I got my hands on an off-brand of Nutella that I can actually eat (can we please stop with the gratuitous soy usage, corporate America?), and I understand everything now. I mean everything. The meaning of life, the universe and everything. Turns out it isn't forty two, it's chocolate and hazelnuts. In spreadable form. The gods have descended and Eden is here. It's like the Ferrero Rocher chocolate candies that I've loved so much for so long but can't have anymore (thanks again to the soy problem) have exploded all over this whole grain toasted pita…slice? (what do you call a single piece of pita bread in all its pockety glory?). Of course, the whole wheat makes it healthy. Right? Right. Also, as a completely pointless side note, I must say that not indulging in the Oxford comma for the phrase, "life, the universe and everything" is killing me, but I am pretty sure that's how it's written and I want to be faithful to the original text. Douglas Adams deserves it. (For those completely lost, I'm referencing "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" series by Douglas Adams. It's a series of books that is completely silly, mind bending, and entirely sensible if you read them all through.)

Chewing this deluxe chocolatey treat is killer, though, thanks to the good ol' oral surgery recovery. The gaping sockets where my 3 wisdom teeth used to be are pretty much alright, in that there's no easily discernible spikes of pain above what I normally experience, but the bottom left jaw pain has got to be the incarnation of everything evil in the world. Due to the positioning of that tooth, the extraction involved cutting open the gum and sewing it shut again afterward, and this stitched area is causing me debilitating pain. Yes, even with the copious amounts of strong pain killers that I am taking, and yes, even with all of the little countermeasures you can take against pain in addition to the pain meds, it's keeping me from sleeping at night, keeping me from eating solid food, giving me migraines, making the hours pass soooo slooooooowlyyyyy, and making my supply of pain killers look suspiciously puny. Once or twice a day I give in and eat something that requires chewing, but ouch.

I finally caved yesterday and started applying ice directly to my jaw, and that was an amazing breakthrough... at first… for a bit. Now it doesn't seem to matter. Sorbet has been a helpful friend as well, kind of numbing things out with cold from the inside, plus it's super delicious! The weather, though, has been affecting the pain levels. Clouds have been coming and going and bringing rain, so on the days that the weather is changing my pain is skyrocketing. On the calm days with no clouds and no changing, I was able to get it mostly under control. Since I cannot control the weather, I will simply do what I can to get this healing up as fast as possible. It's nice to know that this intense pain will end at some point. I'm not used to thinking that way anymore.

So. Birthday coming up in a week, give or take a day. I'm going to be the ripe old age of 27. I think it's fair to say that I'm definitely not where I thought I'd be in life at the moment, and things are going to be different than I had planned, but I think I'm coming to grips with that. I feel like I'm coming to after some time in a thick, numbing sleep, coming back to myself and gulping a huge lungful of air. I've had several "off" months and lots, lots, lots of heavy blows in a row. That's had me staggering, trying to come to terms with reality; adapt, adjust, and survive. I have not lost myself, though, and I feel that irrepressible sense of self rising yet again, despite the surroundings and trappings that modify the expression.

While I was on a walk the other day I caught sight of the desert mountains in the distance, and the dark-light pattern of the clouds and sunlight passing over them in turns gripped my heart as it always does. I felt the familiar yearning for a good, solid hike, followed by a mournful thought that hiking is out of the question when I'm scraping along the road with my walker. The second thought I had was, "Fuck that noise!" I refuse to let myself be bleached barren and bled dry by my disease(s). When I go hiking or backpacking I definitely won't be able to travel as far or as fast, but that doesn't mean that I have to give it up entirely. Yes, there's something to be said for working within the parameters of reality, but there's something more to be said for not giving up on yourself and refusing to become a bland mush of a person when faced with limiting circumstances. So no, I won't be a massage therapist like I had dreamed and planned, because that's just not realistic when you consider my connective tissue disease and my fatigue and pain levels. It's not a matter of want, it's a matter of not physically capable, no matter how hard I push myself and aim for the dramatically inspiring documentary story of a life.

But I still massage my husband, my friends, when I can. When I can. I've adapted. I've altered. But I'm not giving up, not unless I want to, and for my own reasons. Because while I refuse to be conquered and give up on my hobbies and my interests because of circumstances imposed on me against my will, I also refuse to be stuck doing stuff that I no longer really want to do or that I didn't want in the first place, simply to prove that my illness "doesn't define me" or whatever. If I were doing stuff just to prove that my diseases don't have me by the balls, in that moment I'd be proving myself wrong. It's a tricky thought, and a tricky balance, and it's taken me some time to get to this place. At first I needed to simply withdraw and lick the wounds inflicted upon diagnosis, to simply ride the tide of one appointment after another, and I'm okay with that. There will be times when I do so again, and that's fine. So long as the reasons are mine, and I'm doing it for me (and not because I've been bullied into it by people or my diseases), I can do whatever I need to do to get by. For me, for now, it means letting myself emerge once more, a slightly different incarnation with all the spunk and sass of my former self combined with a new balance and perspective tempered by pain and trials.

Hey, did I mention that I got glasses? Yep, I sure did, and they make me look hot. I'll get a picture in here sometime when I can, but for now just take my word for it. Here's how great they are: I actually feel more attractive with them on than without! Yeah, I know. That's never been a thing for me before. In fact, I feel very good about my appearance in general lately. Sure, I'm still overweight and trying to slim down, but my hair has been growing out and is now a chin-length bob in my natural color, my skin is clear, I've got really cute glasses, I finally found a type of bra I can wear comfortably, thus my breasts and cleavage look fantastic (even if they *are* sports bras), and I've got some really cute earrings. I want to get more holes in my ears and I've been playing with the idea of a nose ring, a very thin and delicate hoop (see below), but I just don't think it would look that great.

I've always wanted an eyebrow piercing, however, so maybe I'll go for one of those...

I definitely want what the ponytail lady (that's Fergie, right?) has in the way of earrings-- a whole ear-full, all the way down. (I just hope my babies don't decide to reach for the shiny things, you know? Yikes!)

Of course, I want a tattoo in the worst way but since I struggle with hyperalgesia and always will, I figure that it's probably out of the question. Unless I were to use medical grade anesthesia or something for the procedure. Hmm… (Kidding.) My first tattoo, though, would be this:

To wrap things up, and on a completely unrelated side note, I love my kitties. We took Fancy, the new cat, to the vet today to check out her ears--either mites or an infection, either way real bad when we got her but improving while with us--and she behaved so well both on the car ride and during the appointment itself, even while they made use of the rectal thermometer. I know that I wouldn't be as quiet and docile as she was if a rectal thermometer was involved in my exam! Turns out that there are no mites, at least not right now. It could have started out as mites and then progressed as they left their waste behind, but she has a fungal infection that a course of ear drop medication should clear right up, and I expect that we'll see a bit of a change in her disposition once that's better. She's already sweet now, but there's a difference between being nice and sweet while you're in discomfort or pain and being sweet and nice because you're no longer in discomfort or pain. You know what I mean? Well, right now she's kind of a bitch to Bob and Juneaux (pronounced "juno", by the way), hissing and swiping when they come near or if they (try to) pass by, growling at them if she so much as sees them, but it's just driven Bob and Juneaux closer which is what I was hoping for. They're becoming bros, which didn't happen before because Bob actually had his bro, Cortes! So we'll see what happens as the kitty soap opera continues. Tune in next time for more drama on As the World Tunas/General Pawspital/All My Kitties/As the Fur/Litterbox Turns.

By the by… Which is your favorite kitty soap opera name? Got an original one? Let me know in the comments!

Fun fact: I've been toying with introducing gluten back into my diet, so this past week I've been eating regular oats (which do not in themselves contain gluten, but oats are known to be highly contaminated by gluten containing grains in the production process), and have had no ill effects. Yesterday my friend E brought me some goodies from Sprouts, since she was in the big city this week and they have such stores there. I had asked for a certain brand of GF bread but forgot that they also make regular breads as well, so she came back with the flax seed bread that I had asked for… but the whole wheat variety. I figured it was as good a time as any to test out the gluten theory, so I had several slices of toast for supper last night, and some for breakfast. I am pleased to say that I am suffering no ill effects whatsoever, and no gastrointestinal distress or pain of any kind.

I think my gluten free days may be over.

I'm excited pretty much beyond reason. 'Cause oh my word… bread. And the possibilities are endless… I can eat baklava again! Desserts… I can have real cake or pie for my birthday!!!!! I can make a turkey sandwich. Did I mention desserts? Oh, and crackers. Crackers! Italian food. Lasagna. I can eat out at restaurants again! Olive Garden, perhaps? *gasp* I can eat eggplant parmesan again!

You guys… you guys… Pancakes.

Right. I'm going to stop now. I'm getting myself way too worked up. But man… I'm so excited.

Well, I got the call last week (I think it was?) about the blood tests that the new rheum had run. As he said, he is more than willing to look into the autoimmune side of things, though he seems to feel that my troubles are caused solely by fibromyalgia. I do not accept this. It's pretty plain that I do not accept this, and several of my other doctors agree with me. 

Good grief, I wish there were a way to get them all under one roof so they could put their heads together and share all of the opinions and knowledge about my body and its workings or lack thereof… I get so tired trying to coordinate all the appointments and rides and tests and information sharing. It's hard enough for me to just make it through the day without trying to overdose on something, anything to make the pain go away just a little bit. How am I supposed to expend all this energy trying to figure out how to get my doctors to figure out how to get me better when I'm losing energy by the week, the day, the hour? I don't have much left in me for this, and it's a bitter irony that the increasingly sick person must put forth increasingly greater amounts of effort to receive care the sicker they get. I need a caretaker, for reals. Or at least a secretary. I could wish that C took more of an interest in my health affairs… doing research, knowing my meds and what they're for and how often to take them… or even just their names? It's all left up to me and it doesn't seem fair because he's relatively healthy and I'm not and I just really don't have it in me anymore, guys. I mean, this post alone… it's taken me days to scrape together the mental energy to even type this up. I feel very alone with my sickness very often, but I don't feel that it's fair to complain or even ask more of C, because I am already such a burden. He is such a support for me, so taking care of my own medical stuff is the least I can do, right? Plus there is the whole "hanging on to the last vestiges of my independence as a human being and/or adult" thing. Did you know that, not only do I not drive unless I absolutely have to (it takes a ton of energy, it's usually painful, and I could have a twitching attack/go faint at any time and I don't feel that it's very safe for me to be driving), but it is difficult for me to get the walker in and out of my car by myself? Didn't used to be that hard. Now that I need it more than ever for getting around, it is more difficult for me to access it by myself. This seems to be an increasingly familiar theme in my life, and I absolutely hate it.

Aaaaaanyway, this wasn't supposed to be a rant about my feels regarding my sickness, it was supposed to expound upon my theory that I'm pursuing. Right, so, here's the theory.

The blood tests showed no lupus activity, which is good, but that also means that another potential answer has been crossed off the list. MS and lupus, both of which seemed good fits as explanations for my symptoms, are out. So what is making me so sick, aggravating the fibromyalgia symptoms? There's got to be something. I just keep worsening, and every time I do I'm sure there's no further rock bottom to hit… but I'm always wrong. My mother is understandably quite concerned. While I was back home visiting for Christmas ("back home", as though I've ever actually lived there LOL. But home is where the heart is, and my heart is with my family, so I guess it works.), she told me that she was afraid this was the last time she was going to see me. Not that I'm going to drop dead within the year, mind you, but my physical health has deteriorated so far that traveling is very difficult for me, even just road trips to the big city to see my doctors. It takes a heavy toll, and traveling across the country with all the planes and the sitting and the walking through terminals and… it's all just really hard. Really, really hard. So unless something changes, I probably won't be able to go out there to visit again, and she doesn't have the funds to come out here. Sucks, but that's reality.

She was very taken aback by my physical appearance as well. Several times she made the comment that I looked like a cancer patient. I was pale, weak, dark circles all around my eyes (not just underneath), my face is puffy… I just don't look healthy, despite what people and doctors say. I don't. I may "look good" in that I'm not gaunt faced and jaundiced, but I don't look healthy. I just don't look like I'm dying. On the phone with Mom last week, she told me that yes, I do look sick, and she's right. She is also worried that I have cancer. I know, I know… it sounds like we've been spending too much time with the WebMD symptom checker, right? Well, honestly… (and this is hard for me to admit) cancer is something I've been worried about too. I mean, I saw David wither away, and that was devastating. The Chemo Princess passed away just last week, but she didn't look like he did… at least, not in any of the pictures that I saw. I've had MRIs and CAT scans within the past 6 months, and none of those showed any tumors or anything, but as my symptoms keep evolving it has been concerning me more and more. Burning bones? Really? I mean, what the heck is responsible for that? Because it's not just a minor annoyance but a genuinely distressing, excruciating experience that genuinely concerns me. Stuff like that shouldn't be happening to your body. I may have fibro, but not everything that I experience can or should be chalked up to that. I believe the body will give you warning signs that you can interpret if you are paying attention, and I really believe that my body is throwing up neon signs, asking to be evaluated and considered beyond the scope of "just fibromyalgia".

So I started doing a little research, and I came across this little gem of a website explaining Cushing syndrome. I was curious about how my symptoms may be related to my adrenal insufficiency, since we've got the thyroid probs under control, and when I read about adrenal tumors and Cushing syndrome (not Cushing's Disease itself, mind you; that's something different.) I felt some puzzle pieces potentially fall into place. You see, at first it seemed silly for me to even consider Cushing's, because I have adrenal insufficiency and don't make enough cortisol (which is why I supplement, every day, for the rest of my life) and Cushing's is when there is an excess of cortisol or other adrenal hormones in the system. Doing this research, though, brought me to realize that my endocrinologist has gotten my thyroid levels good and under control but she is doing nothing to monitor my adrenal insufficiency… which could be fatal, given the right circumstances. That's not acceptable, and I mean to remedy the situation. I'm trying to get an earlier appointment than the one I have in 1.5 months so I can discuss this with her. I'm dreading the thought of possibly having to find yet another doctor in the big city, but I will if this doctor doesn't take me seriously and start keeping tabs on my adrenal levels. I'm taking the same amount of cortisol supplement that I have for years, but is that the level my body needs to be functioning optimally? I don't know. I haven't been tested. The only relevant test was where the insufficiency was confirmed.

So what makes me think that this could be part of my problem? A few of the symptoms fit what I'm struggling with: 

• Purple marks (1/2 inch or more wide), called striae, on the skin of the abdomen, thighs, and breasts
• Acne or skin infections
• Upper body obesity (above the waist) and thin arms and legs
• Round, red, full face (moon face)
• Thin skin with easy bruising
• Backache, which occurs with routine activities
• Bone pain or tenderness
• Mental changes, such as depression, anxiety, or changes in behavior
• Fatigue
• Headache
• Increased thirst and urination

Possible complications include:

• High blood pressure
• Kidney stones
• Serious infections

I've marked in red all of the symptoms that apply to me. Some are new, such as the striae, the upper body weight gain, the fullness/puffiness of my face, the increasing bone pain and tenderness, and my blood pressure that has been steadily rising over the past year.

One cause of Cushing syndrome can be a tumor on one of the adrenal glands. "Cushing syndrome is caused by constant, high levels of the steroid hormone cortisol. A tumor on one of the adrenal glands causes about 15% of all cases of Cushing syndrome. Adrenal tumors release cortisol. In adults, adrenal tumors are less likely to be the cause of high cortisol levels. Pituitary tumors (Cushing's disease) are more often seen in adults. Adrenal tumors are found in women more often than in men."

Cushing's disease is when the pituitary gland makes too much of the hormone ACTH. ACTH then signals the adrenal glands to produce cortisol. A tumor of the pituitary gland may cause this condition, tumor of the adrenal gland, or tumors elsewhere in the body that produce cortisol or ACTH (such as the pancreas, lung, and thyroid). I know I don't have Cushing's disease, because I don't make enough cortisol and the disease is too much. It's like the difference between hyperthyroidism and hypothyroidism. I'm hypo on the thyroid and the cortisol. If, however, there's a foreign something somewhere in my body that's giving me excess amounts (because remember, I'm also taking cortisol supplements on the daily), then that could possibly explain some of what I'm going through, if not all.

So, this illness… brought to you by the letter C. C for cancer, C for Cushing's, C for CFS. I intend to pursue this matter, along with a few other options such as myalgic encephalitis (CFS) or an infection of the Vagus nerve. Lyme disease might not even be too much of a stretch. We'll see. One way or another, we'll see…

Well, today we're off to see the wizard... if the wizard were a neurologist in a specialty clinic at a hospital several hours away. We (another couple plus C and I) will be driving up tonight and spending the night with a friend of mine from childhood so we can make our appointments with ease. I'm looking forward to seeing her again, since it's been at least 10 years, plus it will be nice to not have to leave my city of origin at 3 am to make my appointment on time.

I'll be packing light, but even when I take very few personal belongings I end up with a whole pile of baggage simply due to the illness accessories I must cart around with me, particularly food. Where other people can plan to simply grab food on the way, I have to plan for every. single. meal. and bring all of the necessary boxes, bags, tupperware containers, and extra ingredients. Not to mention that I also have to lug along a cooler for whatever needs to be kept refrigerated. It's kind of annoying, because I always feel like "that girl" who brings a full 3 piece set of luggage for an overnight trip, but it is what it is. It's not like I can just choose not to bring the stuff. Did I mention that I have problems with being self-conscious about silly stuff?

I'm looking forward to the trip, if only because I like to travel and take road trips, but I really am looking forward to seeing this neurologist. I hope that (s)he can provide me with some clues at least, if not full-blown answers.

So my friend J is studying to be a nutritionist. I know she'll be fantastic at anything she decides to pursue (she's just one of those people), so I know she'll make a great nutritionist. We've talked before, briefly, of her analyzing my diet and coming up with some helpful tips for me, and just the other day she asked me to be a guinea pig for her and keep a food journal for a few days. I agreed in good humor. After all, my friends all agree that I eat pretty healthy, so what do I have to hide?

I'll be the first to admit that I do have an odd diet, and not particularly varied. There are a few factors to this. First, I am constrained by my food allergies, and there's not much in the regular stores for me outside of fresh produce. Secondly, money is an issue, as I can't afford to be buying all that specialty stuff, and we really can't afford anything outside of basic staples at this point in time. Thirdly, there's the energy factor: I have all these grand ideas for dishes to make using the ingredients on hand (I used to love creating meals for the S family and myself, and I miss that), but I don't have the verve to put those ideas into action. Do you realize how much energy cooking takes? The standing for that length of time alone is prohibitive. Fourth and foremostly, there's the nausea factor. Many times I know it's time to eat, or I'm hungry only briefly, but the nausea kicks in and the idea of food is just not appetizing at all... much less cooking, immersing myself in food preparation. Yuck. Oh yeah, I also forgot about my finnicky gut. I can't digest a lot of things very well, so I stick to simple, easily digestible foods like fruits, grains, and some veggies. Protein makes semi-frequent, small appearances. I've learned the hard way what happens if I eat too much protein in a day... which means that I can usually have a solid protein only once a day, twice max. I don't even bother with nuts anymore, unless it's cashew butter (which I can't buy for love or money in my town anymore anyway).

So with all that, it's a wonder I eat at all, I'd say. I do try to make sure that I eat well, as well as I can. But lately... I've still been wrestling with depression. It's not bad, just enough to be annoying, you know? Kinda like a toothache. It's not harming you, but it colors the edges of your day and kinda makes everything a little more annoying. And with that depression comes apathy, which means I really don't care about a balanced diet right now. In addition, I'm more prone to eating junk food. I'm craving it much more often, and, what's more important, indulging it more often.

Keeping track of my eating habits opened my eyes to just how much junky food I've been eating lately, and I found myself swamped with guilt. I couldn't believe it, but I really felt really bad about... well... my failure. Yes. I had failed. I wasn't eating well, and now there was proof. The thing about falling short of my ideals for myself is that I then, in my head, become a bad person. The Should Monster comes out to play and I beat myself up. It's terrible. It's awful. It's regular as clockwork.

So I gave in and junked it up yesterday. I mean, if I'm already screwing up, why not go for the gold, right? I even had pizza. (For reference, I'm allergic to at least one thing in every single component of pizza.) I've been cheating quite a bit lately... which, of course, makes me feel even worse about myself.

But no! I will not allow myself to abuse me. So I've seen that my eating habits could be better. Now I take this new day and try to do better. That's it. It's that simple. I'm not a horrible person because I had a soda the other day. I'm not somehow bad and undesirable because I ate a cookie. How can I even think that these choices constitute a moral failing somehow? I'm nuts, man. There's still a bunch of stuff to hammer out in my head, but I'm making progress... a little bit at a time.

J shared the funniest link on my facebook wall, and I wanted to put it up here for posterity. I relate with, like, every single one. They are my life. Except that now I have multiple food allergies, and can't do potatoes or carry Nutella in my back pocket, which makes my life just a little bit sadder than that.

Enjoy.

Still working with depression. Where I'm at in the menstrual cycle isn't helping. I suspect that part of it is due to hormones. Regardless, today was an off day, mentally. Sort of.

I am damn tired. Worn down. Beat up. This effing pain just won't quit, won't go away, and it's driving me insane. I mean, I can take it, and have been taking it, but you can only take so much, you know? I always tell myself that tomorrow will be the day I snap, because tomorrow never comes, so I'll always make it through today. Heh.

Today, though, I was a bit rebellious. Maybe I just gave into the "eff it" mentality, and maybe I just wanted to stop trying so hard to be good when it seems to help so little, if at all. Yeah, I ate something that I am really not supposed to. I think I am allergic to every single ingredient. Regardless, it was yummy. If I hadn't eaten that small portion of the forbidden goodness, I was legitimately going to go out and buy a pizza and a donut today. Cheese and veggies, and Bavarian creme. It was all planned out. But I didn't. Because of the other (free) thing. And while I didn't have any gut reactions to it (yet), I did have a small amount of throat swelling and itchiness/rawness. It felt like I had a mild throat infection. Scary. So now that it's more than just my guts involved, I'll probably be better about being strict... which means not cheating once or twice a year. (Really? Can I get much better about avoiding allergens? C and I don't kiss after he's eaten allergic stuff, and we even use separate sponges for crying out loud!!)

While I was out running errands, I also picked up a pint of ice cream for myself (safe ice cream!) and a bunch of movies from the library. I've spent the rest of the day watching movies and eating the entire thing of ice cream. Guess who doesn't care? This girl!

C will be home soon. That means he can finish watching The Fantastic 4 with me. I love that movie, simply because Jessica Alba is so smoking hot. I could watch her all day. C and I are supposed to take a walk when he gets home, though... which will be good for me, pain or no. I need to work off that ice cream. Hah. (Oh yeah... and those 13 boxes of cookies.)

Quick note of happiness: When C and I went back to PetSmart to exchange harnesses for Juneaux, the cashier asked me about my walking stick, since he's only ever seen me with my walker before. He asked what disease I had (one of the first to assume I didn't have some sort of acute injury!), and when I gave him a brief explanation of fibromyalgia (and mentioned the connective tissue disease too, but no explanation) he looked me in the eyes and said, "So you're just really tough, then." We all laughed, but that comment lit a warm glow inside me. I really appreciated the acknowledgment of how hard it is to live in constant pain from someone who doesn't see anything but a passing glimpse, and yet still sees how hard it is. That was cool. And you know what the funny part is? I'll wager that he has no idea how much that passing comment meant to me, or that I'll remember it for a long time to come.

Woohoo! Today my stunningly handsome husband is taking me out on a date! Why? Well, because I need it, and also because I got a new super-cute and sexy dress, so I need an excuse to wear it, of course. :) (Can I just insert a shameless plug for my local Goodwill here?)

See? Bad picture, cute dress. Sexy in a "50's pin-up" kind of way. Funny thing-- I would have NEVER considered wearing something like this, even a year ago. I was much more, shall we say, modest? And now I feel perfectly modest in this dress, although I know others would disagree. But all my lady-bits are covered, it's not some sort of diaphanous material (quite sturdily made, actually!), and most importantly? My husband likes it.

So, on a date we go! I'm going to get my hair did and put on the face paint and everything. All out. (Well, as "all out" as I go, anyway. He likes his lady looking natural, which is a win for me!)

I'm glad to have something to look forward to. I did not sleep well at all last night, and today's a pretty high pain day for me. (Hello, milestones-- my "high pain days" now are what my high-average days were like just a month or two ago!) I know I'll feel better after a shower, and I've got acupuncture + massage this afternoon. It'll be good. I'm just going to take it easy today.

Also? I still trip out sometimes about how awesome it is to actually be able to casually drop the word "husband" into conversation. I freaking love it.

Also also? I made banana-bread muffins last night while tutoring my friend C, and they're all gone this morning. All gone. I gave friend C several to take with her, because she LOVED them, hubby C ate two, and I had a couple for supper. (The recipe didn't quite make a dozen, sadly.) What's amazing is that C liked them, because I'm honestly not the best baker in the world when it comes to allergy-friendly baking (it's really hard, y'all!), and I don't think I've baked a thing yet that he's liked... until now. I did leave them in a bit long, because I wasn't sure what the inner consistency was supposed to be like, but now I have a good recipe to play with and a baseline from which to experiment. I'm very happy about that.

In addition to that, I made a necklace for my yoga teacher/massage therapist, because she's moving away and I've come to really respect her as a mentor and guide, but also to appreciate her as a friend. She was really enthusiastic about and interested in my proposed online store business plan, so I thought it'd be fitting for her to be the first to receive something that I've crafted in that vein. I etched the Ohm symbol into the front of a purple shell pendant, and etched "Namaste" into the side. It's also fitting that it's purple, because we had a discussion yesterday about today being Lupus Awareness Day, and Sunday being Fibromyalgia Awareness day, both of which are represented by the color purple.

She'll be speaking to one of our support groups next week, so I'll give it to her then. I'll be sad that she's moving, but thank goodness for Facebook, eh?

Update: Date was fun. A couple of pictures for proof. 

You know what I've realized? My diet is pretty pathetic.

I mean, it's not that I eat unhealthfully, per se, but I know that it's pretty unbalanced. How's that, you ask? Well, I pretty much just eat the same things all the time right now, and even though they're "good" things, constant repetition is not exactly your friend when it comes to meeting nutritional requirements.

It started when I cut out gluten and soy from my diet. That helped some, but I was still in a lot of agony a lot of the time... plus I didn't know what to eat. In addition to that, I was at a school where meals were prepared en masse and served up at certain times. I had very little control over my food, but I managed to scrape through... somehow.

Then I was diagnosed with a bunch of food allergies. What the heck do I eat now?!
As I fumbled my way into my new lifestyle, I had friends with experience in the allergy realm helping to guide me.

Then I moved in with the S's, and the education began. I learned to cook-- I mean really cook-- and how to feed a family. I don't think I've ever eaten so well as that year and a half that I was with the S's. It seems to me that having other people around that eat similarly to me, or that can at least help guide me (a.k.a. kick me in the butt to create real food) is a key part of my adherence to actual meal creation. Once it was just me, well... It's hard to cook for one person, especially when you're living with non-allergy people, and there's no room for you to stockpile ingredients or freezers full of pre-cooked foods. That's been the situation so far. I've moved into previously established non-allergy households, and carved myself a little niche, but I've never really had my own space to stockpile what I needed.

Once S moved out, that changed some, but I've become so sick that food doesn't even really hold any appeal for my any longer. I get hungry, sure, but that's the only reason I eat. Cooking is not enjoyable for me. It's a chore.

No, I take that back. I do enjoy cooking, but I'm usually nauseous or just plain sick while doing so, and the energy it takes just doesn't seem worth the outcome.

Also, I went through that phase where my guts were rejecting anything "heavy" or remotely resembling protein, so I've pretty much been on a tweaked version of the BRATY diet for the last three months or so.

I don't even have to take a list to the store with me anymore, a remarkable feat for my foggy self, because I know exactly what I need and in what amounts to make it through an average week. Some weeks I find myself actually hungry, and I eat more, but some weeks I find that I'm sicker than usual and I hardly eat at all. So I may run out, or I may have excess... regardless, the amounts usually don't vary.

I get 5 apples, a bunch of bananas (although there was a few weeks where I was just done with bananas), 4-5 sweet potatoes, 2-3 broccoli crowns, a head of cauliflower for baking, and 3 zucchini or yellow squash. If I need onions, I'll pick up a bag, and that lasts me for weeks, depending on what whims of cooking I succumb to. Sometimes I'll splurge on blackberries if they've got them. I've taken to keeping frozen fish fillets on hand for broiling, and sometimes chicken, but usually not. Honey and peppermint tea are kept replenished at all times, and if I have the money I get cashew butter from a store in the Foothills. Of course I need plain rice cakes to put it on, and a few bags of rice/root chips for easy "I need food NOW" moments, or when I need to take food to class with me. (Chips and an apple are easily portable and not disruptive.) At least one jar of unsweetened applesauce is a necessity, and 3 cans each of sliced peaches and pears in fruit juice. I get a bag of Udi's GF granola when I can, but I also found a new GF cereal that I like, which is handy for the mornings when I'm super nauseous but I have to eat something. Some sort of GF hot cereal, be it rice grits or Mighty Tasty Hot Cereal, and rice milk, original and enriched, if I'm running low on either of those things. Last but not least, one large container of Chobani vanilla yogurt, which I sweeten with agave nectar, and sometimes a medium container of the vanilla chocolate chunk if I'm feeling splurgey.

I already have a stockpile of rice at home, so I never need to buy that. I have a can of coconut milk on hand, should I ever get around to making corn chowder. Sometimes I'll pick up GF pasta to use in soups, but I have a bunch of that in the cupboard already.

That's it. That's what I eat these days. And it hasn't really bothered me until now, because I have this tendency to get into food ruts, I guess you could call it. I latch on to one thing in particular and eat it again and again until I'm tired of it. When I was a teen, it was toast with peanut butter, and baby spinach leaves with Italian dressing. Not at the same time, 'cause that's gross, but those were my go-to's. For a while it was boiled red potatoes with salt. When I was depressed, it would be a large container of Arizona green tea and a box of Ritz crackers.

If you ask the S's what "my food" was, they would all invariably answer "rice cakes with peanut butter and fruit". That was my thing, without fail. I finally got sick of peanut butter, and I couldn't stand the thought of rice cakes with nut butter and fruit for a while, but I'm kind of over that now. I think right now my thing is very well baked sweet potatoes, plain. Super yum. The only problem is that it takes time to bake a sweet potato, so you kinda gotta think ahead... A few months ago, I was obsessed with quesadillas for about three weeks.

But I need balance. I need more "real" foods. I just wish that I didn't have to be the one to make them :) I wish that I could just pay someone to cook for me so I can heal. (Although my guts have healed up beautifully, and I've seen the pictures to prove it!)

Anyway, I found this website/blog called 20somethingallergies, and the lady totally deals with a TON of food allergies, and it's all about eating well and real and right so that your body can heal itself. I'm all for that, but I get easily overwhelmed, and often feel judged and very defensive, even if nobody's saying anything. She straight out said on her site that there's no judging, that everyone is at a different place on separate journeys, and that's fine. I love that outlook. So I signed up for the newsletter, "Baby Steps", because that's what I need. Baby steps. One little change at a time. Maybe starting with cooking a "real" meal at least twice a week... and making big batches to freeze the rest for another time.

Drat. Now I'm hungry... and none of my sweet potatoes are baked up. I guess that means cereal... since I ate my salmon and broccoli earlier, and I have no rice cooked, either. Plus it's Grocery Day (um, night? We go when C gets home from work), so I'm running low on supplies. Maybe I'll be able to drag myself out of bed long enough to make that corn chowder today? That'd be nice. I'm going to try subbing turnips for the potatoes in that soup. Though mashed turnips are NOT the same as mashed potatoes, I think that in soups they swap out pretty well.

This is a topic that's been on my mind off and on for, well, a really long time... as long as I've been actively fighting chronic illnesses, that is. So... years? Don't think that my battle began with fibromyalgia, far from it!

I've always been "sickly" in some ways. Asthma as a kid and teenager, low energy levels and high need for sleep with a very difficult time getting up, leg pains throughout life... I just assumed all this was normal, and that I kind of sucked at life for not being able to soldier through as everyone else must be doing. I looked at the sporty kids in my high school, the ones that could run the mile without difficulty, and I wondered how they did it. I didn't know that there was something wrong with me, that you're not supposed to feel that way. I remember helping to plant a tree during Bible college, and just ten or fifteen minutes of the exertion of digging left me feeling cold, lightheaded, nauseous, weak, and trembling... yet I kept digging, because my partner was still digging. If they could continue, I could continue. I assumed that they were feeling the same way, but they were tougher than I was. Wrong. I didn't know that exertion isn't supposed to leave you feeling that way!

During Bible college is when I really began getting sick, and the gastrointestinal issues came to the forefront. I powered through as best I could, knowing that I was very sick in some ways, yet not knowing that I was abnormal in others, and a few months after graduation I finally found out that I was allergic to a bunch of different foods and that I had bad hypothyroidism. The next few years were a constant battle with my energy levels, my guts, and also my mind. I started working through my past abuse, all the different flavors of it, and I noticed that as I healed emotionally I also began to heal physically. But I was still sick.

I had reached a place of reasonable stability when the fibro reared its hideous head and began to drag me below the surface of functionality. I'd somehow always managed to stay afloat before, usually motivated by a fear of rejection and sheer stubbornness combined with economic necessity, but now I was sinking, and fast. Since last fall, I've found myself in a place where I require naps on a regular basis, I have a walking aid with me at all times when I leave the house, I regularly rely on painkillers to make it through a day (judge me as you will), and I still struggle with eating and digesting food in adequate amounts. And yes, I even have a handicap parking tag hanging from my rearview mirror. (Which is the bomb, by the way!)

This isn't to say that all is doom and gloom. I do see myself getting better in increments, and I think the Long, Dark Slide Into Oblivion is finally over. Now that I've recovered from the wedding stress, I feel like I'm taking incremental steps back up that figurative stairway that I had been so rapidly descending, and that encourages me! Mom told me today that for a while she began to think that she might have to move out here and just take care of me until I eventually died, that's how bleak the outlook was. (To be fair, she was also worried that I had cancer and they just hadn't caught it or something.) I assured her that I've stabilized (for now), and that I feel as though I'm improving some. I think that helped to put her at ease a bit.

The possibility of returning to my "old" self, or even better, brings me to a painful realization, though, one that I am actually quite loathe to face. It sounds kind of silly to admit even silently, much less to put into words on a page, but... I'm scared of getting better. No, really. I am.

Honestly, I've gotten used to being sick. This has become my reality, my daily battle. When it's "gone", when I'm better, what do I fight against then? What do I aspire to? Life is so simple when it is distilled down to "get better". That's what you focus on. That's the dream, the goal. It's the gatekeeper of other dreams.

I want to travel to different countries and experience different cultures.
I want to try sky-diving.
I want to have a baby and raise it.
I want to have a fulfilling job that I enjoy.

But those things (except for the job, maybe) are not things I can do right now. They would destroy me, and possibly those around me, were I to attempt them now. First things first, I must "get better".

I know it sounds like I've let the sicknesses become my identity. Like I'm saying, "Without them, what am I?" Maybe it's true. Maybe I have. I'd like to think that's not true, but I do know that as long as I'm sick, people consider me to be a fighter. People have this certain idea of me as a person, but when I'm not sick anymore... who am I? I am me, but I've lost a part of what made me "me" for a while. Sure, I can say that the fight doesn't define me, but... doesn't it? Not wholly, no, because I am so much more than a fibro fighter, or a UCTD fighter, or a hypothyroid fighter, or a depression fighter. I am Cassandra. But those different "fighters" are also a part of me, and when I'm not sick anymore, like not really sick, it's like those fighters go away, they step back into the shadows. They've been the visible forefront for so long, because this daily fight is so visceral, so intense, that the other aspects of myself can only come out solo in spurts and glimpses, or share the limelight with the fighters at best. When the fighters recede into the shadows... the stage feels very, very empty.

At least, that's how I perceive it to be. I do have visions of freedom, glorious freedom, you know-- to just do whatever the heck I want for a change?! But maybe it's like Stockholm Syndrome... you get used to your imprisonment, and you even get kind of fond of it. Humans love familiarity, even if it is a terrible familiarity. You get comfortable, and change is frightening. Even good change.

Also, when I am not sick anymore, I am then way more responsible for... everything. Cue my intense fear of failure and my unrealistic expectations. As of now, I can assuage my guilt with, "I'm too sick to accomplish _______, so it's okay." Sure, but what about when I'm not sick? Then it's just my own damn fault.

And maybe part of it is my fear of living in abundance. I come from a place of "I'm doing pretty good considering _______." I've never approached life from a place of, "I'm doing pretty good." There has always been a qualifier. Sickness is my qualifier as of right now. When that is gone, then I must face my life as it is, and the prospect of that is... scary.

That's what it boils down to. I'm scared, scared to lose my familiar cocoon of pain and symptoms and walking sticks... scared to step into the sunlight because that's not what I'm used to. Scared that "better" will let me down. Scared to be disappointed, or worse-- to disappoint.

But as I was thinking about it the other night, I realized that I'll never be 100% "better", not really. At least, not in this current place and time. They don't have cures for what I have. It's all management, really. I am beginning to view it as I view my food allergies-- if I ignore my limits and eat whatever I want, I damage myself and I hurt. I pay a price. Sometimes I pay a price for something that I don't even know the cause of! I can be as good as can be, and sometimes I still just hurt or get sick, and that's a fact of my life. (Momma C always knew when I was stressed even before I did, because I'd start having gut problems and get sick. She's the one that made that connection, not me.) I have chronic illnesses. Chronic means that they're going to be around a long time. I can choose to be good about it and manage them as well as I can, or I can be an inconsiderate dick to my body and pay the price. Even if I am as good as can be, sometimes things beyond my control will cause flares-- weather, environmental stressors, other illnesses like colds or flus, etc. Like my allergies, I can get to a place of stability, where I'm not constantly miserable... but I will spend the rest of my life being constantly aware. The fighters will be lurking in the shadows, keeping tabs on things and patrolling the perimeters. Sometimes they'll have to come back into the forefront, but the goal is to get to the place where they offer background support to the other aspects of myself that will emerge into the light, one by one.

Sure, I'm scared of what it will mean when I'm "not sick anymore", but I think it's worth at least trying. I was scared of the changes I needed to go through emotionally to heal from my past, but I would never trade this health for that dysfunction! Facing the fear and walking through it were valuable experiences... and this is just another aspect of that.

Besides, if I hate it, I know what I have to do to get sick again, right? ;)

(Please know that I'm being facetious! I refuse to play the system for my own gain. Stuff like that ruins the legitimate claims for help that people with chronic illnesses need.)

Also, Dave Walker over at From the Fog did a great post on this very topic the other day, which encouraged and inspired me to actually get this out of my brain and onto "paper". Thanks, Dave, for that kick. I needed to process through this.

This is a "journal entry" I wrote today on a bride website I'm part of. I kinda want to blog, but I don't have the energy or the thought wherewithal, so... cupcakes it is.

"Is there such a thing as a bad cupcake?

I really didn't think so, until today.

I mean, it's not like they're bad bad, they're just... not great. Not what I had envisioned.

The cupcakes themselves aren't that much of a surprise. I'm not that great of a baker (I do better with the stovetop than the oven, truly), and allergy-friendly baking is challenging for even accomplished bakers. I'm trying to make cupcakes without gluten, soy, most dairy, eggs, citrus, or potatoes, but I found a mix that looked promising.

After substituting the necessary ingredients and hoping for the best, the smell wafting from the kitchen stirred up my optimism. I was hoping that I would defy the odds and pull moist, finely crumbed morsels of tenderness from the oven, just like the cupcakes of my fantasies. (Because, really, all I've done about cupcakes in the last 7 years is fantasize...)

So the cupcakes themselves aren't bad. They're not finely crumbed, but they're pretty tender... but they began to fall in on themselves while cooling, and they're short. Stubby. No muffin-top here. Most barely clear the top of the liner, and some don't even make it that far. (I'm thinking the whole "1/3 of the muffin liner" thing doesn't apply here...)

Okay. I can deal with that. Piled high with white, fluffy frosting, it'll still look okay, right?

The surprise was the frosting. I opened the tub of "safe" frosting that I'd managed to find, and gave it a vigorous stir, only to find that it's not fluffy and pile-able. It's pretty tasty, no doubt, but it's more of a sheer, sticky spread than anything else. But that was okay. Maybe the Celtic knot cupcake stencils and silver cake spray could still turn these things into a semblance of the glorious cupcakes of my daydreams.

Long story short? No. Not happening. After the silver spray totally ignored the boundaries of the stencil, I thought that maybe cocoa powder would work and look attractive against the now silver frosting. I really should invest in a powdered sugar shaker or sifter of some sort before I try that again... but the cocoa made it extra delicious.

And really, at least they taste good. I'll just tell my photographer to ignore them, I think. It makes me think of what we here at the Tribe say about the wedding day itself: it may turn out crazy, things may go wrong, and it may not be what you envisioned at all. At the end of the day, though, what matters is that you and your partner are married. And at the end of the day, is the purpose of a cupcake not to be delicious?

Note: This was just the test run. Hopefully the real deal-- the chocolate ones-- turn out better! Also, there are no pictures... for a reason. And I tagged this as Tough Times because, though the entry is lighthearted, I'm genuinely very disappointed and distressed about this. My fiance thinks that I ought to storm a bakery, give them ingredients, and demand that they make me something delicious and pretty, or ELSE! I just laughed... because cross-contamination and that's never gonna happen.

Also, please, no baking advice unless you have the same allergies as I do and have done well baking around them. Chia seed for egg, rice milk with a little vinegar (I'm thinking coconut milk next time?) for buttermilk, and thank GOD that I'm allowed a little dairy now or I'd have to figure something out for butter, too."

Well, life's gone and taken a turn for the better again. I love how it does that. I think the meds have something to do with it...

My goal with these painkillers is not to be pain-free, but rather to keep the pain at a level 4.5 or below so that I can function. I have to keep reminding myself of that, because it's so easy to slip into "let's take another" mode. I can't afford to do that, though, because I really really really don't want to become tolerant to the only thing that helps me out at all.

I've been eating quesadillas pretty frequently lately... ("Pretty frequently" being relative to how many quesadillas I've had in recent years, which is a big fat none!) I think it's 'cause my body is craving protein, but it just can't digest it. Beans, nuts, meat... nothing. It just sits there. Blech. But even though cheese does slow down my digestive processes some, it actually digests, so I figure it can't be all that bad for me right now. Quesadillas and applesauce-- one of my favorite meals right now. (Uh, the applesauce doesn't go on the quesadilla, just in case you're wondering...) I have an appointment with my gastroenterologist next week, so we can discuss my results. I'll have to tell him that, even though my colon is looking great (and I'm SO excited about that!), I'm still having the same problems. We'll see what he says.

I'm being good and sticking to my "one thing a day" rule, and I am noticing no difference at all. lol. Even though I don't feel like I'm getting better, I do see that it's helping me to stabilize. When I'm more conscious and aware of picking and choosing what I get to do, I don't get (as) caught up in the whirlwind of things I want to accomplish and totally burn myself out. I can feel myself wearing down and catch it. I took a nap the past two days (back to that again), and it felt great, especially since I've been really having sleep problems lately.

Did I mention that I'm a tutor now? A friend of mine from school will be coming over a couple of times a week and I'm helping her with her online English course. Funnily enough, it's the English course that I dropped last semester because I had too much on my plate! So I guess I get to take it again ^_^ She paid me a small sum for the first session, and she's coming back tomorrow. I don't care if she pays me, although it's a nice addition to the gas tank if she does. The last session was very tiring, but that could also be because I'd been talking to R for an hour and a half before she showed up.

It was really good to talk to R. I miss him. He gives some of the best advice... but it's not in the form of "here, let me tell you what to do". It's more like talking through the issues and sharing anecdotes from his past and the lessons that he's learned, and also, his concern and care are practically palpable. I talked to him about my marriage fears, and the ideas and examples that he shared with me really helped to ease my mind and heart a lot. I really feel like I can go through with this wedding without feeling like a hypocrite now. (Because I wasn't sure that it was fair of me to get married while still so terrified of the notion, you know? Like, does it even count?) And no, it's not that I'm fearful of marrying C, it's that I'm fearful of what marriage will do to our wonderful relationship, fearful that it will change it for the worse and turn us into one of those couples that doesn't even like each other and doesn't want to be together but won't separate because they don't believe in it... just living separate lives, or fighting and undermining each other...

But I digress. R explained how marriage does change things, and it takes work, and there are ups and downs and you don't always feel happy and necessarily want to be around that person... but the thing is that you chose them, and you love them, and you really do want to be around that person, forever. It's like the long-term, big-picture things weigh in above the short-term, immediate circumstance things and you hang in there through the rough times because you love that person and you want to make a life together. That's what I got out of it, anyway... that even when it's rough, it's still enough to know that you want to be with that person and you love them. And really, I understand that, because C and I have had quite a good share of "rough" already, what with the rocky beginning and my PTSD flares and all the adjustment that comes with living together, and now my fibro and other health problems... We can do rough. Even if I'm crying every night, which I've done during certain stretches. But see, the thing is... it's never about not wanting to be with C. It's about what's going on around or inside me, it's about money or my past or my fears or what someone said or how I feel about a certain thing C is doing or has done... but it's never about un-choosing him. So I think I get it, a little. Maybe not entirely, but I get it, some.

R and I also talked about what's going on with that whole DV thing that went down a while ago. It's cool to see that he fully admits that he made mistakes that night, and that he went overboard, but I do agree with him when he says that he's not domestically violent. I overreacted to the situation too, and hurt him very much, which I regret. None of us can take back what happened, but he's really getting the crappy end of the stick. His retirement is in danger, all this crazy stuff is going on... but he is determined to "take his lumps", as he put it, and just slog through this mess the best he can. I'm proud of him. I'm also really proud of him for the steps forward he's taking in managing his anger. He actually consciously processed through why he was angry the other day, and made the decision to let it go because he didn't want to ruin the day/evening for everyone else. That is so mature. I've never heard him do anything like that before, and I'm really impressed. Not to say that it's going to happen every time, of course, because really? Let's be real. One step forward, two steps back. That's how this stuff goes down, and R is a human being who is learning and growing. But he is stepping forward, and what's more, he wants to be stepping forward. If that isn't worthy of respect, I don't know what is. I'm so proud of my daddy :)

Today was a great day, in and of itself. C and I hit the shooting range mid-afternoon, because pistol qualifications are coming up and he needs to practice. We'll be heading out there next week, too. I took my homework and did some reading in between picking up his empty shells to be refilled. We would have stayed longer, but C ran out of ammo, so there really wasn't much we could do but pack up and leave. When we got home, we decided to watch some Star Wars, as I'm currently watching my way through the series. Since we need to do our own music after all, we have now settled on the Imperial March as our exit song :) Seriously, if our marriage has half of the tenacity and determination of Vader and the Imperial forces, nothing can stop us. I see it as a good omen.

While getting ice cream, we (mostly I, as C was occupied with choosing his ice cream flavors and paying for our treats) met a young couple our age who share some of our unique interests and hobbies! It's funny how it all worked out, but it started when the guy, J, commented that he liked my choker. (I was wearing the collar that I recently purchased.) That led to a discussion about Renaissance festivals, and it turns out that they're Rennies, too! They're heading up to the Ren Faire soon that C and I will be visiting the week before our wedding. As the convo progressed, we found out that we were similar ages, newlyweds both (C and I are due in 6 weeks, and they've been married 4 months), and--get this-- he's a gamer like C. He plays the same games, but his wife, C, is like me and mostly watches.

I gave the card of the leatherworker who made my collar to J (yes, another J to add to my blog! lol) and ended up writing my email and fb info on the back so we can get together and hang out. They're pretty new to the area and looking for friends, and I'm looking to expand my social circle as well. We really hit it off in the short time that we talked, and I'm looking forward to hearing from them. J said several times (and his C affirmed it) that "we'll definitely hit you guys up soon!" I'm excited :D

What's crazy about the whole thing is all the little bits and pieces that had to come together just so in order for us to meet this couple. First of all, I'm surprised that I had the leatherworker's card in the first place. I usually don't get or keep business cards. Secondly, I was only wearing the collar because I was wearing a particular dress that I like to wear the collar with (though I only put it on to go out, and wasn't wearing it around the house today), but I was only wearing the dress because of a comment C made last night that led to my wearing it today. If I hadn't been wearing the dress that led to the collar, or the collar that I debated about putting on before we left the house, the conversation never would have begun in the first place.

Okay, so then there's timing. We were going to go to Target right after we finished our movie (and there's the whole thing about what if we'd stayed at the range longer, what if we hadn't watched the whole movie, what if this, what if that, etc.), but we got a bit... distracted... by each other and didn't leave for a little while longer. So then the shopping and browsing all took place, but if I'd spend less or more time at any of those stores, we would have missed them. If the frozen yogurt place had been open, we wouldn't have gone to Coldstone, and we missed the closing time by just 7 minutes.

It's really crazy how all those little things worked together so that we would be standing next to each other in line and I would be wearing a conversation piece that appealed to all involved. Crazy, I tell you. Even if nothing ever comes of this, if no friendship ensues, the event itself was so cool that it just makes me happy to think about it. Plus it was really fun, 'cause they're great people! We had a blast chatting it up. I really do hope that we can become friends. (Plus I feel super adult, making friends with another couple, you know?)

I wrapped up my day by drinking mint tea to soothe my roiling tummy and filing my taxes. Not a bad ending to a good day, especially since I'm getting a decent sized refund. It's enough to pay off the bulk of my credit card debt, and I'm very, very pleased about that. I hate being in debt, even if it's totally legitimate debt.

I think I might be able to take another whack at my homework before turning in for the night. Think I'll go read my chapter on the bed while I listen to C hack apart monsters in Guild Wars. That sounds pleasant :)

Well, yours truly is the possessor of one healthy colon!

Yeah, I'll admit, it was a bit of a shock, considering what troubles I have with my digestive system! (I suppose this means that an upper endoscopy is coming down the line... I wonder what that's like???)

Anyway, the intestinal mucosa was normal, no signs of inflammation, colitis, hemorrhoids, polyps, blockages, or anything.

The last colonoscopy I got was in summer 2008 (July 16th, to be exact, because it was my sister's bday and she spent it with me! What a sweetie ^_^), and it showed mild colitis and internal hemorrhoids.

You know what this means?

This means that all the agony and super big pain in the butt of avoiding my allergic foods actually means something-- my colon has healed itself! By taking out all the damaging elements, my body actually healed itself.

Oh, you have no idea how much hope that gives me... as well as encouragement to stay the course and stick to my strict diet. Now that I know it actually makes a difference, well... I actually kinda want to be strict. I want to cheat less, not that I have been. C is a great accountability partner :)

The process for getting ready for the colonoscopy? Not so encouraging. I already talked about how I spun into a big-time flare thanks to having to deal with a couple of major triggers. Besides just the fibro, my system gets really out of whack if I don't eat when I'm hungry, and that's been the case for about as long as I can remember. Like, I physically get ill and experience intense pain if I allow myself to get too far past "hungry".

Well, I was there last night to be sure, but many, many mugs of warm tea seemed to help... but that, combined with the residual air left in my colon from the examination had me in literally excruciating pain as we left the realtor's office this morning. I was doubled over on the way to the truck, and C was helping me hobble along. Once I got in, all I could do was fold myself in half, clench my fists and grind them into the seat while I sobbed and gasped for air. You know that scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the worst pain you've ever experienced? It was a 10.5, maybe an 11. It ebbed and flowed, finally subsided about 45 minutes later, though I wasn't crying through the whole thing. It dropped down to like an 8, which is bearable, and I made it home to lay down.

C was so sweet during the whole thing. (What was happening was that my system built up a lot of gas as a response to being forced to be empty, and then eating triggered it to go through my guts. That happens sometimes, and it's agonizing. That, combined with the air that was already in there, was stretching my colon beyond its limits. Do you know how many nerve endings your colon has? Like, a ton! lol) He helped me make my way slowly to the car, he rubbed my back while I was doubled over and crying, asked if I had anything I could take when I got home (I'd already taken a tramadol 1/2 hour previously, so the answer was no) and then he had his hand in front of me as he drove so as to keep me from needlessly jostling forward and backward. (You know, like when you slam on the brakes and you put your arm out in front of the passenger to protect them? Like that.) He was careful to stop slowly, to take dips slowly... just being very considerate. He helped me inside as well, and got me laying down. He did say, "There's nothing I can do for you, lady," to which I replied, "I know, but just knowing that you care makes a big difference. I really appreciate it. You're so sweet." He made sure I was all tucked in and comfy before he left for work, as I hadn't slept the night before and really, really needed to.

I know he feels very helpless when I'm in large amounts of pain, which I totally get. While I was home and Mom and I got so sick, I felt so very helpless as she wept in pain and could barely move to get herself up off the couch and to the hospital... Come to think of it, I looked a lot today like she did then. And, I mean... what can you do, really? Nothing. Nothing but go about your daily life and hope they feel better. So C feels helpless, but I make it a point to assure him that his gestures of caring mean a great deal. While they may not take away the pain, they make it a little more bearable.

So we saw a realtor today! She sent us a list of houses within our price range, though we still have to get pre-approved for a loan. She pointed us to a very reputable lender that may help our chances of getting a good home, even going so far as to call her while we were there and leave a voicemail when we learned that she was with a client. The lender was very prompt in returning our call, as we got the call literally right after we left the realtor's office! lol. Anyway, we gave her basic application info over the phone, and we go in to get pre-approved tomorrow morning. C is determined to really pursue this, which I am ecstatic about. I'd gotten so used to waiting for him to pull together the necessary resources that such a fast pace is a little shocking to me, but... I'm so stoked!

There is such a scene of domestic tranquility in the living room right now. The lights are off, save for the dim glow of the Christmas tree. K is curled up in a recliner, looking for all the world like a lumpy pile of blankets. R is tipped sideways on the couch but still mostly sitting, and Mom is on her side with her head on the couch's arm. Baby Peanut is sprawled on her back, nestled safely in Mom's arms. All are sleeping soundly, guarded by the two dogs who keep watch from the floor and love seat. So sweet.

Today didn't go exactly according to plan... I had such grandiose ideas of what I would accomplish today, buuuuuut...

I didn't go to sleep until well after two, from crying over D. Mom saw my swollen, tear-streaked face when I emerged to pick up a pair of socks I'd left drying over a chair, and followed me into my temporary room to talk about it. She did say that, if D were not able to make it down to the wedding she would talk seriously to R about funding a short trip for me to go back up there and make sure that I was able to say my goodbyes. I was very, very glad to hear that.

I did sleep rather well last night, considering. I only woke up once or twice. Then I pried myself out of bed (much earlier than I would have liked! lol) to take Mom to work. She showed me around and showed me off. It's a really nice salon that she works at, and she scored me a free haircut for Thursday! I had intended to review my A+P flashcards when I got back home, as well as clean the bathroom today, but... I went back to bed. I was so tired. I did wake up a few times, because my bladder was full or because I heard Peanut crying (or both), but I finally crawled out of bed again at one o'clock. Oops.

K had been dealing with Peanut all day, so I took her off her hands for an hour and fed her, burped her, changed her, played with her, and put her to sleep. Then we bundled ourselves up and headed off to pick Mom up from work. When we came back, I took care of Peanut some more while mentally compiling my meal/shopping list for the week.

Shopping with Mom always takes a long time, and with having to read the ingredients of everything we're considering buying... and taking care of Peanut at the same time... it took us about 4 hours to finish grocery shopping. I was so ready to leave the store! We did have fun, though. I took my walker with me, on Mom's advice. She knew it would be quite the trek. After a while, I sat on the seat of my walker with Peanut in my lap, wrapped my feet around the base of the shopping cart and held on with one hand while Mom pushed the cart from behind the walker. It worked perfectly, though we must have been quite the sight... I did get 5 congratulations on my beautiful baby, though. :D We finished the shopping session with Mom pushing the cart and me pushing my walker with Peanut sleeping in her carrier that was wedged onto the walker's seat.

After consulting with my allergy chart again recently, I've decided to try yogurt and a couple of cheeses. With that in mind, I had greek yogurt with pomegranates as part of my supper tonight, and it was so good. I'm not feeling any ill effects, either. I figure it's cheaper and more delicious than probiotics, if I can actually include it in my diet long-term...

I also registered for a Spanish class tonight, as I was informed today that the massage program scheduled for this spring was cancelled. Too many people backed out and/or flunked the pre-reqs they needed, so the rest of us are out of luck. I'll have to wait until August for that particular program. I figure there's no sense in wasting my time, though. I'm still able to take one of the necessary massage courses this semester, and I want to learn at least basic Spanish, so that I'm not limited in my client base. I really wanted to take ASL as well, but because it took so long for this massage thing to play out all the classes are over-full. Bummer. I could get on the wait-list, but I'd rather not leave it up to chance. I'm going to choose another class that interests me and is applicable to my future, but not something too hard. I'm thinking maybe Intro to Aromatherapy, or possibly Exploring Native American Medicine. I tried to find the yoga class that I saw, but the website is saying that it can't find the class. Boo. There's also Overview of Herbal Remedies, which looks good, but I'd rather get into something that I don't know anything about yet. The problem (problem?) is that I love to learn, and there are so many classes that I'd like to take! Since I'm just looking to burn time between now and the program starting, in a sense, I'd like to do something useful with that burnt time... which is why I enrolled in Spanish. Conversational Spanish, that is. It's more important to me to be able to speak it right now than read and write it. I figure that will kind of come with the spoken aspect.

So, tomorrow... tomorrow Mom and I will do some cleaning, finish decorating the tree, and wrap up presents. We're also having acorn squash for lunch. Yum yum :)