Saturday, August 30, 2014

End Of Summer....

There's a key chain that I carry in my purse for all my key tags from the various shops that I visit.  It seems for a while there, that every store had a value card, and eventually I had so many that they needed to be moved off the ring with the actual keys and onto a ring all of their own. So I moved them.

The key chain is has a leather strap that holds a 3 dimensional, bronze-ish letter "J" with Mickey Mouse standing by it's side.  To some, it may be just another novelty picked last minute off the register racks at Disney World.  But for me, it marked the beginning.  Hand picked, just for me, by a nine year old boy while on a trip with his Dad to Disney.

On Monday, that nine year old turned 20.

We joke about the key chain now, first that I would not remember what he bought me, and second that I still have it.  Over the years even I can not believe that it has not been lost or broken, yet there it resides at the bottom of my purse. This life I have now is so far from where it was then. I picked flowers from the garden this week.  The hydrangeas almost never bloomed although they had been established for years.  Two years ago we moved them and Tony, the yard Nazi that he is, watered them religiously.  Now they produce flowers the size of dish plates in pink, purple, blue, and white.

This past weekend we finished replacing the patio out back.  Tony dug it all up and relayed some of the stones.  A few days later, I laid a few more.  A week later, he laid out some more while I was at work and I picked up the extra slate that we needed on my way home. He filled the seams, three day later Youngest and I filled some more and when he got home from work he touched it up and finished it off.

 In the end we have a beautiful new patio, completed together, but separately, which is sometimes the way we work best. It took me a long time to figure that out.  That we can work on something together but not side by side.

On Tuesday we celebrated our 3rd year of marriage together, but not side by side.  Which, in it's own way was good, as we both needed to be exactly where we were. He needed to be focused on his extended family and I took the boys to the local pond for one last day of swimming and then for dinner at our favorite ice cream shop. After all, the last day of summer vacation is as good a reason as any for ice cream for dinner.

On Wednesday Oldest started his last year of middle school.  Youngest started seventh grade, the midpoint of his schooling years and as we all know too well, the down hill roll is faster than the climb.  We had to stop at a friend's house on the way home from the pond Tuesday night.  They were playing basketball with her son, also fast becoming a young man, and I wondered how it all happened.  How Bonus Brother turned 20.  How Oldest's voice had already changed. How Youngest had come into his own fiercely independent person, able to self advocate for his education and all of life's injustice. The summer, although no shorter than any other has been full, but yet there were so many could haves left undone and I wondered "Had I done enough?", "Had I been present enough?", "Will they have any memories?" Or will they just remember it as nothing special?  Sure they have had opportunities and experiences that many kids dream of, but had they had enough of me?  Had I been the Mom they needed? Would they ever look back and say that was the best thing?  Would they remember the big things, or the tiny things that I would deem insignificant? Looking back I don't miss any stage of their growing up.  Sixteen months apart, each stage was fast, intense, difficult, and loving.  Most days I had no idea how I'd make it through, and in hindsight there is no apparent marker of when each phase ended and the next one started.  But I can tell you that those days are over and now we're on to new and more challenging stuff, plagued with newness, difficulty, and love.

And hopefully memories.

Because if I have learned nothing else from my Mickey key chain, it's that our time with them is finite. Soon enough they will go on and make their own moments, memories, and mistakes. My hope is that one day they can recall the moments when I was the mom that they needed, and through those memories slow down time just for a bit, so I can relive it all again.

Exactly as it all happened.

Because as fast as it's going, I wouldn't change a thing.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Road Tripping....

Full disclosure:
Car was clearly not in motion while picture taking, Hello? It's the New York Tolls.
Also, this is the way back, as I was not awake enough during the ride
down to have the where with all to document any of it.

When I was a kid, if we went anywhere it was in the car.  Two trips to Florida, caravan style, with aunts, great aunts/uncles, and grandparents, with three CB radios between us, hopefully avoiding the trucker channel so as not to confuse them with our "handles".  There was no GPS then, only a map and really good eyesight to catch the road side signs whizzing past you at 65 mph.  Short cuts to New Hampshire often ran through Maine, and we fast became masters in the art of "holding it".  Mom would heat up chocolate chip cookies on the dash of the truck, then pass the warm gooey chocolate-ness through the teeny window to the truck bed, where dad had built and bolted down, a wooden seat for three, complete with seat belts, for the 1200 mile trip.  Yup. Totally safe. And totally awesome.

So how could I not give my kids the same opportunity that I had growing up?  It's like a right of passage, this road tripping thing.  The car was packed, reservations made, destination: Virginia.  560 some odd miles, 9 hours and some change.

And so, it starts....

 (3am)
Meeting the parents at Walmart off the expressway
Tony: "Why do you always come in this way?"
Me: "So I can see the whole parking lot."
Tony: "It's 330 in the morning, I'm betting we'll find them pretty easy."
Me: "It's what I do. Leave me alone."
Tony: "See, they're right there."
Me: "Stop poking me."

 (4-ish)

Oldest: "What state are we in?
Me: "Massachusetts."
*he settles in for a nap*
Me: "Tony, stop poking me."

(4:45-ish)

Oldest: "What state are we in?"
Tony: "Rhode Island."
Oldest: "So that's Boston?"
Tony: "Nice, Chico...nice."
*sigh* Make mental note to question exactly what he's learning in geography.

(5-ish)

Dad calls from his car: "We need to stop at the next service station."
Me: "Okay, just use your blinkers."
Dad: "I wasn't using my blinkers?"
Me: "Not really."
Dad: "Oh.  Am I driving to fast?"
Mom: "Tell him YES!"

~Pee break, then inhale snack-age, then get back on the road~

Youngest: "What state are we in?"
Me: "Connecticut"
Youngest: "How many more?"
Me: "Like 6 or 7"
Youngest: "He's sleeping on me"
Me: "Oldest, sleep to your left"
*grumble, moves pillow to the window*
Me: "Tony, stop poking me while I'm driving."

(6am)

GPS: "Drive over the Tapan Zee Bridge"

(later) Dad: "You know that's the most dangerous bridge in the country.  They're building a whole new one to the side.  It's really dangerous."
Me: "Should we not have gone over it?"
Dad: "Nah, it's fine."

(7-ish)

Me: "Stop touching your brother.  Make a fort with your blanket or something, but stop touching each other."
Tony: "You might have been on to something wanting Youngest in the back row."

*eye roll, ya think?*

Entrance to the Jersey Turnpike.  It's rainy, the windows are steamy and it's still somewhat dark...

Me: "There's no one here.  Am I in the right lane, they all said EZ pass?  What do I do?"
*drives through*
Tony: "I think you were supposed to take a ticket."

Crap.

GPS:  "Drive 27 miles on the New Jersey Turnpike."

Reading the road signs:

Me: "What is "The Oranges"? You think it's like West Orange, North Orange, South Orange?"
Tony: "Probably. Pretty soon We'll be coming up on the strawberries..."
Me: "The Big Apple.*snicker* You know it's fun to make fun of signs going down, but the way back it will probably suck."
Tony: "I know, we'll be like "Damn... we're only at the oranges.... wahhhhhh..."
Me: "Or worse, LOOK, the Georgia peach! Oh GAWD!!  We're going the WRONG WAY!!"

(8ish)

GPS: "Drive 57 miles on the New Jersey Turnpike

Tony: "We are going to need to stop for lunch."
Me: "I figured that, but I packed sandwiches in case we opted to hit a rest stop and keep going."
Tony: "You made me a sandwich?"
Me: "Yup"
Tony: "What kind?"
Me: "Ham and Swiss cheese with mayo."
Tony: "You did?  You're just the best.  Did you pack me a Thermos of coffee too?"
Me: "No."
Tony: "That's it. Forget it. You're a failure."

GPS:  "Drive (another) 27 miles on the New Jersey Turnpike."

Me: "For the love of GAWD!  This state is only like this (holds fingers up) big!  How can we possibly drive this for over a hundred miles???"
Tony: "I wonder what it's going to cost us with no ticket."
Me: "It's Jersey... maybe $50 bucks?  $20 maybe?"
(Turns out $13.85... such a deal)

(9-ish) *Waves hello to NYC in the distance*

Oldest: "What state are we in?"
Me: "Delaware"
Oldest: "How many more states to we have?"
Me: "I have no idea."
*sigh*

Me: "Tony, DO NOT poke the driver."

 (10ish)

Me: "Do you find it ironic that the Correctional Facility is located off the Society Road exit?"
Tony: "It says so much"

Me: "Welcome to Maryland"
Oldest: "So one more state?"
Me: "Maybe. I have no idea."
Tony: "This GPS really wants us on 495"
Me: "What does the trip tic say?"
Tony: "I have no idea where we are on the trip tic"
(Calls Mom) Tony: "Any idea where we are on the trip tic?"
Mom: "No."

(noon-ish)

Entering Virginia...  Rest stop, pee, inhale aforementioned sandwiches,  conference with Mom, and the map...

Mom: "This trip tic is the worst.  I can't understand it.  But it looks like if we follow this to here, and go east on this road, we should be fine."

get back in... still on schedule for 2pm arrival...

BAM!  Wall of traffic... WTH?  No accident, no construction, no random road kill.

GPS: "Drive 87 miles on I95 South, towards Richmond."

(Seriously?  Are you kidding me?)

Spend 1 hour to go THREE exits. *sigh*

(1:30-ish)

Tony: Snore, snore, bobbing head, choke... "Wait... did it open up?"
Me: "Yup right until you woke up, then it stopped again. Go back to sleep maybe it will work again."
Tony: "Maybe that's why the GPS wanted us on 495 so bad." *grumbles*
Youngest: "Wait, when I went to sleep we had 2 hours to go.  I woke up and we had two hours to go.  I went BACK to sleep and woke up again and we still HAVE TWO HOURS TO GO." *sigh*
Me: "Just go back to sleep, we'll get there."

*sigh*

Me: "Tony, stop poking the driver.  Seriously."

At which point the highway Gods took pity upon me and opened up for good, landing us at our destination in about an hour and a half, a full 12 hours after we left, just in time for check in.

And after all that, I decided it was time for a different mode of transportation...

and inflatable raft down the lazy river.

Good times... good times...



***Conversations may not be exactly word for word, as I am not talented enough to jt things down and drive at the same time. Tony's annoying poking, however, was. ***

Sunday, August 24, 2014

12 Days...

It's been 12 days since my last posting here, and I can gladly say it is not for sad reasons.  It's just that life got in the way. Lots of life, both good and bad.  The results of my thyroid biopsy came back benign, so aside from some minor complications from the fine needle aspiration, I need no further medical attention for that.  As for everything else I am managing, and thankful that it is not something more serious, as I'm not sure my husband could handle that right now, he's got enough on his mind from other things.

The medication I am on has helped me gain about 15 pounds.  I say helped because I'm sure the way I'm eating has not helped either.  After discussing it with Tony I have decided to join a gym with a pool and try and swim off the weight. Lower impact on my joints, but higher impact on the wallet, I will have to stick to a set schedule for it to work.  And let's be honest, I'm not good with restricted schedules in relation to my exercise.  We'll see how it works though.

We took a road trip with the kids down to Virginia, crossing many things off my before 40 list.  I will write about them later, in pieces, as the mood hits me.  I find that it's better that way, letting my memory tell the story rather than just documenting it dryly.  My 40th birthday is fast approaching in less than 60 days.  I am scarcely halfway through the things I wanted to do. I am starting to realize that this is okay, as it means I still have more living to do, more adventures to discover, and more food to try.

I'll be back likely in September, on a happier, more entertaining note.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

My Own Personal Can Of Worms...

....except I don't like worms, so let's just say it's like trying to hold an octopus in a string bag.  Every time you think you've got it all contained, another leg pops out. You might want to get a cup of coffee, this could take a while.....

~~~~~~~~

My health update is long overdue, I know.  I've delayed writing it for so many reasons, but mostly because after 3 months I really don't have anything definitive to say. It's also because, no matter how I say it, there will always be someone who will always be sicker.  Horrible to say, but true. It puts me in a weird position, that of journalist what's going on but not appearing as though it's a contest.  Lord knows, it's a contest I'd never want to win.  But in truth, most everyone has something going on with their health be it an injury or condition, that we all can relate in some way.  And much like my sharing our trials and tribulations of becoming gluten free, the hopes is that whatever I am going through, if it can help someone figure out what's been going on with them, or even feel better about their own condition, then my journey has not been a complete waste. 

Nine years ago I went to the doctor for carpal tunnel.  A job related hazard from the repetitive motion of flipping through letters and casing magazines, I was told there was not much to do other than braces and Advil.  Which I did.  Over the years the braces became ineffective and the Advil dosage inched it's way past recommended.  The carpal tunnel reached my elbows and the pain would be so severe at night I would wake up unable to feel/move my arms below the elbows.  Recently there have been mornings so bad that Tony would have to stretch my arms down and vigorously massage and rub the tendons until I regained feeling.  This is my normal.

Seven years ago I sat in a surgeons office discussing removing my gallbladder when he told me that he felt my symptoms appeared more like Celiac than chronic gallbladder issues.  How I made it all the way to the surgeon with no one noticing this is beyond me, but I pushed the surgery off, changed my diet, and have had no issues since. Within weeks I also had no signs of the acid relax that had long since plagued me to the extent of damaging the muscle at the bottom of my esophagus.

Five years ago I was having serious issues with my eyes being dry.  I had actually developed iritis, or swelling of the iris.  I was given a prescription for allergen eye drops and sent along.  The dryness persisted, I lost half of my eyelashes (along with 2/3 of the hair on top of my head) and still, I was told it must be my allergies to paper dust and pollen.  I continued using an OTC eye drop, stopped wearing my contacts, and eventually found a new eye doctor.  She suggested daily contacts to minimize irritation and again, to continue using drops. Two months ago I had a routine eye exam and, still plagued by the dry eyes, I asked for the Rose Bengal test, where they put a dye in your eyes and determine if you have corneal damage and measure the amount of tears you produce.  I failed miserably.  While I have managed to escape permanent corneal damage, I produce virtually no tears now, which I am finally now slowly correcting with Restasis.

Last year I trained for the last 3-day breast cancer walk in Boston.  I was running a 5K per week, plus 3-5 miles 3 times a week.  I was also doing training walks on the opposite days of 6-12 miles a day.  Remember too, that my job requires me to walk 3-5 miles day carrying 40 pound buckets of mail around.  So it would stand to reason that by the time the walk arrived, I had developed plantar faciiitis and micro tears on the inside tendons of both calves. I was x-rayed, MRI-ed, consulted, fitted for custom orthopedic insoles, and continue to do PT exercises even now. Eventually I had received cortisone shots (which worked for about a week) and was given more anti inflammatory medicines, enough to cause kidney failure. And of course, while everyone knew I was taking high doses of NSIADs, no one felt it was necessary to monitor my kidney function.

In May I decided to take it all and go back to my regular doctor.  Who of course, is always too busy to see me, so I saw the NP who I really like and have seen multiple times.  The theory was to put everything together and see if they weren't just pieces of a bigger picture. I was also having extreme fatigue, had joint pain in my knees and hips, along with a host of small new annoyances.  She took 6 vials of blood thinking it was my thyroid, but ran some additional tests just to be sure.  My thyroid numbers had in fact jumped a full point, but were still within normal, but my IFA ANA came back positive.  Meaning I had one of over 80 auto immune diseases, so I was sent to a Rhuematologist.

Three weeks later I was back in the doctors seeing another NP (that I also LOVE) because the PCOS that I have had since I was 20 was flaring up. (This would be the fireworks I mentioned in a previous post). She sent me to ultrasound that showed that I had multiple cysts rupturing at the same time causing extreme pain, and after consult with the GYN, have now developed severe endometriosis.  She put me on two different hormones that weeks later have subsided most of the pain and the cysts seem to be behaving themselves.  Although the real result will be in a month when another ultra sound will be done to determine if my body has resolved this, of if I will need surgery to permanently correct this. The NP also ran more tests and ordered 7 more vials of blood, as thyroid and PCOS are closely tied together, and sure enough my THS had jumped almost another full point, but still not out of the range of normal.

About a month later my appointment with the rhuematologist came up. Armed with my list of 30 symptoms, test results and x-rays, I went in expecting exactly what she thought.  Sjorgen's, is an auto immune disease that effects the organs that hold moisture.  For most it only effects the eyes and salivary glands and is nothing more than an annoyance.  It is managed symptomatically, often takes years to diagnose, and is found 90% in women around age 45 (I'm 39).  In some cases it can effect major organs such as your heart, liver, kidneys and in extreme cases lead to non Hodgkin lymphoma. It often accompanies RA or Lupus, but can be a syndrome all it's own.  It would explain my excessively dry eyes, fatigue, carpal tunnel and inability for my ankles to heal (which everyone now feels is EARLY onset RA), and the appearance that my thyroid is failing (accounting for the hair loss, weight gain, and flair up of PCOS).

She ordered more x-rays, and you guessed it.... 5 more vials of blood, from which every test came back fine.  My RA number was high, but still within normal, same as the Sjorgen's numbers, and the definitive Lupus numbers that came back negative. I was then sent to an ENT for a lower lip biopsy where they cut open the inside of your lower lip, pluck out the little seeds (those little bumps you feel when you run your tongue between your lower lip and your teeth) and check them out to see if the white cells are attacking the healthy ones.  And after all that... there wasn't enough tissue to make a definitive diagnosis.  *sigh*  Now, I was fully aware that this could happen.  The glands are very small and hard to harvest.  Even the Mayo clinic has a 20% fail rate.  The good news?  The tissue was totally healthy, which combined with my "normal" white cell counts, means that Cancer is off the table.  Bad news?  It can't be used as a definitive diagnosis since it was inconclusive and I'm not doing it again. Friday I had my appointment with the rhuematologist to sum it all up with a nice neat bow.  Her decision?

Connective Tissue Disease (Unspecified)

Which basically means they know I have something, but they are still not sure what.  So, for now it will be managed symptomatically and at my routine physicals they will run the blood tests again to see if anything pops up.  She did run one additional test for Lupus.  It's new and I needed to fill out additional insurance paperwork because it's quite expensive (over 1K).  Once everything comes back, she will be attempting to treat my joint pain and fatigue with a new medicine.  It has low side effects in low doses and has been successful with RA/Lupus/Sjorgen's patients. If it works, great.  If not, we wean me off.  And it's not an NSAID, so no major risk to the kidneys.

The kicker to the entire process is that while at the ENT's office, he had asked me if anyone was monitoring my kidneys and I said "No.".  Which made him concerned, so I went back to my regular doctor and insisted they run one more blood test to check for renal failure since it often mimics thyroid disorders.  Two more vials of blood later, while the numbers aren't ideal, they are still within the range of normal, so thankfully the high dosage of NSAIDs didn't create any significant permanent damage. He also asked what my thyroid ultrasound revealed and I told him that I had asked for one and was denied, as the numbers didn't warrant it.  Which he thought was crazy, so he ordered one anyway.

Turns out I have several nodules on both sides of my thyroid, one of which is larger (9mm) that has some calcification and abnormalities.

*sigh*

The biopsy for that is tomorrow.

Fingers crossed.

Because let's face it, when it's all said and done I'd like nothing more than to NOT be sick and tired. But if that is not an option for me, I owe it to my kids to do everything in my power to be as healthy as I can be. This post is more about documentation than anything else, I am not looking for sympathy or even empathy.  But if someone somewhere is also being told that all their symptoms are psychosomatic, or that they are just getting old, know that I have been there....

Paying hundreds of dollars on co-pays and non-insurables....

spending hours in the waiting rooms, reading the same magazines (over and over)....

trying to hold the octopus secure in a bag full of holes....

....praying that another leg won't pop out.







Thursday, August 7, 2014

The Fan Letter I Will Never Send...


To The Band And Crew Of 3 Doors Down,

I recently purchased a VIP pass for your Hyannis show at the Cape Cod Melody Tent in Massachusetts as a surprise birthday gift for my husband. I was unaware that I would be able to give you anything, so I am unsure if this letter will ever actually reach you, or if it will fall like thousands of others I'm sure, in the hands of your staff and disregarded. Nonetheless, I felt I should write it anyway as I am always preaching to my kids the value in saying “Thank you”. And before you get the wrong idea, while I am a fan, I will never be one of those super fans that can/will spend hundreds of dollars just to shake your hands. My husband has followed your music for years so for him, the experience was well worth the money, but giving that experience to our entire family of five is just not realistic for us. Which is perfectly fine, and not what this letter is about. Please bear with me if I digress, as I have never written a “fan” letter in my life. Ever. 

When I was pregnant with my first son, his father (my first husband) was watching the video of Kryptonite and turned to me and said, “I love this. Because even if I go crazy and run around in my underwear, I hope our son still thinks I'm Superman.” His comment, while meant to be humorous at the time, proved to be an ironic twist of life as we fast forwarded a few years (and another son) right into a messy/violent divorce and his apparent undiagnosed, self-medicated bipolar-manic depressive mental illnesses. The children saw him for a few hours once a month, and while many of the visits were filled with walking on egg shells and chaos, there was also music, YOUR music, blasting though the truck on the way home, sung loudly and off key, changing the mood and wiping away the heartbreak from another visit that wasn't... good.

When I started seeing someone new, the hostility and anger reached epic levels and the manipulation of the children became unbearable. Granted some of this was just who he was, but looking back now, I'd say most of it was his losing battle with his mental illness. For years he tried to get the kids to hate this new man and in the beginning he was quite successful. But there was a moment when my younger son turned to me and said that this new man couldn't be so bad, because he “Liked the same music as Daddy.” It's funny how even at 4 he could be so aware of the fact that while this new life was the polar opposite of our “old” life, there was one common thread. Music. Slowly, this new man did win them over, and eight years later we married.

And three months later, their biological father died.

He lost his battle with prescription drugs and depression. The boys were 9 and 11 at the time, and had no experience with death before. His grandparents and aunt staged a small but over the top service for him, and insisted the kids pick a song for his memorial video. They picked “Love Me When I'm Gone”, as their father had always asked before he dropped them off to “love him while he was gone”. For months afterward we would drive somewhere in the car and when that song came up they would understandably ask to skip it. So when it came time to take them to their first concert, (Mohegan Sun, CT with Daughtry) naturally I was concerned for them as soon as the notes began to play, but for the first time it wasn't hard for them. We sat there as a family (my step son included) and for a moment, just got lost in the music. And while 30,000 fans sang and screamed from their seats, I had a quiet moment of healing way up there in the bleachers.

I realize that you have a fan base who will buy anything you produce and pay any amount to see you on stage. And I know from watching/reading interviews that every band says that they are about their fans and their music. But, the margin of bands surviving for decades is slim, and to truly be successful they need to honor those words. In truth, I have loved hundreds of songs in my lifetime in every genre. And while I may never remember that the trash barrels go out on Thursday, if you put one of those songs on from over a decade ago I will still remember every single word. But rarely will I be transported back to that moment in time when I first heard it, and never have I ever had one band that could do that for me so many times. It's why we chose 3 Doors Down to be both my sons and my step son's (now 20) first concert. It's why we chose lyrics from “Your Arms Feel Like Home” to be part of our wedding vows. It's why my sons chose your song to memorialize their father. These songs bring it all back, and for 3 minutes we are right back in that moment, but with the advantageous foresight of knowing exactly how it will all turn out.

So for that, I say thank you. Thank you for using your unique talents, the platform, and visibility that you have to try and make someone's moment easier. Thanks to the road crew and production people who make every show a much better experience than a favorite digital recording. Thank you for being sustainable and continuing on despite unfortunate circumstances or vices that may tear at the seams that hold your band together. Thank you for waking up and getting off the bus when they tell you, touring in tight quarters, and dealing with super crazed psycho fans who don't understand that you just want to be normal for a minute. But most of all thank you for talking to me like you were a normal person when I shook your hand and posed for a picture, and genuinely being nice to my husband, who only discovered he'd be shaking all of your hands 30 minutes prior, when he could only come up with a dorky “Your music is awesome.” as I'm sure you've hear thousands of times before. And just know that while you may be playing for thousands of fans who want to rip your clothes off, and/or party with you, that somewhere in the cheap seats is a middle aged Mom, listening and watching as the melody rises through the venue harmonizing the devastating and amazing moments that have created the soundtrack of her family's life, and appreciating every minute of it.

See you at the next show...

Juli