# 149 LIVING MOMENT-BY-MOMENT

 I now have a new computer and am thrilled because my others had given me headaches when trying to write and post.

Things are changing in this part of my teeny world since I've finally purchased and am using my first MacBook Pro. I'm now on a steep learning curve and often veer off path as I try to figure out this new existence sans a PC.

As for living with Addison's, this year we've jumped back into traveling with an effort far bigger than a splash. I'll be sharing how we've experienced beautiful travels as Addison's is a concern along the way.

Nana & Pappy on another cruise to the Western Caribbean this summer.

No matter, for 2022, I've enjoyed beautiful days of immense adventure and other bed-ridden days where I'm content to binge some series on Netflix or Hulu. On the difficult days, I struggle, but I constantly make peace with my day-to-day physical limitation.

Adaptation is key to living a great life with Addison's or with any physical condition that demands your attention, whether it be sudden or a snowball sort of attention-grabbing health issues.

The days when there are only slight taps on the shoulder, "Excuse me, could you spare me a brief moment so we can avoid the brick wall ahead," are the best kinds. On those days, you're in tune with your body, and no sneaky-fox Addison's symptoms are pouncing upon you.

Here I am at the start of summer at 54. No makeup.

Just me with my art supplies.

Traveling can be a challenging time when you have Addison's, but I don't let it hold me back, until it actually pulls me down and my moment of choice has altered to a moment of adapting to what I MUST do to get through the worst of it.

I take decent care of myself, and I don't hold back seizing the day. And yes, that means confronting my health needs, being prepared, listening to my body, and knowing when to stop seizing and to instead wave the little white flag.

On the white flag days, I make a hasty retreat to climb into bed and allow my body to do the dance of calming rest.

I've lived with Addison's a long time and have had a rather joyful existence despite very critical times... a broken neck and other multiple surgeries that were about as high on a surgical-risk scale as you can get for a normal, healthy person, but I got through them with Addison's. 

There have been illnesses and heart-wrenching deaths of people I most loved, and I figured out how to get through it all... with Addison's pouncing on my devastated state of existence. Staying on top of my blood pressure, heart rate, medicine, and it can be a juggling act. Times of loss can make it extremely difficult to manage Addison's. 

We all walked to a special spot in Texas to spread my father's ashes. With my mother's.

That's Coco, his oldest great-grandchild walking in front of me.

In 2020, I lost my father, and I will admit that the year that followed his death put a strain upon my body as never before. His passing caused extreme stress, which made managing Addison's a warring time for my body.

There were many months when I had trouble walking... forget stairs... and I lived with nausea. I did take stress doses, but there is no easy way around the ups and downs that come with profound loss. It was an Addison's nightmare that I did my best to handle without adding stress upon others, but it was probably the most dangerous phase for me, other than my surgeries.

Dad is now with Mom who died in 2006 at 57-years-old due to breast cancer. Dad was 74, and I had selfishly wanted more time with him. He went to Italy shortly before he passed, spending a good deal of time there. I'm glad he did so much in life, but he's now moved to a new address in Heaven, again with so many people he loved. 

I'll write more about his passing later because my long-time readers know of my closeness with my father. I have been blessed.

My mom and dad when we lived in Scotland. I took this picture of them.

But the good days give me reason to savor each second of treasured vibrancy, whether it be from a sedentary position or with me dancing in celebration. I go with what I'm given. 

I barter with my body. I know, for the most part, about the precarious give-and-take relationship I share within it. If I don't listen to my body's needs as it carries a passenger I must address, then that passenger, Addison's, will rule the day... and perhaps more.

To get to my next best day, I've got to listen to the passenger inside. I have to stay on top of things to keep it quiet and satisfied. Sometimes it makes demands upon me that I cannot overrule, and this is when adapting is the key to living a great life. I refuse to hand over more than is absolutely necessary to this passenger.

That means I don't let Addison's own me. I refuse to let it hold my life hostage. When strong, energetic days are presented, I don't question it. On those days, I get into the highest gear allowed and tackle as much as I can for as long as I can.

Pappy with our two oldest grandsons & Nyms.

With Addison's, you never know how the next day might go, so when the good days come, you make it work for you. Those are often catch-up days. Those are the days when I am enthusiastic yet a microscopic part of me yearns for the pre-Addison days when I hadn't known high gear would become a rarity.

These days, I have leveled-out, for the most part. I do not have many high-gear days nor too many days of feeling dissolved, but both kinds of days do make their respective appearances here and there. 

The "walking through mud" sensation I began having when Addison's decided I was a prime vehicle for it to hitch a lifelong ride in... that sensation is still with me, more or less. Depending on the day, there is either thick mud I must press and battle to wade through with each step or there are energetic days when it's easier to move, but the mud then can fall upon me from the Heavens, threatening to press me to the ground. 

Having Addison's is indescribable, but when my blood pressure and electrolytes go out of whack, I can feel like a rag doll surrounded by mud. That's the best way I can describe it.

Sometimes my symptoms are in check with treatment and are barely noticeable, but I've never had a day when the disease is completely absent. And yes, I have to turn down more invitations than I'd like. I have to ration my energy. For me, it is more than a precious commodity.

If I want to show true love for my family, I've got to be real with my limitations yet not use the disease to bail out of life. The stressful things do take a toll, that's the entire nature of Addison's, yet I have to decide how much of a toll I can manage with medication.

On a recent cruise in May. At the "no choice" phase. I had to rest.

Sometimes I appear normal looking on the outside, and then I'll have a day when strangers reach out to ask if I'm okay or their eyes hesitate upon me for too long as their expressions reveal concern. Boy, I don't like those days.

My grown daughters understand that my body requires more rest than it once did, and they're totally onboard with normalizing my normal, and I love their own adaptability. I have daughters who are now amazing women, wonderful mothers, and we all treasure one another.

With my oldest daughter, Heather. 

I can't put into words what she means to my heart and soul.

We can never make it through photos without cracking up.

Regardless of what each day holds, I keep wading through the mud on the days when it is all but a brick wall, and I must battle to get to the bathroom. And like I said earlier, sometimes the mud moves from in front of me, changing consistency and coming at me from a new direction... falling upon me, like an invisible light rain that isn't actually light. It is pressing. It's a strange resistance when our body is affected by the worst of Addison's.

And as I age, now in my fabulous fifties, I find some things are harder because of Addison's, but the strange thing is that a lot of things are easier. Living with this passenger for over two decades has taught me valuable lessons. 

Me with my youngest son-in-law, Brice this summer.

This specific, unique disease has taught me specific, unique life-saving attitudes and behaviors. Those translate to prompt me to make the best actions for surviving the mud-slinging disease I've come to study, respect, and learn.

After all, my attitude is the best shovel one can own against this disease. Years and years ago, I thought Finding Lana would be easier after Addison's hailed me as its permanent ride when I was 33-years-old, but I've learned that finding my adaptable self is a lifelong journey. Addison's means various phases of life will require additional adapting to the disease... in many ways. I'll age into new issues, but Addison's always complicates matters, and I do not ignore that fact.

If you have Addison's or any other disease or condition that requires vigilant attention, I hope you never stop figuring out how to help yourself make it through days when the mud is packed around you.

This is a recent 24-hour time constraint charcoal

of my oldest daughter, from when she was a kid.

Take notice of your body and take NOTES. Figure out what makes days better and what makes them worse. Monitor your vitals, Juggle those medications to give yourself the best Addison's ever-changing self-treatment that you can muster.

I want others to know there are treasured lessons that come from great struggles, lessons healthy people are often ignorant in knowing. That's not a bad thing. But, living with such a struggle can provide rare Masterclass lessons in countless ways, giving you "new" eyes for seeing everything touched by life. 

My oldest grandchild, Coco.

My youngest daughter, Stefie, with her beautiful family.

My goofy husband to whom I've been married a LONG time.

We not killed each other, and the lack of bloodshed has been worth it!

If you can figure it out, tell me the good lessons - the surprising lessons - and the lessons you might not have learned without the boost from whatever it is that requires you to adapt.

Keep your inner shovel ready, but know when to set it aside and tune-out the world so you can endure the worst, whether the worst be minutes long or longer. How do you adapt and make life matter during those moments?

What matters to you? How do you provide self-care and self-nurturing.

For me, I take actions to make life worth living. I savor the small stuff for as long as possible and spit out the bitter as fast as I can. I make downtimes work for me, either through that tv binging, through writing, or through art. During those times, my passenger must stay seated and well-mannered because I'm still in charge.

Treating my in-laws to another late lunch.

How do you hand peace to your inner-self in spite of a raucous passenger? What is your distraction?

Live well, MOMENT-BY-MOMENT, no matter your speed!

***

PS: Leave a comment. I'll have to moderate it, but it will then post to the comments section for others to see and for me to respond to.

# 116 - More Glandular Failure

As a woman with Addison's disease, one of the heightened areas of concern has been for my doctors to keep an eye on other glands in my body, watching for multi-glandular failure.

Interestingly, I have participated in several studies and for various academic papers and one question recently posed was for me to share advice I'd give to a newly diagnosed Addison's patient. First of all, whenever I say "Addison's," please know that the term, for me, includes all persons with adrenal insufficiency.

The answer to that question is wide and varied. However, after dealing with Addison's disease that was officially diagnosed by a huge medical team, while hospitalized during a crisis in 2001, I've dealt with many lessons this odd disease will bring into your life.

Lately though, I've discovered that this disease has caused me to go into complete Ovarian failure. It must have begun last year, at 42 years of age. To be quite descriptive, I have been without a period for over nine months, but the last few that I did have were quite different from the endometriosis nightmare monthlies I'd suffered with during my "good" ovary days.

My last gynecologist had told me, about two years ago, that he believed I was going into ovarian failure. He stated that I was too young to be in menopause and my estrogen levels, etc., showed I was not pre-menopausal, but Addison's disease has a different plan for these glands. We must remember that ovaries are glands. Apparently, my body has decided to do away with these as well.

This past week, my new gyn was fairly nervous about broaching this subject, until I assured him that I've been through the medical ringer and he did not need to treat me with kid-gloves. Unlike other women I know with Addison's who are very young, in their 20's, and experiencing devastation at their ovarian failure, I am 43 and have had the blessing to give birth to two daughters when I was very young.

As my gyn put it, "The eggs are forever gone, no more left to do business with in the uterus."

For me, I'd already mourned the loss of my childbearing years in the last five years. I guess most women do this at the realization that those beautiful days are gone. Those beautiful, frantic, exhausting, rewarding, frustrating days are in the past. My days with raising kids has been fulfilled.

Yes, to be honest, I loved making children with my husband! I can't imagine any other parents being as joyful as we had been to produce offspring. We were giddy in love and crazy about our babies before they were even born. My husband would put his face against my belly every evening and talk to the baby...he wanted to make SURE they recognized his voice upon their birth. He never failed to make sure he told the forming babe that he loved them and couldn't wait to meet them in person.

Myself, I'd read books to my growing abdomen and dreamed of the day I'd read those same books with the child in my arms. It happened. My dreams came true.

So, I've been blessed. To be told at 43 years of age that my ovaries are kaput is not anything but more dreary news about my body sputtering with problems due to health issues. My dentist friend joked with me this past week about it (we've known each other for 20 years), he said, "Better it be a gland to fail than an organ."

Yes, that is true. And better it be a gland or two that I've already put to work so beautifully. I must say, my ovaries and my genes combined with my husband's did produce two remarkable beauties. So, I feel blessed in spite of being told that a hysterectomy might be in order.

The next step to follow all the urine samplings and extensive tubes of blood for every test imaginable to a gyn...I am scheduled for a mammogram, as a precaution since my mother died at 57 from breast cancer, and to get the "magic wand" ultrasound. For those of you who don't know what that is, well, it's an internal ultrasound for women...use the imagination...a wand that is inserted to get an up close view of the uterus, firsthand.

The first time I showed up for one of these ultrasounds, I thought I was to have a normal, abdominal ultrasound and was literally horrified by the contraption that the technician pulled out and waved about as if it were a sword. I felt tricked. I felt as if I were about to experience a technological violation! However, she quickly discovered by my fallen open jaw and shocked expression that I had never even imagined such a test existed. She stopped everything and explained the ultrasound thoroughly before going further.

Obviously, I have lived under a lot of "protection" from these kinds of things. To each their own. For me, it was disturbing.

Now, I must have another tryst with the magic wand so that we can see what is happening with the uterus and the fibroids that have long been present, yet stable. I'm not relishing the idea of another surgery. I'd been hoping to get by without ever needing another since I've had a minimum of seven surgeries already, each a major surgery. We all know that Addison's disease brings great risks with surgery. The doctor already mentioned the risks several times during our appointment, but he already thinks it is probably necessary.

I wondered, if the ovaries are failing, is it necessary to remove them because they might do further harm by remaining inside the body? I know nothing about any of this stuff. If anyone knows, I'd love to get your experienced or friend-shared knowledge.

For now, I sit here with my withering ovaries and wonder what else is withering? Pretty soon, I'll be completely vacant inside! So much will be removed from my body that I'll be hollowed out. Well, it seems like it.

I guess I had always wanted to be the Bionic Woman when I was a young girl. I'm half-way there. I have all of the loss and removals, but none of the military bionic parts that would make me super-human. I guess I should be fair and mention the titaniam parts I have throughout my body. Oh well, I guess I will be content to be myself, even if that means there is less of me to end with than had been with me to start.

Life is like that sometimes.

For those women who are newly diagnosed, I'd give advice to you to see a specialized OB-GYN right away, if you feel like going and expect to have children. Do not delay. I've personally known too many women with Addison's who have experienced ovarian failure because of this disease. For some, it happens sooner than for others. If it is possible, you could have your eggs harvested and stored for future decisions about children, at least the stored eggs would allow a decision to be made with less stress pressing down upon you. With the ovaries failing, you often still have the uterus and the ability to carry a child. So, think it over and spread the word.

When I was first diagnosed, I was told that ovarian failure was a possibility, but no one discussed the options. No one pressed upon me the decisions that I could make to enable us to have more children down the line. Since I was only 33 years of age at the time of diagnosis, this might have been imperative to us, had we wanted more children. To be fair, I had been critically ill for an extended period of time and it would probably have been impossible for me to carry a child to term. I still do not feel that any physician ever took the time to fully explain the ramifications of this disease upon other glands, bones, etc., because none of them really seemed to understand it themselves. The hint of information passed along seemed to come from what little textbook notes were available at the time...not much and often outdated with faded information that no longer proved valuable.

So, we must pass this critical information along on our own, by personal experience with having this disease, especially to the younger women who are finding themselves officially diagnosed with this condition. They need to be able to make every decision possible for themselves concerning their body's potential for more problems down the road. Explanations in the most simple form is best --- straight to the matter and without holding back. Treating the issue lightly will not make the problem less daunting. It would be best to lay potential problems on the table and let the woman with Addison's make her own decisions that will impact the remainder of her life. To NOT be told is the worst scenario. Knowledge can cause anguish, but knowledge definitely holds power.

These days, I am delighted to have grown daughters who will probably discover what it means to have their own children and their own set of challenges in this regard, pretty soon. The thought delights me in more ways than one. I am also delighted with my little niece Shaye because she is more like a grandchild to me than a niece. Since my mother passed away, I dote upon her as if she were a grand-daughter. My sister has been exceedingly beautiful in character by making sure that her daughter and me are well connected. Such a good heart is exposed by this depth of sharing.

Of course, my sister knows I'm up for babysitting whenever she and her husband want a date night, but if I happen to be busy doing something else, she doesn't seek to persecute me for having a life of my own either...so generous of her! Most of all, my sister is wise enough to know that her daughter will benefit from having other family members, older family members, in her circle of love. Denying a child that benefit is a form of cruelty and ugly selfishness. My children were always exposed to the elders in the family, on both my side and my husband's side. This is how they learn that being older doesn't mean you aren't fun and this helped them to respect the elderly for their position in life.

This past week, me and my niece, Shaye.
March 2012

Speaking of ovaries, it had been thought that my sister would never be able to have children of her own, so her ability to give birth to her child, Shaye, has been a massive blessing. Shaye is her one and only biological child, yet she is blessed to also have a step-son. My sister is a wonderful mother and one of my best-friends. We work hard to enrich each other's life and never to do anything to destruct it. That is the most wonderful kind of love anyone can experience.

Anyway, I wanted to pass on the latest in the Addison's disease saga, yet not leave you with worry or sadness. My life is full and rich. The Lord blessed me young. My young daughters still have a great deal of growing up to do, but my position these days is to kind of stand back and let them do the rest of it pretty much on their own. My "mothering" is not really needed any longer. My ovaries retired long ago in the truest sense and the cords have been cut. If my daughters ever need motherly advice, I'm here. If I'm not able to answer the phone the first time around, it surely doesn't mean I'm not here, it just means I couldn't get to the phone that time! My ovaries may be out of commission, but the best part of my mothering is still here...ME!

Bottom line is...they have a mom who is available. Since I no longer have a mom to answer the phone on the other line, I understand fully what the absence of a mother truly means. If my girls need a friend, I'm also here, but at times it might be good for their actual "friends" to fulfill this role. That said, I am thrilled that my youngest daughter and I hit that mutual respect of friendship very quickly...I respect what she tells me and she is respectful and a true friend with what I tell her. I can tell that she is a mature little thing, at only 21 years of age, unlike so many other young people her age that spew anything they know during a fit because it seems to suit their mood in ugliness. It's sad that it's so difficult for young people to find a true friend; too many are so self-involved that they are incapable of being a loyal friend to anyone, yet they expect everyone else to be loyal to them. One day, maybe they'll learn that friendship is a two-way street. I'm thankful Stefie is a wise friend at such a young age. I'm thankful that my sister is such a meaningful best-friend, then I have so many others as well who are dear friends. I am not lacking. But, it is certainly a wonder to behold as you realize that you gave birth to one of your best-friends! Yes, my ovaries have been good to me.

I cannot hold back my great happiness with my youngest child and there is no reason why I shouldn't make it known to everyone...she is a treasure in my life because she makes missing my mother less painful...my friendship with her is highly valued. I'd literally trust Stefie with making decisions about my life. If only all mothers could feel that way about their children. Again, I am blessed!

I'm sure my niece will be a great friend to her own mother, once she is in her
20's and I hope to also include her in my tight circle of true friends one day.
For now, she gets full attention as the five year old who has unending questions,
and I am glad to provide unending answers to keep her on her toes!

Speaking of deep friendships, I had discussed these woman-issues with my daughter Stefie over the past few months. It's odd, yet she had already suggested to me that I was in ovarian failure before the doctor confirmed it. She's very involved in her own life with working to finish her degree and has her own issues to confront, yet she still cares about her mom enough to delve a little into the issue and pay attention to the "Addison's disease" complications. So, the diagnosis was not a surprise to her, yet she's always saddened to discover a new way that this disease is trying to take me down.

Talking with her comforts me. I'll always remember her for being here for me during these past few months of great upheaval during my disability filing, during the administrative hearing sadness and through ongoing compounded medical issues in addition to other areas of big change in our lives. She knows better than anyone how I am impacted. Her compassion and selflessness is a salve for the soul. Is it no wonder that I am eager to return her friendship?

Ovaries, you failed me with perfect timing. I cannot complain. Addison's disease could not rob me this time around for I am already blessed indeed!

# 114 - Heartache for Victims of Mother Nature

I have been spending part of my morning looking over the pictures. the widespread devastation and I've been reading heart-wrenching stories about the loss of life from the five state weather system of destructive tornadoes to hit again yesterday.

This has been a week of profound loss for so many people. A week of unimaginable terror and horror as survivors muddle their way through their own loss while trying to be supportive to their neighbors.

Since we've lived through the devastation of Mother Nature ourselves, we know about the horrible heartache that comes with a landscape that is wrecked and lives that are forever lost; it can be the worst scene imaginable.

I have a heart and soul that aches for everyone touched by these tragic events that are difficult to understand. I pray that all of our combined heartaches will indeed help the victims bear the burdens of loss. I hope that our tears for those who are suffering will somehow let others know that we are thinking of them and praying for them, even if we aren't close by.

Regardless, you don't have to live through such an event to understand loss. We Americans pull together in such times; it is our way of life. I am eager to take some of our household belongings to any local church that will be making donations to the victims of these tragic circumstances.

May God's all-knowing love be tangible for us in this very imperfect world as we endure the hardships of this life. May those who were taken by the destructive winds be embraced in the peace of Heaven and free from all material things that the rest of us are left to sift through and put back together as best as we can.

And know that all of you who are closest to the tragedy...I pray that God strengthens you so that you may make a difference to those who are suffering, no matter how big or small the hand that reaches out, may it be blessed ten-fold for its compassion.

Lana

#92 - Remembering...Always

I cannot blog about regular things right now. My family is constantly giving our attention to hearing the stories of the 9/11 victims, survivors and of those who were directly impacted. If they have a story to tell, we have the time to listen. We honor each and every one of them.


Most of us around the world remember 9/11. We remember where we were, what we were doing, and how we found out about the attacks on our country and our people...we remember.

After you read what I've written during my heavy-hearted state of remembrance, I would like to know where you were when you discovered America was under attack...what were you doing and how did you first learn of these horrible truths? Each of us has an account of this historic tragedy and we should make our voices heard.

I learned of this attack during a very challenging time in my life. I had become seriously ill and was deteriorating quickly. On September 11, 2001, I could not know that within a month's time that I would be 33 years old and lying in a hospital bed, coding. But, on this fateful morning, I had made the difficult decision to drive my kids to school, even though my body was extremely weak. I wanted to do normal "mommy" things because it was becoming more and more difficult, for some reason. I just wanted to drive my kids to school.

My husband listens to AM Talk News and the radio dial just happened to be on his station as we got in the car. We didn't change the station and this was unusual because we girls always put the music on right away. As I was pulling into the Elementary school's parking lot drop-off lane, I heard the announcer say that the World Trade Center just had a "small" plane fly into it by accident. It was reported with a rather callous attitude that is so typical of big city news reporters...just another unfortunate accident to report.

Then, I suppose because the event seemed to be more newsworthy than initially believed, the station hooked the news reporter by phone to an eye-witness of the events - he'd called in and had a bird's eye view of the entire scene since he lived in a highrise adjacent to the World Trade Center. The caller was giving a vivid verbal description of what he'd seen so far and about how shocking it was to see the building burning. He even told the main news reporter that he did not believe it was a small plane that had crashed, but he believed it to have resembled a commercial jetliner.

I had dropped off my youngest and had turned the volume up as loud as I could stand. My car was stuck in the middle of jam-packed school traffic as I was waiting for my turn at the stop sign. Tension filled my body as I listened to this caller's wise, honest words. And as he was giving a repeat account of what he'd seen from his window during the first plane crash, his voice filled with horror and screams as he began to say that he'd just seen another plane, a large plane that looked commercial, probably with passengers, and it had just flown into the other building. He could feel the heat from the raging inferno. He had to get out of there. He was screaming and losing the ability to relay information due to rising panic. His voice was so filled with horror and terror that I was in disbelief.

The news station cut off the eye-witness account because of his disturbing description and because the fear in his voice was contagious. The station's reporter came back on and tried to say that there has somehow been two tragic accidents involving aircraft and that the weather or something must have caused the tragedies. I hit my steering wheel and yelled, "These were NOT DAMN ACCIDENTS!" I knew these were terrorists acts. I'd lived with a husband who served in the military on special duty as an Anti-Terrorist Police...I knew for years and years that America was living on borrowed time and that the terrorism would soon hit our shores. But, frankly, I thought it would start with bombings such as London and Paris had experienced for so long...bombs in trash cans, at sidewalk cafes, etc., but this act of terrorism went beyond what I had imagined would take place.

Within a couple of minutes after the stammering reporter had tried to convince himself and his listeners, with hope, that these were "accidents," the images would be on every television station and all illusions of these being "accidents" were shattered. You could hear the devastation in his voice as another announcer joined him and slowly edged him out. I'm sure he didn't even know what to say as he sat and watched the horrible scene, live.

Thank goodness that before the 2nd plane had hit (I believe) my daughter had exited the car. I didn't have any idea that the attacks would continue. I had kissed her goodbye with the hopes that our day would not be devastated by these events...life is full of tragedy and we must keep going to the best of our ability.

My body was shaking. I remember stumbling when I exited my car to walk inside the house. My ears were ringing from the loud static filled news I'd been listening to for the past fifteen minutes. I walked in the door to find my husband in our bedroom watching television and the screen was showing the replays of the buildings being hit by planes. The replays were continuous, as if we would not absorb the reality. Strangely, my husband had the day off of work. It was supposed to be a day of us relaxing and enjoying solitude, probably with him going fishing. But, as we watched the live reports of the building in flames...we both knew, along with millions of others watching their televisions, that there would be no way fire and police rescue would be able to find much success with that level of destruction at such heights. I sat and cried, but Deputy Dave, at one point, jumped up and left the room. He had to go to the garage and find something to do with his hands. He was filled with a burst of rage. I think everyone felt helpless.

Little did we know, as we again sat together to watch the continuing destruction, that the buildings would fall out of the sky. America would never be the same. My children complained that afternoon because they had wanted me to pick them up from school during the day. But, I didn't. For good reason, I didn't want to give in at our level to the terrorist devastation. I did let them stay home the following day, but we each have memories of being in our particular place in time, as we were living our regular lives with such unthinkable acts taking place so far from Texas, yet so close to our hearts.

***************

These devastating times will forever be locked into our memories, but the memorials being built to honor the innocent victims of these terrorist attacks will serve a great purpose to help future generations recall how regular people murdered that day throughout our nation became eternal heros.

Indeed, with the exception of some stanch military people at the Pentagon, most of the people killed during the 9/11 attacks never imagined, in their possible fear and suffering, that they would ever earn the title of "hero." The grandma going to see her grandchildren could not imagine she would die a hero. She thought herself to be a simple grandma. The young father and businessman did not see himself as a hero, he had taken the corporate route and was enjoying the fruits of his labor after so many years dedicated to furthering his education. No, he might have seen himself as determined, but not heroic. So many people, just like us, ordinary people, but they transformed that day from ordinary to extraordinary due to their horrific circumstances. In an instant...they became the hero in our eyes because it could have indeed been any one of us standing in our office, doing our daily job, yet finding ourselves under an unfair, horrendous attack.

Nonetheless, their tragic fates became our cry out for justice and for recognition of their ultimate sacrifice. All of the people that were lost to 9/11 will be remembered as those who represent us ordinary people. They were the ones who will be forever remembered because they were sacrificed while embracing democracy and its ideals...being able to purchase a ticket to your desired destination, being able to work at the level you worked hard to achieve following stringent personal dedication; being able to serve your country because it is your choice to do so; being able to be a proud mom because you know it makes a positive difference...each person that day represented our freedoms and the beauty it offers.

A twisted set of minds found themselves compelled to express the most ultimate form of hate against our freedoms...those minds would be the weak chain without understanding as the strength of energy and passion of enduring freedom surrounded the innocent ones lost to madness. The innocent ones would be our focus and they would earn our respect with eternal honor.

For us citizens in America, we found our hearts being torn out on this day as many of us watched as our fellow Americans...our family, our friends, our neighbors, co-workers, and ordinary people like us...die because of warped, evil mindsets.

But, we must not forget. This tragedy occurred on American soil, but people representing 90 other countries were impacted by this loss. The terrorists did not isolate their evil intentions upon America...they inflicted random, indiscriminate terror upon innocent civilians who were simply trying to go about their normal day. However, after 9/11, nothing would be "normal" again as ordinary citizens realized that they too might be called to duty, at any given moment. The duty would be unimaginable, allowing for no preparation and with no training or opportunity to get one's final affairs in order as a precaution. How do you defend yourself when confronted by a terrorist on the plane you are flying in?

Sadly, our fellow civilians found themselves under attack of vicious people who have no morals and no room for God in their hearts. When these terrorists link God in the same paragraph as their reasoning for inflicting murderous intentions and terror upon innocent civilians...do not believe their lies. God is not linked with such evil minds. Those plots of the foundations of man's dark, selfish desires...not of, for, by or in the name of God. I feel rather certain that God does not appreciate being used for their selfish, distorted need for attention and for their lost causes. These examples of warped minds demonstrate that rogue free-will can opt to do foul things. Free-will should not be used to hurt others. To inflict harm upon the innocent is the most cowardly, selfish act one can imagine.

Often, I get choked up when I think about the Pennsylvania crash...of Flight 93 wrapped around those people who had purchased tickets to get on that plane and be transported to their desired locations, but they never imagined they were buying a ticket to terror. And who could have imagined that their final democratic voice would be heard loud and clear around the world? I think about those people in the cabin, knowing they were hijacked, knowing the country had already suffered "bombings" by commercial airliners...just like the one they found themselves flying in. They knew something had to be done because they were essentially doomed, any action would be better than no action...so they took a vote. A vote. Under tremendous duress, the passengers took a vote to decide whether or not to take immediate action.

This vote strikes me as such an integral symbol of living with the freedom to make a unified decision. Until the end, in an ironic manner, the people on that plane were respecting the right to exercise their judgment and their passion and their beliefs through a vote. We know what the result was of that particular poll booth. This is the kind of vote none of us would want to face having to make. Such decisions and votes prove that having a voice is worth fighting and dying for. They had one of two choices...go down and allow the terrorists to succeed in taking out another American icon with hundreds and possibly thousands more with their plot or to decide to put a stop to the plot. I find it disturbing, yet highly honorable that their final voting booth was the plane. But, the decisive vote meant that they would not go out without waging war against the injustice being committed against innocent civilians. Innocent civilians that included all of them. Defense of their own lives became a matter to be handled directly.

I'm touched that civilians protected their fellow civilians on that day. First responders were the American People. Those ticket holders did more to protect, to honor, to uphold and to promote freedom and democracy than anything I can imagine. On the ground in the areas under attack, regular people were helping their fellow citizens.

Yet still, I am awestruck that under unthinkable conditions and certain fear, the passengers of Flight 93 became our heros. Not only did they save America from enduring another devastating strike, their voices were heard loud and clear around the world, in historic fashion. Their vote drowned out any evil intention of any terrorist. Their voice ended up as the most powerful one of all, the voice that embraced the freedom to vote and to take action against injustice.

The advanced warning that these passengers were duplistically fortunate enough and unfortunate enough to discover gave them the burning fire to act with bravery and with the understanding that their situation was dire, but those passengers refused to go out helpless. And so, they served us, the people...they protected the people who would have otherwise been murdered on the ground as well as in the plane. Those ticket holders on that doomed flight allowed the people who would have been targeted on the ground to have the chance to live another day and to buy many more tickets in pursuit of their own fulfilled dreams.

I'm so struck by the concept of their final ticket being our ticket to continued freedom and to letting the terrorists know that the American Spirit is collective, powerful and unable to be stifled; we still hear the cries of our heros loud and clear; we will continue to hear their vote forever, and we are thankful that American freedoms were exercised in the middle of terrorism that failed to do their evil intent on board that flight. Flight 93 had informed passengers who would not allow the terrorism to go further than their own suffering fate.

Sometimes, there is a horrendous crime in Harris County and it ends up in my husband's courtroom. I'll watch news footage about the case and be horrified while asking, "How could this person have done these things."

Many years ago, my husband shared some strangely poignant words with me, he said, "Quit trying to understand what they did...you'll never be able to understand how and why they did what they did because you don't have a criminal mindset."

The terrorist's cause is forever lost...there is no understanding...their deeds had no purpose because such evil can never make sense. I do agree that there is a time for peace and a time for war, but pretending to be a passenger and then taking innocent people, including children, hostage so that more civilians can be murdered is not strategic war-time action...it is a sucker-punch of the worst kind by the coward who knows that their opponent is fiercely capable. On our end, we are compelled to consider the catastrophic loss of innocent human life. We do not contemplate the terrorist's cause because they have no reasoning. As the old saying goes, "You cannot reason with the unreasonable." The random brutality of their actions that included ordinary, regular people to include the elderly, women, and children is the darkest kind of destruction.

As President Bush said in a speech following the attack on 9/11, "Freedom itself was attacked this morning, by a Faceless Coward."

The freedom of Americans...the freedom of our right to go about our daily life, to go to an appointment in the heart of your city, to go to work to sit behind a desk all day, to take a flight to see your family, the freedom to be an ordinary citizen of your country...the terrorist tried to snatch away our freedoms and the enjoyment they bring. But, they did not succeed.

Rudy Giuliani, in a speech after 9/11 said, "American democracy is much stronger than a vicious cowardly terrorist."

Amen Brother.

Some acts, some causes, and some behaviors have absolutely no justification, no reasoning, and no excuses. None.

Sometimes we're better off simply handing out justice instead of trying to dissect the criminal for an "ah-ha" moment. Yes, I know, the "ah-ha" moments may help prevent others from occurring, but nothing can justify certain actions. There are some criminals you must look out for while knowing that their random destruction has no rhyme or reason, only evil intent to destroy.

As my husband tells me about criminals...the same goes for murderous homicidal suicidal terrorists. We cannot understand their maniacal way of thinking. There is no explanation they could give that would make their actions make sense. There is no God who would condone such actions. There are no causes that would make the attack of thousands of innocent people worth the sinister efforts of faceless cowards.

It is a spineless, shameful thing to be responsible for the deaths of innocent people...our grandmothers, young mothers, brave fathers and little innocent children.

And so...the voices of those who died and those who helped others while being able to live to talk about it and those who suffered great losses of loved ones, of friends and of people who can never be replaced...all of these voices are the ones to last. Their memories and our stories are our strength...our own collective voice about this day that will fill us with compassion for those who never wanted to be called a "hero."

#90 - Finding Yourself After Addison's / Adrenal Insufficiency

Last evening I attended my first Addison's Support Group in Houston, Texas. Since this is a very rare disease, I already knew the attendance would be minimal, but I was determined to be part of the group. It's taken me over a year to finally make the trip to be there...a part of me was scared to go...scared at what I'd find...scared about what I'd learn, but I am so thankful I went; the visit allowed me to recapture of bit of the old me that was adventuresome, curious and participatory.

Beside me in this meeting, ready to make his own valuable contributions, sat my best-friend and husband, David. He has learned more about Addison's than can be imagined. He knows what to do during a crisis; he knows how to recognize symptoms of an approaching crisis; he knows how to make sure I get the best care possible when in an emergency room setting; he understands my battles and the devastation I've encountered; and he shares in my triumphs along with his own trials during our co-battle against this disease invading and wrecking our home. If you have researched Addison's disease, you learn quickly that many homes have been devastated by Addison's disease. Devastated beyond my comprehension. So, I'm very fortunate to have loving family who are supportive. As I've written before, my husband is my Comrade.

Dr. Tom Rodriguez is the charge person in these group meetings; he is the leader and organizer. We respect Tom because he's had his own battles with Adrenal Insufficiency since approximately 1995. I'd say he is very experienced personally and professionally with this disease. His research and valiant attempt to change current available data on this disease is amazing. I am so grateful that someone who better understands this disease is taking active steps to dispute so many inaccuracies presently on record.

Only one other Addison's patient was in attendance and she had brought her beautiful adult daughter, Heather, with her...which I found to be a strange link because my first-born daughter's name is also Heather. Besides Tom, the meeting organizer, the only two attendees in the meeting, both women with Addison's disease, both have daughters with the same name. Isn't life funny at times? It was beautiful to see mother and daughter so close, so supportive, so raw and honest, so caring about each other. Together they are experiencing the ups and downs of this disease and it has changed both of their lives. Heather ached for her mother's suffering while enduring her own suffering. This daughter probably knows more about Addison's disease than many doctors...she, like my husband, sees the reality of this disease first-hand.

My heart ached for my newfound Addison's friend because she is at the point in the disease when the struggle is mighty. For those of you who have had Addison's rip apart your life, then you know about the ensuing disbelief, sadness, anger, and you know about the chords of helplessness resonating deep within you. You endure all of it because there is nothing you can do to stop the Addison's disease from taking a mighty hold of your body.

Now, I do understand that a few patients have minimal effects after this disease is discovered, but my new Addison's friend had, as in my case, gone for an extended period of time undiagnosed and the prolonged deterioration took a harsh toll on her physically and emotionally...regular life was gone. Gone.

So, one of the hard topics of the night turned out to be how difficult it is to want the "old you" to come back, but as the years pass and you grow farther apart from the old you, it starts to sink in that maybe you'll never be back to the way you felt. Maybe you'll never have the abilities you had before Addison's disease.

Her and I had so many similarities with our disease progression that it felt as if I were looking in a mirror. Since I've had this disease for ten years, my heart cringed for her because I remember the 3-year stage and the devastation at realizing the old me was not being recaptured as I kept holding out hope that I'd find her again...that I'd wake up one day and suddenly the "old me" would be here again and the Addison troubles with pervasive exhaustion, joint pain, frequent nausea, body fluid balance troubles, mental confusion and other irritating interrupting symptoms associated with Addison's disease would magically disappear.

The realization that you cannot go back to your pre-Addison's state is devastating. I've written about how our idea of "recovery" is altered as we learn that this disease diagnosis, for me, meant that I would eventually become "stabilized," but not necessarily "recovered." This was extremely difficult to accept. I was defiant about it. I insisted that I would completely recover and even held out hope for EIGHT YEARS that I would BEAT Addison's disease ---- somehow. But, seeing the MRI with the words that my adrenals were not only atrophied, but completely "withered" was a huge wake-up call. I'm not going to grow a new set of adrenal glands. So, that dream of a complete recovery is impossible, so I focus on being the best I can be where I am right now with what I have at my disposal.

I have learned to listen to my body, to respect the new boundaries and to not feel obligated to explain my pulling back from society...I do what is necessary so that I may have as many good days as possible. And, even if the morning is terrible and I feel miserable, there's a chance that the afternoon will be marvelous. I've learned that my life is more of a roller coaster, but I can either fight it or go with the flow.

My new friend is trying to reconcile that her former self is a part of her past and the new her is something that can be better embraced once she's more stabilized with her Addison's disease. It appears that she is having trouble with balancing fluids and perhaps Florinef can be as magical as Hydrocortisone for her. Of course, finding the dosaging that is right for each person is a challenge...this is not a disease where we can test our levels and say, "Oh, I need another dosage right now." Unfortunately, we must learn the hard way...as our body goes through health pitfalls.

Dr. Rodriguez made a great point when he discussed the difference in Addison patients...one might be stabilized and have little difficulties managing their disease while other patients might be "Brittle" which means they are more fragile with potential life-threatening episodes and it is more challenging to stabilize the disease --- for a number of reasons. Just as MS can find one patient living a full, normal life without any interference from their disease, but the next MS patient goes downhill rapidly to the point of dying...so it is with Addison's disease.

Unfortunately, with this disease, management is not always KEY to doing well. I can manage my disease perfectly, but still end up with disasters as my body's need for Hydrocortisone, etc., changes drastically, in a blink of an eye, too fast for me to barely respond at times. As with the rest of life, there is a lot of pure luck involved. Yes, life involves luck or we wouldn't have the old adage, "Life isn't fair." Some people are VERY fortunate and lucky to be diagnosed early so that they are not forced to suffer. However, others took a downhill plunge into unimaginable darkness before they were diagnosed. If you didn't go down into this darkness before your diagnosis, then yes, you are lucky and be glad for it.

Also, there are Addison patients who have other bodily complications that make managing Addison's a daunting task ---- other conditions can tax the body and this, of course, creates huge issues with an Addison's patient. Like I said last night in our meeting, "It can become a scary juggling act." Logical reasoning shows that the less complications you have with other conditions means that you will certainly have less juggling to confront in managing Addison's.

Anyway, my sadness at seeing a mirror image of what I'd gone through with having to basically say good-bye to the former person I'd been before Addison's disease was palpable. There is a mourning involved with knowing the old you is gone. Yes, a huge part of yourself  --- your core identity --- it's still there, but the core identity no longer has the same body as its partner. It's as if you are divorced from part of your self or a part of you has died. So, you go through all of the same emotions of mourning a unbelievable loss and it's just so darn hard to believe that things will never the same again.

However, the different future in front of you can be filled with joy as you learn to savor things in a different way. You learn to take the good moments and magnify them. You learn to discover new areas of strength --- such as for me, it's writing. Before I had Addison's, I'd always journaled, but did not focus on my writing as much because I was too busy with life. I love writing, but did not have the time to slow down to do it as I would have liked. Addison's disease changed that part of my life. Now, I write.

As for the personal side of dealing with Addison's on a challenging level is that the constant resistance by your body can create unknowns that can threaten to suck the joy out of you. After a few Addisonian Crisis episodes, you start avoiding social settings and avoiding going out because you do not want to go into a crisis around other people. You certainly don't want it to happen when out of your element. Needless to say, people around you will NOT understand an Addison's Crisis. Hardly anyone has even heard of this disease, so how would they recognize the symptoms of a crisis? This can lead to isolation, again, for the Addison's patient who is easily managed, this may not be understood, but even if you suffer from serious bouts of nausea and exhaustion, the troubles of this disease may cause you to withdraw to a certain degree in order to protect yourself.

Previously, I had thought this was a tragedy. However, now I see my life different and my social interactions are still present, but changed in a way so that I can have more control over my circumstances. There is nothing wrong with this. If you have a disease that impacts your ability to function normally, then you must adapt and quit letting the world dictate what is "right" and "wrong" for you. These days, I savor my independent, quiet times. I no longer miss the hustle and bustle of city life as a business woman with frequent socializing. I have narrowed my social focus and my life is actually more meaningful. Just because you are in movement and on the go does not mean your life has more meaning. My life, with lessened "out of doors" socializing, has become deeper and it has given me time to slow down to absorb life in a different way.

If you are one of those people who has been through a few terrifying Addison's episodes, then your life is changed. Period. There's no way around it. And I'm not talking about an episode that is just with nausea and diarrhea, I'm talking a crisis episode where you hit the floor and don't know where you are because your blood pressure has plummeted so fast that you didn't even have time to respond. After a few of those episodes, you change your activity direction. The lack of socialization can be devastating...it can be depressing and the isolation can be enough to drive you nuts. Going through this stage of being helpless during a crisis too often can crush your spirit, but you have to re-learn how to live again...with the knowledge that your body might deceive you during the most inopportune moment. It takes bravery to go forward with a body that you can't rely upon. But, it can be done.

As I mentioned above, I've adapted and withdrawn from being in TOO MANY situations that might create problems for me with Addison's and I'm happier for it. But, I did have to adjust to my changed life. Maybe you won't be nearly as social as you'd once been, but you can pick and choose your moments to make an appearance and do everything you can beforehand so that you have a better chance to have a positive experience, instead of ending up on the floor or embarrassed by a hurried, unexplained exit. One trick that has helped me to deal with these stresses is to NOT CARE WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK about my choices for my health. If they don't understand and if they don't care to TRY to understand, then I do not care to educate those people---those are the people who choose to live in ignorant bliss, let them. Besides, how do the opinions of other people REALLY impact you anyway? It doesn't...not if you don't let it. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but if you are doing what is necessary for optimal health and the next person is not understanding, then you must move on and realize that their ignorance is theirs to own...it is not your problem. Live your life fully, as you see fit.

Finally, I've found that after I began to try to focus on other things instead of all that I've lost, then I was better able to move forward, but it's still not so simple to do. You'll never be able to take the intense focus off of yourself with Addison's disease because of the high level of self-regulation required for pro-active management. And, if you are indeed a "Brittle" patient, this can be much more involved than for a patient who gets up and does everything they want to do because their body, fortunately, cooperates on a higher level. Having more complications means that you will face more challenges, but you will also be stronger for it. I've found that Addison's has deepened my life on multiple levels...I'm not the same person, but in so many areas there have been huge incredible improvements that I might not ever have experienced if I'd not gotten so sick. This disease may have changed my life, my direction, my abilities and my focus, but I like who I am...I have a great deal to offer, I love my life and the simple, beautiful things around me still capture my attention. I'm thankful for all the love I've seen, the support I've been given, the chance to give support to others in need, and I absolutely love the new set of eyes I have been given since my diagnosis.

#88 - An MRI and a Big Fit

Wow, it's been a beautiful day here in Texas. Really, it has because we FINALLY got some heavy rain that came down in a steady pour for quite a long time. I'm sure the parched earth drank it up with a smile.

Unfortunately, I also had an MRI spine study that required me to be inside the tube for nearly two hours, as it rained. I'm not claustrophobic, but no one likes to have their head locked inside sci-fi gear and their body rolled deep into an extremely confining space that makes your eyes criss-cross when opened.

I have such a strong mind that I have learned to calm myself and to take myself to another place during my many, many required MRI's. If you've had health problems like I've had, you don't have the luxury of being claustrophobic...you get on with it and get it over with as fast as you can. I swallow my fear and move forward.


In the MRI tube, I think of moments with my girls...like this time at the rodeo.
I think of pleasant, far-away things instead of the tube closing in on me.

Although, swallowing the fear is not as easy as I make it look, especially since my body is full of titanium clips, bolts, screws and plates from my abdomen to my upper neck. Even though this metal is not supposed to come flying out of your body as the MRI magnets whirl around you, it's still unsettling. I have one area in my abdomen that has a metal clip and it does hurt pretty bad for a few days after my MRI --- I don't think it's the right metal, but I keep my hand pressed firmly in that abdominal zone during the MRI and keep hoping I won't be ripped to shreds.

The past few MRI's with my extensive hardware has found me experiencing a new unwelcomed sensation. During a long MRI study, such as today, I find that parts of my body become very hot and this is PRIOR to contrast IV fluids. It seems to happen mostly around the areas of my hardware, but the warmth spreads and it feels like my insides are beginning to bubble. I can take a lot of physical hardship, scary situations, and a lot of pain, so I just try to be still and get through the MRI without creating a problem.

Me and my dad
months after spine surgery.

I got through it today, again.

Unfortunately, my mind did not drift as easily to wonderful places during the MRI because of stress at home. Living with people who are prone to throw fits is not pleasant. I have enough chaos in my life with trying to battle my daily physical demands without adding ridiculous, immature fits to the mix.

My oldest daughter is coming home for a visit this weekend, she's driving over five hours (one-way) to get here, and I've been super excited. We are getting to spend time together and go to my niece's birthday party together. But, it seems that so many times in my life when I should have been savoring and enjoying precious time with my family and friends, I've instead been involved with a certain person's childish fits and the horrible fall-out it creates for an extended period of time. It's hard to trust someone who can go ballistic so fast.

As usual, the timing for this person's ugly tantrum coincides with a family/friend gathering. Surprise! Like I've never experienced THIS before, ha-ha. Just like that unwelcomed heat spreading through my upper body during the MRI, I have someone who is trying to make my home a spot too hot to visit because no one knows when the explosive personality will emerge. I look at this person and am miffed by their ridiculous behavior, the extreme rudeness is unnecessary, but still this person feels justified.

It occurs to me...Maybe a person who gets their way during childhood by throwing fits is the one who keeps doing it throughout life. The problem is...the fits get more ridiculous, more embarrassing, and more intolerable as I get older. And, I don't feel like writing flowery things when this person is doing MUCH LESS than adding flowers to my day. If I'm going to be accused of being selfish, then dammit, I'm going to write what I feel and let my selfish bone stick way out. I might as well live up to the name-calling.

As for my name-calling, these kids are pretty darn cute.
My girls --- just a few short years ago!

So, back to the MRI...I found myself in this unbelievably small tube, and I was forced to make my mind float away from my circumstances so that I could get through this extensive spine study.

Boom, boom, boom, click, click, click, clomp, clomp, clomp goes the MRI sounds. And I found my ticket, I start to drift away and let myself hear the eerie similarities in the MRI as with the group Pink Floyd. Yep, in my MRI there was a private concert being played, just for me.

I was so happy when it was over. Yippee! I get to go home to my wonderful house that is full of tension. Can I go back into the MRI tube?

This weekend, I'll enjoy my daughter's visit. I don't care if I get to spend five minutes with her...she's my daughter, MY FIRST-BORN, and every minute with her is precious. Maybe I value those minutes even more because I have been confronted so many times with thinking I was living my last few minutes as I was falling comatose. Regardless, I've always had a big neon sign over my front door that says, "All Are Welcome AND Welcome All," --- even though someone keeps trying to bust it out. My mother welcomed everyone into her home ---- big, tall, short, small, wide, snide and full of pride ---- all were welcomed, it was a wonderful lesson in hospitality while growing up.

I'd like to think that the neon sign I've worked so damn hard to put up over my house is still shining brightly, in spite of others trying to yank the switch.

So, I will go back to cleaning, dusting, vacuuming and getting ready. I'm doing all the things a mom loves to do, even if I do it alone and very slowly...with interruptions such as to go lay in an MRI contraption for too long. Can they combine a tanning bed with an MRI? It's a thought.

I can picture the sign:

"GET YOUR DUAL PURPOSE MRI HERE!

COME CHECK FOR KIDNEY TUMORS WHILE GETTING A TAN!"

Okay, I've been a medical patient far too many times...I'm slightly warped and I'd be a perfect writer for the show, Saturday Night Live, but I'm content with my little blog. Unless you work for Saturday Night Live...Call Me.

I just keep remembering that I've been blessed to have multiple second chances and that no one can take away my joy, well, not for more than a few minutes at a time. And as I am vacuuming, I'll try to ignore the big, grumpy dust-bunny in the corner; besides, I am becoming more and more allergic by the day.

#86 - Learning to Edit Your Life

I am 43 years old, but ten years ago I learned to edit my life. I chopped out the nonsense and the frivolous and removed as much heartache stimulants as possible.

After falling severely ill for months and then coding while hospitalized at 33 years of age, I had plenty of time to lay in bed, week after week, and this forced me to do some serious thinking. It's amazing what you will think about when you have nothing else to do.

Of course, my body was so ill and my organs, including my heart, were starting to fail, so I had vastly different thoughts than I once had with a healthy body. I learned to be grateful to simply stumble my own way to the bathroom so that I could enjoy a very private moment IN PRIVACY!

Things in my life began to shift. I had been a high-earner in the family because I owned and operated a business that provided litigation support to top law firms in Houston. I worked for the Big, Big Dogs. And, this meant a big, big invoice. I worked hard and earned large. For nearly ten years I went strong in this business. But, as my body began to fail me...my mind switched gears and the fast-paced life was suddenly not as thrilling. After all, what is the point of making a high-dollar living when you can't even live healthy enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor?

I would lie in bed and face the fact that I was living a life that had been imbalanced. I felt as if God were taking me by the shoulders, shaking me hard and telling me to head another direction.

Truthfully, the business had taken a toll on me. I would sometimes work on one case for two years and the details would be so incredibly gruesome that I'd end up on the floor in my office in a puddle of tears. I think the time-frame required for each case made it more challenging...it wasn't a blip on my life radar, these cases became ingrained into my mind and heart. After ten years of witnessing horrible tragedy, loss and heartache, mostly due to very freak accidents, I think a toll was placed upon me. Now, there are people like my husband, Deputy Dave, who sees horrendous things day in and day out in his job at the Sheriff's department. He's been on the job for over 22 years and he's seen things that would turn your mind and your stomach inside out. But, I learned that my stamina for such gore is not as stoic.

I sent letters of regret to all of my clients before my as my health took the serious decline that would force me to shut off most communications with the outside world. These letters went out during the time-frame when I knew that my body was not cooperating and that something was seriously wrong. I'd realized that my slow shift to work on files in bed had become a full-time ordeal. I had been slowly adapting to my weakness until it became harshly distinct. Soon, I was too weak to feed myself. I could feel my body dying; it took what seemed like forever to get my Addison's diagnosis. For about a solid year, I was in a constant state of significant and consistent decline before a beautiful doctor ran the magical test that would allow me to continue living for an extended period of time.

Those resignation letters were a necessary part of my healing. Accepting my situation had not been easy. But, I could not run a business if I couldn't even feed myself. Looking back, perhaps I should have sold the business or given it to a friend. But, the training would have taken long months that I didn't have to offer. Any energy that I had available was precious and would be certainly directed toward my husband and children. Since there was very little energy, this usually meant a brief daily conversation with each. Lying there, unable to do my normal "mommy" things caused me to mourn my position in life as a mother.

My oldest daughter - back from Germany.
My sister took these shots for her high-school photography class.

More than anything, I missed the little moments when I could fulfill my role as a mom and a wife.

Me holding Stefie.

Some mornings, I would give myself this brutal "pep" talk and would head to the kitchen as I was fighting sudden moments of blacking out. I wanted to make my daughters their school lunches! My vision would come and go. My hearing would disappear. Spots would appear before my eyes and I'd gasp for air. But, I would sometimes get those lunches made and in the brown bag with my little cartoon drawing on the side for them to enjoy. Making those lunches made me feel as if I'd won an Olympic Medal. I cannot even express the emotion I would feel at knowing I did something so simple for my daughters...a valued mommy moment.

My oldest daughter and I at a football game together...we're
hot, sweaty and stinky. A good old Texas football fan moment!

I didn't miss the business; I didn't miss working with high-powered personalities; I didn't miss the gifts sent to my door for a job well down and I didn't miss the income. I only missed being able to walk along the beach holding my husband's hand and being an active mommy. That's it.

Me and my hubby --- not too long after my cervical spine
reconstruction, so I am no able to move my head much.

So, I quickly cut out anything that would interfere in my home-relationships. This meant that the large circle of friends that I had enjoyed was severely cut back to about two friends who really tried to understand my situation. The others were quid pro quo friends who expected something for something and I had nothing left to give. These were the days when you discovered who really loved you for YOU, not for what you did or could do for them. I finally learned to accept my husband's love for me being me and not for the hoops I'd constantly jump through as a wife.

The three most important people in my life.

In my time of severe illness, the house-keeping went down the drain. I'd once been a perfectionist. A newspaper could not even lay on the coffee table for a full morning before I'd chunk it in the trash. I often sat on my rear on the floor to hand-clean my tile and wood flooring...scrubbing the grout with a toothbrush. My hands would have chemical burns from the deep cleaning I did every week. Ask me how my house is cleaned these days? These days, if I try to hand-scrub the floors, I probably won't be able to get back up! Today, I keep things manageable, but definitely not to my former standards. If we have a planned gathering at our house, we usually must have a sprint or a hurricane cleaning session to whip it into shape.

My daughters both told me that they thought my illness was the solution to my over-controlling need to have the perfect home. But, I'm not so sure they were right. Of all things that have changed, I do miss having a perfectly kept home that is constantly ready for any guest who might stop by. I can't fib...those days were nice. Nowadays, I cannot keep up. In our large home that we now live in, I basically cordon off rooms and no one lives in them, so they stay clean! That's the trick everyone...don't let people LIVE in the room you wish to keep clean.

Another area of life editing was our money habits. Since I had been earning such a good living, we had ample cash at our fingertips whenever we wanted to do anything or buy anything. Becoming so sick and seeing the savings and liquid funds drain away like dirty dishwater caused us to put a halt on the spending. Then, we applied the emergency brakes and didn't spend any extra money. But, I was happy. Broke and happy. Well, we weren't entirely broke, but it felt like it after what we had long enjoyed. Being on a tight budget was fine with me. Besides, I was too sick to do anything anyway, so this part was probably more painful for my husband and children. If you are only able to lay in bed, your needs are reduced to below the basic necessities.

Before I became ill, I had a TV in my office and would sometimes indulge in watching a soap opera as I filed or completed a mound of data-entry. I had loved watching "All My Children" because it had been a family tradition. I could even play the theme song on the piano. After I battled for my life, I could not stomach another soap opera. This was amazing because I'd grown up with a great-grandmother who would threaten my little existence if I interrupted her soap opera break. But, the illness made me dislike soap operas because the TV personality lying in the hospital bed dying for the tenth time was a drama on TV, but for me, it had become reality. I didn't need to watch such drama; I was living it. I decided then and there, during this time in my life, that I did NOT need to add any more drama to my life because MY LIFE HAD BECOME A SOAP OPERA.

I also learned these things:  to listen more closely to my mother, to savor the sound of my children laughing, to enjoy moments of not gasping for breath as my heart beat out of control, to be in the comforting arms of my husband, and to appreciate a beautiful friend who would come over simply to dust my house.

I also learned that no matter what happens, everything will be okay. This was a powerful message I received the night I coded and it set me free. Really free.

Life editing meant that I had to let go of many old ideas, actions and beliefs so that I could face a new direction in life. My "recovery" did not amount to what I had expected...it actually meant that I would learn to live with a hugely changed body that would never regain its previous strength and that continued to face massive battles for survival. My idea of "recovery" also was edited; I'd previously thought it meant that you recovered to find your old self back again. But, I was very saddened to have a critical-care doctor plainly tell me that the old me was gone forever and to not have false hope that I'd recover back to my old self because it wasn't possible. It was explained that some people can make a "full" recovery, but my body had suffered such trauma for a long period of time that the toll would be permanent. I will admit, I was devastated by his comments. I was angry at him and even thought that he was wrong because he didn't KNOW me. He also said it would take at least one year for my body to even stabilize. I could not believe my ears. But, he was right. Doctors are not always right, but he knew what he was talking about and I was in for some hard lessons. Sometimes a recovery is not what you expect, but you can learn to be stronger in some areas even though you are weaker in others. So, I am not fully recovered in one aspect and probably will never be fully "recovered" in a medical standpoint, yet I am stronger than ever in other aspects.

Living life to its fullest, without fear.

Mostly, I learned that any one of us can be on top of our mountain and suddenly find the earth crumbling beneath us. As we tumble and tumble downward, our body battered and broken, we might have flashes of what we have lived through and what we still yearn to do, but we are helpless and without the promise of a second chance. The harsh truth is...LIFE HAS NO PROMISES. We feel entitled for a tomorrow and for a healthy future, but there is no guarantee that you'll get it. For some reason, I have been given many second chances. And, I'm glad to say that even though it's taken me years, my days of facing the future without solid plans and without long-term goals are gone because I have recovered enough to feel safe again...enough to think about a year or two down the road. However, I know very well that all my "plans" could be yanked out from under me. It's happened a time or two before due to circumstances beyond my control and it would happen again. We can't always control life.

If your earth has crumbled beneath you, then I understand your journey to re-discover your path in life. Maybe you're just trying to survive and that is good enough. I've been there. My advice is to take it minute by minute. Add up the good moments and focus on those instead of what you have lost.

For a long, long time I would fall asleep with very poor vitals, knowing that I had a good chance of not making it through the night. I'd close my eyes with sadness, not knowing if my body would be able to sustain itself through the dip in my vitals that were already precarious. But, you must sleep, so I'd give in and close my eyes, saying a prayer and hoping to see my family again in the morning. Then, as the morning light streamed into the room and my eyes would blink open, I'd often be amazed and stunned to find myself breathing and living, alive for another day. Day by day...that's all we're given. If you've struggled to survive for a prolonged period of time, then you learn the importance of each new day.

So, I am thankful for today. God willing I'll be given many more days and I'll continue to learn lessons from my painful experiences.

That brings me to my final life edit...do not waste the important lessons in your life. Don't let the passing of time banish them for your memory or weaken the bold impact that life changing events can prompt in our lives. Don't spend time looking backwards, try to move forward with your new set of circumstances as soon as possible. Acceptance is a critical word for those who need to do some life editing. You can't start life editing unless you accept your situation and do not waste new opportunities while hung up on old mindsets. Build a new life! Is it easy? Heck no! But, you can take your new life, even if it's still in crumbles and you can move forward.

Actually, there's a verse in the Bible that tremendously helped me with this last struggle and it says something like this, "If you wait for perfect conditions, you'll never get anything done."

Don't wait. My "perfect" life is a distant memory, but I will take today and make the most out of it, even if that means I spend the day tucked in bed reading a good book and doing some blogging. My idea of "perfect" is still morphing. Life editing is not easy. Learn when to employ strike-outs, purges or re-arranged your thinking. And you'll be fine. I'm fine. I'm a happy gal on the move. Keep moving farther away from your most painful times and you too will be a new person with a new direction...the adventure awaits.