Small Victories

This summer has proven challenging with the chronic illnesses. Every trip has resulted in some sort of weird flare up of activity. Whether it was migraine, lupus, or IBS, something or all things went amok. Prior to our recent camping trip, I was apprehensive yet hopeful.

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It turned out better than I thought, Goat. Thanks for asking.

The morning we were to depart,  I had a list of things to accomplish before hitting the road. Almost none of them happened because I awoke to a migraine before sunrise. This didn't bode well and required every self-care strategy in my arsenal from prioritizing the to-do's to ice packs to the TENS unit. My husband saw my predicament when he awoke and took the reigns for much of the prep and packing of the car. Once the triptan took the edge off enough to function, I helped out. He still got to drive though. Not the best start to the trip and it really put a damper on my enthusiasm. 

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Me either,Marge. Me either.

All was not lost though. When we returned, I did not have the post-trip migraine I've had all summer. I even got  up and went in to set up my classroom rather than needing a recovery day to nurse a pounding in my skull. Getting into work was vital as the building was off limits last week when I tried, and next week I have a bunch of in-service training. I also have jury summons the day before school starts, so getting as much done yesterday as possible was necessary. Thankfully, I managed to get it all done and not deal with headache interference.

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Exactly my reaction, Rafael.

Added to that triumph, when I checked that lesion on my nose before jumping in the shower to rinse off the woods, I was relieved to see that the lesion had not opened again. I did all the same things I did before, but I did use a hat that had a solid brim rather than the sun hat with the more filtered type brim. The small lupus rash is still there, but the open and seeping wound is not. I can cover up the rash fairly well with make-up. A band-aid on my nose not so much. Definite success achievement.

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Totally what I did, NPH. Totally.

The only one that wasn't wholly improved was the IBS. Travel just causes problems. In this case, the vault toilet is a definite hindrance. Let's face it: vault toilets camping are just not conducive to lengthy and relaxing bowel endeavors. Consequently, there was much pain and cramping that interfered with sleep even There was more movement than has happened previously thanks to what my husband has deemed "fiber patties," but not completely resolved. Fiber patties are delightful flatbreads made with coconut flour, psyllium powder, baking powder, and water. Best way to integrate more fiber in my opinion. I had hopes for this intervention, but alas! It was marginally effective at best, and I wound up bound and water-logged.

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Can't win 'em all, EMH Mark 1.

On the whole, I am quite pleased that our last trip endeavor led to such a reduction in my ailment symptoms. Truly. This was a relief that I cannot effectively communicate. Today's goal: keep making progress, but not overdo it. Making some low-carb, wheat flourless, and fiber rich chocolate zucchini baked goods sound like a gentle and manageable plan.

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I know, Moose. Don't push it too hard, but enjoy it all the same.

If Only

Do you ever dream of some detail or aspect of your life you'd change that begins with the phrase "If only"? I came across a posting through a chronic migraine site that asked that question. I read through the author's list and through some of the followers' responses. I was really taken in by this query and decided to explore my own list of "If only's".

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Yeah, it looks strange to me too, Goat. 

Apostrophe s to avoid confusion rather than possession

 or change the y to i and add -es? Tricky for sure.

If only I had a robot
This was my contribution to the online thread. If only I had a robot with a screen of my face via webcam so I could see my class and they could see me. I could keep teaching while also staying immobilized on those days when my migraine makes me too dizzy or lightheaded to move around. It'd also help control the worsening of the pain that happens when I move. Sometimes the pain is manageable if I stay still. Not always, but sometimes.

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Even though it's got sweet moves, not this robot.

Have you not seen Doctor Who?

If only I didn't have to spend money on so many medications both Rx and OTC
I totaled up my required medications. These are the ones I must take, not any that may be incidental. $2095 annually. We could get ahead on all of our debt by anywhere from two to seven months depending on which one we focus. We could pay for a plane ticket overseas. We could pay for some renovation work we've not been able to get to. It might not sound like much to some people, but it'd be a chunk we could put to good use.

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Mine don't do that. They'd likely cost more if they did.

If only I didn't have to see several specialists
My basic doctor office visits total $715.00 annually. These are not immediate care visits. These are annual exams and check-ups to monitor my conditions. If I only had to pay for an annual general practice doctor and an eye exam, I could save $610.00 every year. That along with the savings on medications would be a sweet nest egg for retirement savings/investing. It'd allow us some financial wiggle room we've not had since my husband had to quit traveling with his roofing job.

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See? Two doctors is plenty. Even for that angry dude.

If only I didn't have to miss out
This would be a long list if I listed them all. Coffee with a friend, dinner with the family, or just time to myself to read are all things I don't always get to do. Shakespeare in the Parks is this weekend and it's outside, which means too much sun without an umbrella, sun hat, sunscreen, and UV clothing. Even with those measures it would be a risky venture this summer. It's also going to be 105ish degrees. I'd have to sit in a plastic bin so that when I melted my husband could transport my puddled self home again. I really wanted to catch Othello.

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Handbills at tomorrow's performance.

If only I could win a million dollars
I don't have need of more than that. It's actually more than what is really necessary. After taxes is still enough to pay off the mortgage, car, and student loan with plenty left over for living comfortably (not luxuriously because that's not us at all). We could make all the renovations we need to and sell this house. We could then get a fuel efficient RV and go on tour of all the states and national parks. We could travel off the continent. I wouldn't have to work and neither would my husband, so we could take as much recovery time as we needed on our journeys without worry. We could invest wisely and live off that.

Yeah. Don't let a baboon do your accounting.

If only I could eat what I want
Triggers be damned! If I want a glass of syrah, I can have a syrah without worrying about a migraine or irritating my gut. I could have all the pasta and bread I want. I wouldn't have to worry when we went out to eat.  I wouldn't have to do any elimination diets ever again! It would be culinary bliss.

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Something like that Patrick, but do remember to chew.

If only I didn't have to explain
Explain to doctors, explain to family, explain to friends, explain to bosses and coworkers, explain to insurance companies (don't get me started on the pre-existing condition fights).  Gah! It's tedious and repetitive and exhausting. It's one of the non-painful yet taxing parts of being chronically ill.

You get me, Dark Willow. 

Just don't go do something evil about it, 'k?

If only I wasn't sick
That's the crux of it all isn't it? Each of these little if only's stems from illness and would be gone if I didn't have these illnesses. We might not get that RV now, but it'd be a realistic investment to plan for after I retire. Right now it's just fantasy. Just like everything else on this list. None of this is reality for me or for others will chronic illnesses.

That's right, Moose. Just keep on truckin'. It's what we do.

Lugh, You Big Lug

Lughnassa was this week. If you don't know, it's the first of the harvest festivals. It marks the half-way between summer solstice and autumn equinox. I haven't done much in the way of rituals and whatnot lately, but I was pondering how to celebrate Lughnassa this year before we went camping. While we were camping though, the answer presented itself.

Happy harvesting there, Goat.

We went to a new campground this go around. It was a small campground with only 10 sites. It definitely catered more to the RV/HUGE trailer crowd who want to take advantage of the Hungry Horse Reservoir, but we set up our tent and table shade anyway. We definitely need the shade as the site had no natural shade in the afternoon and Lupus Girl needs her shade.

Exactly what I wanted to avoid, Stewie.

Since the location is very close to Glacier National Park (grizzly territory for those who don't know), each site had a bear box. Bear boxes are handy for motorcyclists and bicyclists who camp out and don't have a hard sided vehicle to store their food in. It helps them not have to string up their food in the trees. Well, we had the Subie, so we stashed food in it. We stashed the cast iron and camp stove on one side of the bear box and the recycle, garbage, and burn bags on the other. There's no dumpster service at this site and there was no need to drive 10 minutes into town every day for the small amount of garbage we produce camping. Yet, our camp host apparently got nervous at our use of the box. 

Yeah, there was a lot of that to come, Molly.

He came over about half way through the camping vacation and asked if we knew what the bear box was (Duh!). He asked if we knew it wasn't a dumpster (Again: Duh!). I said that it's a bear box for food and items with food smells. He said he'd seen us putting garbage in it and was concerned. He was really grouchy and condescending about it.  My husband told that since there wasn't a dumpster available, we were putting our refuse (bagged refuse) in it. If we didn't do that, what were we supposed to do with it? The guy said take it into town. I asked if we couldn't store the garbage in there overnight and then pack it out the way we'd planned. He said we could. He shook my husband's hand before leaving, but still gave us this suspicious look and I caught him eyeballing us more than once the rest of the time. It was odd and it has never happened to us before. I found it more than a little insulting and kept racking my brain for a better way he could've inquired that wouldn't have felt disrespectful and distrustful. Nothing came to me.

Do you have any thoughts on it, Pooh? No honey in our bear box. Sorry.

Consequently, my husband and I stewed over it. I tried to let it go, but I couldn't shake the maligning insinuation that we were going to trash the bear box of all things. I wondered if because we were the only tent folk using ours, and we were directly across from his site if that played into his paranoia. Who knows. But in the morning when I still couldn't rid myself of the denigrating interaction, I took some mildly passive-aggressive action. I scrubbed the bear box. No joke. I washed, rinsed, and washed it again. Inside and out. Cleansed it of dirt, spider webs, and food drippings. I felt better, but not yet mollified. So I did a bit more. This time it was more a letting go than a retaliation.

 Actually, no. I didn't. 

But it is a grain harvest so some beer would have been totally acceptable.

As I admired my handiwork, I ruminated on the fact that it was Lughnassa and such negativity was not what I wanted to be harvesting that day. So after we had secured our belongings out of the box and while my husband Tetris-ed the car, I went into pagan mode. I looked at the clean bear box and thought that since I had prepared such clean space, why not put some positive mojo inside?I collected sticks from the site and made a peace symbol inside the left cabinet and a heart inside the right. A little peace and love action, ya know? 

Exactly, Ringo. Exactly.

Then I looked for some fallen leaves. They were shaped like the spade suit in a deck of cards. I got five of them and positioned them in a pentacle. I used small stones for the outside circle and one to anchor the leaf stems. This was in the middle of the table, which we also scrubbed down as we always do after every meal and before leaving.  We also clean garbage from camp rings, pick up bits of garbage from the ground, and my husband also scrapes and oils the cooking grills  (we're very conscientious campers that way). 

Thanks, Trash Panda. Sorry you didn't get anything from us.

Not really. 

When my husband said he was ready and doing his one last sweep of the site, I walked widdershins around the site (protective direction) and murmured a few words of blessing. I don't believe in praying/casting spells directly for someone without permission and I don't truly believe in deities, so a spur of the moment blessing like this wasn't easy. Being Lughnassa inspired me I think as Lugh is seen as the multi-talented God including being a bard/poet. Anyway, since poetry is part of Lugh's domain and this is his celebration mythologically speaking, I included wording about the area projecting friendly expressions and favorable interactions for all who pass through. After all, poetry is using the most precise phrasing to describe emotions, and I wanted good-feeling emotions associated with this place. As we pulled away, I felt lighter. The animosity and indignation had gone.  

That's pretty  much how I felt, Charlie.

We returned home and harvested some tomatoes, raspberries, chard, and zucchini from our garden. The idea of reap what you sow kept playing in my mind. I don't know if my actions will impact anyone other than me, but that's enough magic for me. Thanks for the inspiration, Lugh.

I would've loved to have seen the camp host's face when we looked in the bear box too, Moose.

Slowing Down

Slow down! We hear it a lot, but we don't always do it unless a traffic cop says it. July 24th was National Self Care Day (coincidentally it was also National Tequila Day). TEDTalks put out a play list of videos on self care. Turns out I had watched a lot of them, but there was one on slowing down.

You are way better at this than I am, Goat.

I've written about pacing before in regards to living with chronic conditions. It's really difficult not to do all the things when you feel well. It's tough to slow down when you feel lousy, too. For example, I get dizzy when I have a migraine. Therefore doing something as simple as getting some water is challenging and all I want to do is get this little thing over with so I can collapse again. Holding onto the wall or the counter as I scramble means I get to where I am going and can chill. Same goes for the intensity of the migraine. Mine often get worse when I move around, so I rush to the bathroom to try and reduce the duration of the thumping. It's kind of a race really. Can I beat the dizzy or the thumping? No. But I can shorten the time. Mostly. Or at least it's how I cope. 

I admire the fierce determination, Owl. 

I tried to slow myself at the grocery store, too. This is a real challenge because I do not enjoy shopping much at all. Crowds annoy me. People get focused on their lists and forget to watch where they are going or they stand right in front of what you need or any other number of small frustrations. I tend to zip in and out as quickly as possible. That day, I plastered a pleasant smile on my face and moved at about half my usual speed. People probably thought I was stoned. I'm not sure if I'd call it self care though. Speeding through and getting home is more self care in my opinion. Self care or self preservation. Same thing, right?

Me going grocery shopping is not unlike this. 

Instead of a bloodthirsty bunny, it's the crowd at the store.

I tried packing for a camping trip more slowly. Taking my time picking up the bin, carrying it up the stairs, checking the contents against he camping checklist I have. I found myself counting in my head to make me take longer in my movements. It was almost a meditation really. There was no need to rush, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. Knowing I could be done with three bins in the time it was taking to do one was tough to reconcile.

This is something I would likely do more slowly. 

Cat, you got mad walking backward skills.

Interestingly, this session of dance focuses on slow movements to refine them. I'm usually really good at this. I still move the most slowly of anyone. People tend to pace off of me when we move around in the circle for things like a camel walk because it reminds them to slow down. It requires a lot of conscious effort on my part to do the movements that slowly. I slow my breathing, too. I have a song for our performance that is still a month away.  It has faster tempos with the slower tempo underneath. I have to keep pulling myself back to the slow rhythm because I really get caught up in the melody and just go with the flow a lot of the time. But no. Must slow my roll. I chose my song early so I can practice it and only move with the melody speed at precisely chosen moments instead of the whole thing. This will be good for me. Refined movement is good for me. 

Almost, Bear. Try it half time and you'll be there.

I paused to reflect on all the things I do that require me to hustle, or at least that I think require it. Reading a book I've checked out was one that came up that I wasn't expecting. It checked out to me automatically while I was out of town, so I missed out on 4 days of reading time. It was a long book. I devoured it more quickly and would have preferred relishing it a bit more. Cleaning the house is a given for me. I want it over and done so I can get on with other more enjoyable activities. Would it kill me to slow down? No. But I probably will plow on through it next time again. 

 

Just think about all the things you could get done if you were The Flash.

I did try and slow down some things like eating. Savoring the food rather than woofing it all down. It's supposed to be better for you anyway. I thought that perhaps this is one thing I can do to slow down even during school. Of course, I'll reinstate my meditation time. Just sit there and do nothing for a few minutes every day. Slowing down my shower time would be delightful, but then I feel guilty wasting water. Perhaps just being aware of those little things that can go more slowly and letting them is the important take away.

Hmmm. I'd think that snow would slow ya down, Moose. Clearly I'd be wrong.

When Remission Ends

What do you do when remission ends? When the ability to enjoy what life has to offer becomes a burden rather than a blessing? When the freedom to do what you want gets sidelined by the fear of "what if I can't"? When all your strategies for managing fail? It's a place I've found myself a lot lately; most recently it's the lupus being an asshole.

Sorry, Goats. Shoulda told you to cover your ears I suppose. 

But it seems like you have them covered already actually.

My husband and I have some painting left to do on our house. Unfortunately, the rains of June kept us from getting it done in the cooler weather. Now it's just plain beastly outside with a relentless 90 degree average and high UV index. This week is promising more around 80 degrees. Pretty sad when you get excited for the relief of 80 degrees. Needless to say, I have diligently implemented my prevention by waiting until the area I am painting is in the shade, wearing my zinc oxide sunscreen, drinking plenty of water, wearing my UV protective clothing, and a hat. Last summer, this was enough for me to kick some serious tail on the painting. This year though, I'm ready to collapse. I spent a lot of time outside yesterday getting the east side of our place done. Today I ache; I got fatigued trying to make breakfast; I feel like I have the stomach flu. Consequently, I am inside, taking it easy, and watching Netflix. My preventative strategies aren't cutting it.

Thanks, Dean. I needed that.

Last week I had a belly dance gig for the Chamber of Commerce. There was a time that I was able to dance a 20-25 minute set. I only had 3 minutes to worry about this time. Yet, I came home and fell onto the sofa afterward. This is after the practice session the day before where the hit-wall-fatigue made me cut practice short. I was stumbling, incoherent, and decided trying to go to the store afterward was not the best idea. I had to sit in my car for a while in order for the AC to revive me a bit. Heat sucks. My performance wasn't great either. I don't know if the audience noticed, but I sure as hell did. I'm torn between making myself go to the intermediate classes on Wednesday to get back in shape or just accept and do the best I can with once a week classes. I know my skills have waned over the past year and half. I need a tune-up. Two summers ago I was practicing 3-4 days a week and my skills were good. With my lupus being an asshole, what do I do about this art form that I truly love? It's avoid the heat and hope the strain isn't too much I guess. Maybe the cooling neck strap my husband used to wear roofing will help. Of course, I'll have to buy a new one since he's lost his. It's a new idea anyway and doesn't mean withdrawing more from activities.

That's right, Blanche. You got it.

One thing I've done since the remission ended is to add to the preventative measures. I always do the sunscreen, but I've worn the UV clothing a lot more. I do the self-care with taking a break and honoring the time I need to recover. I shorten my to-do list and remind myself it's ok if not everything gets done. I stay inside as much as possible to stay cool.

This hermit crab might be on to something.

I'm also trying to keep my sleep pattern fairly consistent with at least 7 hours a night. Although to be honest, 8 or 8.5 has been better. I drag ass every morning and still feel out of it. I think that I should start taking a short walk in the morning like I did last summer. It's a way to wake up before the coffee and get going so I get that all important moderate exercise in. It'll be much more of a challenge than it was last summer, but sleep and wake up routine is a security and possibly an easy win to give me that boost to do more.

You understand me, Cinderella.

Moreover, I've tried to exert control over the situation. During my remission I ate a low-carb, plenty of veggies, good fat diet. I felt amazing! I had more energy than I knew what to do with. Consequently, I have tried and tried to control more of my eating habits, but I am still so fucking tired. The harder I try to use this eating plan that changed things so much for me, the more frustrated I become. It's still the best eating style for me I know, but I hate not feeling in control. I hate that it's not improving things. I like to think I am easy-going and can go with the flow, but right now I'd really like to be the dominatrix of this disease. But I am so totally not in control. At all.

Maybe the hat is what I need.

Instead, I have spent inordinate amounts of my summer on the sofa with Netflix. My cats and I have cuddled so much that when school starts, we're all going to be in snuggle withdrawal. I always knew that remission would end. Even when I think I've won a small battle against lupus, it rallies. For example, I had to put a healing patch back on that lesion on my nose because it was starting to get inflamed again. I'm reading blogs by people with lupus again, too. Looking for ideas from others with the same struggle.

Aw! Thanks, Heart. 

Lupus can be an asshole. I don't know how long this flare up of symptoms will last. I don't know what else I can do at this point except keep taking care of myself as I have been. One blog I read mentioned how the pep talk phrase "Don't let your disease define you. You define your disease" rings hollow. Honestly, that phrase just makes the person saying it feel better. Me and others in a flare would slap you if only we could muster up the energy. I guess when all else fails, you just sit back, take care as best you can, and wait for lupus to stop being an asshole.   

 Are you wearing sunscreen, Moose? Make sure you reapply, too.

Cost of Living

I recently returned from an annual Friendcation with two of my oldest and dearest friends. We started gathering each summer after the death of one of their fathers. I relish these retreats and time to connect with these friends that I've known for 30+ years. This year we went to a cabin I found close to the Idaho border. Near the end of our trip, one of them asked me what the circular shape on my nose was. I replied that it was a lesion brought on from a rash thanks to the sun and the lupus. I had put a healing patch over it. She then proceeded to tell me that she has another friend who has lupus and is in the sun all the time and even runs marathons with her. This friend apparently does not display lesions or rashes or indescribable fatigue after too much sun; at least, not that she shows to my friend. My friend didn't say it, but the implication was clear: I was doing lupus wrong.

Yeah, I cast a little side-eye too, Goat.

Despite my annoyance, I calmly said that her friend might have a different form of lupus since there are now more identified beyond SLE (which I have) and discoid. I also mentioned that I didn't used to have rashes and that it had been years since last I had a lesion. I further suggested that her friend may be in remission as I was for years. I don't know if she'll take any of that into consideration and perhaps not compare one person's lupus experience to another's. I hope she does, though. I hope she looks into the disease a bit more to gain some understanding.

I don't think she did either, Castiel. Check out the Lupus Foundation of America

 and it might be clearer.

As I drove home with my other friend, she inquired if I was a spoonie. I had no idea what the hell that meant, but I had heard other people I know who have chronic illnesses use the term. She explained it to me, and I looked it up when I got home. Essentially, in order to explain lupus to a friend, the person who coined the term used a handful of spoons and had her friend describe a typical day. With each activity, the person with lupus took another spoon. I find this explanation simplistic. I also think it could be a way to start to put someone in the shoes of someone with chronic illness. However, this explanation seems only to cover fatigue and fatigue is only part of the story.

You might be a wee bit too enthusiastic for the rest of the story, Steve.

I already wrote about the sun stupid incident that happened on my previous trip this summer. Following that excursion, I knew I needed to behave myself in the sun, so when I went camping the following week I made sure to use the sunscreen and hat prevention. It was cloudy and 65-70 degrees and our area had a lot of shade, but I also know that cloudy days can actually have increased levels of UV intensity. Unfortunately, my prevention wasn't enough. I had a small rash across my nose when I came home. From that rash burst forth the lesion. It seriously was a deep crater-like thing that would scar if I didn't do something to protect and heal it. More sun would just make it worse. I packed my zinc sunscreen, my UV blocking shirts, and my big yellow hat for Friendcation 2018. Spoons do not explain this.

Yup. That's a good analogy.

My friends and I went to get huckleberry shakes on our Friendcation. It was hot outside and my friend with the other lupus person in her life really wanted to find someplace to walk in addition to the shake. Since I don't live in the area, I had no idea where to go. We stopped for our shakes and this gal wanted to take our shakes and go walk around...in the sun...and the heat. I hadn't brought my hat since I hadn't anticipated the walking around portion of the day. I know; shoulda brought it anyway. The walking around came up after we had decided to go drive in search of milkshakes. Holding the  shake was making my hands ache thanks to the Raynaud's, so I was sitting on them to warm them up. My friend suggested we go walk and enjoy our shakes at the same time. I asked to please stay and finish our shakes first, which we did. One condition at a time, right? I pat myself on the back for speaking up without mentioning the Raynaud's. Didn't want to draw more attention to how sick I am. It's that not wanting to burden or appear to be making a play for pity. Spoons don't account for this.

Just watching you do this makes me hurt all over, Sam. 

Also on our trip, we went to a hot springs. We opted for the cooler of the several pools. Thankfully, I didn't have to be the one to speak up about how I melt in the warmer waters. I don't last more than 5 minutes in hot tubs. I'm really heat sensitive anymore. I had wanted my UV long-sleeved swimsuit for this trip, but it hadn't arrived before I left. So, I zinced up and put on that big yellow hat. Yes, I wore it in the pool. At one point, I felt my skin starting to sting, which is a sign that I need to get out of the sun. It feels like a bunch of pins sticking me all over. Spoons don't cover this.

Now that's a Sting I can handle.

After arriving home from the trip, I crashed. My husband kept asking what I wanted to do about dinner. My mind was so fogged I really didn't want to have to make the decision. Having to make that decision was seriously more than my fatigued and pain-ridden brain could process. With my head pounding away a migraine and my body slowly crumpling under its might, I made the call on dinner because it kept getting thrown at me to figure it out. It felt like the most difficult decision of my life right then. Spoons don't describe that.

I don't wanna! Don't make me!

While researching the spoon theory, I read a blog that criticized the woman who came up with the comparison because if things like brushing her teeth or doing dishes makes her lose a spoon, she's not taking good enough care of herself. It's not just those without conditions who judge; we judge each other. I've done it, but I've learned that compassionate understanding is better. I still catch myself in judgment mode, so I have to step back and remember how much the judgy attitude hurts. I take the best care of myself as I can, but still I have flares. Sometimes, it is a struggle to get out of bed and take a shower. When I was in remission, it wasn't hard at all. But things change.

As if I have a choice, right?

The cost of living our lives changes. Sometimes, the cost of living life means increasing prevention methods. Sometimes the cost of living is dealing with the aftermath despite the prevention. Sometimes the cost of living is figuring out how to graciously handle a thoughtless remark. Whatever the case, sometimes even a silver spoon can't cover the cost.

Sure. You're pretty good at fence hurdles, but can you run a marathon, Moose?

Cynical Me

It's summer. I have a lot more time to think, which means my thoughts are a bit all over and trying to settle on one topic for a post is almost impossible. Consequently, I shall share the big items that have been swirling around the attic like the accumulated cat fur balls that drift across my hardwood floors.

My dear, Goat. I bet you could stir up some fine fur balls, too.

On the migraine front came a glorious thing: I'm actually even on pain days versus non-pain days for the last 90 days. I haven't been even since I started using my migraine app, which means that for the last year, my headaches have outnumbered my non-migraine days; often it was a 50-40 or worse ratio. Until now. It gets even better when I look just at the last 30 days. I have 10 attack days and 20 no attack days. That's amazing to me. It's hard to say if it's the Botox or if it's not being at work for the last month. I'm inclined to think it's the no work thing since the first 6 months on Botox did not yield such a dramatic decrease in headache days. I remain cynical about Botox's off-brand use of this poison and I believe I likely will suffer greatly when I return to school, but for now I will enjoy it.

Oh thanks, NPH! But you're cleaning up the confetti strips.

This country is a mess. I don't know how else to put it. We have an inept, ego-maniacal charlatan of a president who is protected and counseled by intelligent, unscrupulous people who don't give a damn about anyone but themselves and the people who give them money. What the fuck are you supposed to do about that? I don't know that much of anything I do will change things as they are, but I think I still have to try. I can fax, call, and show up to protests and hope that my voice along with all the others will get through to the idgits. Those who will listen, will. Those who don't give a damn, won't. But when the dust settles, I want to know that I did something. That I took a stand against this administration's policies. The Asshat in Chief is going to be in my city for a rally this week. I will be out of town, but a group of like-minded individuals and I have obtained tickets to the rally and plan on not showing up. We did this when he showed up to Billings prior to the election. I enjoy this plan even though he likely will tell the masses a lie about how huge his audience was. We'll know it's a lie. Again. As cynical as I am about those in power right now, I find grace in being able to resist because it is an American right that I value.

I'm not above name-calling when it comes to the bastards either.

I really want to pull back even more from my online and social media participation. I've written before about how much I've pulled back already. I enjoyed not being near the social media ruckus while camping last week. It pleases me to be disconnected. I have all my news organization apps on my phone so I can keep up to date on the true news of the day. Two dear friends of mine are coming for a visit and we have a cabin out in the boonies. One of them has had almost no online presence for the last 6 months and the other is on the social media almost non-stop, but trying to unplug, too. This cabin lacks wifi. She may lose her mind and I will be uninformed, but hopefully we'll all get some peace along the way Despite my knowing I need to step back, I still post articles I think are important or that people should read during my allotted time on social media. What can I say? I'm a teacher. I can put information out there in front of others, but if they don't read it, so be it. Some might see it and read it despite the noise that clogs newsfeeds. I don't expect that what I post makes a difference to anyone other than me. A person wiser than me observed that "[My] work is not to drag the world kicking and screaming into a new awareness. [My] job is to simply do [my] work... Sacredly, secretly, and silently...and those with 'eyes to see and ears to hear' will respond." Even cynical ol' me sees the good purpose in that.

Perhaps. But let me have this one, Kid.

And that's how things stand in my brain right now. I suppose that makes this current state of being hopefully cynical, or cynically hopeful. I don't know which is better or closer to the reality. I do know that I am looking forward to five days with my two oldest friends in a cabin without wifi. 

Maybe we'll see each other, Moose.