I saw the young masqueraders toting their bags of goodies in small hunting parties driving home this evening. Nostalgic memories of dressing up, pretending, haunted houses, and candy made me smile.
Teen years evolved into the fun of sneaking in the dark to toilet paper a friend's house or prank a teacher. The chills and screams of scary movies was a convenient snuggling excuse while on a date.
Now, I have a neurological condition, Stiff Person Syndrome, (SPS), which can render me rigid, in spasms, or trigger stimulus-induced falls. I live the disabled reality of fear, illness-induced pranks, my world a perpetual spook house. Daily, I try to wear a costume of normalcy, the disabled "N" word.
One of my personality quirks-turned-to-coping-mechanisms is a sense of humor. I created the following Halloween greeting for my fellow stiffs, goofing on our zombiness. I hope you enjoy.
Halloween Greeting (SPS Style)
A ghoulfiend in our paranormal netherworld,
Debbie
Copyright © 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
Waders Or Life-Preserver
"Just remember, if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off."
~Author Unknown~
Living with multiple chronic conditions is very much like juggling a bowling ball, flaming baton, and a butcher's knife...while doing circles on a unicycle...keeping a vigilant eye on my street corner hat for a stealthy theft attempt of some artful dodger for my hard-earned change.
My days are in constant flux, except for my personalized morning jump-start of Survival 101: blood sugar check, insulin adjustment, and SPS meds. I wait for my pharmaceutical marvels to tame the chronic beasts within. When all is under a semblance of order, I take my one-man circus on the road, touring various specialists and lab facilities.
During my recent tours, I discover my CNS medications and diabetes have created a new complication, dry mouth and an infected back tooth with bone loss. The infection creates problems for my sugar control and the bone loss requires an extraction and repair. The extraction will be complicated because of my diabetes, SPS, and medications. I feel like a dog chasing my own tail and continually biting myself in the butt...viciously hard.
There is always more: working in an eye exam, a pap test, a suspicious mole on my stomach, and a required day of diabetic school. (This carb-counting refresher course is several hours long with a lunch break.) I am hoping my future appearances are one-time-only performances.
Mentally, I keep hearing the repeated refrains from Pink Floyd's, "The Wall."
All in all it was just a brick in the wall.
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.
I have moments I become overwhelmed, like yesterday. I strive to live a normal life in the morass of disabling health. Despair is a recurring battle I fight. I wear waders of hope; determination keeping me walking just ankle deep in the quagmire of defeat and depression sucking daily at my feet. I have occasional weak moments, counting the bricks in the wall instead of looking over it. I start to sink in the inky black ooze. I need a life preserver. I find it in quiet thought, acceptance with a strategy, and prayer.
My spirit tires, just like my compromised body. These moods usually pass in a day. The morning sun of a new day renews me.
"Resolve is never stronger than in the morning after the night it was never weaker."
~From the movie Naked~
Copyright © 2008
~Author Unknown~
Living with multiple chronic conditions is very much like juggling a bowling ball, flaming baton, and a butcher's knife...while doing circles on a unicycle...keeping a vigilant eye on my street corner hat for a stealthy theft attempt of some artful dodger for my hard-earned change.
My days are in constant flux, except for my personalized morning jump-start of Survival 101: blood sugar check, insulin adjustment, and SPS meds. I wait for my pharmaceutical marvels to tame the chronic beasts within. When all is under a semblance of order, I take my one-man circus on the road, touring various specialists and lab facilities.
During my recent tours, I discover my CNS medications and diabetes have created a new complication, dry mouth and an infected back tooth with bone loss. The infection creates problems for my sugar control and the bone loss requires an extraction and repair. The extraction will be complicated because of my diabetes, SPS, and medications. I feel like a dog chasing my own tail and continually biting myself in the butt...viciously hard.
There is always more: working in an eye exam, a pap test, a suspicious mole on my stomach, and a required day of diabetic school. (This carb-counting refresher course is several hours long with a lunch break.) I am hoping my future appearances are one-time-only performances.
Mentally, I keep hearing the repeated refrains from Pink Floyd's, "The Wall."
All in all it was just a brick in the wall.
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.
I have moments I become overwhelmed, like yesterday. I strive to live a normal life in the morass of disabling health. Despair is a recurring battle I fight. I wear waders of hope; determination keeping me walking just ankle deep in the quagmire of defeat and depression sucking daily at my feet. I have occasional weak moments, counting the bricks in the wall instead of looking over it. I start to sink in the inky black ooze. I need a life preserver. I find it in quiet thought, acceptance with a strategy, and prayer.
My spirit tires, just like my compromised body. These moods usually pass in a day. The morning sun of a new day renews me.
"Resolve is never stronger than in the morning after the night it was never weaker."
~From the movie Naked~
Copyright © 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Pajama Therapy
Then there are days...
I woke one morning last week and just knew...a "bad" day. Some bad days are sub par doable, while others are a category 5 and evacuation isn't an option. This was a sub par day, mildly out of sorts, achy, and tired.
Confirmation came with an episode of SPS-lock down spasm in the hallway, precariously holding a hot coffee cup with a frenzied circuit of thought racing in my head, "Do I ditch the java on the hallway carpet or try to salvage it along with staying upright?" Tactical maneuver..."Hello, General Patreous?"
Muscles quivering, I get to the computer, shaken, sore, but unscathed. Sitting, I assess my situation. Stiff Person is agitated today; I am emotionally tired; and physically, I am not up to the struggle. A lazy day in PJs is in order.
The day passes with peaceful uneventfulness. Evening was a quiet celebration with a large bowl of buttered popcorn, Coke on ice, and watching a DVD.
Calm, relaxed, and content...catharsis of my day of pampered solitude.
"True silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment." ~William Penn~
Copyright © 2008
I woke one morning last week and just knew...a "bad" day. Some bad days are sub par doable, while others are a category 5 and evacuation isn't an option. This was a sub par day, mildly out of sorts, achy, and tired.
Confirmation came with an episode of SPS-lock down spasm in the hallway, precariously holding a hot coffee cup with a frenzied circuit of thought racing in my head, "Do I ditch the java on the hallway carpet or try to salvage it along with staying upright?" Tactical maneuver..."Hello, General Patreous?"
Muscles quivering, I get to the computer, shaken, sore, but unscathed. Sitting, I assess my situation. Stiff Person is agitated today; I am emotionally tired; and physically, I am not up to the struggle. A lazy day in PJs is in order.
The day passes with peaceful uneventfulness. Evening was a quiet celebration with a large bowl of buttered popcorn, Coke on ice, and watching a DVD.
Calm, relaxed, and content...catharsis of my day of pampered solitude.
"True silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment." ~William Penn~
Copyright © 2008
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