Tag Archives: Life

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A Chocolate Elephant

The following is a common saying in our household.

How do you eat an elephant?  

One bite at a time.

Well today we modified this saying.

How do you eat an elephant made of chocolate? 

One bite at a time – one bite every day.

Why the change?

First, chocolate seemed much more pleasant than thinking of eating a real elephant.  Second, to make it through something as big as an elephant, one needs to be consistent in the task.  Eating too much too fast can bring on all sorts of complications.  Taking too large of breaks between bites could cause problems as well.

So when you have an elephant of a task to tackle, daily bites will get the job done. Plus it never hurts to eat some chocolate along the way.

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A Perk of Having a Teen Driver

When your kids are little, a morning spent in warm sunshine and cool breezes, followed by an hour plus car ride, guaranteed they slept on the drive home. 

When they are driving age, you put them behind the wheel and take a nap yourself.

(Note To Concerned Readers:  It was my husband who left the driver seat and traded places with our son.  I remained in the shotgun seat, trying to avoid taking a nap myself. Not an easy task on undulating, country roads.)

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Blessings of a Blackout

While losing power for twelve hours is not on my list of fun ways to spend a family evening at home, it does have some positive attributes.  Yesterday a vicious wind blew up from the south. The wind never really stops on the Eastern Plains of Colorado, a reality one learns quickly if they want to prosper here.  My daughter, a much heartier soul than I, considers most of our light gales to be nothing more than pleasant breezes.

The wind and weather can come from all directions: blizzards from the north, rain from the east, and hail from the west, but it is the wind from the south that is to be feared.  Barns blown over, trees uprooted and shingle roofs shredded, these are commonality not rarity with winds from the south.

Yesterday’s wind began with blustery force.  Hair had to be re-combed at church, even super-hold hairspray and gel withered under the assault.  The drive home was a challenge for the newbie behind the wheel.  No drivers ed course could prepare the novice for the head wind he faced, but luck was with him and the dust cloud arose only after he had safely made it home. One new driving challenge faced, one saved for a future day.

By 5pm the wind was gathering strength, but animals still needed care.  The stalwart, hearty daughter braved the crossing of the yard, only to become imprisoned with her wards in the rabbit house.  A decade of living on the plains has taught us to build strong, permanent shelters for our animals. Our rabbit house was built with the knowledge that our daughter would also spend many hours inside it.  When the full force of the angry wind struck, we knew she was safe.  When the power went out from multiple power lines being blown down, we knew she was prepared with emergency light.

The wind raged, escalated and began to sound more dangerous than anything we had heard before. The power went out. We heard sounds of crashes and wondered which yard items had been destroyed. Then as if the wind knew havoc had been rendered, it died down returning to the soft gale my daughter calls a breeze.

Dinner was jelly beans, Oreos and cheese.  Lap tops provided a few moments of entertainment, books emerged and the piano was played as darkness settled in for the night.  Baseball caps equipped with LED lights donned the heads of one and all. Quiet pursuits and conversations, calm thoughts and contemplations, broken periodically with laughter were the activities of the evening.

The power seldom stays out this long and we are prepared for emergencies.  We could have cooked a warm meal, we could have lit a lamp, but the peacefulness of a simple evening was too inviting. The blanked quite of the night calmed our minds and gave us rest; a break from the world, the blessings of a blackout.

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Invisible Sufferers – Unseen Disabilities

I have been struggling with a dilemma for some time – get a handicap pass or not.  I am so worried about how I will be perceived when I get out of my car – not the handicapped part – but the part where I don’t look handicapped.  Often when I begin my shopping trips, I feel relatively fine.  When I walk into the grocery store, I usually don’t need my cane and so I leave it in my car.  However by the time I am finished, I can be very fatigued and the pain and stiffness can affect my walking.  Unless it has been a terribly stressful day out, I can still manage without my cane, just more slowly.

I am fortunate to have a husband who supports me and my restricted lifestyle, both emotionally and financially.  I also have two amazing kids, who seldom let me go out-and-about without one of them as co-pilot.  But my husband is military and sometimes must leave home, and my kids are nearing college age.  The reality I won’t always have their help and buffer is settling in and forcing me to deal with my fibromyalgia in a new way.

Many times when I have been overextending myself with errands, I resort to using the handicapped restroom facilities.  I feel self-conscious about doing so because I don’t look handicapped.  I worry about the person who might challenge me, setting off an anxiety attack.  Anxiety is a major trigger for my fibromyalgia pain which in turn triggers crippling fatigue. While I have learned to keep the anxiety at bay under normal circumstances, confrontations are very difficult for me and will usually put an end to my plans for the day.

I know I am not alone in my worry over perception and subsequent confrontations.  Sufferers of many types of disabilities, suffer invisibly. Sadly, it seems the stronger you are and the more you challenge yourself to live a normal life, the more you are disbelieved.  “You look normal,” becomes a burden not a relief to hear, because it always seems tainted with disbelief and accusation.

Now I am planning a trip to DC with my family to see all the museums.  I know I will need to rent a wheelchair if I am going to make it through the trip.  Luckily wheelchairs are available for rent at most public locations now.  It won’t be the first time I will resort to such measures; I have utilized the wheelchairs available at our military shopping facility.  However, on the base where people are more aware of the unseen injuries of war, I feel less self-conscious.

Over the years, I have learned that talking about my worries and my experiences helps me to both feel better and helps others feel informed.  So today I have chosen to cry, and write, and hope that by posting this I will feel more confident in my decision to get a handicap pass for my car.  And maybe if a concerned citizen decides to challenge me or another invisible sufferer in a parking lot someday, one of you readers will be there to come to our defense.

 

* The following is a painfully accurate account of another Invisible Sufferer  Privilege and Prejudice: Disabled Parking with an Invisible Illness