  Either the people aren't right, the motives, the REAL motives don't feel kosher, or the timing feels off.  It's so selfish though I've been told it's not.  It's selfish, period.

Now and then opportunities present themselves, fund-raising events and social gatherings that support people with spinal cord injuries (SCIs) and groups which bring public awareness and education in regards to  SCI survivors, caregivers, needs, and ADA laws.  I've "supported", but haven't jumped in - again -.

On my way home last week, we picked up a passenger from UCLA Medical Center, a fellow wheelchair user, and I was my usual cordial self, and we dialoged instead of me sleeping (or pretending to sleep so I'd be left alone) or listening to my iPod.  People who share common interests tend to be more immediately social, but those who know me know that I'm ALWAYS social (a.k.a. talkative).  No alcohol required. :)

His name is Brian and he is an immigrant from South Korea.  After a short dialog, I found out that he came here as a child but has been disabled with Cerebral Palsy since he was 6 months old as a result of a surgery (something along that line).  He lives in an independent living facility and makes no money because he can't work, even though he's tried.  He's a slow learner but taught himself how to read and write English.  What??  That's amazing.  The family tends to leave him be and don't really acknowledge him when it comes to family functions. It sounds pretty messed up to me.   Government assistance is enough to pay rent and necessary bills, but leaves him with nothing to enjoy afterwards.


I considered this an ideal opportunity to invite him to the SCI support group.  He doesn't have a spinal cord injury but is a wheelchair user like us.  In fact there's a good part of our group in wheelchairs as a result of  autoimmune diseases.  He was thrilled to hear about a group that would understand him, embrace him, and help him.  No one understands you like a fellow sufferer.  You know....birds of a feather.


For the first time, I felt like paying it forward.  I hadn't had this kind of desire to help someone in a longtime because I felt incapable.  How could I help someone when I couldn't figure out things on my end?  But I did.  My motives and pool of resources would be used to help someone else in need.   Now another piece of recovery is unlocked and it feels right to be "capable" again.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Hang On, It's Just a Little Further

Call it hormones, call it emotionally unbalanced, call "it" whatever.  Whatever "it" is, has been manifesting more frequently.  The other day I experienced a wave of anxiety mixed with a hint of pissiness.  Boxes flew for about 15 seconds, than I caught a hold of myself and stopped.  I think the fact that I've been "stopping" myself from feeling a lot of things has caused me to reach a breaking point.  I've been feeling down, wondering about what life will be like.  Wondering if I'd be alone for an extended period of time.  I mean let's face it, I wasn't dating before this and being paralyzed with Type I diabetes isn't exactly a deal breaker.  I'll always be the girl with a great personality, but I'm wondering if I should keep hoping and believing that my other half exists, or if I should just accept that this is the road I've been given to travel, and that God will suffice all my needs (as He always has).  I'm like a kid who has to know right now.  Uncertainty is annoying as hell sometimes.  I want to know how to prepare myself.

And then I've been thinking.  Sometimes you need someone tangible who believes in you  more than you believe in yourself, even when you don't believe, ESPECIALLY when you choose not to believe in yourself.  I think of dying every day but never have the desire to go through with it,.  Thinking of the emotional collateral damage, ego aside, that would occur makes me even more sad so I couldn't.  On a lighter note, I also really desire to hear God tell me, "Well done my good and faithful servant", while He embraces me the way a parent comforts a child.

I'm reminded of the many things I haven't done yet, the potential that is still left to be used for a greater good.  It's a daily choice to live selflessly, without whining.  And I mean, not just putting a smile on, but actually making a choice to help someone, to make a difference somehow.  ::sigh::  Those pity parties happen quite often and are usually a party of one.  I can't stand having guests at mine.  And yet I still want someone to believe in me.  Someone to tell me to hang on.  Someone who will be by my side to walk with me to the end......even if I want to be alone.

Ironic.

Everywhere I look I see couples, lovers, spouses, significant others, bffs, going out and doing things on the whim, at their leisure.  It's that time of year when weddings happen on a weekly basis.  It's the time in one's   life where definite decisions are made whether it be about their career, their family, their dating lives, religions, priorities, etc.  I am alone and will be for awhile.  It's a fact.  I feel stalled, detoured.  What will the next 10 years bring?

All the drama aside, I am aware that having friends, a functioning brain, an insane sense of humor, and an understanding of love, life, and purpose are invaluable tools to keep me moving forward until I'm found.  I don't know how long one person can do this for, but I keep hearing those words, "Hang on"  "It's just a bit further".  Hearing these words makes me not want to miss out on the good things that are on their way and prayer is at the forefront every second of the day.  My prayers are for endurance, peace, love, obedience, and faithfulness.

That's about it right now.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Art Imitating Life

I'm a fan of great shows, where writers write without abandon.  Hard hitting shows that depict human emotion as it really happens.  Not like an "after school" special or anything exaggerated like "reality" t.v..  I'm hooked on "The Big C" right now.   The show airs on Showtime and depicts the plethora of human emotions in all it's stages, as a woman, Laura Linney, discovers and deals with a cancer diagnosis.  I've cried at least twice through each show, and not because it's sad, but because of the way I empathize with it.

When you have nothing to lose except life itself, you somehow discover a freedom, a real freedom to embrace everything good, mysterious, and exciting, while simultaneously giving negative vibes the middle finger.  You no longer tolerate b.s. and tend to live life a little fuller, talk a little more direct, and live a little harder.  I've always loved laughing, but even more so now.  I don't have the time or energy to waste on negative crap.  I cry enough as it is.  Probably a minimum of once a week.  Add the fact that I can't even drink a glass of wine (because of diabetes), which is what I used to love doing.  Facing life completely sober sucks pretty bad sometimes.

I'll be a part of several weddings in the near future, both as a participant and as an onlooker.  I'll describe the feelings about that another time, but out of all the sadness and loneliness, a realization birthed.  A feeling of gratitude that I could see all of my lovely friends and family (at least the ones I care about) celebrate great moments in their lives.  My life was spared so that I could be present.  No brain damage, and no other severe infirmities that would make life more difficult.

I spent the last week editing photos for two weddings.  I smiled through every crop, every contrast adjustment, every subject positioning.  I relived the moments as I filtered through each photo.  Each photo reminded me that the art work known as my life wasn't finished.  That there are several aspects of life that need to be edited, cropped, positioned.  I trust that God knows what he's doing.  I reflect on the last 10 to 20 years and see where edits have been made and I know I'm better for them.  Growing pains are never easy or simple, but with the right support, people, and resources, you survive.  I have something to live for, and sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me going.  The ONLY thing.  The days of adjustments aren't quite over and the sadness can be a huge burden, but I make it one day at a time.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

COFFFFFEEEE...YOWZA!

So.  I'm off the wagon folks. buzzzzz

Drinking coffee is similar to being on a roller coaster.  I used to drink triple shot iced mochas in 1998 while working night & graveyard shifts and eventually cut back because of heart palpitations (self-diagnosed, lol). 

Over the course of time I became a "1-2 cups of regular black coffee a day" kind of gal .



Around 2005 they opened up a Starbucks in our hospital, INSIDE!  What the heck?  So I started with the Americano and progressed to the Red Eye, the Black Eye (often misheard as "the black guy"), and finally The Concussion -3 shots of espresso added to a Tall Coffee (as if regular Starbucks coffee wasn't already super caffeinated).




I hadn't had coffee for about 1 1/2 years.

(Date of accident) 12/2008 - 5/2010


Caffeine was just a nuisance to drink during recovery & rehab and in the end I had just detoxed from it completely.  But I tell you, in the hospital I neeeeeded it.  I was awoken every 2 hours to be turned, awoken up once for a bath around 6, and once again for early meds.  Argh!  There's no rest in a hospital.  And did I mention random wake ups at 5 a.m. to get blood drawn?  Getting stuck with a needle while half awake is not right.





Currently I start work at about 6 a.m., meaning I wake up @ around 4 a.m.  I need at least 45 min. to get dressed, into my wheelchair, and washed up.  Then it takes about an hour to get to work. (early, RIGHT?? THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!)  Slowly but surely I started drinking Cafe again.




I went from "no caffeine"
     to "decaf"
          to "half & half"
               to Starbucks Via packs EXTRA BOLD
                    lol.


I'm still too cheap to buy coffee from     premium coffee shops




I have to say that the Starbucks Via coffee packets offer a fresh ground coffee flavor and taste delicious.



Dark & Strong, yes!


Ahhhhhh...delicious and yes I had a full cup this morning...YoWzA!!!!

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Can You Feel It?

 


The way I physically feel as far as "return of sensation" never seems like something that would be interesting to read or write about, but maybe it will allow me to keep track of my progress.





Response to physical touch hasn't changed much.  The left leg  responds a little when slapped, tapped, or physically stimulated, meaning that it tingles a bit.  Tingling to me feels like a mild version of that feeling you get when your foot and/or hand recover from having fallen asleep.  The tingling, burning never stop.  It happens 24/7.  

What's really interesting though is that different parts of the body above the level of injury (T-10 /  belly button level) are causing secondary feeling in areas below the level of injury.   According to one of my Occupational Therapists, this is a good sign as it indicates that what is connected on top, neurologically speaking, is connected to the bottom.

For Example:
  • Touching my neck & the underside of my chin = tingling in the inner calf muscle area
  • Touching the front of my left rib cage area = sensation from the left thigh.
  • Touching the front of the right rib cage area = sensation in back of the right thigh.

When I Turn my torso left or right, I can feel nerves activating or pulling/stretching down the sides of my body.  
My ass hurts all the time.  It's like having a wedgie all day yet I can't physically feel externally.

It's all very odd, but nevertheless every sensation counts.

Right?

Friday, July 2, 2010

Life Is Like a Box Of "Sugar-free" Chocolate

Change is the one thing that's constant in life.

I spent a week in the hospital and it brought back unwanted familiarity. 

Several weeks prior to going to the hospital, I had been craving water, juice, diet soda, name it.  I was drinking about 2 liters of fluid nightly causing me to urinate frequently.  I wasn't hungry at all, but I was fatigued and my eyesight had progressively worsened over the past 4 months.  I attributed my symptoms to everything from working on a computer too long, to sleeping an average of four hours per night.

One weekend I felt ill, lethargic.  I had vomited everything I ate and drank, even water.  By Monday, June 14th, 2010 I was vomiting, I couldn't get out of bed, and I had really blurry vision.  My skin was splotchy and I couldn't breathe.  I was huffing and puffing while doing nothing physically daunting so I decided to go to the E.R. at the hospital where I work at. 

I was so dehydrated that blood draws were virtually impossible.  An ultrasound helped locate a vein so that they could draw blood and after several blood samples, a CT Scan, and several tests it turned out that I had become diabetic.  My blood sugar was at 500, normal blood sugar is just under 100.  Needless to say, I arrived just in time.

I have a foley catheter in me so that I can empty my bladder and had acquired an infection which set off the diabetes.  My blood had become so acidic that my body was causing me to huff and puff in order to release the acid via the blood gasses. 

The bad news is that my blood sugar had been high for several months and I was in a state of Ketoacidosis which means that my body was burning fat for energy instead of glucose.  Insulin wasn't being produced to use the glucose in my body.  I'm an atypical diabetic.  I was insulin resistant, which is more like type 2 (adult onset) diabetes, yet leaking out sugar and electrolytes which is more consistent with type 1 (juvenile onset) diabetes.

I stayed in the ICU for 3 nights while they regulated my insulin.  My fingers looked like bloody punching bags from all the finger sticks they did to test my blood.  I had about 5 I.V. lines in me because they kept having trouble finding a vein that wouldn't cause problems.  After several rounds of antibiotics, insulin, and a crash course on insulin therapy I was able to go home on Friday.  I was sent home with insulin and am most likely going to be taking it for a long long time.  

Right when I was accepting the fact that I would be in a wheelchair for a while, change happened again.  I had to empty my fridge and come up with an immediate menu that would accommodate my new dietary needs.  *sigh*  I panicked when I came home because my eyesight had changed dramatically.  I was blind and couldn't read labels, or a computer.  A fear of not being able to work rushed through me.  I bought several reading glasses to help me see at work.  I literally felt like I was wearing coke bottle glasses, LOL.

Right now, I'm worried about complications that can arise from being diabetic and paralyzed.  I already have poor circulation in my legs.  I'm afraid of neuropathy and kidney problems.  But I know that what I have to do now is get my ass in gear and get to the personal trainer so he can get me moving.  Therapy does wonders for the body as far as regeneration so this gives me more incentive to boost my work out routine.

Physical ailment aside, I started to get a little depressed.  I had thought about relationships again.  It was difficult to meet someone before and now I thought it would be a little more challenging.  I have a "great personality" and all, but relationships demand a little more than a great personality.  I've already come to terms that I could be alone for a long time and that if I met someone, they'd have to be really special.  It would have to be someone who really understood love in it's true meaning.  As these thoughts progressed this morning while getting ready for work, I caught a brief interview with an amazing person named Nick.  I'd seen his programs before and had checked out his website.  (http://www.lifewithoutlimbs.org/)  In about 5 minutes I had peace in knowing that having a full functioning body didn't mean that you'd be happy.  I know that I'm special and that God will use this "change" for something amazing.  I really believe that, and am willing to endure this time because I'm not alone, ever.  Life is short and I don't want to lose time wallowing in self-pity, or going through depression though it's a normal thing to experience (briefly).  I tell myself to hang on one more day and that usually works. 

It's been just over two weeks and I'm feeling much better.  Even my eyesight is returning to it's original prescription (as predicted by my diabetes educator), and once again, the power of prayer, love, and faith have brought me through one of life's battles.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Put Your Back Into It

Weeks have gone by, and much has changed.  I'll write more later about the changes.











Today, I had one of those moments, the kind where the light bulb illuminates mental blockage and provides clarity.  It's the less dramatic version of the "Ah ha!" moment.

I just spent a few weeks thinking about life and relationships and so on and came to a conclusion tonight.  

Expand on what you know you have.

I was worried about what hasn't happened, what might not happen.  I was caught up with the "what abouts" and "what ifs".  And while watching a show about singing, I remembered.  I love to sing.  That's what's always made me happy and I'll just keep on singing.  It's where I let go (whether I sound horrible or not), it's where I meet the Lord.  And then all is right again.  Singing is the way I pray, it's the way I converse, it's the way I cry, express joy, love, hate, it's where I'm free.
This new found awareness said, "Now you have to dig.  Put your back into it", figuratively speaking that is.

God was telling me to keep trucking along in order to see all of the things that were in store for me.  You don't win the game if you don't play, right?

So whatever you're going through, remember that you've already won, the sun's always shining above the clouds, and there's plenty of "Ah ha!" moments ahead of you that will keep you going.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Drugs, Hugs, and Ughs.

Like many of my friends, I too have slowed down significantly with blogging.  I've got a few ideas jotted down and several blogs started.  I realize that if I don't write at the point of thought, that the blog tends to get sidelined until the "feeling" returns.

I did however want to keep updated with my progression.  I spoke to a girlfriend the other day who blogs a ridiculous amount of material, but it's because she has so much to talk about, child abuse, sexual abuse, neglect, and all of these topics in raw uncensored format.  We agreed that blogging helps to soothe a savage beast that's just dying to get out.  In fact, it prevents it from growing, keeps it in a non-morphing state, manageable.  If you've got a monster growing, I suggest you write, and if you don't have one, write about your journey.

A few weeks ago, I had a long day.  After a long day at work and a productive time at the SCI support group on Thursdays I called my brother so that he could pick me up from the hospital where the group is held at.   After a series of miss-communications, his girlfriend shows up with their dog instead of him.  I'm not quite comfortable with her yet, well most people in general.  There are a few people I'm comfortable with as far as car transfers go and though she says she's comfortable with me, the feeling is not yet reciprocal.  I love their dog as much as they do, but get a little peeved when they bring it with them to pick me up.  I let the dog sit on my lap because I love her, but it's damn annoying when I'm covered with dog hair and no one helps me to remove the hair.  I mean I can't leave dog hair all over me, esp. because I can't show up to work like that.  And yes, even a simple task like removing dog hair from my clothing takes much longer than usual.

To add insult to injury, my brother's gf offers to help me up the driveway of our home and starts pushing me.....on my back.  I almost fall out of the chair and don't think I've ever used profanity like that in front of her before.  I think I uttered something like "STOP STOP NONONONON...STOPSTOP!  JFC STOP!". ( I hate how you can't take words back.  I repented quickly.lol)  So I had to take a breather and educate her.  (F.Y.I., if you help push someone in a wheelchair, push the CHAIR, not the person. ugh.)
Upon reading my mail once inside, it was like, uh oh, here it comes.  I received a letter from the CA State Board of Pharmacy, a "Letter of Admonishment".  You know it's not good when you get registered mail from a State office. I panicked upon reading the letter, thinking to myself, " I can't lose my job, it's the only income I have".  With a contained panic, I looked up "admonishment" per the online dictionary to be clear on what they were telling me and basically, it's a written form of a scarlet letter stating that they're slapping me on the wrists and that I need to have the letter readily available at all times for 3 years.  REALLY?  I think I'll just scan it and download it to my phone...technology, eh?  This D.U.I. is just a never ending nightmare.

I was going through all the emotions in the rainbow that day.  

At the support group, we talked about "touch" for a while.  I have to tell you that I miss hugs.  Great big bear hugs where someone at some point gets lifted off the ground or gasps for air, lol.  Now, I get awkward hugs because people are afraid to hurt me or just don't know where to place their arms.  And inevitably, someone tends to get my makeup on their clothing.  (Sorry if you're one of the lucky few)

Lack of sensation below the waist also means that there's no sexual urges either.  Sex is all mental now and has to be reprocessed through different regions of the body because the sensation/stimulation points change once you mess with the nerves.  It also has added to the warped sense of humour that I have because you're almost forced to think about it creatively, and me having a wild imagination????  It makes me wonder how perverse a person can really be.  It's like getting a free ticket to think like a freak.  Picture having sex with someone without having your genitals, you'll come up with some strange ideas.  Living in So. Cal, and having cable make it hard to think about sex in a way that's not traditional.  We've barely skimmed the surface in group about sexual intercourse, but people (usually the guys) are more functional than women.  Everyone's different.  Anyhow I'll expand on that later.  But for now, we'll stay with touch.  Someone suggested swimming.  People with Spinal Cord Injuries (SCI) are always placed in warm water to help stimulate circulation, while others with paralysis due to degenerative diseases are placed in cold water.  The warm water is said to be stimulating.  If you think about it, our skins is one of the major sex organs, right?

Well, I'll wrap this up since it's just after 11 p.m.  I get up for work around 4 a.m.   My kingdom for sleep.  G'nite.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Sit, Stay, Good Boy....I love you. Yes I do.

Life has come and gone again in our home.

This morning I could've sworn I heard Action, my dog, barking.  He greeted me every morning when I opened the vertical blinds that line the sliding door by my bed.  He was trained to be an outdoor dog and because of his breed, an American Eskimo, he preferred it that way.  The house was his to guard and his bark always let us know when our friends, delivery people, and other "nuisances" were nearby.  Even after going completely deaf, he could smell when people were close, but he always knew our family. 

Action was given to me in 1994 by a friend when we graduated from Pharmacy Tech School together.  He was the cutest thing I ever did see, I tell you.  Three months old, as big as a mini loaf of bread, all white fur (even his lashes), and a little black nose.  My parents were completely against it until they fell in love with him too, especially my dad.  In my opinion, he broke up the tension in the house sometimes and softened angry hearts.  How could you get mad?

As he grew older, he gave us some grief as most pets do when you're unfamiliar with what to do with them.  (Soap Box announcement:  get educated before you get pets for you or your kids.  They require a lot of work, money, insurance, exercise, and most of all your time & love....end announcement)   Our dog was extremely smart and proved it by causing havoc in the park across the street from our house.  Unknowingly (and frequently), our dog would hop over the back wall, run around the block, go to the park and have a good run.  When all was done, he would return the same way, in the same manner and greet us at the back door with a wag and a smile.  Til one day, he went during the park's kids' soccer season.  He got so excited and chased a kid, and eventually bit him.  (Dog rider on the house insurance = more $$)

One time on his way home from one of his morning jogs, he got hit by a car but came away with only scrapes and bruises.  We found out when the driver came to our house to ask us if we had a white dog.  We confirmed that we did and  he explained to us what had happened.  I checked the back yard and wouldn't you know it, he had returned before we could notice.  We checked him out and confirmed that it was true, especially when Action started barking like crazy at the man, but he was alright.  Just some First Aid, and TLC, and he was fine.

So we really had to watch him and put him on a really long leash so that he could still run around but not far enough to get out.  Poor guy.

Obedience school was one of the funnier times we shared together, like "Mommy & Me" for pets and their owners.  One funny memory is of us having a good day at school.  We finished and hopped into my Impala.(He loved riding with me.)  We exited the parking lot, and with the leash around my wrist, he jumped out of the window before I could accelerate into the street.  I had to slam the breaks on and get him back inside. Oy Vey!  Picture me, someone really short, in a huge car trying to get this dog back inside. There was a lot of crawling across that huge bench seat going on.

He also loved to dig holes.  Holes big enough for his body to shelter him in cold weather.  Instinct.  Imagine our surprise the first time we saw his tail wagging from the hill without a body present.  Pretty funny, but we couldn't stop him from doing it and ended up filling a lot of holes till he couldn't climb up anymore.

We named him Action because he was so fast and could outrun most dogs in the park.  I used to work graveyard shifts and would walk him in the morning.  My version of walking him was me taking him to the park hungry, letting him run around with other dogs, then calling him back with snacks in hand.  It always worked.  Other dogs seemed to get snacks too.  They'd smell them in my pockets and come and jump in my lap.  I spent a lot of money on snacks, lol.

Action would've been 16 years old next month.  In his old age, he'd gone deaf and had failing eyesight.  His hips were getting weak and getting up and down the steps was becoming a chore.  He still had a great loud bark that annoyed the heck out of our neighbors, but that's how he loved us, by protecting us.

Last night when mom went out to feed him, she found him on the side of the house lying down and permanently asleep.  His teeth were getting bad and he was having trouble chewing kibble.  We think he choked on a piece and might've had a heart attack in the process of coughing up the food or maybe a fur ball ( our dog had A LOT of hair )  The exertion was just too much for him.  I know he's happy wherever he is, running around and digging holes.  I miss him, I even looked outside to see if he was outside this morning, he wasn't.

I woke up and saw the last 5 minutes of Marley & Me, and caught the part that wasn't sad, but the part where it reminds you that this one little guy made you feel completely special, completely loved, and one of a kind.  That was a gift.  And when I looked out at the hill in our backyard where he loved to dig those enormous holes, I saw one beautiful flower that had blossomed as if to remind me that he would always be home.
 

I love you Action.  Sit.  Stay. Good Boy.


Monday, February 15, 2010

The 3rd Mile

Mile 1: Surviving physical & emotional tragedy

Mile 2: Completing Rehabilitation

Mile 3:  Reconnecting with the world

I feel as if I'd made a food dish without love, passion.  I've added all of the right ingredients,followed every step of preparation, employed all the right methods, temperatures, and proportions, but because it was something just "put together", it doesn't feel right.  The desire and excitement aren't proportionally right and I think I just need to scrap the dish and start over.

Take a breath.

I started work on January 18th, 2010.

Though this (to me) isn't a huge deal, it was.  I hate the spotlight being on me whether it be photos, attention, special treatment....I don't know why, but it embarrasses me. 

Ironically, I like people to know who I am.  I like to be a presence in all of your lives.  Who doesn't want to be known or heard for something good?

I did everything right as far as paperwork, e-mails, phone calls go, but something felt off.  Thankfully the transition was seamless, the work was easy, and oddly enough it was the rest of the day that was off.

The women's restroom on our floor has a VERY heavy door.  There's a small 1/2 inch lip in front of the door.  Going from a dead stop to rolling over an object requires a lot of strength, opposed to just being able to roll over with momentum as your strength.  I open the door and let the bolt , that locks the door in place, rest on the frame so that I can pop a wheelie and charge at the door to open it.  Sorry door.  Once I'm in, I usually get chewed up by the door's weight and have to maneuver carefully using both arms in order to prevent injury (more injury I should say) to my hands, arms, and chair.  After that obstacle I proceed through the interstitial area to another door which thankfully swings open.

Then comes the social interaction, the stares, the awkward meetings with the other women in the restroom.  In life you tend to be insensitive towards situations until you're forced to engage them.  In the first month back at work I've encountered 3 separate women who purposely used the Handicap Restroom while I was in there.  Once while washing my hands prior to going to the restroom a woman passed me up while doing the "pee pee" dance and rushed into the handicap stall, bypassing the 2 regular stalls.  She spent 5 minutes in the restroom, 4 of which she repeatedly blew her nose and flushed the toilet, about 8 times I'd say, until I just couldn't stand it.  With a stern voice I said, "Excuse me, are you done in there because I'm in a wheelchair.".  She assumed I was done and about to leave because she saw me washing my hands.  EEHHR ::game show buzzer::   WRONG ANSWER!

I get it, maybe you like having elbow room or maybe you like feeling elite by using the biggest stall in all of Wonderland.  I confess, I've used the handicap stall myself prior to injury, but if you're going to use "that" stall, please be quick and don't assume that someone is done because they're not in the stall.  For heaven's sake, just open your mouth and ask!
Common sense, I know, but for some reason, a specific group of people in high management positions seem to lack it.

As for the door situation, I've contacted the building's management office and was told by some intern or desk assistant that the building's policies were to have the doors shut that hard in order to prevent "peeping" into the women's restroom.  Even after explaining  that there was an interstitial area, the parrot echoed that it was policy.  I doubt he passed the message on so I have to follow up.  I don't want to get ugly, nasty, manipulative, I don't want to pull out trump cards like "worker's comp", but if I have to, I will.

One thing I've learned through the last year was how to advocate for myself.  I will call back again and again until it gets done, even if I have to pull a few strings.  Two snaps and a swivel of the neck, THAT'S RIGHT!!!









So, I guess frustration seems to be the wrong ingredient in my dish, yet perseverance seems to correct the situation.


I've received all of your prayers and well-wishes and am grateful to know that a motley little crew that I call friends are there to encourage, push, and wish me onto better things.  :)

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Family Roots?

One thing lacking in my life is blood-related family, roots.  The topic of family saddens me especially when I meet people that are close to their families.  I get a little bitter and spiteful because I feel like my dad prevented me and my brother from being a part of something out of purely selfish reasons.  I hate the ego.  I prayed a lot that God would let me meet my family, and it's started to happen.



The long story short is that my dad has 8 brothers and sisters, and my grandfather (my lolo) has 8 brothers and sisters.  I have 4 half-siblings from my dad's previous marriage as well as a million cousins.  What Filipino doesn't?  It's a staple like Spam, Vienna sausages, parties with karaoke, rice, soy sauce...etc. lol.


Prior to my accident, I had always longed for family.  My father never talked about his roots and never invited us to family functions.  Apparently, we're the black sheep on my father's side.  We're estranged.  

But now, in the age of online communities, I've taken it upon myself to search them out.  I'm too cheap to pay for "family tree-building"/"people locating" websites because I know that I could probably do it myself.  It would only cost me time and tenacity.  Luckily for me, networking sites have made it impossible NOT to find family.  My last name, Almalel, makes the task even easier because ALL Almalels are related.  Every single person I requested on FB (that would accept) verified that in some way we were related.  The Excel sheet I started is getting out of hand so I just jot down facts now.


The beginning attempts to relate to my past have been interesting.  I have relatives all over the world.  I met my dad's 1st cousin who lives in AZ and it was cool talking to her because she was my dad's childhood crony.  She dished out a lot about my dad.  It was as if I found a book that detailed Jesus' life between the ages of 12 and 33.  Okay, that's a bit extreme, but I was equally as interested.

Searching for my family has ups and downs.  I now know that I have a 3 year old sister who's mom is probably my age....gross...., but I found my half brother on FB and was so glad to reconnect because apparently, he's a black sheep too. (He's gay and was disowned by my father in '97)  Today I met my 25 year old niece and we chatted a bit.  We decided to get together for lunch.  I feel weird meeting family in this stage of my life and honestly I feel stranger meeting them while in a wheelchair.  It's my own deal, I know.



But this is yet another answered prayer "post-accident".  I'm meeting family left and right and won't let my fear keep me from knowing them any longer.  Before, my dad kept my immediate family from knowing the whole family, so I'm taking the opportunity to meet them, whether it's odd or not.  I'm odd, so I'll be fine. :)

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Christmas Reflection

This was a note that I posted on FB entitled "Tis The Season".  I wanted to share this with everyone I know that's followed my journey on a more public platform, though it's important for me to keep these things documented here, where my private thoughts lie.

Thanks to all who've supported me this last year.



Tis The Season


What if I told you that tomorrow your life would change drastically? You'll be hospitalized for 4 months and will have to relearn how to do things for yourself again. Your bladder and bowels will no longer respond and you can forget about sex for awhile. Independence will have to be put aside as well as pride because you will need help with everything. Pain will be a daily obstacle, yet not one that you cannot overcome.



Now, what if I told you that you would be given strength, peace, patience, and a TON of love while the change happens? That all your financial needs would be met and that you would be inspiration to other people? That your family would reunite, and that amazing friends would come out of nowhere, and that your path would be clear to you?

In 4 hours I will be celebrating my 1 year anniversary. I've survived and it's thanks to all of my family, friends, and obviously God.

The journey has begun and life is now perceived through a different mindset. A paradigm shift if you may. I'm much less negative and make an effort to be a better human everyday.

Remember what's important. Let the little things go. Time is short.

What's the old adage?

Live, Love, Laugh

God bless you all and Merry Christmas.

 
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