Thanks Bettina for your ideas...

Someone who recently had gestational diabetes helped explain that orange juice is a known dipper, meaning that it would quickly raise my blood sugar, but would make it plummet again later without real protein to counteract the quick rise.  I am surprised, still, that the cheese and nuts did not help.  However, first she and then the doctor recommended glucose tablets instead of any juice.  So, I bought some raspberry flavored ones.  They are huge!  I have also heard they are quite chalky.  [For the record, I put them in the basket on the counter with my meter.]  As far as real groceries, the grapes, carrots, asparagus, and yogurt were all on sale.  I also bought some spinach dip, bananas, and sliced meats.  I still need more creativity in eating small meals that are more protein than carbohydrates.

I tried to think hard about reducing pricing on groceries and forewent things I would normally buy.  Still, I spent more than I thought I had in my five shopping bags ($124).  Of course I bought some more Ginger ale (that is NEVER on sale), cranberry juice, Cheerios, and milk.  I also needed toilet paper, Kleenex, and a Brita filter.  In addition to the other items, I bought some more eggs, peanut butter, sunflower seeds, and the things to make my own trail mix, because if I have to keep using that as a recovery option, making my own will be much cheaper than the handy packets I bought last time.  Since I had some cream cheese sitting in the back of the refrigerator, I bought some half-sized bagels that I found.  It might sound strange, but I remembered that I used to like bagel sandwiches of cream cheese and grilled chicken. When I was done at the first store, I was too bloody exhausted to go to the other store where I buy chicken, laundry detergent, and the chalupa shells.  Normally, I would have just shopped there, but I needed new test strips.

I see the doctor on Monday.  She recommended a decongestant that should not affect my blood pressure and said that she wanted to do an CT scan of my head.  However, don't you think that is overkill?  I mean, how about a round of antibiotics first?  I told her I could not afford the scan, so I would try the different decongestant even though I think 5 weeks of decongestant is excessive.  My goodness, I really do think that I have a sinus infection.  The main reason I called, though, was that I have had a sudden onset of pain in my elbows, wrists, and hands.  I have been ignoring it for a few weeks, but it makes sleeping hard.  I find it strange since I am on Celebrex, but taking aspirin, aleve, tylenol, and motrin have all not helped the pain at all.

Fred wrote such kind words on my post about how hard it must be to have to think about food all the time when eating is such a natural thing to do.  That was encouraging, for I really am discouraged.  I do think creating a magnetic chart on the refrigerator will be helpful to me in remembering and varying what I eat.  But I wish I could just stop thinking and planning and, well, worrying about eating.  And, frankly, I simply do not understand how I can eat a Chili's shake and yet a Wendy's frosty makes me rather ill. I do not understand how I can eat a Reese's peanut butter cup, two Ghirardelli squares of strawberry chocolate, pumpkin cookies, or a slice of pound cake, but I cannot eat a Ding Dong without my pancreas trying to kill me.

I do think that if I have to continue testing my blood sugar as much as I have done of late, I need to get a tattoo of a red circle with a slash through it on my ring finger of my left hand.  There is a wonky nerve in that finger and when I forget and prick it, I am hard pressed to keep from screaming from the initial pain and am bothered by the reduced level of pain that lingers for several days.  Of course, I am sure that the tattoo would probably hurt, too!

The up shot of today's outing?  I was bemoaning my drastically low supply of Dr Pepper last night...the cost of getting more when I really should give up this beloved luxury.  However, when I went to get the grocery bags out of the back of the Highlander, I discovered 10 boxes of Dr Pepper.  I suddenly remembered that two weeks ago I found it on sale, priced $2.50 off a case, nearly two for the price of one.  I bought all they had.  I just forgot that I did so between buying it and coming home.

SIGH.

Though I do not expect the pain in my arms/hands to magically disappear tonight, I am hoping that I shall have an crash free evening.  Who knows, perhaps the new decongestant will help me sleep despite wanting to amputate my elbows at least.  Frankly, don't you think elbows should not hurt????


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

Lord, have mercy...

82 minutes after my last blood test, I find myself sweaty and weak and trembling.  I debate for a while, but finally crawl out of bed and go downstairs to check.  Not only am I crashing again, but I am 10 points lower than before!  I start to make an egg, but grab the Cheerios instead, thinking that they have sugar and the milk will be a good balance.  I check my blood sugar again after 15 minutes and it has not changed at all.  I start shoving the trail mix hand over fist and guzzle Gatorade.  I have not used orange juice as a rescue for a very long time, but surely it could not be the reason why I am here again? I am utterly confused.  I am scared.  I am also terrified to try and sleep though I am exhausted.  And I am wishing I didn't feel so guilty about waking someone up to be with me just now.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

Noodling help...

My blood sugar just crashed.  It was another time when I was not aware it was dropping until a light bulb went off and I wobbled to the kitchen.  Sloshing around in my stomach right now are orange juice, sunflower kernels, and cheese.  Swimming around in my head are shouts for help.

I will admit that I dared a Ding Dong this evening, after eating lots of beef jerky and cheese.  I think, though, Ding Dongs have to be stricken from my life.  Apparently, I can eat a Reese's peanut butter cup at night, but not a Ding Dong.  So, despite the tears that fell doing so, I dumped the rest of the Ding Dongs in the trash and tore up the box for fire-making supplies.

I think, though, that part of the problem is I was out of Ginger ale and did not want to go out to the store today when I have to go out of the house tomorrow.  When I have the Ginger ale and cranberry juice, it takes several hours to finish it because it is basically a can of Ginger ale and a can's worth of juice since I mix them both half-and-half.  Since I am drinking that for a long while, from time to time I eat a little something.  Tonight, I did not. I had but three "meals" today.  The other difference is that I ate the Cheerios in the morning instead of the afternoon as I have been doing. Today, I had two chalupas with black beans, sour cream, cheese, and grilled chicken; cheerios; and cheese & beef jerky.

So, I was thinking I could see if Sandra (hint, hint, hint) would help me make a magnet system for my refrigerator that is about food, to help me better remember what I have eaten and make wider choices in what I do eat. I am not good at envisioning visual things, nor am I creative in that manner.  I think it should have the days of the weeks and a whole lot of options of things to eat, multiples of the same foods, so I can pick from a pool of choices and easily see what I have had to eat that day.  [I often forget what I have eaten earlier.  Because of this, I have taken to letting dishes sit in the sink until the end of the day so they might help me remember.]

However, in addition to the memory and decision-making help the magnets would be, I need to have a few more snacks that I won't turn my nose up at and that won't stress my innards that I can have as options.  I am thinking of this because I ate the cheese and nuts to go with the juice.  When I correct the low blood sugar with juice, I will merely crash again in a few hours if I do not have something to balance it.  And I think if cheese and nuts is going to be the best go-to when I am anxious and confused and weak from a crash--the option I would least have to think about--then I need to lessen my cheese and nuts during the day.

You know, my crappy pancreas no longer knows how to do anything but to shoot out copious amounts of insulin if it spots a carbohydrate in my body.  And it really seems to HATE carbohydrates that have flour and sugar both.  Straight sugar is no problem.  Flour with little to no sugar (like a tortilla or saltine) is no problem.  Put them together and neither my digestive system nor my pancreas is very happy should that happen later in the day (for example, having French Toast with breakfast is also no problem).

In thinking about having other options in what to eat, I realize that I have forgotten I like those petite carrots with peanut butter.  I am going to the store after my appointment tomorrow, so I will put those on the list.  I also need to think about eating an egg more frequently than I have of late.  Yes, slicing up cheese and crackers is easy, but an egg or two would be better.  I guess I should also get more yogurt, because I realized I have abandoned that, too.

The noodling help I need is some more snack/small meals items that I would cotton consuming (sort of picky eater that I am), which are primarily protein or vegetable.  This would be easy for most people, but when you truly dislike olives, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, cottage cheese, celery, citrus fruits, peaches, pears, and a dozen other common items that are not coming to mind right now because you am still shaking, you are sort of up a pole without a ladder when it comes to having small, easy-to-prepare things to eat.

So, in writing this, I have noted carrots and peanut butter, yogurt, and eggs.  Can you think of anything else I could either snack on or have as a small meal?  I will promise to try very hard not to "Yes, but..." if you will please offer some noodling help.

[NOTE: I would, at the moment, be weeping with frustration over this problem, but Amos has been frolicking about with his Flower Baby and has now collapsed at my side in exhaustion, with Flower Baby clutched firmly between two paws and resting beneath his head.  Oh, how thankful I am for that silly puppy dog!]


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

Ruthless...

I did it.
I ripped off the band-aid in one fell swoop.

I just lugged out to the recycling bin 27 binders worth of research--three trips of lugging.  Twenty of the binders are in good shape, so I am going to try and find a home for them. We will not discuss the three bankers boxes I have of empty binders that could also use a home.  SIGH.  It is hard not to think up possibilities for them. We will also not discuss the additional 300 top-loading sheet protectors I salvaged during the process as well.

Twelve of the binders still remain on the shelf, most of which are lesson plan ideas.  I would like to go through them, transfer the good ideas to my computer, and then get rid of them as well.  The two binders I could not yet relinquish were the ones with my dissertation research in them.  All that effort garnered just one shelf of space because of how I had them stacked.

I feel as if I just trashed my Ph.D., truly.
I feel as if all that work was for naught. 
I feel as if I am acknowledging the simple-minded oaf I have become.

I was rather ruthless with myself in the process.
I am feeling rather blue now.

Truly worth watching...

This is a hard video to watch.  Doing so takes time and a willingness to not turn aside from an evil that exists in this world.  This is not a video on how horrible is the Catholic church, though the actions taken by its leadership are shameful.  They are the same actions, however, that are, sadly, all too common.

I have never seen such a bald look at a pedophile.  I have never seen such a raw look at the impact childhood sexual abuse can still have years later.  I have never such an honest look at a topic most people avoid. As I wrote before, sexual abuse is everywhere...even on the mission field.

Sin will always remain in this world until the fullness of time arrives and Jesus calls His church home. However, this particular sin, and its devastation upon the lives it touches, could be dramatically reduced if more people were willing to look, willing to keep this uncomfortable topic in our public and private discourse, and willing to act against it.


Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.

Be it in or out of the moment...

One more article popped onto my radar. Now, this one, I could have written as well.  It is about how distraction can help with pain.  This I understand.  Deeply.

Again, though, I think it takes a kind and merciful soul to sit with you when you are in pain, to talk with you or text with you, to help you step outside the moment and let it pass, as Inara advised on Firefly.

I have many blog entries on pain.  The nerve pain I have experienced has been so hard to endure.  The worst, when the moment has passed, seems to be when it feels like fire is racing up and down my legs just beneath the skin.  Of course, the frightening agony of a spine so stiff from arthritis that I can hardly breathe is a close second for worst pain.  But joining the world of migraine victims--for surely they are an assault--I would say that the combination of imploding and exploding and throbbing and searing pain in your head is most assuredly the worst.  Only when I am writhing on the bathroom floor, skin bare from chest to hips because my abdomen hurts so badly even the weight, the touch, of the thinnest shirt is agonizing I think that this must be the worst pain I must endure.

I have always had a high threshold of pain.  I think that is how I endured the terrible pain I have had over the past few years because of the problems I had bleeding so much and then constantly.  However, the surgeon mentioned something to me at my last visit when we planned to meet again to start exploring reconstructive surgery.  I am to make another pros and cons chart, along with my questions.  If I end up on medicare, the surgery would be covered then.  So, if I choose, if we choose to wait, it doesn't mean I am losing the opportunity for this help. But the surgery is a serious, serious decision before me.  One I should admit that I worry I shall not be able to navigate...were I to be honest about the matter.

The biopsy was so very overwhelming to me.  I honestly would never agree to such again without first being sedated...completely.  The first sample was an explosion of pain I thought impossible to endure.  There were two more samples taken.  I felt like leaping off the table at the first.  That she had started was the only thing that kept me on the table.  I thought that that is how it is for all women.  The surgeon mentioned her main concern for me to find a place on my pros/cons chart:  my pain receptors are highly...something.  I do not remember the word specifically, but something like over-reactive or over-charged or misfiring.  In short, they are broken...like the rest of me.

This past summer, I was talking with my internist who was trying to find a solution for my innards, not yet understanding it was neurological rather than system-based.  I was telling her that I never had a problem before with a medication she had targeted as a possible culprit.  She very bluntly said that my life is no longer what it was.  Before no longer matters.

That really was the very hard lesson I just swallowed about eating.  Foods that have been no problem before no longer are safe.  I have to remember this truth and stop trying to live in before.  I am no longer who I was physically, cognitively, mentally, emotionally.

Perhaps migraines are so devastating to me because of wonky pain receptors.  Perhaps the migraines others experience are far, far, far worse than mine.  Perhaps those with dysautonomia would be thankful for my moments on the bathroom floor.  Perhaps.

In any case, distractions are helpful to me.  Now, I know "experts" agree with me!  How reassuring.

For those who have served as a distraction for me, even if doing so is uncomfortable or hard for you, I am thankful.  Truly.  If you know someone who struggles with great pain, consider being a distraction for them.  In my personal experience, both active and passive distraction helps.  In my personal experience, simply not being alone with the pain is a kind of distraction.  In my personal experience, having someone simply be with me in the moment I am struggling to step out of is a kindness, an act of mercy beyond description.  You do not really have to do anything.  Talking or playing a game through my moans and groans is certainly a kindness, but merely being with me in some fashion...even virtually...is a marvel, a wonder, a gift.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

I could have told you that...

Yesterday, I mentioned several articles that were...well, rather obvious to me.  I could have told you what they said.  And I wouldn't have minded being paid for the research and the writing, as well as garnering the recognition for the research and byline.  I found a couple of others.

But, before I note them, I would like to note something that is surely utter conjecture:  Cheerios has curative properties when you have at least two medical conditions affecting your innards, especially when one is neurological in nature and the other is a system condition.

I have had Cheerios every day since Saturday, since Leslie was my innards hero.  Yesterday, I was rash and had a second "dessert."  When I had the asparagus, I was also rash and had two slices of french bread, dipping it in the seasoned olive oil that I used to saute the asparagus.  [I have to limit how much bread I eat.] Despite being rash twice, I have had no instance of low blood sugar or nausea or writhing on the bathroom floor in the wee hours.  A cup of Cheerios a day keeps the misery away!

Of course, I have also had the glass of Ginger ale and cranberry juice as well.  I am, by the way, low on Ginger ale.  I do not plan on going out until Thursday, but I have but one can left.  I wonder if I should risk not having that Wednesday evening...

That silliness aside, one of the articles I found was on foods that could make you happy.  One of those foods is...can you guess...ASPARAGUS! And I quote:

This vegetable is one of the top plant-based sources of tryptophan, which serves as a basis for the creation of serotonin, one of the brain's primary mood-regulating neurotransmitters. High levels of folate also add to asparagus's happiness-promoting profile; research has shown that up to 50 percent of people with depression suffer from low folate levels. Like tryptophan, it's a necessary factor for creating neurotransmitters. 

So, it is not merely the organic garlic salt that I use on the asparagus I eat that has made me an addict.  I was helping not only dysautonomia and its effects on my blood sugar with the salt, but also the strain that has been my emotions and facing the difficulties that have come my way with the asparagus itself.  I guess that means that I am justified in trying to have asparagus on hand all the time.  I do only like to eat the skinny stuff. Did I ever mention the fresh-from-the-ground, blue, straw-like asparagus I once bought from a farm?  Oh, the glory of that asparagus!  Oh, the memory!

The other article I found was about research that meetings can actually make us dumber.  I totally could have told you that by experience alone.  At the past three jobs I had, I noticed a few things about meetings:

1) People tend to ignore start/end times.
2) Few actually pay attention to the agenda.
3) Project members rarely have their piece/work completed on time.
4) Meetings are prime feeding grounds for bullying, disrespect, and taking offense, even where none is given...primarily because meetings are prime locations for peacocks to strut their stuff.
5) The work of meetings oft becomes bogged down by the need to not step on any toes with regard to the person(s) who is(are) usually responsible for such work slated for the meeting.
6) Rarely are meetings productive in the way a gathering of two, perhaps three, committed employees can be.

At countless meetings, I was appalled to see folk saunter in around 10:15 or even 10:30 for a 10:00 meeting, usually with cell phone in tow.  People would bring other work to do, while tuning folk out.  Presenters would not have rehearsed their presentations or given thought to the layout of their handouts with regard to reader understanding and use...and paper conservation.  And teamwork/ team projects were a joke.  Usually, one or two people did all the work.  Primarily, the pervasive mentality to meetings were all about individual, rather than the company/organization/department/team.  The ego really drove all interaction and interfered with productivity.

Of course, if I had a quarter for every minute of my life spend in a faculty meeting discussing copier paper, I would have absolutely no worries about paying for my prescriptions!

I would like to do a few research studies of my own.  I miss research.  I miss studying.  I miss delving into some topic with other fine minds.  At this point, I am fairly sure I have mere mush for brain cells.

SIGH.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

Everywhere I look...

When I was in graduate school, I learned the word ubiquitous.  And, as is wont to happen, that very word became ubiquitous.  Not really, I suppose.  But over the years I have found that when you learn a new word, really learn it, that word seems to start popping up in text everywhere.

My working theory behind this is that we are becoming more and more lazy as readers.  By this I mean that with the decline in emphasis on building a strong vocabulary, with the dumbing down of the reading level of all public texts (like a 4th grade reading level as a guideline for the newspapers adults read), we glean more and more of our meaning from context, skipping over unknown words without thought or guilt.  It is not that the word you learned is coincidentally being used by writers the world over right after you learn it.  It is that you never noticed the word until you actually learned the meaning.  It was not important to you.

My theory began when I started my own word book about a decade ago...after receiving my doctorate.  I was reading along and realized there were several words that I did not know, did not have a clue as to meaning.  I decided to tackle this problem.  So, now, as I read, I write down words I do not really know.  Afterward, I look up the meaning of the words and write them down in a blank book I chose for the process.  I learned over 1,000 words in a relatively short period of time. I was stunned by how much word-skipping I was doing.  Stunned and humbled and have striven to keep up the habit of noting and learning new words.

[Would that it were that doing so were not so difficult these days....]

Anyway, well, I am wondering about the ubiquity of a certain topic in the news of late.  To me, it seems that I cannot go long without stumbling upon an article of some kind about sexual abuse, particularly that of children.

I have not publicly said so, but I fled Facebook, in large part, because of the breaking news at Penn State last Fall.  I couldn't bear the omnipresent topic, nor could I stomach the seemingly trite observations about sexual abuse that followed.  In my experience, if you try to have a serious conversation, people become uncomfortable. In my experience, the topic is best kept at a distance, where one can opine on the matter.  However, pontificating about what a shame it is that such happened and how abuse victims can always find a safe place in the church, how they need only to speak out and they will get help...hurts...me.  That is not the way the world works.  Speaking out does not always garner help...not as a child, nor as an adult.

Article after article after article appeared before my eyes.  I fled Facebook.  I eschewed the Internet.  I avoided the news...especially after the recent slaying of a child here in Fort Wayne.  Yet the articles keep appearing...how child abuse costs the victim more money over a lifetime than those who are not abused, how more children are hurt by child abuse than SIDS (I could have written that one with my eyes closed), how adult survivors are affected by news stories such as Penn State and then the Citadel, how 1 in 5 women are sexually abused, how sexually abused children are more likely to face mental illness as an adult (well, duh!), a teacher here...a principal there...two teachers even, the prevalence of severe child abuse, the recent rise in child abuse being tied to the economic downturn, and dozens of charges of sexual abuse in towns that I think might never have appeared on the national news level...save for Penn State.

To me, it feels merely like the topic of the moment, rather than a turning of the national mind that has long ignored the fact that children are not safe in America.  Abused children rarely find a safe haven.  Those removed from their home (something that is generally much harder than it should be, even in egregious cases) are oft placed in the foster care system, a place rife with abuse and lacking funds necessary to ensure that abused children get the counseling and support that they need.  The brave ones who speak out can find that schools, churches, communities actually prefer the silence.  It cannot possibly happen in our back yard.


I personally know of an abused child placed in a foster family who ended up raping his foster sister.  When he was finally removed (the social workers tried to deal with the problem in-house rather than follow the law and report the incident), he admitted to his new social worker that his foster mom had been sexually abusing him for the past two years.  A good family in a good neighborhood in an affluent county weekly monitored by a social worker and a foster care organization.

It happens in our back yards.


A while ago, I wrote, for me, a rather blistering blog entry on hunger.  Where is the outrage that the rate of children living in food insecure homes has drastically risen during the recession, from 1 in 10 to 1 in 4? Who thinks about the millions of children who gain their primary nutrition from the free breakfast and lunch program going without that food for the entire summer?  Hungry children are all around you.  Everywhere.

So are men, women, and children who are either being abuse or who have been abused.

A while ago, I was rather daring.  Back when I was on Facebook, I posted a link to this video (sadly, I do not have it since I am on computer no. 4 since that time, I believe) that a friend sent me.  It is an unflinching look at adult survivors of child sexual abuse by a Catholic priest.  It is not a diatribe against the Catholic church, thought the cover-up and denial in his case is appalling--especially since he was ultimately relocated to Ireland, living near a school. Rather it is a haunting look at how childhood sexual abuse affects the adult and a rather disturbing first-person portrait of an abuser.  He smiles at the end.  He really sees the whole thing as merely an expression of love.

One of the seemingly unbelievable aspects is that he abused both the daughter and the mother of a family who took him in as a single priest. How could that possibly happen, you ask.  All to easily is the answer.

Frankly, I thought the video was a valuable window into the world of childhood sexual abuse for those whom have never experienced it.  And...for those who have and who wonder why, wonder how, a man could possibly do what he does to a child. Because of this, I wrote a rather passionate plea for folks to take the time to watch the video.

No comments.
No response.
Silence.

That is why, in large part, sexual abuse is still an egregious perfidy being committed daily against thousands upon thousands of children in our country.  Silence.  Even in the best homes, the best schools (both public and private), the best churches, the best youth programs, the best summer camps, the best colleges and universities, etc.  Pedophiles are no respecter of age, race, gender, socio-economic status, or location.

Everywhere.

And everywhere there is silence, of one type or another.  We are to care for our neighbors.  But I have found that with this issue, the popular response is to leave such care to professionals, if counseling is even an option.  Do not get me wrong.  Do not mistake my words.  Counseling is important, is necessary.  You do not just get over it. But counseling is not all the one wounded in such a manner needs.  Neighbors willing to help.  Neighbors willing to listen.  Neighbors who will not try to fix you, but rather show you mercy and give you grace as you move through your pain, as you bear the burden of your wounds.  Ah, but there's the rub.  Remember what I wrote about how we story to process our lives, our losses, our griefs?  And remember how I said that I believe the difficulty in listening to hard things is our tendency to want to put ourselves in the story as we listen?

Well, who wants to be in a story of sexual abuse?


Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.

All hail the Cheerio...

No nausea, no low blood sugar, no innards writhing last night!  All hail the Cheerio!

Silly, I know.  Still, I just finished my bowl of Cheerios for today.  Later, I shall have my Ginger ale with natural cranberry juice.  Breakfast was a cup of lentils with a slice of cheddar cheese.  I shall have some asparagus later and after that a fried egg or maybe two.

Yesterday, I had the Cheerios, crackers and Havarti cheese, 1/2 chicken breast and broccoli & cheddar rice mix, and a salad.  I need to grill more chicken breast meat.

Did I mention that Leslie brought me not only one but two boxes of Cheerios?  If they are really helping to keep things on a more positive keel when it comes to my innards, she wanted me to always have a box on hand.  So, when the first one runs out, I will have a stash whilst trying to remember to purchase another box.

Because I was so bloody exhausted after virtually no sleep the night before, I went back to bed twice today...much to Amos' confusion.  He is used to my feeding him early and then going back to bed, but the second time was not all that high on his agenda.  So tired was I, I barely even registered his protests.  I honestly do not remember much after he perched across my hip to whimper in my ear as I curled on my side once more.  However, the World's Greatest Puppy did allow me to then sleep until just after 1:30 PM...meaning four extra hours after his breakfast.

I wonder if I can talk him into a late afternoon nap with me...........

From one floor to another...

After making my way upstairs last night, I was only in bed for a short time before crawling to the bathroom.  Both problems in one night is just not fair.  I want to stomp my feet and have a right good temper tantrum, only I was too busy writhing on the floor in agony.

I have been doing so very well, so very well. I have been eating smaller amounts and more frequently...never  gaining the 6-8 small meals a day goal, but consistently 4-5 time of less than I had been eating when I had 1-2 meals a day.  Weeks have passed without awaking ill and spending a few hours writhing on the bathroom floor wishing Jesus would just come and fetch me.

Waves of nausea, terrible abdominal cramps, vomiting, shaking, and dizziness all plague me as my innards object to whatever work they are doing at the time.  The pain in my abdomen is so bad that I cannot bear even a t-shirt touch it.  There is no comfort to be found at such times.  All I can do is endure, for I know it will pass. I will be tired for a while and then it will be as if the trial never happened.

I texted Leslie and asked if she could bring me some Cheerios.  Someone suggested that I could have that kind of cereal once my beloved Fiber One cereal started making me so ill.  Eventually, I remember to purchase a box, and yesterday was the first day I did not have a bowl. So, yes, I was desperate enough to think that I would have felt better had I not broken the routine I had established with what I have been eating.  Plus, I have been drinking a Ginger ale with cranberry juice every night.  I had run out of juice, too.  Leslie brought me both.

I have just had a bowl of cereal.  Later, I will have some Ginger ale and juice.  Tonight will be better!


Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.

Would that it were not this way...

Lying on the kitchen floor, afraid........

My blood sugar crashed, but I am so nauseous that I really wasn't understanding what was happening. Amos, though, dragged me out of bed to go outside. I tried to ignore him because I feel so wretched, but he refused to get back in bed and did his patented bark/growl/whine until I got up and dressed for the snow that is falling outside.

He watered nearly every plant in the yard, sort of just puttering about. I was having a hard time standing, while waiting for him. And then I finally realized that beneath the nausea was brewing that odd mix of anxiety/trembling/fading. Sure enough, the last test strip in the house told me I was crashing.

It is hard enough to shove food into your mouth hand over fist when you are panicking and weak. It is even harder to do so when you are also nauseous. I had had two ginger candies for the nausea, which--along with my puppy's need--probably saved me from that point of no return. I've been there a few times, but always with someone to rescue me...half drown me by pouring juice down my throat. I am so fearful that this is happening when I am alone.

The doctor worked out that entire shifting of my medications just so this would happen during the day, instead of the middle of the night. I do not know why it is happening now, especially after a day of copious protein and few carbohydrates.

In any case, I am lying on the kitchen floor, afraid, waiting for my body to stop this nightmare so that I might crawl back into bed. I think that woman writing about her illness was right on target with her choice of metaphor. My life has me trapped on a carousel that I cannot seem to get off. Would that it were not this way.

To add insult to injury, the regular testing of my blood pressure has shown multiple times of where my pulse pressure, the difference between the systolic and diastolic readings, is 60-75 points. It should be 30-40. I thought I would be charting my low blood pressure moments, which I have been. However, I am also charting these wild spikes (consistent in both arms).

I am too weary to face yet another battle with my body. And too poor to fund another round of doctor's visits and tests. I cry, "Uncle!"


I am Yours, Lord. Save me!

If I ask you...

If I ask you, "Do I like couscous?" while out at a restaurant or shopping at a grocery store, please answer (emphatically):

"Nope! You had it once and did not care for it and not remembering this had it a second time. You really care not to ever taste it again!"