# 130 - Life Ripples

Throughout the past decade and beyond, there have been times in my life when I have been forced to accept the help of others on a level I never dreamed I would need while still so young, in my early thirties. In 2001, after my diagnosis of Addison's disease that came after a serious decline, there was a time frame when I needed others to help with almost every aspect of my life.

There was a period of time when I could not drive, could not cook, could not clean, could hardly walk, could not do my children's laundry...my body had become so depleted of cortisol that it was crashing and my blood pressure remained so low as to barely sustain life. Without a diagnosis, I did not have the medications necessary to treat this life-threatening condition. In fact, I went so long without diagnosis or treatment that my organs began to fail. Going from doctor to doctor did not help because they thought I appeared healthy and strong, but my vitals definitely showed multiple issues that continually remained charted as "chronic low blood pressure," and "fever of unknown origin," and "sodium deficiency," and "potassium deficiency." In those days, as my condition remained a mystery, my body functions deteriorated so far that I could barely move without losing consciousness. Then, I began to experience Code Blue situations. Of course, at the time, I did not know they were Code Blue moments, but I soon learned the awful truth of my situation.

I dreaded going to sleep because too many times I would awaken without the ability to breathe...my lungs would somehow be paralyzed and without air. I remember awakening in a panic after realizing I could not breathe, as if someone had control of a switch for air in the room and it had been flipped to "no air." I could not gasp a saving breath. My body would convulse in an attempt to force my lungs to start heaving in and out, yet nothing would happen. Somehow, I would manage to get to my feet or I would collapse on my knees at my bedside floor with my hands clawing at my throat as I went through terror magnified by the inability to yell for help. I could not breathe...How could I ask for help?

Needing help and not being able to ask for it is one of the most pitiful situations we can experience in life...if I had been teetering on a cliff edge, I would have felt better than gasping for air as my husband slept soundly. Sometimes, I would start pounding the bed to wake him up, other times, he woke me with a sense of urgency after he realized I had stopped breathing for an extended period of time. But, during those dark times of having air kept from me, I would often nearly reach the point of passing out and my burning lungs would suddenly come back to life, opening for a raspy gulp of air.

Unfortunately, as my body went into a constant state of Addisonian Crisis due to constant misdiagnoses, this became my nightly scene. Sometimes this would occur multiple times per night. Eventually, I became terrified to fall asleep because I knew my body would fall into a state of deep sleep and the combination slumber with serious illness of my adrenal system meant normal functions would no longer be sustainable. However, with nearly non-existent blood pressure and depleted cortisol, I often had to fight to stay conscious during daylight hours.

Finally, the diagnosis came, after another Code Blue experience while in the hospital. My monitored symptoms set off alarms at my side, on the floor, and prompted a booming voice over the cardio-floor intercom to send medical staff scurrying into my room. However, I immediately realized that this body experience was similar to those that I had been having at home for weeks, without medical intervention. I do not know how I pulled out of those codes so often on my own, but my body was obviously not ready to submit to full shut-down mode. The way I see it, during that awful time in my life, my body was sputtering.

Back home, after my diagnosis, I learned that my "recovery" process would be painstakingly long and with alternating good and bad days. Most often, I would need some kind of assistance. The disappointment at not being able to bounce back, as if I had just recovered from the common cold, had been devastating.

I still felt like jello very much of the time; my vision and reflexes were not yet reliable enough to do the simplest of things, such as driving my children to school. Thanks to several of my friends and my mother, my youngest would have daily rides to and from school. Stefie didn't have the option to take a bus because the school was approximately 5-6 blocks away. This presented us with a stressful dilemma during stormy weather or on days when she was dragging from the incredible stress at home. Since she was still in elementary school, it bothered me to my core that she did not have a mom available to take her to school and to pick her up. At the Junior High level, my oldest daughter, Heather, had a bus available every day. Her bus stopped at only three houses down from our own, so Heather had reliable rides to and from school during this volatile time of never knowing whether I would be home or in the hospital from day to day. 

My eyes are closed, as was often the case for photos
and my youngest, Stefie, also has very sensitive eyes
that really NEED the courtesy countdown before the click!
But, this picture is to show the approximate time-frame
as the kids were close to this age when I became very ill
with undiagnosed Addison's disease, for too long.

My oldest daughter, Heather, was in Junior High, at a pivotal time in her life. The way I reached out to her during my physically weakest moments was to have her come into my room, to lay with me and just talk. We did talk...about school, projects, friends, boys and boys and boys. Still, she kept a careful, guarded eye on all that was happening, she did not trust her life to remain stable because she had seen things crumble too fast. Teenage girls are already in a rough spot when things are going great at home, a teenage girl is always in the middle of some personal crisis, they do not need to have a home-life disintegrating. Heather went through phases of rebellion at the world's mistreatment, but she discovered that her mother would still be her mother, whether in good health or in suffering health. She still had a mother; it did not take long for Heather to learn to handle the hardships with grace; she grew up fast while figuring out how to grab hold of a good moment and make it last.

As my auto-pilot was failing, my husband's was coming to life. Even though he moved through the day with exhausting numbness for so long, he held the family together when I could not do anything as simple as carry a feather duster. The main parts, he held together. For his kids, he morphed into a man who began to be present for his family in a different way. Even though my complete downturn didn't last for long periods of time, they caused enough upheaval to create major changes in our family dynamics.

For all of us, life changed.

My health struggles were powerful and they created a ripple effect reaching out to those closest to me. Surprisingly, those ripples would also impact outsiders who were remotely attached to our lives. I learned that every life creates a ripple effect.

One of my helpers during this time had been my best-friend. She would cook full four-course meals for my family. Kelly would come over and clean my house. During my days of being healthy, I usually walked around the house with a dust-rag in hand, things stayed clean, but when I became dependent, I could not even wipe the dust off the surfaces in my house. After I became very ill and mostly bed-ridden, I would see dust floating in the light beams filtering through my bedroom windows and those floating specks seemed to taunt me. Dusting the house...this chore had seemed so simple, it required minimal effort, even if it was boring and tedious, I always did a great job of keeping it done. But, lying in bed, unable to walk around with freewill means that the dust piles up. Day after day, the dust increased and reminded me that life was moving forward while I was forced to lay there and watch it whirl around me.

Me and my best-friend, Kelly. This photo was taken a few months ago
and I am so grateful to have a friend like her in my life.

I laid in bed and would stare at the dust on the television, on the bedroom furniture, on the picture frames...things in our lives were literally falling apart and dust was collecting. Life felt reduced...as if I were being entwined with the increasing dust in my life.

Isn't the term "dust to dust" for good reason? Was I also slowly becoming nothing but dust?

I knew in those moments of staring at the dust that I didn't have the energy or the good health to tackle something so insignificant. Watching my surfaces become coated became indicative of how serious our situation had become with my decline. The little things, all the motions taken forgranted, I mourned their loss. I could only imagine when I would be able to walk around without a care in the world as my body cooperated again to allow me to do menial things such as wipe off a bookshelf or sweep the floor.

I laid there, not being able to communicate my inner sufferings to match my outer failing; I knew things in my world would never be the same again.

Fast-forward nearly ten years to the time I discovered my neck had collapsed and that I had a spinal cord impingement so severe that it caused a spinal cord injury in the form of a large lesion across my C2 section of cord. My hands were numb; my feet were numb; I lost fine-motor detail ability...could not pick up a penny off the counter. I dropped things constantly because I thought the object was in my grasp, but I somehow lost the ability to control that grasp. My feet and legs were not moving to my brain automatically ordering them to do so...I would look down at my legs in complete confusion because they would not move forward to take the steps I was expecting. Everything felt detached. Were these body parts really mine?

Surgery would be brutal. Double-sided cervical spine reconstruction would be necessary with three vertebrae rebuilt using cadaver bone and large metal plates put in front at my neck area and in the back of my neck area, both plates were screwed into place with large screws and bolts coming from front and back to stabilize my neck. This was literally a life-saving surgery. Before surgery, with the spinal cord injury had come moments when my breathing would stop and start, as if my lungs were not functioning properly, kind of like a mechanical failure. Regardless, that old horror of not being able to breathe revisited me in a different manner...simply because that part of the spinal cord controls our breathing function. As my surgeon told me, if my neck collapsed any further onto the spinal cord, I'd stop breathing and it would be the end.

After this surgery, I was faced yet another long, painful recovery. I would need help for many of my daily functions. Granted, I am one determined woman and did many things on my own, even after surgery, but the swelling in my neck from being cut open at front and back would become so dangerous as to not allow saliva to be swallowed. If I moved around too much, the swelling would get worse and I would almost suffocate from the minimal room I had for air to get through and my tongue was swollen and grotesquely discolored after surgery. I do not know if this was from an intubation injury or from the spinal cord injury itself, but it did not help matters in the least. I had a hand-full of problems on my plate after surgery, such as the staple left in my head from the halo that had been attached to my skull during surgery so they could flip my body from back to front for the double-sided surgery and keep my neck stabilized for the change in positions. The staple remained in my head for weeks, even as I tried to remove it myself with the staple-remover from my desk drawer and when that didn't work, I pled with my husband and daughter to just yank it out. Both refused to touch it. After surgery, I had been sent home with the staple still attached to the temple area of my scalp, my blood soaked hair could not be fully washed while in the hospital due to the staff not wanting to take a chance on moving my surgically reattached spine, so the staple became my nagging buddy for a while. Into the bone the staple set deep and could not be budged.



Several weeks after surgery and I am FINALLY getting
the staples removed from my head and from the incision at
the back of my neck. I am scared, but it is such a relief to get
the staple out of my skull as my hair-brush kept catching on it.
The incision at the front of my neck is also healing nicely.

Accepting help with preparing my food, refilling my drinks, helping me to shower, to change clothes...all of it became necessary. My strong will and sense of independence meant nothing, it was left unfulfilled and floundering. A walk to the kitchen became a 500 mile marathon in the desert. Finally, I reached the point of being able to walk with my tray that held my plate and I would take it back to the kitchen, carefully balancing each step along the way since I did not have the ability to look down or sideways; I would set the tray down on the kitchen counter and have to leave it there. I could not stand upward long enough to do more than that little walk and the tray felt like a fifty pound weight that put pressure on my swollen upper spine to create pain and more swelling that I did not need.

I soon learned the swelling in my neck would be a battle that I would face for a long time...it did ease a bit, but the swelling then morphed into making my arms and hands go numb again. This probably lasted for a year after surgery. Spine reconstruction at this level is not for sissies, but even if you are a sissy and you require this surgery, you do not have much of a choice. The choice is, have the spinal reconstruction surgery or live for only a short time longer, until you become paralyzed from the neck downward with the inability to breathe on your own. After surgery, if I did too much, which was absolutely minimal movement, I would find myself with limbs that felt detached and as if hundreds of ants were crawling all over me, the same as before the surgery, and this was terrifying.

Regardless, approximately two weeks after my spinal reconstruction, my youngest daughter, Stefie, drove me to one of my business closings because I had an obligation and was determined to meet it. I put on my best clothes, with my daughter's assistance, and I went into that closing with my huge plastic neck brace around me, yet I tried to play it off by saying, "...it looks much worse than it really is." They did not look convinced. In reality, I felt humiliated at appearing weak, so I worked very hard to look "normal." With my purple, swollen tongue, this was quite an amazing feat to try to mask my condition. My clients happened to be a pastor and his wife of a local church; I will never forget their expressions and pleas that I just go home. But no, I stayed and did my job. I paid for it heavily once I was back at home, but I did my job. There would be more moments like this due to the obstinate side of my personality.

Often, I felt as if my family members were frustrated by me doing too much, but it also seemed they were conflicted within themselves because they also wanted me to get back to normal right away. All of us were struggling. All of us wanted our old idea of "normal" back, but it was long gone. Often, I would feel sad because everyone would leave for their day...just knowing that they had the luxury to be able to leave for a few hours of normal life while I was stuck inside of abnormal, well, it sometimes hurt. Those were hard moments in the beginning, but I also realized that each of us will have our own turn at being the one stuck in the body that isn't cooperating and we cannot expect others to walk in our shoes, so I let go of that feeling rather quickly, but it was powerful at the time it hit me.

However, my husband would take care every morning to provide me with at least two drinks at my bedside table...tea and water. He would put food next to the drinks and would take time to prepare quick-grab items at the ready in the fridge. My daughter would come in to see me before leaving for school and she'd make sure I had everything I needed before she headed out the door. I feel most regretful of this time because I know Stefie struggled deeply with not wanting to leave for school; she was terrified that her absence would equal my demise. However, I learned long ago, during my Code Blue moments, that the body would keep going for as long as it chose to keep going, but once it decides to stop, it has just as much power to quit as it does to continue. Stefie had not yet realized that she did not have ultimate control over my outcome on the level she imagined with a child-like quality...as if she were here and present, she might be able to ward off the worst case scenario. Yes, she might help me tremendously, but if the worst were to occur, the truth was, I did not want her home to witness it or to feel responsible for responding to an emergency situation.

My grandmother came to my house and stayed for a couple of weeks to help me during my recovery after the spine surgery. She was incredible. We are very close; she would sit behind me and even though I had on my cumbersome neck brace, she would lift the back of my shirt and gently rub my back and shoulders with such affection, as if she were trying to erase the pain. She gently took a washcloth and rubbed away as much of the iodine on my skin as she could. She succeeded in making me feel better. Her nurturing touch helped to relax my tense, enclosed, chopped up muscles. Throughout the day, she would quietly come into my room and we would lie on my bed together, she took great care to move with painstaking slowness so the bed would not move. Even though I could not talk much due to swelling issues, she would say, "I know you can't respond by talking much and you certainly can't nod your head, just blink and it will be the same as regular conversation between us."

That is love.

Me and my grandmother.

In truth, I was surrounded by people who wanted to help, but many did not know what to do. Many people and churches prayed for me, I remained on several prayer lists for a long time. Not to make an excuse to not visit someone who is ailing, but sometimes it is best to leave the person alone so they can heal. However, I now know that someone who is sick can hugely benefit from a person looking around and seeing what needs to be done without invading the person's privacy. A person like myself will put up a fight to keep from being helped, but I must say, all those years ago, after my Addison's diagnosis, my friend coming over to wipe away the dust that tortured me had been a gift beyond her understanding.

For others, it might be helpful do do such things as preparing easy to heat up food, cleaning house, running errands to get groceries, helping with laundry, cleaning the bathroom, taking the kids to the park or getting them school supplies or their favorite food to have in the kitchen, changing the bedding...just dusting the furniture...it all adds up and is meaningful.

I am thankful for those who came to visit, and I appreciate those who brought in their gentleness and their smiles. I appreciated those who didn't ask me how I was doing while seeing me in such an awful state that was pretty evident of how I was feeling. I appreciate those who still felt compelled to ask how I was doing because I knew they were struggling with what to say, but they still came. And, I appreciate those who knew that my silence and withdrawal was nothing personal against them, but it was necessary for me due to the lengthy healing requirements of my bodily structure and of my mind.

To my family, I thank you for putting up with the potentially hundreds of trays with plates of dried-up food left on them in the kitchen during the time I could not do more than leave it there for someone else to handle. It was not an easy journey during this time to make that trek to the kitchen and back, but I am walking around near normal today because of the help I received back then. I am still lack fine motor capabilities in my hands and fingers, sometimes they cause me infinite frustration at their uncontrollable nerve-jumping that makes a rogue finger tap the wrong keys while typing, but they obey me on a level that is good enough for an outsider to never know there is a problem.

In fact, I have again decided to start sketching...I am a former art major of Visual Arts and Design for studies in Humanities, but I have not done a sketch in years. Years of studies at the university brought me untold joy, but the spinal cord injury put a long halt to all of my greatest joys...piano playing, art, and my growing love for embroidery, but I am starting back with these things and I just gave my youngest my first real sketch since my cervical spine reconstruction...I gave it to her this past Friday for her 22nd birthday. I hope she knows how much it means to me to be able to give that gift to her, it also represents a "thank you" for all she has sacrificed for me.

While sketching, it is painfully obvious to me that my nerve conductions are still a bit abnormal because my fingers are often difficult to control during precise movements necessary to finish a sketch. This makes sketching details, such as the eyes, a great feat. Before recently, I am sad to admit that I had been trying to avoid doing too many things that would put those harsh reminders directly into my path. But, I have gone through another phase of confronting changes in my body. For me, this has been liberating. Sketching reminds me that such detailed work for my particular situation is much more challenging than it had been during my pre-spine-surgery days, but I am moving forward. I can now finally understand the reason painting had become a stressful event...paint is more unforgiving than graphite and charcoal which can be reworked with the help of an eraser. Still, as I start to sketch again, I get into the zone of sketching as I listen to music and can almost forget about my problems, but then, that finger jerks out of control and sends the pencil in a shocking motion...I have to stop, take a deep breath and start erasing.

Sketching does put me in the line of fire with being frequently interrupted by uncooperative body movements, but I also know, with awe, that I am glued together with bits and parts that will never duplicate the real deal, but I simply keep the eraser nearby and clean up the pencil scratches caused by occasional involuntary jerking movements. Maybe the longer I keep at it, the less inclined I will feel like screaming in frustration when the charcoal pencil jumps and makes a mark I didn't ask for across the page. It's a good lesson, another step for me to take toward accepting my situation and doing all that I can with what I am given. I am so grateful that at least I can draw, and I can erase.

I'm amazed at what I am capable of doing after all that I have been through...my body is held together by parts from donors, by the engineering of man and by the surgical genius of a beautiful neuro-spine doctor. I marvel at the ability to open and close my fingers and to take a step up a staircase. It is amazing to be confident that my brain can send a message to lift a leg and it will obey the auto-order for movement. I know how much these abilities mean because I grew up with a mother who had a left paralyzed arm and a right paralyzed leg. I already understood the loss of these functions in a way that a lot of people don't because I grew up in a household ran by a mother who had experienced a loss of those limbs at age five from Polio, so I could not believe that my broken neck was going to rip my ability to enjoy motion away from me, only three years after losing my mother to cancer. I guess, in a way, it is good she was not around to see my struggle with my spinal cord injury and broken neck because it probably would have been unbearable for her to witness. Even though I missed her presence during my greatest moment of need, I am grateful because I know the main part of my healing took place because I did indeed have loving people caring for me and helping me during my worst moments, the best way they could help.

In many ways, I am still healing. Many people who have gone through huge challenges in life do understand that there is more to healing than just the scar that is an evident reminder of their health hurdles...those scars often stand for deeper hurts and deeper wounds and more severe consequences that might never completely heal or never be sealed closed.

I think back over what has been given to me in the minutes and seconds of my life here on earth and it is good that I had been blessed to be prepped early in life to be a giver and a helper. I can see that growing up with a mother who was a semi-hemi-pelagic from contracting the Polio virus as a child did prepare me for the battles ahead in life. Little did I know that by watching her overcome major obstacles, I would learn to do the same for myself.

Sadly, I also know that some people cannot receive help, even grudgingly, because they are angry at needing help. Instead of allowing people to be their helper, it is easier for them to make the helper their enemy, as if the person helping is causing their problems and created their troubles.

During the past decade of my life, I have become aware of this receiving end of getting help and have learned what it means to receive help graciously. "Needing Help" is like an address to me, it is not a place I want to visit and it is probably a place you would love to avoid as well, but when I am there, whether for a short visit or for the long-haul, I have found that it is better to plant some flowers while there instead of spreading weeds. In other words...be part of the beautiful scenery of "Needing Help." Choose to add to the delightful part of being in that place instead of using the lay-over as an excuse to spread ugliness. And no, I am not saying to pretend that you enjoy the loss of independence, but I am saying to try to make the best of it. For the harsh truth is...What is the alternative?

For those who care about you, they realize that the adjustment after landing in that place of "Needing Help" will create upheaval, but do not become the person who cannot see the garden of beautiful moments because you forgot your sunglasses! I am trying to put it nicely...ADAPT. When you feel trapped in that place of "Needing Help," reach for the sunglasses, help to remove the weeds, and search for the beauty while you are there because you might leave that place with an understanding about life that can only be learned while you are visiting. Indeed, I had to do some digging to search for the beauty during times of great suffering and needing help out of the good graces from others, but there is beauty in all things, if only you search for it. It might only be a speck, but it is there for the taking. I am thankful that my visits to "Needing Help" have taught me a lot about life and about people, there is so much for me to share in this area, but I am already full with emotion from putting these few things down to share with you today.

I have faced the fact that the people I love might not be there for me at every turn in the road. Even though our lives intersect with those we love, we each have our own life to live and our own paths to take. In moments of being alone with my failing body during those hard times, I realized that my family might not be there for me during my greatest moment of need, such as when I am gasping for air and can find none. I learned that we can each be in the same room, yet in separate worlds. That was a hard lesson for me to accept. My traditional Kumbaya ideals had to get a reality tweak. In the same token, I had to admit that I will also not always be able to be there for my loved ones at every moment they need me, and this is a part of life that we all seem to grapple with, sooner or later, knowing we are put to some tests on our own. But, I will always feel that to do our best to help each other out, here and there, as much as we can, well, that is a great gift to share with others, indeed.

I am grateful to have given help to others and to have received help from family, friends and strangers alike. For that is the essence of life, to be here for each other and to give something of ourselves as a gift to others. From simple actions such as an encouraging word to cleaning someone's house that is unable to do it themselves, there is a way to reach out.

A wonderful part of life is that we can still try to help others while suffering through our own hardships...this helps keep us grounded and prevents complete selfish behavior. Granted, there were times when I could barely utter a word, but I could still give a loved one a smile. Our past struggles, of all kinds, should not be erased because those moments are the ones filled with substance and grit, those moments make us the person we are today and the hardships we have faced and overcome or that we continue to face should not be overlooked. Each step through my pain and suffering has made me the person I am today...the woman who continually tries to build a good life. A good life is always available, in the midst of suffering, it is still present, it is just harder to acknowledge. But, it is there, you have to work harder for the good moments, but once you reach them and grasp them, they are sweeter and more precious than an easy-to-come-by good moment that you once took forgranted.

Yes, I have beautiful, wonderful moments. If they do not come to me, I go out and find them. I will not give up the search for meaning in all kinds of experiences, good and bad. Finding meaning gives you reason to keep going. Do not quit searching for meaning in all things...it may be the life-fuel you need to keep going for just a little while longer and to continue sending out your ripples.

# 129 - Scars and Hurdles

One of the side effects of having Addison's disease is to have severe abdominal pain. In my case, that has been one of my hallmark Addisonian issues since my diagnosis in 2001.

For those of you who are regular readers, you might know that my gall bladder suddenly died in 2009 which led to a series of abdominal surgeries that were not pleasant. I laid in my master-bedroom with a dying gall-bladder and extremely ill because, at first, I could not tell that it was different from regular Addison attacks. However, within 24 hours, I was telling my household that I KNEW something wasn't right. This was a hospital trip I dreaded, and one problem seemed to boomerang into the next, from the gall-bladder onward, for the next several months. And here I am now, with severe abdominal pains that have steadily increased over this past year and another go-round with already knowing something isn't right.

This summer I had a CTScan that showed several potentially serious issues and today I finally met with a very experienced gastroenterologist with Baylor. Thankfully, he wants to try to keep me out of the hospital --- which I cannot express enough to others how much I detest being in the hospital --- I am beyond grateful to him for this concession. However, he spoke very plainly and straight-forward to me today about the high risks involved for the colonoscopy and endoscopy he wants to do as soon as possible. There are things he can't see unless he performs these tests. And he said he needs to get in there and take a close look around, from top to bottom, literally. At least I have my humor intact!

Any time you've had abdominal surgery to the extent I've had, you run the risk of scar tissue being a problem for these tests. Due to the nature of my past three abdominal surgeries, he said that I'm at a high-risk for perforation during the procedure. He told me he'd avoid it as much as possible, but that I am definitely high-risk for this to occur and there's no way around it, other than to not get this test and go for a barium enema-style test they did 30 years ago. However, with Addison's that will present its own set of problems. Plus, he can do the colonoscopy and endocscopy under the same anesthesia. I just asked him to please use different equipment for each end!

Anyway, he was a straight-shooter and said that I needed to be very clear that since perforation is such a high-risk for me that I needed to know, if that happened, it would require immediate, emergency surgery. He said that the surgeon he is selecting will be vital because this is when experience is key to knowing when to not keep pushing the scope against resistance.

In fact, he gave me his typed paperwork upon the end of the appointment that said in writing, "Best to try to have endoscopy and colonoscopy exams with anesthesia but not certain if exam can be completed due to surgeries, increased risk of perforation and incomplete exam."

Yes, I understand. Clearly. I'm not jumping up and down, but I get it.

After giving an old-fashioned exam of the abdominal area with probing hands that could probably feel a question-mark easily, he brought in one of those "prepping" packages for a colonoscopy, which I cringed at seeing. AUGH! If you've never done one of these, don't let it stop you from having a colonoscopy, but I will admit, it's not a beautiful experience! With Addison's disease and the problems I have abdominally, he gave me two days of additional instructions for prepping, but it's been so many years since I've had one of these tests that I'm already dreading it.

It's good that I brought it a CD copy of my CTScan along with a report because he read the report and said there was a big problem with it. This is another area when an experienced doctor can be hugely beneficial. He said there was no way the dictation on the report was transcribed correctly. So, he has sent off my CTScan CD to another radiologist for a new transcription and correct report and he put this in writing to me as well. This doctor was one thorough dude. I've NEVER had a doctor do this before today. I have teams consult with each other, but never have had a doctor literally say that he didn't trust the report.

Usually, they will order tests to be repeated or will order different tests, but they rarely admit that there is a problem with the original radiology report and I've never had a doctor tell me that they are having the scans looked at by a second radiologist so a second report could be drafted on the same CTScan.

There's a first-time for everything!

Therefore, take the time to get copies of your radiology work-ups to take to any other doctors...it might be worth your time.

There were other things we discussed that were a little hard to hear, but I am taking it one step at a time. I'll wait to get my testing done and to see if I make it out of there without emergency surgery before I start to tackle the next issue.

Since I am babysitting my five-year old niece until the 27th of August, she is my shadow. Well, as she'd say, she's not just five years old, she's ALMOST six as of the end of this month. She went to this appointment with me, and I am proud to say, she behaved like a little doll. I brought along a notebook full of blank pages, and since she can read, I wrote two pages of questions, leaving a blank after each question for her to write her response. It worked out wonderfully. She kept busy with her notebook, reading each question and using the pen I'd attached to the notebook to write out her carefully written answers.

And yesterday, before the appointment, I went ahead and showed her the scar on my abdomen so she would not be shocked by it upon the exam. Thank God I did because exam time came and it was no big deal. However, I was not going to take a chance since she had discovered the scar at the back of my neck a few weeks ago, from my cervical spine reconstruction --- as I was putting my hair in a ponytail in front of her as she sat on my bathroom countertop --- and she began to tell me there was a bad "sore" on the back of my neck. At first, I didn't know what she was talking about because I didn't have a sore. What sore??? Then, she put her finger on my back and ran it along the scar that is a few inches long, "This," she said, "...it's a BIG sore."

My heart dropped. Oh well. I had to explain that it's not a sore, it's a scar, and it doesn't hurt anymore. We talked about the difference between a sore and a scar. As for hurting, at least the incision itself doesn't hurt, so I didn't fib. We didn't exactly get into internal hardware, she is still technically five years old...hardy har har. Anyway, upon her discovery of my scar, she raised her shoulders to her ears and said, "It looks like it hurts so bad!" Actually, I was the one who felt bad for HER. Needless to say, I was shocked that she paid close attention to such things, and I did not want her being caught off guard again. My sister and I discussed how to handle it...knowing she'd not understand the terminology used by the doctor and since she'd learned about scars, we knew it would seem like an ordinary trip to the doctor's office. And, that's what it seemed like to her, regular trip to the doctor.

For me, it wasn't so ordinary. However, I am moving along in life. With the support of loving family and friends, I am always ready to bounce back from the next stumble. Watching the Olympics lately has given me such inspiration...those athletes have bodies that are beyond comprehension for most people, whether you have health issues or not. Yet, many of those athletes overcome major hurdles and injuries and life's obstacles. Behind every person with a medal hanging around their neck, there is a life-story waiting to unfold, everyone has a story. Yesterday becomes a life-story.

And each person has those special people who have loved and supported them all the way through, good times and bad.

In spite of my own hurdles, although not Olympic in size, I keep going. Some days, I feel as if it is an Olympic feat for me to simply put one foot in front of the other; other days I can almost run with the wind, yet I am always thankful for each and every step along this journey.

# 128 - Sharing the Soul

As a mom, I've diligently kept all of my daughters' art work from their childhood. Years ago, I made extra large-art portfolio holders by stapling two posterboards together, leaving the top open to slide in their artwork. This kept their work from being bent and creased.

In an easily accessible area, the portfolio was kept behind my china cabinet with the edge of the portfolio barely sticking out to make it easy to retrieve for adding new artwork to it.

Recently, I took a day to spread out some of their work and to simply gaze upon the beauty of each piece. I'm considering buying very large frames so that I can create a collage of framed artwork for each daughter; I plan to put these collages in the guest bedroom for everyone to enjoy.

I imagine, one day, when my children have children of their own, my visiting grandbabies will get a kick out of seeing their mommy's art, created when their mommy was a child. It will be a link from childhood to childhood.

Some of their work is abstract, other work is "still-art" and a few pieces reflect a historical event. Each one is precious to me.

 

 

Most moms love to get their child's artwork, but I can't express how excited I had been to get each drawing, each painting, each sculpture...I never wanted to buy any art because I had little artists living in my household.

To add to the art of my children, I have my own artwork throughout the house that I've produced for years and years, especially some larger pieces that came with studying Visual Arts and Design at the University of Houston. I've been blessed to work in the Arbor Building through many art classes and to have professors of great artistic standing be my teachers in specific art methods.

Obeying my own need to create art is a tremendous stress reducer for me. However, I had some serious health battles that would put a wall between me and my need to create art, especially the battle with being able to use my arms since they were not getting adequate blood flow. But, I had two major surgeries to better enable blood to get to my arms and hands, a two year process of surgical intervention that went into three-four years after they decided to remove my minor pectoral muscle on the right side since it was shredded by bone shards. Even if the major surgeries were horrific and came with critical complications, I'm happy that my left side works wonderfully, but my right side was never properly "decompressed" by the removal of my first rib along with the removal of the anterior and scalene muscles in my neck --- I also have artery clips along the thoracic arteries as well, both sides.

The surgeries had to be done a year apart. Each one required approximately one year recovery, mostly because of the collapse lung that each surgery left me to deal with --- because of a paralyzed diaphragm. The nerve in your body that is the "control wire" for the diaphragm, which controls the lung, well, this "control wire" was impacted by each surgery, so each side ended up with a collapsed lung following surgery. It would take about 9 months, each time, for me to again be able to inflate my lung. Let me tell you, everything done to me in the dice and chop operating room could not compare to the lung collapsing. It's not a good feeling when your lung collapses and you can feel the lung sticking to itself --- to inflate it, with each labored breath or with pulmonary rehabilitation causes tremendous agony.

My left side was surgically decompressed by this method in 2005 and the right side was done a year later, in 2006. Since I am still unable to freely use my right arm, it's an ongoing battle. Even the simple act of blogging can cause me trouble as the right arm goes numb and pain from the lack of bloodflow creates pain down the arm and a sensation of choking on the right side of my neck. It's a big price to pay, but I try to position myself the best way possible so that I can type, type, type. I can use my arm for a short time, but it's never felt the same since the days when I could use my arms without a second thought and that was ten years ago.

I guess this is another reason I've treasured my daughters' artwork. If anyone understands the desire to create art, to play instruments and to do things that are ordinary daily activities without a thought about anything other than "Which color to use next," or "Which key to play next?" -- I do understand having the burning desire to do such things, yet not be able to do them because of physical limitations. I also understand what it means to push past the pain, to keep going in spite of challenges. Sometimes I've paid heavily for those decisions, but I rarely regret it.

Good thing I have partial use of my right arm since the surgery, it is better than before surgery, but still not completely workable as is my left side. I can often work around my incomplete decompression. Maybe one day I'll have the luxury to have the right side fully decompressed so that I can do normal things again, like drive to see my daughter in Dallas without it being a huge undertaking that causes me major issues, such as being able to feel my arm. Driving requires limited mobility, a huge issue for me.

Yes, maybe you can see a little through my eyes as well that this artwork is more meaningful than I can express.

Living life as fully as you can means different things for different people. Some people are given every tool and every healthy benefit to be able to live a beautiful life, yet they still take it forgranted. My mindset feels that there are enough problems, day by day, for me to conquer; I certainly don't need to add any more problems to what I already face. For many, like me, just getting through their day is a personal battlefield that brings constant reminders that simple things can be great challenges.

Others seem to look for problems because it appears they need more drama in their life or they are not satisfied with having an "ordinary" life full of blessings that deserve focus instead of contrived issues stemming from owning an ungrateful heart. I've seen so many people create their own problems and these same people proceed to wonder why their life is full of problems?

Personally, if I have extra energy and physical capabilities, it must go toward the constant effort to keep my health balanced so that I may have that awesome day with a few minutes at the piano or to do simple basic tasks, such as the laundry and dusting the furniture. One thing I must say is that a good day for me can indeed be jam-packed; I've learned to fully take advantage of a good day, probably much better than a "regular" person without any health hurdles.

However, once my neck broke, in 2009, it required massive reconstruction and double-sided hardware to support the neck so it would not collapse again. To add to the thoracic artery issues, I found myself confronting more challenges on top of existing challenges. It felt like I was being sandwiched between major health assaults that I had no control over and I did feel squashed like a bug. For a while, I didn't feel very excited about the added loss of sensation in my hands due to a spinal cord injury. I didn't like the struggle to move my feet forward and to lift them to take a step...all of it took more effort than could be expressed, even to those closest around me.

The spinal cord was squished between two bones that had broken, so it damaged the spinal cord in a manner that could not be repaired. It created a large lesion on the C2 section of spinal cord that is still present and visible on MRI scans. Still, I regained more feeling and better use of my arms/hands and legs/feet than the doctors thought were possible. I've been given more than my fair share of miracles, even if I've been given more than my fair share of physical hurdles.

Through it all, I've learned there is something powerful about art --- it is a healing expression of humanity. I finally understood that for many people, especially for those who have suffered deeply from physical or emotional pain, a piece of art can seem to speak to you or for you. Art can capture a feeling, it can represent the best in you, the worst in you or it can bring hope beyond words.

For some dedicated artists, on any level, from novice to accomplished, there seems to be a sharing of the soul in some of the work produced by particular artists. Often, you can feel pulled into a piece of art. If you haven't had this experience yet, then I recommend that you view art differently. Try to search for a piece of art that truly SPEAKS to you with such depth that you feel knocked out of your shoes. It's out there, you might have just not found it yet, but when you do...you'll know it.

I have a few personal favorites that definitely evoke great emotion from within the well of my soul.

In fact, I'll be scanning a few pictures of historical art that have brought me great comfort and hope during times of great turmoil.

But, there is a certain peace, joy and innocence that comes with looking at a child's artwork. It's like looking out a window to see a different view of sunshine.

How many times have I been delighted by these works of art created by my children? I can't count. Even through difficult times of their own...my children created with bright goodness, always doing their best to get their mind's eye down on paper.

I love the effort. I love the result. I love the sharing of their souls.

# 127 - Focusing on Priorities

To follow up from the CTScan showing issues, I have an appointment with a "renowned" gastroenterologist in Houston's Medical Center that is with the Baylor Medical Clinic. The only problem is that it takes so long to get into one of his available slots, but I'm set for August 10th. Since I'm in constant pain in the entire abdominal wall, this will be an excruciating wait.

But, I can do it.

As usual, the biggest problem with an issue like this is to manage my Addison's. I am having a very difficult time getting out of the state of exhaustion; I just feel like I'm dragging badly.

To combat this, my doctor has increased my daily hydrocortisone intake another 10mg in the morning and an additional 5-10 every afternoon. Then, if I feel if I am still sputtering, I take control and administer more HC until I am feeling more stable.

I could have seen another doctor in my area sooner, but I've learned to not mess around with doctors who are mass producers and to stick with doctors who are better known for being in their line of work because they actually are diagnostically talented. And, I've learned to choose doctors who are connected to the hospitals I know practice higher standards of care and who have more capabilities at their facilities.

After you've done your part, the rest is in God's hands. All I know is that I have to be pro-active in getting myself into as healthy as a state as possible because the next big event coming in our lives around here is my oldest daughter's wedding in October. That's only a hop, skip and a jump away!

For now, until that appointment on August 10th, I have lots of things to do --- or to TRY to do! We are getting the house back in order since Stefie moved out to an apartment next to her campus.

Me & Stefie saying goodbye as she
leaves for college this year.

Things have been rearranged because of all the furniture we gave to her, in an effort to scale back our own belongings and to help her start her own life a bit easier, so now we can make things look even less cramped in this big house of ours. Hopefully, next week, the For Sale sign will go back into the yard and we'll get this big baby unloaded!

Another item on my agenda is my daughter's wedding shower here in the Houston area. That will be on August 4th and since I'm a typical mom co-hosting her daughter's shower, I have LOTS to do still. I hand-made all of her wedding shower invitations and this week I will be starting on the Alice in Wonderland themed decorations. It's been a lot of fun to cut, glue, glitter and print....makes me feel like I'm doing art projects for a really good cause! This is definitely a time when Pinterest is a source of beautiful ideas, even though I'm still lagging behind in how to exactly use this great site. I'm learning.

Heather & Henry

Heather's wedding is fast approaching and I'm so excited that I cannot express it in words how I feel! As far as Addison's Disease goes...I will DEFINITELY have to prepare myself to take stress dosages prior to traveling for the wedding and continue taking higher maintenance dosages to keep up with the physical strain and emotional strain that will be taking place in my body. There's just no way that this wedding won't have a huge impact on me...she's my baby! Even so, Heather has diligently taken great care to handle every element of her wedding and I'll be so happy to be with her the week of her wedding, to help pull it all together.

Heather & Henry - Engagement Day

I am so happy to be there for her...she's eager for me to help her with organizing for the wedding and for the honeymoon preparations since they will be traveling to Europe, and you can bet that I'll be cleaning house for her on a "mommy level" so that her and Henry can come back to a house that's without any worries. Her dad will be great as well, he'll help with ceiling fans and other things that I can't reach without a step ladder and I'm sure he'll be doing lots of cooking.

Together, we'll do our best to keep the two kiddos on track and to help remove stress from the days leading up to the wedding. I want them to relax and to focus on the sacred part of being married...kind of a quiet reverence for the huge step before God that they are about to take. We'll definitely be pulling the best part of ourselves together so that we can pray for these kids as they begin their marriage...for a mom and dad to work together to pull blessings over their children, I believe that says a lot and is critical for a young couple to get the boost to their marriage that is memorable and precious.

No matter what is going on within family dynamics, the important issue right now is that these two young adults be given every bit of support that can be reasonably given to them as they begin their marriage.

The good thing is, in the face of hard times, good times, I-don't-think-I-can-stand-it times, and the most connected times...both of these kids come from parents who have made it together, in spite of problems. Marriage is something that can't be discarded without major consequences and that is something you want to pass on to your children. Marriage is something that takes a long time to build, but can be demolished fast by doing unloving things and saying unloving words...as long as they put the goal of being kind to one another as a priority, they'll find more joy together. I hope they get this concept down into their bones as they start their marriage. As long as they care about the feelings of their partner, there is a good marriage to be had.

It's a serious thing to have a wedding...it's not an event to be treated like a party because it is so far above any "party" that can be imagined. Yes, it should be a celebration, a reverent celebration in the joining of two people as one in marriage while witnesses watch the moment the couple goes from single identities to two joined as one. A wedding day is a pivotal day to be marked in their history as a day that can never be erased. It's a day when a single person with an singular identity becomes melded by vows to another person in a manner that should last a life-time.

If anyone can do it, these two kiddos can. In my book, they've proved their love and determination to be together and to build a life together. Oh, there will be rough times ahead, but there will also be beautiful moments that will make it ALL worthwhile.

Yes, marriage is to be respected and to be honored from the moment the "I do" is said until the moment no more words can be said.

October 13, 2012 will be the day these two will be joined in Holy Matrimony. I will be honored, touched and overjoyed to help them get to the altar!

# 126 - Priorities in a Row, Creativity in Tow!

Here in Texas, it looks to be a beautiful day. It started out rough for me, but it's building into a better and stronger day that I hope to be able to enjoy as fully as possible. Deputy Dave has already been out since the wee morning hours enjoying whatever it is that he enjoys and it's good that he does.

I hope that later in the day, I'll be able to go out and enjoy my own company, in peace and to have fun picking out designer paper for my oldest daughter's wedding shower invitations. Heather is so creative that she's hard to beat with imagination for cute invitation ideas!

For me, I love everything I come across when I'm in a craft store, but that is a blessing in life for me, I am easy to please. It takes little for me to find a worthwhile smile. And I don't mind having a great deal of solitude because I am never truly alone, the Lord is always with me. Always.

Since this is my blog to relay things relating to Addison's disease, I must first start with saying that I've been struggling a long while with abdominal pains ranging from dull to severely sharp, the pain can pounce upon me within a few seconds and with little warning. I believe my regular readers are aware of this issue. It's been a challenge because I might be out and about when it starts to occur and that could be a problem. The pain gets so intense that I have no choice but to double over in pain, I break out in a profuse sweat that accompanies severe pain, and I only want to get somewhere to lie down and to be left alone. Thank God, I've been able to be alone during these times, except for when Stefie was with me during a direct episode last month. It's not a time l like to share with anyone. Of course, as the severe pains and stomach cramping begin, I immediately take a hefty oral stress doss to accommodate my Addison's disease.

Through all of these increasing problems, I did manage to finish my service as a Grand Juror Foreman, but it was tough. One way to get through these last few months was to barely eat during our day in session. I could lightly nibble on something, but a full meal would have put me in danger of going into a ball on the floor, so I never allowed the chance to happen.

A couple of weeks before our service came to an end, I went to get a CT-Scan of my entire abdominal region. I had the scan on a Friday, then my doctor went on vacation for two weeks, which was great because I wasn't in a hurry to hear the results. I already knew something wasn't right, but I wasn't ready to hear it and I didn't want the end of my service on Grand Jury to be impacted by distraction. So, I decided to not hear anything about it until recently. Waiting three weeks for the results was not particularly difficult.

Plus, my youngest daughter was going through her own testing to rule out the possibility of MS and she had another test last week, a brain MRI, that came out clear...I was celebrating her good results! However, I didn't want to get my test results in the middle of her own issues...I wanted to keep her first and to not jumble the madness, especially for my husband because he didn't need to get bad news about those around him at one time --- I guess that was part of my "selfishness!". The least I could do was to spread it apart on purpose. Thankfully, Stefie is a healthy gal! It gave me added peace to be able to focus on her scan and her results first. I cannot thank God enough for her being healthy. I can handle my own health issues, but to see your child suffer is to be in agony for them.

As for my own scan, my family knows I had this CT-Scan and had been waiting on the results. My dad, in particular, kept asking me for the results. He was impatient. He would have rather gotten all the news at once and he would've just dealt with it rather than having to deal with a delay. He's not good with delays and he loves me enough to be  concerned every step of the way. But, he understood my reasoning for putting my own results on the back-burner. However, he told me, "I know you are worried about Stefie as a priority over your own health, and I understand because she's your baby and she's my grandbaby, but YOU are MY baby and putting this off is not good."

Dads have a way of getting through to you.

Of us all, the delay tortured my dad the most, but I'm glad he respected my decision and tried to wait patiently. He lets me know that he's praying for me --- my father --- praying --- for me. You can't get much more love than this. He's rather persistent and very involved with my health, after all, I am his oldest daughter. For the past few months, he's even let me borrow his car because I've let my youngest take our extra vehicle to college. My dad did not think it wise for me to be left without a vehicle, so he's made sure to remedy that matter and I'm grateful. His vehicle allowed me to make my appointments to to take myself to the places where I would go for testing and check-ups. It's good that I have a car because I'm usually alone for these tests, and I prefer it that way. There's nothing anyone can do but sit and wait; I'd not want to bore anyone in this manner. Besides, I'm rather tough and can endure the pain and stress of these tests on my own, it's often easier to do without seeing someone else's face contort into sympathy. I always tell my sister, "Save it for the results...then we can face it together...a test is a time of knowing nothing, getting the results is the time I will need you to lean on!"

As for my dad, he and I have been through a lot as father and daughter, which included taking care of my mom together as she died. We are well bonded. My dad does not put forth mock concern over my situation in front of people and then behave another way behind closed doors...his concern is genuine and consistent. He and I have a true friendship. I trust my dad. His heart is truly tied to me as mine is to his; no matter my age, I will always be his child and it is him that I sometimes worry about the most when I must relay a bit of news that might be considered "bad."

Besides, he is easy for me to approach, on a good and bad day. So, I'm more likely to go to him on a bad day.

The best thing about my dad, to me, is that he sees me as a good person, even with my every fault. He doesn't see me as selfish, even though I am borrowing his vehicle for a prolonged period of time. He thinks the best of me and for that I am astounded and appreciative. He knows my motives toward those I love are truly deep and that I would work to the death to help someone in a jam. He's my dad. He understands a side of me that would love to blend into the wall as a wallflower; that would be a delight for me, but this path of Addison's and other troubles is what I've been given, so I do the best with it that I can. That includes being honest about the good and bad times with my outreach. I refuse to put on a mask of lies surrounding this disease with complications because I want others to know that they are not alone in their moments of suffering.

When you have Addison's or Adrenal Insufficiency, everything in your life affects your condition.

Well, yesterday I spoke with the Dr. and he faxed me a copy of my CT-Scan. There are some definite problems that will need to be addressed right away. The problem is, there are several issues and the Dr. is trying to figure out which way to approach it --- which one should be first on the list when we are worried the others might need to be first. We will be talking again tomorrow.

At least I know why I am in great pain --- that has been revealed.

Of the many angles we are approaching, one test will be a colonoscopy as the reports says that a mass cannot be ruled out and the walls of the colon are noticeably thickened, which could mean a few things, not any of them are particularly good news. Then, the problem reaches to my bladder which has lining that is evidently swollen as well with thickened walls. The Dr. said he was concerned that everything in this area is swollen...something rather widespread is going on...it would be better if it were isolated to one area. But, like I said, it explains my increasing pain.

We discussed a potential hospital stay so that I could go through several tests within a short period of time instead of drawing out the tests for weeks, especially when time could be of the essence. I've already delayed getting the news of the CT-Scan for a few weeks, but now I must move forward with haste. I HATE being in the hospital, but this is one time when I might have to agree that it would be the most efficient course of action.

For those of you who have Addison's disease, you understand the problems that these battles in my body are creating. It makes it more difficult to manage the Addison's and this better explains why I've had sudden Addison Crisis symptoms over the past few months and am having a more difficult time keeping myself stabilized...my body is in a constant battle. As for the mass they suspect, I can almost feel something in that area when I lie on my stomach...it makes me wonder if it is the mass that I can feel? It's over 4cm in size, which is getting rather intimidating for a mass and I know what that size would mean, if it were to be malignant. When I lie on my stomach, it feels as if a hard golf ball is beneath me. Sometimes, I even check beneath me to see if there is something actually there in the way. There is never anything that can physically be moved to make the lump disappear because it's stuck inside of me. I guess we shall soon find out.

One huge issue is that I've completely lost my appetite, yet I force myself to eat every day. I try to eat two meals per day and to make it calorie rich so that I don't get into an Addison's wasting situation from the constant stress the issues are putting upon my body. Oh, I've got some "power pounds" on me so I am not very concerned about a sudden, rapid dip in weight loss...I've been good at keeping the padding in place. But, I am about 10-15 pounds less than I'd been last year, it seems I've leveled out, yet again. For me, having a stable weight is a good thing. Being skinny is not desirable. For those of you who suffered with rapid wasting due to Addison's, you understand this dilemma. I don't need to add a wasting problem to the other issues, so I am good about eating. Unfortunately, for the past several weeks, I have been so nauseated that I cannot get through my day without starting it off with Zolfran to control the nausea. At least I have this medication and it works fairly well to ward off major bouts of nausea.

Anyway, I keep going. There are plenty of people who have worse problems and they manage to keep moving forward. I will keep moving forward and doing all that I can in spite of these hurdles. I have had many challenges, but I've also had many MORE blessings. So, I can't feel abandoned by my Lord...he has seen me through some of the most difficult times. I have faith that He will be with me through all my days, until the end, no matter the age I am when the end might find me.

I am thankful to be surrounded by family and friends who are true supporters, even in the worst of times. Those are my true friends and you know who you are.

I will try to make more regular posts while doing all I can to heal my body because I have too much to look forward to. My daughter's wedding in October is such a huge event...I will do all I can to be in the best condition possible for that beautiful day.

There is much for me to look forward to. In spite of other areas that are disappointing, I am focusing on those whom I love dearly and focusing upon those who truly love me. Letting go of former friends who have turned out to be very unfriendly has been a treasure and a release. Those with mechanical motivations have lost their gleam for me...but it makes me better focus on all the other areas that are rich with blessings.

I'm sure a lot will be happening over the next week, I'll keep you posted! Meanwhile, I'm working on designing my daughter's wedding shower invitations that are looking as if they will be SUPER CUTE! It's wonderful to be able to focus on such things during times of personal hardship. I love the goodness in life that distract us from the ugly parts; I appreciate those who offer encouragement and kindness, at all times, not just during the scary times. I value my true friends who are eager to think the best of me, even in my worst moments.

It's great to also have such awesome blog buddies!

Thank God for good things in our lives!



A Couple of Months Ago