Posted in #CRPS, #Gastroparesis, #RSD, Courage, Faith, Family, Invisible Illnesses, Uncategorized

April Showers Bring May Flowers

Note: This was written the last week of April, but didn’t get posted until May.

I’ve always heard people make comments about March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb and April showers bringing May flowers. As April draws to an end, I look back on a month full of storms, not showers. I’m not referring to the weather. Instead, I’m referring to my life and the journey I have taken this month.

April came in on a Sunday. April Fool’s Day and Easter both fell on the same day. Not feeling well, I didn’t make it to church services that Sunday. Monday morning, April 2, I woke up early. I was feeling a little better so, I decided to work on a pair of socks I was knitting as I followed along with a  knit a-long sponsored by Red Heart Yarn. I knitted the same round of stitches several times and had to take them out because I made a mistake. A little voice in my head was telling me to put the knitting away and go check on my parents. I continued knitting, but just kept making the same mistake. So I laid the knitting aside, got on my power mobility scooter, strapped my wheelchair on behind, and went over to my sister’s newly purchased house.

I knew my parents were in the basement pressure washing the walls and there was nothing I could do down there, but I thought maybe there was something I could do to help. Upon arrival, only seconds later because my sister had bought the house next door to us, I transferred back to my wheelchair, rolled up the ramp, and went inside. Mom came up the stairs to see if I was the person she was hearing upstairs. She was pretty sure she was hearing my wheelchair and my dog Pepper. She told me that Dad was a little dizzy, so they were taking a break. I really didn’t think much about Dad being dizzy because he has an inner ear disease that throws him off-balance. I asked if there was anything I could do to help out and she asked me to clean a few things on the ground level of the house. I had been there about 20 minutes when I noticed a dark area on the bedroom floor where a register had previously been used to heat the house using a coal furnace. I knew my sister was wanting to restore the hardwood floor, so I decided to see if the black stuff would come off. I set down to clean with a small hand-held steam cleaner. Little did I know what was going on around me.

My dog, Pepper, curled up  next to where I was sitting on the floor. He laid there for just a few seconds and then started acting strange. He began to run around inside the house. He was running in and out of the empty rooms barking a low bark like something was wrong. I thought I better check things out. As I used my arms to raise my body off the floor and get back into my wheelchair, I felt a little dizzy and began smelling gas fumes. Certain odors, such as gasoline, perfumes, and cologne make me dizzy and cause me to have migraines. I decided I better go home before the smell of cleaning supplies mingled with gasoline made me sick. I also realized that if I was smelling gas fumes upstairs, there were probably gas fumes downstairs. So, I rolled to the door that opens to a flight of steps leading down to the basement. I was planning to tell Mom I was going home and that they probably needed to get some fresh air.

I opened the door and the smell of gasoline was so strong it nearly took my breath. I yelled, “Mom.” I listened and did not get a response. I proceeded to yell “Mom” several more times. I still wasn’t getting an answer. I knew my parents were supposed to be downstairs and each time I didn’t get an answer, I became a bit more concerned. Finally I saw Dad appear at the bottom of the steps. I told him I was just letting them know I was going to go home because I couldn’t handle the gas fumes. At least that is what I had thought I was going to do.

Dad informed me that mom was sick and laying on the ground in the back yard just outside the basement door. I thought they had probably breathed too many gas fumes and needed to go rest and get fresh air. I rolled out to the driveway, transferred to my mobility scooter and started around the house to check on mom. Before I was far enough around the house to see them, I heard Mom ask Dad how long she had been “out there on the ground.” That concerned me. When I came around the back corner of the house, I quickly realized things were worse than I had anticipated. Mom and Dad were both feeling ill. There color wasn’t good, they were short of breath, and they weren’t making a lot of sense. I knew we had to get home and get fresh air. At this point, I was still thinking gasoline fumes mingled with Clorox had probably caused some kind of reaction and was setting up chemical pneumonia.

Mom stood up and began to stagger home. Dad said he had to get the pressure washer out of the basement so the gas fumes would clear out. I sat in the driveway on my power mobility scooter not sure if I should follow mom or stay with dad. I sat on the end of the driveway, so I could see mom walk home. I waited and dad never came back to the front of the house. In that moment, all I could think was, “Why isn’t he coming?” I rode my scooter back around the house and found Dad laying over a pile of concrete blocks vomiting up jet black gunk. I knew time was ticking and I had to get help. I didn’t have a phone without going home, but how was I going to take Dad with me. I’m in a wheelchair and can barely get myself up and down. While quickly playing it out in my head how to get Dad home, I also realized I didn’t even know how mom was. Thankfully Dad raised up, looked at me with white foam around his mouth, and said, “I’m sick.” He denies ever laying on the blocks and vomiting black, so he must have been unconscious when I first found him. Dad was alert and able to walk home, although I honestly don’t know how.

I left my wheelchair on my sister’s car port and drove my power mobility scooter home as Dad walked. We arrived to find Mom was in the bathroom vomiting jet black stuff as well. Mom had enough sense to know she needed medical attention, so she had called 911 on her cell phone. She had given them her information, but due to poor cell signal had lost the call and wasn’t able to answer when they called back. I was on the way to get the phone when mom yelled to say I needed to call 911 and get help. That was my plan anyway. Living with CRPS and gastroparesis, pain and weakness make it difficult for me to get around. In order to check on Mom, I was going to have to get off my mobility scooter and slide down the hall on my backside. I knew she was in the bathroom and sick. I also knew she wasn’t answering every time I yelled to check on her. At this point my adrenaline must have kicked into overdrive or I went into shock one. I was able to stay calm even though I thought I was watching my parents die.

I called 911 and my uncle, mom’s brother, answered the call. While I felt horrible having to tell him I needed an ambulance for his sister, it was a relief to hear a familiar voice. As I gave him the details and checked on mom and dad, I realized they were falling asleep and I couldn’t keep them awake. I’m no medical specialist, but I knew that was not a good sign. During this conversation, the words carbon monoxide poison came up. Yes, the situation was much more serious than I had realized. My uncle, from 911 dispatch, told me I needed to get my parents outside to fresh air. I’m a small disabled woman. I do good to get myself in and out of the wheelchair. They were both falling asleep and I knew I couldn’t move them. So, I did the next best thing I could think of. I opened every outside door so the outside air would circulate in.

911 now had all the info they needed and we hung up. I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting there, thinking my parents were dying, alone. I immediately called my aunt and with a shaky voice asked her to come quick because my parents had been poisoned. I didn’t realize I had been too. My uncle working at the police department called me back on the non emergency line and asked me to call my uncle who lives nearby to come to us. So I quickly had two other family members there with Mom, Dad, and me.

The ambulance arrived only minutes later and took Mom and Dad to the hospital. Family insisted I had to be checked also because I had been in the house 20-30 minutes myself. I said I would, but I needed to make some phone calls first. Priority number one was to let my sister know Mom and Dad had gotten carbon monoxide poisoned cleaning her basement. I needed her to hear the news from me before it came through the small town grapevine. Whoever said word gets around in a small town knew what they were saying. I knew she worked next door to the hospital and I wanted to call her before someone else informed her an ambulance had just arrived at ER with our parents. So, I called her. My next two calls were my other two siblings. They both work for the school system. School had been canceled that day, so they had planned on coming up that afternoon to work at my sister’s house. I didn’t want them to show up and wonder what had happened to all of us. My last call was to ask my aunt, a former veterinary assistant, if my dog needed any treatment. Yes, I was more concerned about my dog than I was myself. He’s my knight in shining armor. If he hadn’t alerted me that something was wrong, we wouldn’t have gotten out and got help as soon as we did. She said since he was running around acting fine he would be okay without any treatment. If she had said he needed treatment, I would have taken him with me to the hospital. Someone could have picked him up there and transported him to the vet.

Having made connection with my siblings and knowing my faithful unofficial service dog was okay, I agreed to go to ER. My wheelchair was still sitting at my sister’s house and my mobility scooter is difficult to load, so my uncle, who had come to check on us, went to get my wheelchair. I was surprised when I went to ER that the doctor came into triage and checked me out. He already knew the situation because he was also treating Mom and Dad.

To make a long story a little shorter, we all had carbon monoxide poison and had to spend six hours in ER wearing oxygen masks. Mom and Dad had moderate carbon monoxide poison and I had mild. Thankfully they were able to blow off the carbon monoxide with oxygen and we were released to go home that same evening.

Since that day, a lot of people have told me how thankful they are that I went to check on Mom and Dad that day and that I stayed calm and got the help we needed. The doctor says another ten minutes and Mom and Dad would not have been alive. I know there are a lot of non-believers in the world, but I truly believe that was God making me think I needed to go check on Mom and Dad. I’m so thankful I listened and still have my parents here with me.

As we continued through April, the storm continued. Mom and I had a flat on the interstate going 70 miles per hour. The tire might have been shredded and had to be replaced, but God was watching over us again. We didn’t wreck and no one was hurt. I also dropped a half-gallon bottle of juice, which landed on my foot and broke my toe. The month wrapped up with another trip to ER and news that I must have some tests done in May because something isn’t right with my colon.

So, I’ve also heard said when it rains it pours. The April storms have passed and I’m looking for calmer days in May.

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Posted in #CRPS, #Gastroparesis, #RSD, Chronic Illness, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome / Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, Courage, Faith, Gastroparesis, Happiness, Invisible Illnesses, Life Lessons, Strength, Thankfulness

True Freedom

Growing up in a Christian home, the person I have become has been heavily influenced by both my faith and my family. From the time I was a young child, I can always remember being told that I should always tell the truth…that Satan is the one who leads us to lie…and that one lie leads to another lie and eventually the lie gets so big that you get caught lying because you can’t remember all the lies you have previously told.

Due to my immune system not functioning well, I’ve not been able to attend church as much as I would like to due to illnesses. When you are home and sick in bed, you have a lot of time to think and I must admit I’ve done a lot of thinking about John chapter eight verse thirty-two and the truth.

John chapter 8 verse 32

First let me give a little background information to help put my story into perspective. A couple of weeks ago I was feeling okay-ish (if okay-ish is even a word), so I decided to go to church. With it being flu season and the flu outbreak reaching epidemic proportions I chose to decline all hand shakes and hugs. I must admit, it felt a little odd refusing to shake hands and hug people I have known all my life, but it was for my own good. I have been advised by medical personnel to not be out around groups of people unless absolutely necessary. After being home for a couple of weeks, it was absolutely necessary I break free from the walls of my house. Just being out with people was putting me at a higher risk of getting sick, I didn’t need to chance getting deathly ill because someone was sick and didn’t know it yet. So, I politely explained I have a weakened immune system and asked for no bodily contact. Thankfully everyone understood and cooperated with me. They all know how sick I have been the past few years and that my body isn’t fighting off illnesses right now. I hadn’t been to church in a few weeks, so although they couldn’t get hugs and handshakes, I think everyone in the building came by to say hello and find out how I was doing. It’s nice to know people care.

This is when things got a little interesting. Someone came by and asked how I was doing and I answered with a smile and my usual answer, “I’m okay.” Now I must admit this phrase coming out of my mouth could mean almost anything. Okay might mean that my pain is a two on the zero to ten pain scale and everything seems to be going good today or it might mean that I slept two hours last night in fifteen minute intervals, I’ve already vomited ten times this morning, my pain is an eight on the zero to ten scale, and it’s only eleven in the morning. Many of us with chronic health conditions have learned that sometimes it is easier to smile and say we are okay than to explain how we really feel. There’s a few people in my life that have realized this and they ask what “okay” means.

To be completely honest, I wasn’t really sure how I was doing physically that Sunday morning. I didn’t feel any worse than normal, but I had been staying really tired, most likely because my heart was beating a little too fast (which it is still doing). Although I had a gut feeling that my test results would be normal, I wouldn’t get the results from my echocardiogram and blood cultures for three more days. By the way, I was right. The test results were normal. We have no idea why my heart is beating fast part of the time.

So, I had just been asked how I was doing and answered that I was okay. This is when someone else spoke up and said, “You lied.” I must admit that comment caught me a little off guard at first. I don’t get called a liar very often. While I don’t really feel like I’m telling a lie by stating I’m okay even when my health says I’m not, it was time for the service to start so I quickly justified my answer by telling the other person I was sure he does the same thing. The other person also lives with chronic health issue, so I’m sure he understood my answer.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve thought a lot about truth verses lies. While I don’t think anyone involved in the previous conversation really thought I was lying, it made me stop and think about how many times we answer questions with what we consider to be an honest answer, but if the other person really knew how we felt they would call us a liar. Two people don’t always perceive things the same way.

For a long time, I did lie about how I felt. I bravely put on that fake smile and said I was “okay” even when deep inside I knew I wasn’t. Like others living with chronic illness, I felt like that was my only option. I somehow convinced myself that I was protecting others by keeping my struggles to myself. I thought I was keeping others from worrying about me. Only since starting this blog, have I really opened up and started telling people how I really feel. Some might see sharing your struggles as a sign of weakness, but I’ve realized it isn’t. Overall people seem pleased to find out how I am really doing. I have encountered a few people who didn’t really want the truth, but that’s their problem not mine. I’ve come to the conclusion that if you don’t really want to know something you shouldn’t ask.

You might be reading this and wondering where in the world I’m headed with this story. I’m getting there. I share this story to encourage others fighting health issues, whether it be physical or mental, to open up and share how you really feel.

Just today (okay I just realized it’s one in the morning so it was really yesterday) someone was asking me questions about my CRPS and whether I feel it’s better, worse, or about the same today as it was three years ago or twenty years ago. I told the person from my perspective it’s progressively getting worse. Then the person commented he couldn’t imagine what it’s like. I quickly stated, “Oh, you get used to it.” I immediately felt myself crawling back into my shell. The room went quiet and I heard a voice in my head screaming, “Liar!”

At this point, I had a choice to make, I could leave the conversation and let the physical therapist think CRPS and gastroparesis was something you just get used to, or I could stand up for myself and every other person living with chronic illnesses. The choice was mine. Was I going to be brave and share the truth, knowing that the only way to be honest was to share my struggles and reveal my weaknesses, or was I going to allow myself to continue to crawl back into my comfy shell where I felt safe?

Admitting my weaknesses isn’t easy. In a matter of milliseconds my thoughts went everywhere. I thought of everything I’ve been through with my health, the people I’ve met at doctors offices from around the world, and the pediatric pain warriors I met at camp. Deep inside I knew this was more than just a chance to stand up for myself, I was defending every person out there who feels like they have to hide their true feelings behind that fake smile to protect everyone else. At that point, there was no doubt in my mind. I knew what I had to do. After a short pause I said, “No, you don’t really get used to it. You just learn to adapt.” I then explained how it’s easier, twenty years later, as an adult, to deal with the pain and the unknown future than it was when I was fifteen. I explained how difficult it was a month before my sixteenth birthday to be diagnosed with a rare chronic pain disease for which I was told a cure wasn’t known.  This is the first time I have discussed with anyone outside my immediate family how difficult it was to watch my classmates get excited about getting driver’s permits while I just wanted to walk. I had written it for others to read on my blog, but never said it aloud. Don’t let anyone convince you that typing something for someone to read in another room is no different from saying it for someone sitting in front of you to hear. Typing and saying something are two totally different things.

No, you never get used to the pain and everything else that goes along with CRPS and gastroparesis, but you can adapt and learn to live with it.  Does accepting my current state of health mean I’ve given up? Absolutely NOT! Each new day brings something new. I’ve realized that tomorrow will be whatever it is. Whether day break brings healing or struggles, I know I’m ready for it.

Okay to admit your not okay

Yes, my health conditions do cause me to experience pain, fatigue, nausea, vomiting, etc., and make life a little more challenging and unpredictable at times. I’ve realized it’s okay to admit I’m not okay. I’m the only one who knows how I really feel and I don’t have to protect everyone else by hiding it. However, I have also realized my attitude, not a medical diagnosis, determines how I am doing.

So am I okay? Yes and no. It depends on what you are actually asking and from whose perspective you are looking at it. Sometimes my brain says I’m fine, while my body is screaming help me.

I'm Fine

There is one thing I’m sure of honesty is always the best policy. If can’t let down your guard and openly share how you feel for your own good, think about those who are following you. Let’s build bridges to make the way easier for those behind us. It’s amazing how good it feels to be able to honestly say, no my life isn’t perfect…no I won’t ever get used to living with chronic pain…no this isn’t the life I imagined I would be living…but I’m going to make host out of it anyway. Yes, the truth does set you free.

 

Note: All images came from pinterest. If you own an image and either want credits added or don’t want me to use it, please contact me.

Posted in #GPPieFaceChallenge, Courage, Gastroparesis, Invisible Illnesses, My Life

#GPPieFaceChallenge

Pie Face

 

Sorry blog followers, but my account will not let me post a video, so here is my gastroparesis pie face challenge photo.

I challenge each of you to take the gastroparesis pie face challenge and post an image or video on the social media site of your choice.

For more information about the gastroparesis pie face challenge visit their official page on Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/gastroparesispiefacechallenge/

Posted in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome / Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, Courage, Gastroparesis, Inspiration, Life Lessons, Rare Diseases, Strength

Broken

Yes but no one whats a broken crayon

I saw this quote on Pinterest a few days ago and as a person living with a rare and several chronic illnesses, it made me stop and think about life.

When you buy a box of crayons, you expect unbroken crayons with those perfect little crayon points. You don’t expect a box full of pieces of crayons. As a matter of fact, most people throw away broken crayons. I hadn’t really thought about it until I saw the quote, but broken crayons do still color, so why do they get thrown away?

Living with multiple chronic illnesses, I can relate to the broken crayon that still colors. Due to illnesses beyond my control, my body is “broken.” I have pain and weakness in my legs and feet and am unable to walk. My stomach doesn’t empty, which makes eating difficult. It also adds to my weakness and causes me to be tired. Sometimes, I feel like people treat me like the broken crayon. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong, but it seems to me as though I get left out of things and I’m sure it’s because people think I’m “not able” or “don’t feel like it.” Maybe they are afraid to ask out of fear of hurting me.

Sometimes I feel like I, like the crayon, have been thrown out because I’m broken. However, like the crayon is still able to color, I still have purpose and am useful. I may not be able to run marathons or win pie eating contests, but there are lots of things I can do and am good at. My ears work fine and I’m a good listener. While I may be physically weak, I’m spiritually strong and am willing to be a shoulder for others to lean on. I may spend most of my days in bed because I simply do not have enough energy to get up, but I can talk on the phone and send emails. I can also inspire others going though similar situations by blogging about my experiences. When my carpal tunnel and neck pain cooperate, I can knit, paint, and do crafts. I may not currently be physically capable of working, but I still have purpose.

Being disabled doesn’t make me useless, it just points my life in a different direction and gives me a new purpose.  Small chunks of broken crayon are often disposed of because they are difficult to color with. However, I have melted broken crayons before and used cardboard and plastic molds to form them into new crayons. Instead of putting them in the trash, I made new, often larger, multi-colored crayons. Just like crayons broken into little pieces can make coloring a little more difficult, CRPS and gastroparesis have made my life more difficult. Many of the activities I did before CRPS (hiking, playing volleyball, etc.) are no longer possible. With gastroparesis, I can no longer eat many of the foods I once enjoyed. Just like I took the broken pieces of crayons, melted them. and molded them onto new crayons with new purpose, I’ve had to take my broken life and put the pieces together in a new way to find purpose. I’ve had to find ways to adapt. I’ve learned new things, found new hobbies, and adapted to my new life. I miss my old life before CRPS and gastroparesis, when things seemed easier and life seemed less complicated, but I’ve come to accept my new life and continually look for things I can do to make life better, both for me and others.

If you are struggling with a new medical diagnosis or changing abilities because your chronic illness is getting progressively worse, I encourage you to keep fighting. Don’t give up. As chronic illness warriors, we must stand tall and stick together. Talk to others fighting the same fight. There’s strength in numbers. You may feel broken, but know that broken crayons still color. No matter how broken your life may seem, you are very important. You are loved. Your life still has purpose.

 

Here are a few more broken quotes I came across that I liked..

King David committed adultery & murder - he sinned big, but repented bigger - he is a model of what real repentance looks like - he wrote Psalm 51 as an agonized cry to God for forgiveness - God not only forgave him but called David "a man after His own heart" Like & Repin thx. Follow Noelito Flow instagram http://www.instagram.com/noelitoflow

Beautifully Broken Quotes | Broken clouds pour rain, Broken soil sets as fields, Broken crop yield ...

 

Posted in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome / Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, Courage, Life Lessons, My Life, Rare Diseases, Thankfulness

Lost and Found

As you my followers know, I keep asking myself why I am sharing my story.  I’ve been blogging since September and haven’t even told anyone who knows me about my blog.  I was surprised when complete strangers started following my blog.   I found myself questioning whether or not this was a good idea.  I’ve been scared and tempted to stop writing, but there is an inner voice within me that won’t let me stop.  It tells me to keep going.

I realized today what it is all about.  Today, through a video on the Mighty, I found a fellow warrior.  This young lady has CRPS, writes for The Mighty, and also has a WordPress blog #SIMPLYSABRINA.  I share this because her writing titled “2017: Acceptance” put what I’ve been feeling in words I couldn’t come up with.  Sharing my story on this blog has helped me accept my circumstances and has set me free.  Writing this blog has allowed me to open up and be me.  I’m learning to accept my life as it is and embrace my differences.  I’m learning that I don’t have to meet the expectations of others.  There may not be a cure for CRPS and gastroparesis, but through sharing my story, I’m finding emotional healing.  I feel free to be me.

Thanks Sabrina for helping this lost writer find her way!  Supporting each other…that’s what it’s all about.

Posted in #MyMightyMonth, Center for Courageous Kids, Courage, Faith, Life Lessons, My Life

Day 3 of 30

January 4…Wow, this is more difficult than I imagined it would be.  Some of these prompts cause you to stop and think about what’s truly important in life.  I debated on whether I should share today’s writing, but decided to go ahead.  So here it is.

Personal Prompt:  Write a letter to you future self.

Dear older me:

I couldn’t resist using that as my greeting.  If you remember your younger self, you know that we used to listen to K-Love a lot on the radio and their was a song about someone writing to the younger them and it started out “dear younger me.”

I’ve had a difficult day today, but looking back you may or may not remember it.  The important thing is that with God’s help, we made it through today. The road may not be easy, but with God all things are possible.

I hope you still go to church and trust in God.  I’m sure you’ve been through a lot, but I know He has been there for you.  No matter how difficult things may get, don’t give up and don’t lose faith.  There are going to be people who don’t like you, but that’s okay.  Just be yourself and do what is right and everything will be okay.

With Love,

A younger you

Creative Prompt: Write a letter to someone you admire.

Dear people I met at CCK:

You may not see yourselves as heroes or someone to be admired, but I do. Each of you will forever have a special place in my heart.

To the CEO and staff, you gave my niece and nephew a weekend of fun, with me their aunt with a disability, that we will never forget.  Who would have known that a weekend at a camp designed for children with disabilities would have been so much fun.  I admire what you have made available for children living with chronic illnesses.  Ms. Betty had a big dream when she built the Center for Courageous Kids and her dream has brought lots of smiles to children and adults alike.  A camp that accommodates the special needs of children with chronic illnesses was a great idea.

To the children we met, you are truly amazing. Although your lives may be difficult, your happiness and smiles bring joy to others.  Your courage gives me the strength to keep fighting.  You inspire me to be the best I can be.

To the parents of the children, you deserve the worlds greatest honors. Your love for your children is evident in the way you care for them and make time in your schedule to spend a fun-filled weekend with them at camp. You give of yourself and time to make their lives more enjoyable.

To each of you, I say thanks.  Thanks for being an inspiration. Thanks for letting me be a part of your life.

DR

 

Posted in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome / Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, Courage, Gastroparesis, Invisible Illnesses, Life Lessons, My Life

A Love/Hate Relationship

Have you ever thought you really hated something only to realize you actually love it?  I know people who wouldn’t even taste certain foods as a child, but have found them to be their favorite foods as an adult.  Well, my love/hate story has nothing at all to do with food.

The relationship started when I was a teenager.  I was diagnosed with Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy.  While many of my so-called friends no longer had time for me,  a new friend came along.  Everywhere I went this new friend came along.  This friend was very supportive, but I didn’t want this friend.  You see, this new friend was a set of wooden crutches.  The pain was so bad and my right leg became so weak, that I couldn’t walk on it.

love-hate

Looking back, I realize that as much as I hated those wooden crutches, they carried me everywhere I went.  They helped me finish high school and start college.  As much as I hated them, they were always there when I needed them.

dscn4842I walked with crutches on an as needed basis for about six years.  Then my RSD got to the point that I was needing them all the time.  Wooden crutches became a thing of the past and I began walking with shiny silver-colored aluminum crutches.  For the next ten to twelve years, I had to have new crutches every two years because the hole that adjusts the crutches to my height would wear out from use.  Several pairs of old crutches now stand next to our washing machine…just in case someone else needs them.  They will work fine for anyone who isn’t the same height as me.  I gathered them together for a group photo…yes I believe I’ve had a little too much time on my hands.

dscn4845After about twelve years, moving became complicated.  My new-found friend was still willing to go with me and provide that much-needed support, but my legs didn’t want to cooperate.  That was when I realized I didn’t hate my crutches.  When my way of getting from point A to point B became a black aluminum wheelchair, I realized I didn’t hate my crutches as much as I once thought I did.

I spent all those years hating crutches and wishing I could get rid of them.  Now I’m wishing I could walk on them again.  I’m trying to build my leg strength so I can walk again.  Currently I can walk about six feet with a shiny, silver-colored, aluminum walker.  Six feet may sound like a short distance to everyone else, but for me it feels like running a marathon.

dscn4846dscn4847Each time I walk that short distance and collapse into a chair, I remind myself that we all crawled before we walked.  It will just take time.  With my gastroparesis and malnourishment, it’s probably going to take longer than I want it too, but I believe it will happen someday.  No matter what life throws at me, I refuse to lose hope.

By the way, if you noticed the small blue dog bone hanging on the wheelchair…that’s my doggie bags.  I’ve heard people I know refer to the take out containers at restaurants as doggie bags.  Those of us living with gastroparesis need doggie bags any time we eat.  Trash cans and commodes aren’t always readily available.  Those small rolls of bags they make for disposing of baby diapers or doggie doo are just the right size to carry with me when I am out.  I can cap them over my mouth, vomit in them, tie them up,  and dump them in the nearest trash can.  When I bought the dispenser, I had two choices…a dog bone or a fire hydrant.  As for the walker bag, it’s a one of a kind.  I made it using plastic canvas and yarn, both from the craft section at Wal-Mart.

Note:  After posting this, I thought of something I had recently read.  As I looked back at my Love/Hate image… yes I created that… I thought about an article I had read recently at TheMighty about asking personal questions about people’s disabilities.  I appreciate the writer’s openness and honesty.  The writer explained that someone had asked about her being to young to use a walker.  The writer of the article said the “Fantasy-Me boldly said, “You’re too old to be asking rude questions.””  There have been times in life I would have probably said that if it had crossed my mind. While I made the crutches different sizes in my image to create letters, after finishing it, I was reminded that mobility devices come in all shapes and sizes.  Chronic illnesses do not discriminate based on age.  Crutches, canes, walkers, and wheelchairs come in all sizes because they are for all ages.    For those of us who need them, they are simply tools or modes of transportation.  At 16, my classmates got cars… I got crutches… at least I could get from point A to point B on my own.  No, I’ve not always liked my mobility aids, but I’m learning to accept them and love them for what they do for me.

 

All photos/images are from my personal collection and are not to be used without permission.