Old Lady Fat Stage

I'm at a stage in my life I did not anticipate ever entering.  I'm doing things I never expected myself to do.  In a month, I'm going to be participating in an event I never saw myself doing.  What brought on this unexpected activity that has consumed every waking hour for the past 6 weeks?  I've entered what we affectionately refer to in our house as the "old lady fat stage."

My daughter was talking to me about someone being really creative, and she said something that I heard as "She's in her old lady fat stage."  I told her that didn't sound very nice.  After being really puzzled, she repeated what she said.  Old lady CRAFT stage.  That made more sense, but "old lady fat stage" stuck, so now we just joke that I'm in my Old Lady Fat Stage.

In our house, Old Lady Fat Stage means that I have been crafting from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed.  I bought a Cricut and spend hours making things, I paint, I design, and I let the creative juices flow.  It's been very therapeutic, and I am finding something to give me some joy and purpose for the first time in a long time.  This is definitely something that is outside of my comfort zone, and the cognitive load is sometimes exhausting, but it feels good to actually be DOING something.  This is something I can do while elevating my feet, while seated, while still meeting the needs of my physical limitations.  

In a month, my BFF and I are going to do the Arbor Day Craft Show together.  I have never done anything like this before.  I know the stimulation will be both mentally and physically exhausting, that my legs are going to be swollen, discolored, and painful by the end of the day, and my head will very likely be throbbing.  BUT, I know it will be so good to actually spend a few hours out of my house, to see people, to socialize.  Maybe I will see former students, former colleagues.  Maybe I will meet people who are in town for the festivities that further enrich my life.  If nothing else, it means hanging out with my BFF for 8 hours, and that is never a bad thing!

Being away from the teaching community for 2 years now has been the hardest thing I've had to face on this Long Covid journey.  I don't think there will ever be anything that will fulfill me the way teaching did.  However, it does feel good to be excited about things again, to learn new things, to do things that bring me joy, that allow me to be creative, and to put my energy into something that makes me happy.  Our living space has been taken over by crafting, from storage totes full of materials to craft carts filled with vinyl and tools, crafting equipment, and finished items waiting to be displayed next month.  The clutter my new hobby creates clashes with my intense need for my house to be neat and tidy at all times, but I saw a quote once that said something about true growth being uncomfortable.  So, I'll go with that theory while I dive even deeper into my "Old Lady Fat Stage"!

Simplifying My Life: My own personal year in review

As I reflect on the past year, I have come to the conclusion that there is a very real difference between giving back, paying it forward, being there for others, showing love, empathy, and compassion, and self-sacrifice for the sake of giving.  There is a line one can cross where physical, emotional, mental, and even financial health can be sabotaged for the sake of others.  It is time to rid myself of the clutter, both the physical and the mental clutter.  It is time to focus only on the things that feed my mind, my body, and my soul in healthy, positive, and enriching ways.  

It's time to simplify my life.

Old habits die hard, and I know it won't be easy.  But being uncomfortable never is...

This year has been one for the books, to say the least.  January was the typical long, gloomy month that felt like it had 87 days rather than 31. February is a month of birthdays in our family, with 5 people to celebrate, 4 of them within 6 days of each other!  Then came March, when I had to be taken by rescue squad, discovered I was in septic shock, was transferred to Lincoln, and had to process the fact that I almost died.  If we had waited even another 15 minutes to call for the ambulance, I would most likely not be here today to write this blog.  That is a fact I still think about often, something that has been really difficult to fully comprehend.  On the first day of April we were blessed with the most precious gift we could have ever imagined.  Our precious grandbaby was born, and she is everything we ever imagined, and more.  May is the month I checked off the number one item on my bucket list.  I finally saw the ocean.  I even put my toes in the water, sat on the beach and let the waves wash over me, collected dozens and dozens of shells, and basked in the South Carolina sun at Myrtle Beach.  It was the vacation of a lifetime! June was a month of rest and recovery, spending time with our new grandbaby and basking in our post-vacation glow.

The second half of the year had just as many significant events as the first half.  July was quiet, but then August rolled in, and life presented us with new challenges.  On August 15th, my husband was diagnosed with a motor neuron disease believed to be ALS.  Though he does not have the lab-confirmed markers of ALS, and some of his symptoms are atypical of ALS, neurologists seem to not know what else to call it, so that is his official diagnosis.  That same evening I began running a high fever, and my symptoms were very similar to the symptoms I'd had in March when I was septic.  I then began to have the most painful experience of my life.  I would have happily given birth every single day rather than experience the excruciating pain I endured for 4 full weeks.  It began in my right shoulder blade, traveled across to the center, into the left shoulder blade, and then back to the right again.  I was seen at 2 different hospitals in 2 different cities, and all testing came back inconclusive.  To this day, we do not know what caused this horrific pain, but I hope and pray I never experience anything like that ever again.  

September was a huge milestone in my life as I celebrated my 50th birthday.  It's so odd to turn 50, yet feel like I can't possibly be a day over 30.  How does time go so fast?  I threw myself a party, and I was blessed with friends and family in attendance to celebrate with me.  In October, my husband and I celebrated the 26th anniversary of our first date.  It's so weird to realize I have spent over half of my life with this man, and even more difficult to believe our daughter is the same age I was when we first met and became friends!  

I received a book from my best friend for my birthday.  It shows 5000 places to visit across all 50 states.  We used suggestions from the book to plan a road trip in November.  We were in a total of 6 states (Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota, North Dakota, Minnesota, and Montana), all within a 48-hour time frame.  Along with crossing off another bucket list item, we spent 4 days road-tripping through the Badlands, the Black Hills, 2 national parks, and the sand hills.  It was a fast-paced vacation to literally see as much as we could see and add as many states to our list of visited places as we possibly could.  It was not the relaxing southern vacation we took in May, but we saw a lot of beautiful terrain and made more memories together.  

When we hit December, it just didn't really feel like Christmas.  We decorated our house, put up our lights, and I wrapped the dozens upon dozens of gifts I had spent September and October purchasing so that I would be ready for the holidays without feeling too rushed and overwhelmed.  However, once the gifts had been given, the Christmas goodies eaten, and the thank you cards written, I was left to reflect over the next week.  What I realized was that I was left with an empty, hollow feeling in my chest.  

I realized as I reflected over the year that I felt very overwhelmed by so much.  I felt the immediate need to purge.  I decided to get rid of kitchen items I hadn't used in at least 2 years.  I donated or threw away shoes I no longer wore, clothes I hadn't touched in years, dog toys that filled a 30-gallon garbage bag to overflowing.  I checked the expiration dates on all the products in my pantry and cabinets and threw out things that had expired.  I bought new dressers, nightstands, and lamps to both update and save some space our old furniture had taken up in our cramped bedroom.   

While purging and organizing the physical aspects of my home, I had a lot of time to reflect on the year as well.  I thought about the hardships we'd faced as well as the exciting things we'd experienced.  I thought about those who reached out to us to check in, to offer a helping hand, to ask how we were feeling, and to check on our emotional well-being as well as our physical health.  I thought about those who were excited to see us cross things off our bucket list, who were excited to see us have good things happen to us, who are always in our corner, always rooting for us, always supporting us in both the good and bad times.  

Those are our people.  

Those who make me feel defensive rather than at ease, who do not openly show their support for us, who are not rooting for us, I am no longer going to put forth the effort.  I have tried to live by "Be the Energy You Want to Attract," and I still will do that, to an extent.  But I am no longer going to put forth energy that is not given back.  I will no longer be the one to always reach out first, to offer unsolicited updates on our lives, to check in with people who never check in with us.  

I have now, as of December 2024, hit the 3-year mark of living with Long Covid.  My husband has been living with chronic pain and neuropathy in his right arm for almost 2 1/2 years, which has been accompanied by shooting pain in his right hip for almost a year now.  With the unknowns of his lower motor neuron disease diagnosis and the unknowns of the long-term effects of Long Covid, along with my close call with sepsis, we have been giving glaring reminders that life is too short not to do what we can when we can.  Life is also too short to give precious time and energy to anything that is not deserving of it.  

With this realization came the conclusion that 2025 is going to be about removing the clutter and simplifying my life.   

Catastrophizing, Anticipatory Anxiety, or just a Worry Wart?

I've been a worrier my whole life.  My grandma was a worrier too, so I'm sure that's where I got it.  (Yes, I mean WORRIER, not warrior).  I'd see her worry, so then I'd also worry.  I say a prayer every time we pull onto the highway.  I say a prayer when I know one of my kids, my husband, or another loved one is on the road, heading somewhere, because I'm so scared of them having an accident.  I feel anxious, stressed, and have this feeling of impending doom every time one of my loved ones leaves the house to go any further than across town to get groceries or some other local task.  

According to the American Psychological Association (APA) Dictionary of Psychology, Anticipatory Anxiety is worry or apprehension about an upcoming event or situation because of the possibility of a negative outcome, such as danger, misfortune, or adverse judgment by others. The worry or apprehension is often accompanied by somatic symptoms of tension. The APA describes people who always think that the worst possible outcome will occur from a particular action or in a particular situation as catastrophizing.  Dictionary.com defines worry warts as people who tend to worry habitually and often needlessly.  

I feel like I fit all of these definitions if I am being honest.  Every scenario in my life consists of me imagining the absolute worst thing that could happen.  I think it's because my luck always seems to be bad luck.  If something is going to happen, it's going to happen to us.  We are going to choose the box that is missing parts, get the random defective car battery, the box of nuggets with one nugget missing. No risk factors for an ectopic pregnancy, yet I had one.  No obvious signs of any type of infection, yet I went into septic shock.  So, when we began to plan our first "across-the-country vacation" nine months in advance, of course, I'm going to be concerned that things are going to go wrong.  

Every time we leave the house, I worry something is going to happen to cause it not to happen.  And of course, it's always horrible, gruesome thoughts that I'm imagining; never just a minor inconvenience.  By the time it's ever time for our vacation to actually happen, I might be too stressed and anxious to even enjoy it!  Because then of course, I'm going to worry about the freak things that could happen to us on our way there or while at our destination.

Will one of us get attacked by a shark, stung by a jellyfish, or die from the poison of some freakishly-shaped sea urchin disguised as a piece of seaweed?  Will I somehow fall to my death off our 20th-story balcony, or will a car from our sky wheel ride fall into the ocean?  And that's only if the pier the restaurant we are eating at sits on doesn't collapse into the sea first!  And all of that is if we even MAKE IT to our destination in one piece.  And before we can leave for our destination, we have to have survived ALL NINE of the months leading up to it.  

Maybe it's hard for me to accept that good things are going to happen because they seem too good to be true.  I hear about other people doing all these exciting things, but it doesn't seem real that we could be doing them too.  Checking things off my bucket list has never felt attainable to me; I always thought of a bucket list as a list of the things you wish you could do, but never actually will get to do in your lifetime.  I think now, if I really do make it TO, THROUGH, AND HOME FROM this first bucket list trip, maybe I will see it differently.  Maybe I will actually look at life differently.  Maybe things I never thought were possible really can come true. 

Speaking of Bucket Lists, I'd love to read some of yours!  Please feel free to comment below, and don't forget your name so I know whose bucket lists I'm reading!  Here are the top five things on mine!

 

The Day I Almost Died

Three weeks ago I almost died.  Not figuratively.  Not metaphorically.  Literally.  I LITERALLY almost died 3 weeks ago...and I am still trying to figure out what to do with the emotions I've been experiencing ever since it happened...

Wow...where to even begin...I've been trying to write this blog for almost 3 weeks, but something very strange and unfamiliar has been happening to me each time I sit down and work on it...I'm at a loss for words.  This is not an experience that is even slightly familiar to me because I am NEVER at a loss for words.  Never. Ever.  

Most of us, unfortunately, know what it feels like to see someone we love become ill or pass away.  But, rarely does anyone ever have the experience of feeling their own impending death.  It's an experience I wish I hadn't had.  And I'm discovering that it has rocked me to my core.  I'm not really sure what to do with the feelings, emotions, fears, and thoughts I've had over these past 3 weeks...A lot of my memories of that night are blurry.  Parts are missing, I have lapses in time, and I've also discovered that many of my memories of that night are mirrored.  I have asked my family about the details of that night, and am learning of more and more things I thought were reality, but in fact, are not exactly as I recall them...

I woke up on Thursday, February 29th, and I felt a little blah, had a bit of a headache, but nothing horrible.  I thought it was just the post-exertional malaise (PEM) from a really fun, but busy previous week and weekend.  This is not something out of the ordinary for someone with Long Covid so I didn't think much of it.  However, I woke up at 5:40 A.M. Friday morning absolutely freezing.  I covered up with an extra blanket and burrowed under the covers.  When my husband woke up at 6:30, he took my temperature and it was high, 103.4. I had planned to go out of town with him for an appointment, but stayed home to try to sleep off my headache and fever instead.  

I finally drug myself out of bed around 12:30, took some ibuprofen, and settled into the recliner for the rest of the afternoon.  My headache and fever were both gone by 2:00, and I felt decent other than some body aches.  I was sure I must be coming down with the flu.  I took it easy the rest of the day, and even had a couple of hours where I felt relatively "fine".  Then, around midnight, when I was about to head to bed, I got a bit chilled.  I covered up with a blanket, asked my husband for another blanket and some ibuprofen, and decided to just wait it out before going to bed.  That's when things got ugly.

My husband went to hang up some laundry and my daughter headed off to bed.  I stayed in the living room, in my recliner, alone.  That's when I began shaking uncontrollably.  My teeth were clanging together, I was unable to sit still in my chair, and the shivering grew more and more intense.  I know now that what I was experiencing was rigors, which was an indication of worse things to come.  

My husband came out to see if I was ready for bed and found me in that state.    My breathing was becoming more difficult, and I was becoming more and more light-headed.

I began repeating, "Help me!" over and over as the rigors became more intense, but my husband couldn't hear and/or understand me.  My daughter came out of her room and asked if I was having a seizure.  She is the one who noticed the backs of my arms were blue.  My husband then saw this and noticed my face, especially around my nose and mouth also becoming a purplish gray.  They both told me I needed to go to the ER, and I told them I couldn't.  At that point, I knew I could not walk as far as the front door, let alone get into a vehicle and ride across town in that condition.  They then said they were going to have to call 911, and I said OK.  I had no idea what was wrong with me, but I knew that I needed help.  Immediate help.  

The next few hours are a blur for me.  I know when the EMTs arrived I was in very critical condition.  My blood pressure and oxygen were dangerously low.  My temperature and pulse were dangerously high.  I know they worked on me in the ambulance for 10 minutes before getting into place for the ride to the hospital.  I know I was given a breathing treatment.  I know I was put on 5 Liters of oxygen.  I learned that when they took my temperature at the hospital it was 105.3 degrees Fahrenheit.  I know my lactic acid was elevated.  I know my kidneys were in acute distress.  I was diagnosed with Septic Shock.   

When it was safe to transport me, once my vitals were in a safer range, I was taken to Lincoln where I spent the next two and a half days receiving IV antibiotics, Heparin shots in my stomach, and had labs run multiple times a day.  I was prescribed oral antibiotics to continue at home.  My bloodwork was inconclusive as to what caused my body to go into Septic Shock, so the doctors' theory is that I contracted a virus of some sort, unknown at this time, that caused the entire series of events to quickly unfold.

The unknown is scary.  The fact that I am now more susceptible to getting Sepsis is scary.  Having chunks of time I cannot remember and learning that. things I thought I did remember did not happen the way I picture them is scary.  But the scariest part of all of this are the after-effects that I had not expected to happen.  I had no idea...

Since being discharged from the hospital and being back at home, something is different with me.  Yes, there is the fact that I'm still not feeling well, haven't gotten back to my baseline yet.  But it's more than that.  Emotionally, that's where my struggle is, and I don't really know how to explain it...I am withdrawn, feel very hyper-sensitive and over-stimulated.  I startle more easily.  Some days I want to sleep 12 hours and some days I don't want to sleep at all.  I can feel myself getting annoyed quickly, agitated, less tolerant of others.  I feel very emotional, cry at the drop of a hat...I feel vulnerable, exposed, and very alone and unable to be understood by others because I don't know how to really put into words quite what these feelings are.   

I've been dealing with Long Covid, the loss of my career and life as I know it for 2 years now.  And it's so, so hard...but this is different.  This was fast and unexpected and unavoidable, and it almost took my life in a matter of minutes...and I don't know if these feelings I'm experiencing are common or "normal" for people who have come close to dying or if it's just me...but it's been a rough 3 weeks, to say the least...