Sunday, March 1, 2015

Sometimes It's Quiet Courage

"Courage doesn't always ROAR. 
Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 
I will try again tomorrow."

~Mary Anne Radmacher

Courage comes in all forms - from the mighty lion ROAR, when perhaps we have achieved something or we have done good in a situation.  But, a lot of the time, it comes in the form of a quiet voice, when things just don't go your way and you must summon all your strength to pick yourself up mentally and emotionally and calm yourself so that you can hear that voice in the dark recesses of your mind, a voice that sounds familiar but unrecognizable at first, telling you to just get through this day and you will get to try again tomorrow. A new day to try again.

I would say that since my accident, that roar of courage comes to me more often in the form of that quiet voice when I'm down on my knees mentally from a day (some days literally down on my knees) that just wouldn't let up abusing me physically, mentally, and emotionally. One of those days where it's just one thing after another, beating you down like a hammer to a nail.  Where you feel like you try and try and try and life just blocks your every move.

So far, my 2015 year has had a very rough start and making me nervous that it could be setting the tone for how the rest of the year is going to go. I had probably the worst year last year since the year of my accident. I had seven very hard surgeries last year ALONE, I made an extremely hard decision to have a double mastectomy which, didn't go so well putting me in the hospital for three weeks and enduring four surgeries in a timespan of two weeks as well as dealing with the effects of so much anestesthia is such a short period of time, having my body opened up and cut into, wound vacs attached to my chest which had to be changed every so often and anytime they messed around with the wound vac at the site, it hurt beyond the reach of pain killers. Everything hurt beyond the reach of pain killers so I was put on an extremely strong PCA - fentynol.

That particular experience that I had this summer truly tested my strength and courage. It brought me back to my original experiences in the burn center those first 3.5 months. And what got me through all the physical pain, all the emotional pain, the unknowing, the tears shed when my mother had to leave for the week, the tears of a familiar experience I never wanted to feel again, the stress, the anxiety attack was not a roar-ing kind of courage, but rather a quiet voice at the end of the day and thru every traumatic experience where I had no one to hold me and tell me it was all going to be ok, saying, you have the strength in your heart of a roaring lion.  And though you may not hear it's mighty roar now, the strength of that lion fills your heart, your soul, and you WILL get thru this moment.  You WILL get thru today and try again tomorrow.

So, even though courage may not come to you as a mighty roar after finally breaking a 7.5 minute mile after you blew out your knee and been in physical therapy, or finally asking out that special guy or girl you've haven't been able to stop thinking about but been too afraid to because of your low self-esteem, it may still be there in your heart, quietly cheering you on if you listen deep enough to find it. It's there. It's always there. Listen, and you WILL get thru whatever it is that is bringing you down and trying to tear you apart. Listen, and you will make it to tomorrow and you never know what good may come your way tomorrow making you glad you found and listened to your courage.

Peace and Love

Thursday, January 22, 2015

My First Great Challenge In Truly Living Life Again

I think about this quote a lot because it really is one of the more unique ways of saying, "Live life NOW."  Before my accident, I did pretty well at balancing the act of keeping my past in the past, where it belongs, working hard for my dream career and being the best at it while still all the while, truly enjoying and living in the present. Of course those were the years that I lived in New York City and having dreamt for so long about living my life in New York and chasing after my dream of acting and singing; Being one of the greatest performer to ever hit the silver screen AND Broadway, I was actually finally doing it. I had made the biggest decision in my life - to move to The Big Apple and meet up and live with a friend of mine who was already there. 
I remember clearly the day I decided to really do it, really make the move.  I was working as a personal trainer in Portland, OR and I was on my break. After listening to a voicemail from my good friend that was already living in New York, I called her back. We were going through the very same experience - boy problems. So after listening to what she was going through, I decided to tell her the situation I was in with my cheating, lying, abusive boyfriend. We found comfort in one another, that we weren't going through this awful shit alone. Then suddenly, without really thinking, I told her, I was moving up there with her.  That it was time for me to stop being a victim of this guy and spread my wings, finally break free to be ME and chase after my dream.  After we hung up, both all excited and giddy, I did not think twice about the big decision I just made or doubt myself.  It just felt so right. 
Then came the moment where I would have to tell my parents. And I remember everything about that, too. My mom and dad were in the kitchen cooking dinner.  I had come home for either a weekend or it was a holiday. I knew they were going to have questions and concerns but I just said it, "I'm moving to New York. I'm going to move in with my friend who already has a place in Brooklyn and I'm going to follow my heart and passion. It's time for me to go. Actually, it's past time. I should have done this sooner." And my parents kind of looked at me, blinking their eyes a few times like a cartoon, and could only reply, "we'll talk more about this later." But I didn't feel scared that they might find ways to prevent me from moving all the way across the country only cause they would worry with me being so far away in such a big city on my own. They knew this was my dream and I knew ultimately in the end, they couldn't say or do anything to keep me from going. 
At this moment in my life, I had turned a corner. I was finally stepping away from being with a scumbag guy and was moving MY LIFE forward without thinking once about leaving this guy I really gave my whole heart to for four years. I was doing what was right for my life and nothing else. I was becoming the fiercely independent and strong woman I once was until I met this guy who crushed all that in me. I felt ALIVE!!!  And my God, did it feel incredible; like I had broken free of my chains and nothing was going to stop me now. 
New York was EVERYTHING AND MORE than I ever dreamed or expected. I would go to bed at night, sharing a bed with my dear friend in a cute little apartment in the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn, not being able to sleep cause I would be thinking about all that I did and saw that day; and I couldn't fall asleep, even though I tried so hard cause I couldn't wait for what tomorrow would bring. I was just 23 years old, living on my own in the biggest and most beautiful and inspiring city in the U.S., just beginning one of the most exciting times in any young persons life - graduated from college, living on your own, and during a wonderful period in everyone's life, my twenties!  A time when you've really, really struck out in life on your own with being responsible for bills and making a career for yourself, armed with the tools you learned in college. 
I was living life completely.  I was taking chances and being CRAZY, just like the quote above says. I didn't hesitate a heartbeat when making the decision to move to New York, 3,000 miles away from home. Everything that had happened in my past I locked away to stay in my past never to taint my present or future and which also allowed me to live in the here and now completely and focus on creating a future that I had always dreamed of.  I was truly living in the moment of time in which I was the oldest I had ever been while at the same time also knowing it was the youngest I would ever be again. I was living life the way it should be lived. 
And then I came home to Oregon for a little bit of a break just to get away from the hustle and bustle of life in a city like New York and cause I missed home, when tragedy struck my life, at the height of my young life at 26yrs old, nearly killing me, and everything changed for me, my way of life, and the dream I held so close to my heart. 
The way I lived my life when my accident happened changed for the worse because I knew I would never again have the life I was living in New York before the accident. But now, 7yrs later looking back at those beginning years of my life post accident, how I viewed life then was normal. I can't be upset with myself for going backwards a bit. I mean, my life was turned upside down and inside out in just a matter of seconds!  I mourn and grieve still, everyday, even now, for the life I was robbed of and the dream that was my whole world but is now shattered, never to be a possibility in my life again. 
But now, I look at that quote and I see my first great challenge in getting some kind of a life back now - putting my past back in the past where I once held it never allowing it to torture me in my present or future. As well as taking chances, being crazy, accepting my scars as part of me now - my battle wounds that show I survived one of the most terrible ways of being hurt and possibly killed - and not hesitating on taking those chances in my life now. Always easier said than done, but, the art of survival is a story that never ends. 

Peace and Love. 

Monday, January 19, 2015

My Past Will Not Dictate My Future

I have had a rather, shall I say, goolosh, of a past in that there has been a little bit of everything in it. There's been great and wonderful experiences, happy times and fun memories of good things and then there has also been some difficult and hard times and some disparaging events where there seemed like there was no hope mixed with lots of emotional turmoil.  Things weren't always easy for me before the accident. But that doesn't need to dictate how the rest of my life will be.
The night of my accident is a big black space in my mind. I don't remember anything about that night. All I have are second hand accounts from my mother and father. The brain is an incredible organ of our bodies in that in the event of a terrible trauma it can, but not always, protect us by blocking any memories of the trauma often even blocking days, weeks, months before the occurrence of the traumatic event. Such a block of memories of my traumatic experience happened to me, not just for that night but also for about a week before as well. I sometimes wish I knew what happened that night that caused me to be burned so badly but then a bigger part of me is thankful that that was blocked from my memory. Being burned alive is not exactly the type of thing you want to remember. The only problem I have with it is it makes it hard to answer the first question people ask - how did you get burned?
Since that night, my life has become divided into "Before the accident" and "After the accident."  And what I consider, "my past," lies primarily in that, "before the accident" sector of my life even though it has almost been 7 years since that night. Even though a lot of good things took place in my past and I have many good memories from then, I can't help but allow those bad parts of my past dominate and taint everything else. And I think it's because the bad parts of my past were so out of character of who I was. I lost my moral compass for a bit during a couple times in my life before the accident. I'm certainly not proud of my choices during those times when I had a lapse in my character. In fact, it's downright embarrassing. But what I need to learn is those moral lapses in my past DO NOT need to dictate my future. And most of all, though the dreams I had for my future since I was a little girl have basically been crushed and ripped from my hands, never to be a glimmering possibility for me again, doesn't mean that my future cannot be better than I ever imagined it to be when I was dreaming about it prior to the accident. I just need to explore all the avenues available to me and find what ignites that same fire in me that acting/performing does.
And it's not enough to just explore all those avenues available, but I must stay open to the different possibilities for my new future. That, I think is the hard part when you've been so in love with a certain profession just about all your life that that's all you can see that will make you happy and make for the most amazing future. My head, heart and soul must all open themselves to what else is out there that could create a future better than I ever imagined possible after an accident that nearly claimed all possibilities for such a future by taking my life. I still have my life, though the quality has been quite severely lowered, and therefore I still have a future ahead of me that shall not be shaped by any mistakes or bad choices I made in my past. Nor should I let the dark clouds of my accident that shroud my present daily life rob me of dreaming and taking action for a new future that can be better than I ever imagined for myself post accident.

Peace and Love.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Happy New Year 2015

"If you want the present to be different from
the past, study the past."
~Baruch Spinoza

I begin writing on 2014 New Years Eve, with just 45min to go till midnight when the famous ball drops in NYC, and now our own New Years ball drops in my little hometown on Main Street; when people will gather in Times Square or at a private party and countdown the last ten seconds together before they yell out, "Happy New Year!" And clink their glasses together in a celebrated toast and lastly of the new year traditions, kiss someone, sometimes many someone's, be it a husband or wife, a boyfriend or girlfriend, an on again off again lover, a crush, or your friends. So, as you can guess, if I've just begun writing, I'm not doing any of those things. I'm alone, in bed watching TV, and putting heat on the right side of my neck trying to loosen up the terrible tightness I'm feeling from thick scar tissue and contractures already forming and an icepack laying closeby on my right shoulder. How pathetic. 

This year, 2014, has been a difficult year.  I started off the year with a surgery and I ended the year just a month and a half ago with my 50th surgery. Actually this whole year has been nothing but doctor appointments, a lot of trips to Portland, surgeries and their following recoveries. There really has been little else for me. I had 7 surgeries this year alone. I had my most difficult time this year during the summer over the 4th of July when I went in to have a double mastectomy performed due to complications with my burn and the scarring in my chest. I had to make the most difficult decision with going ahead with the double mastectomy to begin with and then so much went wrong and happened that I ended up having to have 4 surgeries along with several wound vac changes in a matter of two weeks and didn't walk out of the hospital until yet another week later for a total of three unplanned weeks on the hospital. That was a very hard time for me emotionally and physically. I'm still working through in my head all that happened in those 3 weeks and trying to be ok with my breastless body.

And...HAPPY NEW YEAR!!  It is now the year 2015. A new year. And what everyone calls, "a fresh start."  I have always been a resolution maker. And it seems I never truly followed through on any one. I mean really felt with great satisfaction that I...had become regular in my exercise habits (the most popular resolution), was on good healthy eating habits, or had saved money each month without dipping into it and spending it, etc. Many people don't believe in making resolutions cause they just set you up to fail.  I see that, absolutely.  I've done it! for crying out loud. I have failed on so many of my resolutions that I want to be one of those people that doesn't set themselves up for failure with silly resolutions and just aim to be a better me or just have a good year. But, every year I still make those damn resolutions that are always pretty similar to my last years resolutions or exactly the same because I failed in my execution of them in the past year.  However, I'm a kind of person that needs a goal, something to aim for. I told myself maybe halfway through this last year that 2014 was gonna be my year. Even though half the year was over I was gonna get serious and start making some real changes. And I did make some headway in changes to my health. I have so far lost 33lbs and I'm determined to keep that going, only even more aggressive. I may have lost more weight than that in the past couple months but I haven't weighed myself through the holidays so as not to upset myself.  But I digress a bit.  As the kind of person who needs a goal set in my mind to aim for, I will, once again, make a couple resolutions. But this year, my resolutions will be fewer, more thought out in terms of what is really most important to my well-being emotionally and physically. They will be achievable yet challenging.

I thought the quote I put at the beginning of this post was perfect for looking at what my resolutions will be and how to make this 2015 year a really good, no, GREAT and different year for me.  I really want to have a great year. I haven't had a good year since my accident almost 7yrs ago. It's time for  some change. Achievable yet challenging.

Looking back on my past, I have very often gotten really down on myself and how my life is going.  Because of everything the accident took from me and how I'm reminded of it all with anything I do, it's all too easy for me to slip into this kind of black hole that swallows me up and I have no energy or motivation to do even the smallest things like take a shower or walk to the dinner table to eat. Even eating has no appeal to me. So when I can't even do or take interest in such basic things, just the
thought of going to a friend's house, or out doing errands like grocery shopping, and even getting on my computer to write, check emails or see what's going on with everyone on facebook is so incredibly daunting that I just stay curled up in bed or in my chair sleeping or mindlessly watching TV. Eventually, the blackness that had surrounded me for so long will begin to lift and little streams of light will again fuel my body and mind. Things that once seemed so futile or that I had no interest in or energy to give to, I was active with again.  I would find life quasi-enjoyable, as is normal for me, and just wait with an impending doom for the next black hole to suck me down  and under again. This is basically the cycle my life has taken on. And it's draining me in every way.  So I must look back on those times when I was in one of those black holes and study them so I can really try this year to stop all this emotional yo-yo-ing.

I really, desperately want to have a great year, a year full of exciting and positive changes.  So my resolutions are as follows:
1.   Continue on with weight loss.  I am not going to specify a number cause I think that will stress me out too much every time I get on the scale and set me up for failure if I don't hit that specific number.
2.   Keep up with my walking. Try to get at least 5 walks in a week.
3.  Get more sleep at night if possible (dependent on pain which can't be helped)
4.  Keep mind busy with hobbies and friends but make sure to allow for bodily rest also.
5.  Know that I will still have difficult days. If I have a hard day, let yourself be upset but also
remember your strength and focus on getting through that day. Tomorrow is a new day.  Just get through to tomorrow when you can start again.
6. Focus on CREATING myself!!  And HAVE FUN.

Being a Phoenix isn't easy.  Having to recreate yourself from your own pile of ashes is a very difficult task. But I was chosen.  I was chosen to rise from my ashes and be beautiful again, perhaps even more beautiful than I ever have been, on both the inside and out. I was chosen to stand out in the world. I will find my purpose in this world and leave a very large mark on it.  Bring on 2015!  This is just the start of my creation.  Happy New Year everyone!  Be kind and gracious to one another. Remember, everyone you meet is fighting their own personal battle so be a human being and take care of each other. Now GO! and create!

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Creating Yourself

Life isn't about finding yourself. 
Life is about creating yourself. 

George Bernard Shaw

I've been thinking about this quote a lot since I've been recovering from my last surgeries and hospitalization this summer. I read this quote some time ago and always found it very interesting.  And I find it interesting because Shaw takes a very common and popular saying and twists it.  So many people from all walks of life and ages have said something to the tune of, "I need to find myself," if perhaps they have gone through a recent change or crisis in their life. I know I certainly said it when I was headed off to New York. But perhaps it isn't about finding ourselves that is the quest. Maybe our quest instead is creating ouselves from the outline of basic and common humanity that we have found ouselves in. Our need is not to find out who we are.  But to create and define the rough image we already have of ourselves, Finding out who we are as individuals is merely knowing that by shape, size, height, hair and eye color the figure we see through the veil of fog can be positively identified as our person. But where we truly "find" ourselves comes in our own creation.

Finding who we are implies a finality. There's nowhere to go from being found. But in creation, we have fluidity and constant evolution. However fluidity and evolution is confined to the mind in which it's found. Much like each species has its own evolutionary process. There is of course many similarities of each species' evolutionary process but in humans, it's what comes in the creation that separates and defines us and makes us who we are as individuals. From the time of our birth and into our young adult years we are more in a developmental process. It's when we have that moment in life, that moment where we begin to think deeper and search for our own answers, discover what turns us off and what turns us on, even our preference for either coca cola or Pepsi that we begin the great adventure of creating ourselves. It's like an artist. Let's think about an artist of some kind, like a....musician. A composing pianist for a specific image. This musician goes through school getting his masters in composition where he learns music theory and his time signatures and keys, etc. As he begins composing his own work, he first works with the basics of what he has learned. After he lays down the the basic melody and harmony of his piece he begins creating. He creates and develops a style in his compositions that become his creative signatures. He has begun the creative process that continually evolves and gives birth to itself.

Thinking back on several pivotal markers in my life where I thought I was going out to find myself, I see clearly how I wasn't finding myself as I remember thinking I was doing because after each of those experiences I went through I never felt that "found" feeling in my soul; the satisfaction that I have learned all I need to learn about myself, that I have completed my development and evolvement. I never securely knew who I was yet, as was my goal in setting out to find myself. But I do look back during those times and see that what I was really doing was creating myself!  I was developing my character, learning continuously from my mistakes and putting those lessons into actions and changes. With each adventure I was on in the pursuit to find myself, what I was really doing was discovering new opinions, new ideas, new likes and dislikes and loves, pieces of my personality that began emerging and being expressed that I liked expressing and playing around with, and visa versa.  I discovered attributes and personality traits that I may not have liked so much about myself or maybe hurt other people So I rewrote the melody line so that it flowed better for me and the people around me. You may want to intervene and call this being untrue to who I am by saying that I'm changing myself. But that is not the case.  I am not changing myself into anything I'm not or changing to be what anyone else wants me to be.  We are in a constant fluid energy of creating ouselves from our experiences in life without changing the core of who we are. If life was about finding ourselves, once found, where do we go from there as people and individuals?  There is no room for further growth. I
am not the same person I was 12 years ago because I'm in the constant process of growth and learning and discovering that is the creation of my self. In making life about your continual and exciting creation of who you are you lose the anxiety and panic of society's pressure on you to be an expected mold of who people around you think you should be. You become free to be your creation and in your evolving creation, there is an infinity to who you can be and what you can do. 

Friday, September 5, 2014

My Double Mastectomy and the Three Weeks That Followed

Hello to all those who follow and enjoy reading what I have to say and write.  I'm back.  A LOT has happened this year and since I haven't been writing.  I was having a bit of trouble with my blogger in the beginning of the year trying to write.  It kept shutting down on me and that got me so frustrated that I took a break for awhile.  And in taking a break, I began to slide back down into a dark place.  The same dark place I was just in and had started to find my way out of that I wrote about.  It's amazing how fast that happens.  I was just writing before this post I am writing now how I was coming back up from a dark time.  I was doing well with my physical energy and that had a direct effect on my mental and emotional rise in moods.  But no matter how hard I tried to keep up with this new energy and view of life, I felt myself slipping again.  And I couldn't believe it.  How could I be slipping again ALREADY?!!  This was too fast of a turn over. 

For a long time, years and years, I would wake up every morning and live through each day not feeling good.  It wasn't symptoms of a cold or a flu or any other kind of sickness, but I just didn't feel well and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.  I knew I was always tired.  And not like I didn't get a good nights sleep type of tired.  My muscles in my legs were so exhausted that I could barely stand for very long before I needed to sit down.  Even sitting down was too much energy output.  All I wanted to do was curl up in my bed and there I could finally rest...sometimes.  I didn't want to hang out with my brother or my mother or my friends.  I didn't want to eat.  My mother would have to force me to drink something.  Every once in awhile I would have just enough energy to come out of my room and sit in a chair and watch something with my family.  I would try to pretend that I had more energy than I had and put on a smile, play around with my brother, talk to my mother so they wouldn't worry too much.  But to be honest, I felt like I was slowly dying.  And it turns out, I was right.  I will come back around to that.

For a couple years now, I had been thinking very seriously on getting a double mastectomy.  In the fight to save my life in 2008 when the doctor was working on me after I had been flown in by life flight he had a moment to come out and give my parents an update. Many things were discussed including my breasts.  He said he could not do anything for my nipples.  They were already burned off when I got here.  This devastated my mother and father and when they regained their strength to ask if my breasts would be saved, my doctor said it would be very difficult for they were burned quite badly  and he was having a hard time working the grafts on them.  My mother pleaded to save them if he could.   Eventually, my doctor was able to save them.  My mother pleaded to save them because she worried that with everything else that was going to scare and shock me from the extent of this injury, she didn't want me to have an even bigger shock when I found out I had lost my breasts on top of everything else.  Looking back now, I wish they had just taken them because of the problems with contractures and such excessive scarring I had with them that they caused me incredible pain and enormous discomfort that they caused on my chest.  Soon, because of my intensely aggressive contracting and scarring, my breasts began to be pulled down and flat and the most annoying and uncomfortable of all, into my armpits.  Not only were they painful and uncomfortable like this, it was unbelievably aesthetically displeasing and downright embarrassing for me because I couldn't even get them in a bra to look at least a little normal.  I was embarrassed going out anywhere and I was even embarrassed just being at home.  I felt I made my brother and father uncomfortable with these breasts that were pulled down and oddly into my armpits.  My breasts were so tightly pulled and scarred that there would be no way to get a mammogram when it came time to do that,  I would have to go through an MRI every year. 

After going through all of that for six years - the pain, the discomfort, the intenseness of the pull of the contractures and scar bands that just got worse and worse, uncomfortable going anywhere in public and even being uncomfortable at home around my family - I began to think very heavily and seriously in the past two years about going through with a very difficult procedure both physically and even more so emotionally, a double mastectomy.  Once I had made about a 90% decision on my own to do it, I talked with my mom.  She really wanted to make sure that this wasn't a rash decision.  Once I explained everything and how awful I have been feeling with these breasts for six years, that I had been thinking seriously about doing this for the last two years, she truly understood my decision and most of all why I had made this decision, she was on board.  Next I talked to my dad and it went really quite smooth.  He was immediately and completely on board with my decision to do this and thought that I would be much more comfortable.  And as everyone was informed of my decision to get a double mastectomy, I got nothing but positive feedback and there was always one common belief among everyone in the family - I would be so much more comfortable without those "lumps" being pulled every which way and causing my own discomfort and pain gone. With all this awesome support from my family, I had made my decision and I felt good about it. 

I had a post-op appointment for my latest surgery, surgery #45, on my lip and a small release underneath my chin so I decided I would bring up the problems I was having with my breasts and the possibility of getting a double mastectomy at this appointment.  Everything looked really great with my lip actually so I was quite thrilled with that.  There was, unfortunately, a problem with the graft underneath my chin on my neck that I had been dealing with ever since the surgery - I was leaking a clear liquid out of the left bottom corner of the graft.  When he examined it, he became very upset with himself because he's a bit of a perfectionist (which is good in a doctor).  Somehow he had nicked a salivary gland when removing the contracture there underneath my chin.  And one of the reasons he was so upset about this mishap is because it's actually a serious and complicated situation.  It's not so easy to fix and the risk of infection was prominent.  He was going to have to consult with some of his colleagues about how to proceed with this.  I had decided to make an appointment with my first burn doctor who knew me and my body the best at this time with Vangelisti now gone and see what he had to say about me getting a double mastectomy.  He was quite worried about my healing process with such a large wound because my body does not heal well.  That seemed to be his main concern.  He also had some worries about trying to do a double mastectomy on grafted skin.  When my appointment with Kim was almost at its end I took the opportunity to talk to Kim about what Pulito had to say and see if he had anything further to say on the matter.  He listened to what I told him Pulito said and then Kim took another better look at my chest and decided that he would be happy to talk to Pulito on the matter.

Not too much time had passed since that appointment that the leak in the graft just under my chin suddenly seemed to stop leaking completely so I emailed Kim's PA and let him know.  Not much time had passed when I heard back from Steve saying first that he was glad to hear about the leaking salivary gland healing and then he asked that I call and make an appointment to come back up to talk with Kim about the process of the double mastectomy.  So once again, we were headed down I-84 west towards Portland.

 The appointment with Kim went good.  He leaded off with saying that he and Pulito had a discussion about my request for a double mastectomy.  They had a lot of worries but they also knew that I was in a great deal of pain and discomfort so they decided to go ahead and accommodate my request.  When I heard that I felt happy and scared at the same time.  However, he said that this wasn't going to be a normal mastectomy.  Because they would be working with grafted skin and a unique patient that contracts and scars like no other patient they've seen, they would have to start with tissue expanders.  My body tensed at the mention of tissue expanders.  I thought I was done with them for awhile.  And then it got worse.  I was going to have to have four tissue expanders inserted into my chest.  FOUR!!!!  FOUR TISSUE EXPANDERS!!!  I think my jaw dropped and I was silent for a few minutes.  Two expanders in each breast.  This was going to be brutal.  And because Pulito requested that he be in on this operation they were on a timeline counting down to Pulitos retirement at the end of June, so surgery was scheduled for the next week to put the expanders in. 

The surgery went well.  No complications.  But my recovery did not go so well.  My recovery after this surgery was god-awful.  All I wanted to do was sleep.  I felt utterly exhausted.  As if I hadn't slept in 3 weeks.  The only time I really opened my eyes was to take meds, press the nurse button for pain meds, and to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, which was like some medieval Chinese torture after a surgery like this.  It was like my chest muscles had been ripped apart and even just attempting to scoot to the side of the bed was a mountainous feat.  That part alone took 15 minutes.  Then there was standing up off the bed.  Who knew that standing used your chest muscles?  Of course, your legs are the primary source of power, but let me tell you, your chest comes into play as well cause when I just tried to stand up from the bed the first time, I fell right back down on the mattress because I wasn't prepared for it.  Next, came the challenges of getting my pants down and getting sat down on the toilet, all of which required help.  Now imagine this:  I can't even wipe my own bottom my chest hurts so fucking bad.  And it's not just the pain, I'm so weak I can't wipe my own bottom.  Then I've gotta do it all again, in reverse.  This whole process could take up to 25 painful and torturous minutes. It was so awful to try and get out of bed and go to the bathroom that when I felt that first inkling that I was gonna need to go soon, I tried to suppress it, ignore it, fall into a deeper sleep, anything! just so I wouldn't have to go through the pain and agony of just sitting up and getting out of bed and then everything involved in the actual process of going to the bathroom.  This went on for the first two days out of surgery.  My poor mother.  Just sitting beside me, just reading, basically by herself cause I was out of it.  Finally, the third day out, I was starting to wake up a bit and was able to convince the doctors and nurses that I was ready to go home.  I just wanted to be in pain and miserable in my own home, in my own bed.

When working with tissue expanders, you have to wait two weeks or at least 10 days before you can begin starting the expansion process.  So my two weeks go by and my father and I begin our weekly roundtrip Friday journey to Portland and back to go see the doctor and his PA who pump 80-100cc's in each expander.  To give you an idea of the size of that, it's like going in each week to have 200cc breast implants put in each breast and continue adding those 200cc implants on top of each other every week.  Completely painful and uncomfortable.  We continued on with this for about 8 weeks.  But something was wrong.  Something was weird because with that amount of expansions for that long, I should have had as big of breasts as the woman in the Guinness Book of World Records has.  But my breasts were not expanding like that.  And as I went in for the last couple of expansions, something felt weird that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  It hurt and it didn't feel normal.  I just had a feeling something was wrong.  How wrong I didn't know until I went in for surgery to have my breasts removed on June 20th.

As it was told to me by my doctors, the tissue expanders did an unusual thing - instead of expanding outward stretching the skin like they were suppose to and designed to do, they expanded inward against my breast tissue, which explains why they never felt right and why my breasts never looked bigger from the expansions.  This was not a good thing.  So as they opened up each of my breasts, there was no extra skin to use that they really needed so they had to pull pretty tight to close the wounds, particularly the outer corners.  And with how tight they had to pull those outer corners to come together, there was great worry that they would lose the blood supply and the skin would die.

I can't quite find the words to describe how I felt when I woke up from that surgery and then back in my room where I started to wake some more.  Something felt odd about my arms.  I couldn't figure out what it was that was weird about how my arms felt.  And then I figured it out.  Before, with my breasts pulled to the sides into my armpits basically, I could never get my arms comfortable at my side because my awful breasts were in the way.  But now, I felt my arms right close touching each side of my chest as I lay there.  To feel my arms at my sides was a feeling I haven't had for over six years.  It felt comfortable for once.  I also noticed that my hands lay on top of my barren and flat chest.  And then it hit me.  I couldn't take it back now.  They were gone.  A part of my female anatomy was gone.  I began to feel a little empty, wondering if this was another setback in my life for finding a mate someday.  But I didn't linger on those feelings too long as it just felt too good to have them gone.  My breasts were hideous after the fire and they caused a great deal of pain and discomfort and embarrassment.  They also always made me look bigger than I was and with them gone now, I didn't look so big and my body took a slimmer shape.  Because of that, there was a little bit of confidence restored in seeing people.

The next day, I saw the doctors.  As I had already taken a look down my gown to see if any skin was dying, I knew they were not going to be happy.  They took down my gown from the shoulder snaps and did not like what they saw.  What they feared would happen because of the failure of the tissue expanders came to be and came to be quite badly.  The corners of each of the flaps of the mastectomy were turning a deep purple and you could see a hint of black coming through.  The areas of the dying skin were too big to be left to heal on their own.  I was hoping to go home in a couple days as my doctor originally said I would but having seen that color, I knew there was going to be another surgery to take out that dead tissue.  I would not be going home. Instead, I would be going under again. 

The surgery for my double mastectomy happened on Friday and I had another surgery scheduled to take care of the dying tissue that following Monday.  And that surgery was going to expose a whole 'nother problem, a very large problem that could have killed me one day and the reason why I just never felt good day after day.  In that surgery when they went to take out the dead skin on the corners of my mastectomy flaps, they discovered something rather odd.  The dead tissue wasn't limited to just those corners.  It was everywhere on my chest underneath where my breasts were.  My doctor said they would just cut and cut, cutting out the dead tissue and there was no blood.  They hoped they would be able to contain the dead tissue they unexpectedly encountered in my chest but as they kept cutting out, there just seemed to be no end to it.  So after some time of just cutting out dead tissue (debridement) they had to stop and have another go at it in another couple of days.  Hearing this news, I was devastated and scared.  I was slowly dying as toxins built up in that dead tissue unable to be flushed out of my system.  Plus it was an unexpected problem that had to now be dealt with which meant a longer stay in the hospital. 

After that surgery on Monday, I was taken into the burn center as a bed opened up for me.  I was so glad to be there.  I felt so much more comfortable there where the rooms were bigger and more comfortable and of course, the staff there is family.  I know EVERYONE there, not just the nurses.  And they are always happy to see me and as my mother had to rearrange her schedule with this unexpected turn of events and go home to go back to work, I would feel better being in the OBC by myself with people taking care of me that I knew and could have a bit of fun with rather than floor 45 with my mom gone.

Since they were unable to get all the dead tissue out in that one try cause they had taken out so much already, they planned to go in for another debridement surgery later that week.  Meanwhile, I was now hooked up to a wound vac on each of the dug out holes on my chest where my breasts used to be.  So I had five tubes coming out of my body, four of them out of my chest alone.  It was now an even bigger feat to get out of bed to go to the bathroom because of having to be careful of all the tubing, permanently attached to two large machines that I had to roll with me everywhere I went, and not to mention just trying to get up out of bed alone as my chest was even weaker than it was before having had not only a double mastectomy but then soon after a lot of tissue dug out of my chest as well. 

With my mom now gone home to go back to work for a few days before coming back for my next surgery, I was feeling alone.  Having familiar nurses and CNA's taking care of me helped but sometimes there was a float that took care of me and didn't know me well and those were hard days and hard nights to get through.  I had to have a wound vac change before my next surgery so I was nervous about that.  Because it's a smaller procedure they were able to set up and do it in the tank room just down the hall in the OBC.  But it's not very comfortable.  I had to ease myself up on to a flat, hard steel slab and lay on it.  There's nothing comfortable about it.  And it brought back some bad memories of when I was first in the hospital after my accident and the days when I would have to go to the tank room and get washed and dressings changed.  It was not a pleasant experience in any way shape or form.  There were always about five nurses working on you at the same time on different areas of your body so it was just constant torture.  And then every once in awhile a doctor or resident, intern or occupational therapist or physical therapist would come in, with me completely naked with this horrible looking swollen and scarred body, to take a look and see how the grafts were doing and how I was healing.  The difference in the wound vac change though was I was still clothed and put under anesthesia.  But still, feeling that awful uncomfortable slab beneath my body and looking up at the ceiling where the shower heads extended from brought back those terrible memories before the anesthesia took me away and I was lost in blackness.

My mother came back up for the third surgery I was scheduled for so I was very happy to see her again.  In this third surgery they did more debridement - cutting away of the dead tissue.  And I came back out of it with a new wound vac and the news that I would need to stay longer and look forward to another surgery.  My doctor had had to cut so much dead tissue away that he had dug clear down to my pectoral muscle so that it was actually showing through the holes he had cut away.  At this time I was staying into my second week and my mother was going back home again on Sunday to work through the week until my next surgery.  When my mother left for the second time on that second Sunday I was there, something in me darkened and I suddenly began feeling the same kind of feelings from when I was first admitted into the hospital.  Things were happening in my current situation that were so similar to those first near four months, both in the events that were taking place and how I felt emotionally and physically.  For one, my mother was getting into the rhythm of coming up to see me on the weekend and then leaving on Sunday to go back home to work on Monday.  I would then be alone for the week missing my mother and family so much.  There was the unknown of the doctor knowing how to proceed next because my body kept throwing them for a loop.  My body not healing accordingly; as they dug out dead tissue they would put the wound vac on which was in the hopes that it would activate my blood vessels to start pumping blood into the surrounding tissue as well as for new tissue to grow so that they would be able to get a graftable surface to graft and get me closer to going home.  This, of course, was not happening and it was frustrating everyone.  I was being thrown into surgery after surgery, wound vac change after wound vac change.  My body was being put threw the ringer and just being beat up.  I began to feel so overwhelmed with all these emotions about everything that was happening to me that it all felt so much like 2008 all over again.  Then suddenly I began having a low blood sugar attack.  So I'm calling the nurse to tell her what's happening and I need juice and cookies while at the same time, I'm starting to having a real, serious nervous breakdown.  Which, only made my low blood sugar attack worse.  Tears were flowing from my eyes.  I couldn't get a control on my breathing.  When my nurse came back with the necessities to bring my blood sugar back up, I was in a full blown nervous breakdown with the added torture of a low blood sugar attack and my mother had just left to go back home so I was facing another week alone.  It was awful. I've never had a real nervous breakdown before.  I've had small panic and anxiety attacks but this was full fledged loss of physical and emotional control.  And to put the cherry on top, I was alone when I lost it.  I had no family or friends around to help me through it.

Inbetween surgeries and wound vac changes I would watch a lot of TV.  When I'm in the hospital there's a lot of reality TV shows on and not much else so I kind of become a reality TV junkie watching shows I would never watch at home.  But I did a lot of channel surfing always looking for something better to hold my attention.  I read when I felt I could concentrate.  Because I had all these tubes coming out of my chest, I wasn't able to shower.  So, once in awhile I would get my hair washed in those caps that they use to wash your hair in bed.  Depending on who was washing my hair, they would attempt to keep my spirits up with fun conversation.  I wasn't too fond of getting my hair washed in the caps though because even though it did feel good afterwards, it always ended up feeling a little greasy.  When certain CNA's were on that love me and I them, they would actually get me out of bed and lean me over the sink in the bathroom and wash my hair with actual water and shampoo.  Boy, I would feel so good then.  It's amazing what a good hair washing can do for ya.  I remember one of the nights when shift change came on and my night nurse came in to see me, it was Glen, one of my absolute favorite nurses there.  He would take care of me a lot when I was still in a coma in the ICU and he was one of the only nurses that would wash my hair.  He thought that was important even though I was in a coma.  And my mother told me he would put that cap on and massage it on my head and just talk away at me like I could hear him.  He's very special to me for that.  So when I saw he was to be my night nurse one night I was overjoyed.  It was one of my better nights there I remember.  He's a blast to talk to, very attentive and of course, he offered to wash my hair that night.  While he was washing my hair, some tears welled up in my eyes as I thought of him doing this for me when I was in a coma and talking to me, believing I could hear him.  And hear he was, doing it again for me and we were just chatting away like two girls.  Another similarity to 2008 that tugged at my heart and brought back memories. 

Everyone who worked at the OBC from nurses to wound care to the manager always loved coming in my room cause despite how I felt on the inside, which was a big emotional mess, I always had a smile and a hug for everyone.  I have a bit of a loud laugh and everyone would always be telling me how they could hear me out in the halls and how they knew that laugh was mine and how much they loved to hear it.  I always liked to make the nurses and CNA's days go a little better by making jokes and being silly whenever they came into my room to attend to me.  They all told me constantly how much they loved taking care of me and how I was everyone's favorite patient.  This would always make me feel better when I was feeling low and lonely. 

I had another surgery coming up and a lot was riding on how I had healed and what they would find when they went back in again.  They desperately needed healthy tissue to grow because they couldn't graft right on my exposed pectoral muscle.  It first needed to be covered with healthy tissue to make for a graftable surface so I would finally be on the track to going home.  This fourth surgery was early in the morning just after the fourth of July.  My mother was there and had risen bright and early to get there to be with me prior to them taking me into the OR.  I was very anxious and worried about this one because I feared that I had not grown the healthy tissue they needed to graft on and they would end up doing more debridement and I would be facing more time in the hospital and more surgeries. By now there were too many similarities to 2008 that were upsetting me terribly, I was incredibly beat up both physically and emotionally and I was ready to go home and be done with this. 

The left side of my chest had luckily grown just enough healthy tissue and a good blood flow to graft on but my right side was still open to my muscle.  So, my doctor decided to stitch together whatever tissue was surrounding the hole that exposed my muscle so that it would also have a graftable surface on which to graft.  And because there was grafting done, that meant a donor site to deal with on top of it.  I didn't know where they were going to take the donor but when I woke, I could definitely feel where they had taken it - my left outer thigh.  And the surgery was a success in what they did.  So despite the terrible pain I was in and this having been my fourth surgery in a matter of only two weeks, I felt that perhaps I would finally be going home soon...I thought.

I was now into my third week at the hospital, having spent the fourth of July in the OBC.  My family and I were supposed to go camping over the Fourth holiday.  I felt that I had screwed that up for everyone.  Later that week, the doctor decided to remove the wound vac and see how the grafts underneath were doing.  I was anxious to see how they were healing.  So the wound vac came off and underneath on each side were healthy looking grafts.  I could feel a great sigh of relief from my doctor when he saw the grafts were healthy after everything we had gone through.  I also had a great feeling of relief sweep through my body and mind that finally something went right in this whole mess. 

The rest of the week was attempting to get my pain under control which is always one of the hardest things they face when operating on me. By this time I was able to go to the bathroom on my own.  It was still hard for me to stand up straight though.  I walked hunched over.  But I was released from the wound vac and the IV fluids finally so I didn't have all these tubes coming out of my chest and I could freely move about, walk in the garden easier than having to take that awful pole with my machines attached to them.  Then there came a rumor that I may be going home that coming weekend.  Possibly Saturday but more likely Sunday.  All the nurses and everyone else at the OBC were happy to hear I was finally going to get to go home after all I had been through in those three weeks but they were sad at the same time because they loved having me there and hearing my laughter float through the halls as well as the fun we always had when they each took care of me.  Sunday came and I was anxious to see the doctor and hear if I would be discharged or not.  The residents came in before Kim did and they told me I would be staying longer to deal with my pain and my heart sank.  This meant my mother would be going home again by herself and leaving me in the hospital for another week.  I was in tears when I called my mom after the residents left to give her the news.  She came to my room not much longer after that and tried to calm me when Dr. Kim entered my room.  He asked how I was feeling and then asked if I felt ready to go home that day.  I must have had the most stunned look on my face because he looked at me and said, "I don't want you to feel evicted or anything but if you are feeling the pain is better I think you are ready to go home."  To which I told him that it wasn't a feeling of being evicted but rather of confusion as the residents had come in earlier and told me I would be staying longer.  He seemed completely confused by this and said no, no, if I felt ready, I could finally go home.  So I said, "uh, YEAH!" 

As my mother and I were gathering my things and getting me ready to leave, nurses and other members of the OBC were coming into my room to say goodbye and that they would miss me.  And as I walked slowly through the hall to leave, those that had not made it yet to my room to say goodbye, stopped me to hug me and wish me well.  It took quite a long time to get down that hall to the doors with everyone that stopped me.  But it was a good feeling to know that I made an impression on everyone in the burn center six years ago and all the times since then that everyone is always excited to take care of me again or just to have me back.  They are not happy for the reason I am back, but happy to see me and brighten their days while I was there.  To make them laugh and hear my laughter once again echo through the halls and put smiles on their faces.

Those three weeks in the hospital were very tough on me making it possibly the second hardest hospitalization I've had there.  The first being when the accident happened.  I was constantly being beat up both physically and emotionally.  My body was just put through the ringer with four surgeries in two weeks, several wound vac changes, dressing changes, and awful pain and stress.  So much of my time in those three weeks was so similar to the three and a half months I first spent there and those similarities caused two serious nervous breakdowns and other emotional hardships.  It was also very hard on my folks with the money spent to go back and forth from La Grande to Portland and back as well as the weary drive itself and sleeping in hotels, having to bear bad news with me, seeing my rather awful chest wounds with four tubes coming out of my chest, to see me in pain and wait in the waiting room for every surgery I went through hoping the doctor would come out with good news for once but always got somewhat bad news and the uncertainty from the doctors what their next action would be to help me.  Not to mention the time they both had to take off work to be down there with me.  I felt so guilty about it all.  But being the wonderful parents they are, they always told me there was nothing bad to feel about, to think nothing of it.  No one expected this kind of disaster to happen and in a way, it was a blessing in disguise because had my double mastectomy actually healed ok and I'd gone home without the discovery of all that dead tissue in my chest, I would have gone on feeling horrible each day as I had been for years and may have possibly gotten septicemia and died one day.  And that's the raw truth of my situation. 

Since those three weeks I have felt so much different, so much better.  But there have been times since I've been home that I've been taken quickly by grief over it all from losing my breasts to the hardships I went through day after day for those three weeks.  I think I had unconsciously forced myself to stay strong through everything that kept happening to me and tell myself I was OK with the double mastectomy while I was there in the hospital that when I had time to really relax and breathe, in my own home and familiar surroundings, I would get hit with grief like a punch to the stomach.  My energy levels are low one moment and high another and once in awhile I get upset and then I get mad at myself for feeling so weak.  But I have to remind myself of everything I went through, how beat up I was and yet, how strong I was to get through it.  Somehow, I willed to get through every day I was there, every goodbye to my mom, every pain, every stress, every surgery and wound vac change, every thing that put me back to 2008, every piece of bad news, every low and every tear that fell from my eyes.  I look back on those three weeks and wonder how I got through it all.  Sometimes, just sometimes, I give myself the credit of having the strength to have done so cause I'll tell ya, it was a most terrible and lonely experience.  But I also have a belief more so now since then that I'm gonna be OK.  At least for now.....

Saturday, March 8, 2014

My Latest Drop-Out and the Resulting Come Back

I must apologize for my absence.  I can't believe I haven't written anything since November!  I've been in a bit of a slump.  Ok, not just a bit.  A nasty bit of a slump that started around Thanksgiving and hasn't let up till a couple weeks ago.  And I can't really explain to you why.  But, that's kind of how depression works.  There's not always a trigger.  Sometimes, you just wake up one morning and find one day that you've lost interest in life.  And it's a horrible feeling.  Activities you used to enjoy no longer hold any interest.  Even thinking about doing an activity you used to love to do highly irritates you because you know you love the activity and you know it would make your day much more pleasant but you just don't want to do it.  Even trying to start up the activity, say reading, just gets you even more annoyed cause you love to read and it would make your day a little nicer but you have no interest in it!  So, you put it away and turn on the TV and sometimes there's something on and sometimes there's nothing.  Either way, you still end up finding yourself just staring at the TV, not really paying attention to what's playing on the screen cause your mind is elsewhere.  And you just waste your day away, having done nothing but stare at the TV and sleep.  This has basically been my life from around Thanksgiving to middle of February. 

So my 2014 new year didn't exactly start off so well but it has definitely gotten better.  MUCH better.  First off, I made a decision to try and start treating my health, both physically and mentally (particularly mentally) in a much more natural way.  I've been on a variety of mental health drugs for 14 years now and they never really helped until not too long ago I got on a couple medications that seemed to really agree with me.  But months later, I started doing some research online and reading books about how to treat and also deal with your physical and mental health naturally, without drugs or without so many drugs at least.  And it got me motivated.  I started by asking my mental health doctor if I could get off the klonopin and use it only as needed, like, when I get anxiety/panic attacks because I started to get them and have heavy anxiety since my accident.  But because of another drug I was on that treats for depression, it also has qualities that help with anxiety as well so I felt that I was doing ok without the klonopin and relying more on this other drug using klonopin more as a breakthrough medicine when an attack occurred or if I started to get too stressed and/or anxious.  He agreed and I have successfully weaned off klonopin using it only for breakthrough stress and anxiety! 

My next goal was a drug that I really didn't want to be on because of it's terrible side effects for diabetes as well as awful weight gain.  My diabetes has been very bad for the past 6 months and with more research I began to suspect this one particular drug I was on for a mood stabilizer.  My A1C's were terrible in the low 9.0 range.  I couldn't get my blood sugars under control no matter how hard I tried.  And get this - all that weight I lost, the 18lbs I lost at the end of 2013, all came back.  And it wasn't because of what I was eating or my lifestyle.  I was so mad.  I worked so hard on losing that weight.  And losing weight is hard for me because I'm always on a lot of pills, my exercise is low and limited because of my limited mobility and muscle loss from the accident.  So, again I went to my mental health doctor and asked him for his advice on weaning off of this drug I was on for mood stabilization.  And to my surprise, he was all for it for exactly the same reasons I wanted to get off of it - weight gain and bad for my diabetes.  So, he wrote out a schedule for getting me off it and I'm now down to 3 more weeks of weaning and then I will officially be off of it! 

But my diabetes was still not getting much better as I have been weaning off and as my dosage was lowered every two weeks I began to feel a difference in my mood.  So back to researching I went and I bought this book titled, "Kitchen Cures; Revolutionize Your Health with Foods that Cure." I discovered a few things that I wanted to try - a mix of herbal supplements and vitamins to treat my mood problem and help get my diabetes under control.  Most of the vitamins I knew what they worked for but most of the supplements were new to me.  For my mood I am taking vitamin B (super B-complex), Sacha Inchi Seeds, and L-Dopa.  Sacha Inchi Seeds play a major role in my mood as they are the most nutrient dense seeds when it comes to brain health.  They contain the highest plant-based source of Omega-3's in the world, which not only help with heart health but, also do big things in improving cognitive functioning and fighting depression.  The L-Dopa supplement also works to improve mood and fight depression as L-dopa is what anti-depressants work to increase in your brain to fight depression.  So instead of taking this drug that was hurting me with weight gain and destroying my diabetes and all other horrible side effects that come with it like difficulty with speaking, drooling, restlessness, muscle trembling and jerking, shuffling walk, drowsiness, constipation, etc. I am currently weaning off of it with three weeks to go and trading in for more natural ways with less horrific side effects to treat my mood disorder.  And I'm doing great!  I have definitely felt better in my mental health and stable moods so I don't miss that drug one bit. 

As for how my diabetes is reacting as I'm weaning off that drug, it got better but it still needed to get MUCH better.  So, in my research I discovered and started taking cinnamon w/chromium and chia seeds.  And what an amazing change!!  My blood sugars came down and were coming down so much more that I was often having low blood sugars.  I think also in my reading about them that those supplements are making me more sensitive to insulin so the insulin I have to take from my insulin pump is much more effective because my body has become more sensitive to it.  So, once again my body is responding more effectively to just natural supplements and vitamins rather than man-made drugs. 

The chia seeds and the cinnamon w/chromium supplement also perform double duty.  They help with weight loss!  Since I gained back all my weight that I worked so hard to lose, when the new year rang I promised myself with absolution that this would be the year I got it off.  That I wouldn't be saying the same thing in 2015 about losing weight cause I will have done it finally.  I'm tired of saying "I'm gonna do it this time!  This is the year.  Just watch me, I'll do it," and then eating my words when the next year comes around and I am saying the same mantra over again cause I couldn't do it last year.  I am deadly serious this year about losing my weight that I gained while I was in the hospital.  This is my year of massive positive change; a complete body, mind and soul make-over.  My mind is being worked on by weaning off as many man-made drugs as I can and replacing with natural things.  As for working on my weight loss for my body make-over part, I did serious research on supplements and vitamins that help aid weight loss.  Now I'm not talking "diet pills" cause I don't believe in them.  I'm talking about herbal supplements, natural aids for weight loss.  And what I found is kelp tablets, yacon syrup, cayenne tablets, the cinnamon w/chromium supplement and the chia seeds, apple cider vinegar tablets (for fluid retention), and the sacha incha seeds also perform double duty as they aid your body in weight loss as well as aiding your mood.  If you have a sluggish thyroid or hypothyroid disease (which I do and I take a drug for it every morning) iodine is a major contributor to helping your thyroid work correctly and kelp has a lot of iodine in it so it's very good for you to either eat or take as a supplement to lose weight.  There are also certain foods that are high in iodine that you can look up as well.  Kelp, eggs, fish, and sea salt are just a few examples of where you can find iodine naturally in food.  Since there's not a lot of foods that are high in iodine I chose to take the kelp supplements.  I have been taking this weight loss supplement regimen religiously and eating foods that work for my body and staying away from certain foods that DON'T work for my body (not all healthy foods may work with your body to lose weight) and I've been losing and feeling great! 

That book I bought enlightened me to a whole new way of looking at food and I do not kid you, it's working.  No "take this diet pill" or "don't eat any carbs" bullshit in there.  I have discovered all these supplements to aid me in my mental health and weight loss as well as foods that are good for MY particular body AND foods that may be healthy for someone else but do not work for my body.  Having weaned off a couple man-made drugs and replaced with natural drugs and treating my mind and body naturally, I feel cleaner inside, if that makes sense.  Not so polluted with those drugs that gave my body all these horrible side effects to deal with.  My moods are naturally more positive and stable without altering it with chemicals.  I feel like I can deal with things and situations better unless it becomes too stressful and an anxiety attack occurs then I treat myself with a drug.  Weight loss is happening!  And I just feel like I'm treating my body better.  I was always so chemically altered and dirty until I decided to make a change and cleanse myself.  I'm still on one last drug, an anti depressant but I can only wean off these drugs slowly and one at a time so I hope that after this second drug that I'm weaning off of is done, I can perhaps see if I can be totally free of all mental health drugs and treat myself with my natural supplements.  I will always be on pain killer drugs.  But I really need those for the chronic pain I have and the pain I have with surgeries.  Having said all that, as a psychology major and just my own personal beliefs, I do believe that there are certain people and certain situations that require the use of man-made drugs.  My choice to stop being treated with man-made drugs and altering chemicals was simply that - MY CHOICE.  It was a matter of needing a change and how I felt.  This is not a post for anti-mental health drugs.  I believe in them for the right reasons and the right situations but I don't believe I am one of those right situations anymore.  I once was, but, not anymore.

I am coming out of my depression slump slowly so far with mind and body cleanses and changes but I need to work on my soul as well.  I have always been an avid reader.  I always had my nose in a book and I was often still up at 3am reading a book.  I have been that way all my life but every once in awhile it's like I just drop out of life like dropping out of school.  I no longer do anything I used to do; no hobbies like reading, cross stitching, scrapbooking, puzzles, paint by number, etc.  I just waste away my days with mindless TV and thinking too hard on how much my life sucks which only pollute my mind and body with negative thoughts like hopelessness and intense anger.  But my latest drop out is on it's way out I think as my nose is back into books big time, I am playing the piano and among other things, I am working heavily on my supplement and vitamin regimen to keep myself in positive working order with my weight loss and my mental health. I am doing much better lately and it feels great.  In fact, stay tuned for another post very, very soon about my latest surgery that was a HUGE success and has made me very happy!