It's been so long since I've added to my blog, I couldn't remember how to log into it. Sigh. But now I am here so...
Yesterday, my daughter took me to a touring art collection of pre-Impressionist work through some Impressionist work. (I'm sure there's a better title for the collection, but that's all I, personally, have at the moment.) It was fabulous. Remembering it today is almost better than being at the actual exhibit as my breathing and anxiety issues caused me a few problems. I now have a Handicap placard for cars (mine and my daughter's) so didn't have to go too far to get in. But my daughter walks fast and there were steps to climb to get into the building. I had oxygen with me, but didn't use it. Don't know why! So was out of breath when we arrived inside to be greeted by a sea of people. We had to wait for thirty minutes or so just to get in, then spent about an hour looking at the art work. For that hour and a half, I did use my portable oxygen tank, which is heavy. That, along with the large crowd, made me self-conscious. However, I still got close to the art work I really wanted to study - the Renoir's in particular and Whistler's Study in Gray and Black (Whistler's Mother). I also fell in love with some Manet's and others' whose names I can't remember. But I bought a book of the exhibit with which I have relived the experience of seeing the paintings.
How this has affected my journey to heal: I am determined to go to the next exhibit with less stress. I have designed, and already begun to implement, a new exercise program aimed at increasing my walking and standing time to at least one and a half hours. Maybe more. I do want to go swimming again this coming summer. If I remain in the dormant state I have created for myself this winter, I won't be able to do that. And I will have the same difficulties when visiting the next art exhibit, which I intend to do.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Saturday, September 4, 2010
What is family?
It has been a long time since I've blogged. I allowed my blogging, and my serious efforts to heal my lungs, to be waylaid by "family" matters. The tensions created by these matters have done nothing to aid my health. I can only hope the small things I have continued to do will ultimately offset any harm done by undeserved stress. I continue to attend my Qigong classes, although my teacher's summer schedule, and sometimes my own, have caused several classes to be missed. I have practiced here at my house, but have not been as diligent as my health requires. I have continued to swim, but not with the joyous abandon I so loved before. I have also stopped listening to my healing music CDs and my CDs of musical Buddhist chants. I have continued my work with A Course In Miracles, but not as conscientiously as I would have under normal circumstances.
My "family" matter revolves around the sale of property owned by my mother who passed away in 2008. The property was inherited by four people and was contracted for sale by one. I believe this was simply a mistake on the part of the one, who did not realize the consequences of what was done. However, my attempt to correct the mistake has ruptured into a full blown war between "them" and "me," although I remain an unwilling participant.
I have been vilified and now ostracised by my "family." I have used quotes on that word throughout because I was taught by my parents that "family" will always protect you and always stand by you. "Family" should not argue, but if they do they make up before nightfall. "Family" listens. "Family" cares.
This has not been true in this instance. My parents would be very disappointed in their "family." They would not be disappointed in me, although other "family" members would heavily dispute this.
A vicious eruption of angry bile was spewed on me over a letter that had not been received, opened, or read. A letter that did not blame, did not attempt to halt the sale, did nothing other than to state there were concerns about the way the sales contract had been handled.
It was never about money, although my "family" cannot perceive this. My "family" does not realize the concessions I made for them. They do not realize what it was in my rightful power to do. Examples: I could have stopped the sale altogether. I could have demanded that, in the least, a new contract be written. I could have properly, legally, and justifiably asked for - and received - approximately $20,000 more than I did because my mother's property was greatly devalued. I could have refused to attend the closing. I could have sued, but with a suit that would not have been brought against any member of my "family." I did none of those things. I simply refused to pay a certain fee for a very certain, very particular, and very legal reason. That's all I did. My "family" knows none of this because they do not care to know. They think I wanted to take money from the "family" member who contracted the sale. I could have done so. But I didn't. Why? I would never harm any of my "family" in any way. If they were speaking to me, I could explain all of this. But they are not.
This is so hurtful to me that I cannot continue writing. I can feel my anxiety level rising and that does nothing for the health of my lungs. I will close this post simply by saying that I did nothing wrong. I did nothing to hurt my "family." In fact, my actions saved them, and myself, from possible future legal and financial ramifications that they will never know about. I should have been thanked for my efforts. Instead, I have been shunned. What hurts me most is the shunning by one person with whom I believed I had a special bond. I believe that person has been bullied into breaking that bond and my heart hurts on both their accounts.
What is family? Family is a group of people who will always listen, speak their disagreements (if there are any), compromise if necessary, and still love you, still respect you, and always be grateful to be a member of your family. I have three such people who are blood Family with no quotation marks and others in the background, not related. The three are my daughter, my granddaughter, and one of my cousins who grew up with my "family."
For the other "family," I am so sorry for us all.
My "family" matter revolves around the sale of property owned by my mother who passed away in 2008. The property was inherited by four people and was contracted for sale by one. I believe this was simply a mistake on the part of the one, who did not realize the consequences of what was done. However, my attempt to correct the mistake has ruptured into a full blown war between "them" and "me," although I remain an unwilling participant.
I have been vilified and now ostracised by my "family." I have used quotes on that word throughout because I was taught by my parents that "family" will always protect you and always stand by you. "Family" should not argue, but if they do they make up before nightfall. "Family" listens. "Family" cares.
This has not been true in this instance. My parents would be very disappointed in their "family." They would not be disappointed in me, although other "family" members would heavily dispute this.
A vicious eruption of angry bile was spewed on me over a letter that had not been received, opened, or read. A letter that did not blame, did not attempt to halt the sale, did nothing other than to state there were concerns about the way the sales contract had been handled.
It was never about money, although my "family" cannot perceive this. My "family" does not realize the concessions I made for them. They do not realize what it was in my rightful power to do. Examples: I could have stopped the sale altogether. I could have demanded that, in the least, a new contract be written. I could have properly, legally, and justifiably asked for - and received - approximately $20,000 more than I did because my mother's property was greatly devalued. I could have refused to attend the closing. I could have sued, but with a suit that would not have been brought against any member of my "family." I did none of those things. I simply refused to pay a certain fee for a very certain, very particular, and very legal reason. That's all I did. My "family" knows none of this because they do not care to know. They think I wanted to take money from the "family" member who contracted the sale. I could have done so. But I didn't. Why? I would never harm any of my "family" in any way. If they were speaking to me, I could explain all of this. But they are not.
This is so hurtful to me that I cannot continue writing. I can feel my anxiety level rising and that does nothing for the health of my lungs. I will close this post simply by saying that I did nothing wrong. I did nothing to hurt my "family." In fact, my actions saved them, and myself, from possible future legal and financial ramifications that they will never know about. I should have been thanked for my efforts. Instead, I have been shunned. What hurts me most is the shunning by one person with whom I believed I had a special bond. I believe that person has been bullied into breaking that bond and my heart hurts on both their accounts.
What is family? Family is a group of people who will always listen, speak their disagreements (if there are any), compromise if necessary, and still love you, still respect you, and always be grateful to be a member of your family. I have three such people who are blood Family with no quotation marks and others in the background, not related. The three are my daughter, my granddaughter, and one of my cousins who grew up with my "family."
For the other "family," I am so sorry for us all.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Learning the answers to my questions
Once again I have to say I haven't blogged in a while. And, gratefully, once again I can say I have been busy. Busy swimming. I go to the pool now three times a week. Each time I stay for two and a half hours. Lately, no one else has been in the pool and I am free to invent and execute various water exercises. I run in the water, trot, "frog swim," - it looks just like it sounds - do breathing exercises, meditate, and express great gratitude for the sun, the water, the breeze, the summer. I do love it so.
Is it helping my recovery? Oh yes! I do have days during the week when I am simply too tired to go to the pool. That is, most likely, due to my extreme exercising. That doesn't matter. I can feel that my lungs, my entire body are stronger. My appetite has changed. Not only am I hungrier, I am hungrier for better foods. Fruits, mostly. I am very much enjoying the summer fruits. Fresh strawberries, peaches, bananas (a regular staple, but still they seem more alive in summer). I am enjoying my life.
I continue to study and learn many things that are helping me to understand the nature of sickness and mine in particular. I am continuing to restudy A Course In Miracles, but I am also studying Buddhism, learning and saying mantras while, also, learning about healing sounds and healing music. I have also recently reread parts of a book I have had for a long time on auras. One section concerns cleansing ones' aura and there are sections on beginning with clearing out the clutter in your environment and cleaning it as well. Both things that have not recently received much attention from me.
My daughter came over on Thursday with the intention of assisting me in cleaning out all of my closets and taking clothing to a Good Will store. I deeply appreciate her interest and her help. Something she may not know. But when dealing with someone like me who is loathe to change, has hoarding tendencies, OCD, rampant superstitions which may or may not have a medical term, and panic disorder, telling me to clean out a closet on a specific day with only one day's notice is most likely not going to work. It didn't. But she did remove some heavy, unwanted items that were piled in a corner. I am glad to be free of them and I am very grateful for her help. And with that seemingly small start, she inspired me to begin the process of clearing out the clutter on my own. Now, of course, I would very much like her help. If she were here today, we would go through the closets in no time and I could toss things out faster than I can on my own. But she chose last Thursday as her daughter was visiting her other grandparents, leaving her free, and I understand I missed my opportunity. I just wanted to go swimming the day she was here. I just wanted to visit with her in a fun, playful way. We did and she also went to the grocery with me. I confessed to her that I am still embarrassed to go to the grocery with the oxygen tank. It was very nice having her there. It gave me the confidence to move with lightening speed and finish the "ordeal" in record time. I still hate the tank and the tubes that attach me to it. But c'est la vie. I hope I spelled that correctly.
I did clear out one box full of clothing this morning and I also attacked a job that I thought would require professional help. Mold collects around the fan vent in the half bathroom downstairs. It happens when it rains. I have been told that the rain is coming in through the dryer vent on the patio and can only enter when the wind is blowing a certain way. That makes sense as the mold isn't always there, once I have cleaned it off. This time, though, it has been growing there since the onset of my oxygen journey and I have feared getting too close to it. Today I just did it. I made a "hazmat" suit for myself by wrapping a dishtowel around my face, putting on an old long sleeved shirt, and using plastic grocery bags for full length gloves. I cleaned off the mold using soap and Lysol spray. I did a pretty good job, but I would like to have a professional come and fix the problem permanently and paint the ceiling with Kilz paint or replace drywall if necessary. I can do that when I have more money, which I hope will be soon. Meanwhile, I don't believe the mold has harmed me or will harm me after getting so close to it today. It's just gone. Out of sight, out of mind. I do not understand how I can feel that way about something I am truly and reasonably leery of, yet I cannot let go of clothing I can no longer wear. Part of my mental wire crossing I suppose.
I just glanced at the title for today and realize how far off track I seem to be. The question I had in mind was my last blog title, Why am I sick? I will answer that as succinctly as possible according to what I have learned so far. (Can I ever be succinct? Anything is possible...) My body is sick because my mind has held onto Fear, Shame, Feelings Of Unworthiness, Guilt, and Anger. My body remembers and has stored specific thoughts, feelings, and incidents that I have long forgotten. My mind remembers the basics and it is my mind that has tried through so many years of therapy to attend to those basics and banish them. I have been somewhat successful in this. But my study of A Course In Miracles and the little I know so far of Buddhism are teaching me the Power of Forgiveness, Love, and Compassion. I believe if I talk to my body, in particular the cells that comprise my lungs and the surrounding muscles, including the muscles of my neck and shoulders, and ask them to Forgive Me, Love Me and have Compassion for Me, I can indeed heal.
When I have thought of those things before, it has always been in relation to others. I can forgive others. I can certainly love others. I have always had compassion for others. But all along I have hated myself. I feel guilt over many things which means I do not forgive myself and I have no compassion for myself because I have thought I am unworthy. I may have learned these things from the "outside," but I have nurtured them on the "inside." I have fed them continuously for decades. I think if I put the Inside Me on a new diet, I can shed those unwanted pounds much faster than I put them on. Yes, they are pounds. They weigh me down and are so heavy they have impeded my breathing.
We are taught - at least, I was - that to love yourself is conceited, selfish. I was taught to always think of others, not myself. Never myself. I have tried so hard to be "good." I never realized I already was "good" and could never be anything else. As I type this I know I still have doubts. The old learning is deep. The new learning will take time, but at least I am still learning. I am still growing. I am still achieving. My healing is not just for my body. It is for my Mind and my Soul. I have never thought that before, but I'm glad I'm thinking it now.
Is it helping my recovery? Oh yes! I do have days during the week when I am simply too tired to go to the pool. That is, most likely, due to my extreme exercising. That doesn't matter. I can feel that my lungs, my entire body are stronger. My appetite has changed. Not only am I hungrier, I am hungrier for better foods. Fruits, mostly. I am very much enjoying the summer fruits. Fresh strawberries, peaches, bananas (a regular staple, but still they seem more alive in summer). I am enjoying my life.
I continue to study and learn many things that are helping me to understand the nature of sickness and mine in particular. I am continuing to restudy A Course In Miracles, but I am also studying Buddhism, learning and saying mantras while, also, learning about healing sounds and healing music. I have also recently reread parts of a book I have had for a long time on auras. One section concerns cleansing ones' aura and there are sections on beginning with clearing out the clutter in your environment and cleaning it as well. Both things that have not recently received much attention from me.
My daughter came over on Thursday with the intention of assisting me in cleaning out all of my closets and taking clothing to a Good Will store. I deeply appreciate her interest and her help. Something she may not know. But when dealing with someone like me who is loathe to change, has hoarding tendencies, OCD, rampant superstitions which may or may not have a medical term, and panic disorder, telling me to clean out a closet on a specific day with only one day's notice is most likely not going to work. It didn't. But she did remove some heavy, unwanted items that were piled in a corner. I am glad to be free of them and I am very grateful for her help. And with that seemingly small start, she inspired me to begin the process of clearing out the clutter on my own. Now, of course, I would very much like her help. If she were here today, we would go through the closets in no time and I could toss things out faster than I can on my own. But she chose last Thursday as her daughter was visiting her other grandparents, leaving her free, and I understand I missed my opportunity. I just wanted to go swimming the day she was here. I just wanted to visit with her in a fun, playful way. We did and she also went to the grocery with me. I confessed to her that I am still embarrassed to go to the grocery with the oxygen tank. It was very nice having her there. It gave me the confidence to move with lightening speed and finish the "ordeal" in record time. I still hate the tank and the tubes that attach me to it. But c'est la vie. I hope I spelled that correctly.
I did clear out one box full of clothing this morning and I also attacked a job that I thought would require professional help. Mold collects around the fan vent in the half bathroom downstairs. It happens when it rains. I have been told that the rain is coming in through the dryer vent on the patio and can only enter when the wind is blowing a certain way. That makes sense as the mold isn't always there, once I have cleaned it off. This time, though, it has been growing there since the onset of my oxygen journey and I have feared getting too close to it. Today I just did it. I made a "hazmat" suit for myself by wrapping a dishtowel around my face, putting on an old long sleeved shirt, and using plastic grocery bags for full length gloves. I cleaned off the mold using soap and Lysol spray. I did a pretty good job, but I would like to have a professional come and fix the problem permanently and paint the ceiling with Kilz paint or replace drywall if necessary. I can do that when I have more money, which I hope will be soon. Meanwhile, I don't believe the mold has harmed me or will harm me after getting so close to it today. It's just gone. Out of sight, out of mind. I do not understand how I can feel that way about something I am truly and reasonably leery of, yet I cannot let go of clothing I can no longer wear. Part of my mental wire crossing I suppose.
I just glanced at the title for today and realize how far off track I seem to be. The question I had in mind was my last blog title, Why am I sick? I will answer that as succinctly as possible according to what I have learned so far. (Can I ever be succinct? Anything is possible...) My body is sick because my mind has held onto Fear, Shame, Feelings Of Unworthiness, Guilt, and Anger. My body remembers and has stored specific thoughts, feelings, and incidents that I have long forgotten. My mind remembers the basics and it is my mind that has tried through so many years of therapy to attend to those basics and banish them. I have been somewhat successful in this. But my study of A Course In Miracles and the little I know so far of Buddhism are teaching me the Power of Forgiveness, Love, and Compassion. I believe if I talk to my body, in particular the cells that comprise my lungs and the surrounding muscles, including the muscles of my neck and shoulders, and ask them to Forgive Me, Love Me and have Compassion for Me, I can indeed heal.
When I have thought of those things before, it has always been in relation to others. I can forgive others. I can certainly love others. I have always had compassion for others. But all along I have hated myself. I feel guilt over many things which means I do not forgive myself and I have no compassion for myself because I have thought I am unworthy. I may have learned these things from the "outside," but I have nurtured them on the "inside." I have fed them continuously for decades. I think if I put the Inside Me on a new diet, I can shed those unwanted pounds much faster than I put them on. Yes, they are pounds. They weigh me down and are so heavy they have impeded my breathing.
We are taught - at least, I was - that to love yourself is conceited, selfish. I was taught to always think of others, not myself. Never myself. I have tried so hard to be "good." I never realized I already was "good" and could never be anything else. As I type this I know I still have doubts. The old learning is deep. The new learning will take time, but at least I am still learning. I am still growing. I am still achieving. My healing is not just for my body. It is for my Mind and my Soul. I have never thought that before, but I'm glad I'm thinking it now.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Why am I sick?
I have recently invested in many holistic methods of healing myself. I, of course, am still enjoying my weekly Qigong class and I practice here at my house. I have bought several new books on self-healing, CDs with healing music, sounds, meditations, and mantras. Each day I take the medication my pulmonary doctor has prescribed for me and I use the supplemental oxygen while sleeping and anytime I have to walk a long distance. Except for the western medications and supplemental oxygen, I use all these tools to heal myself. I can only use the western techniques to control, since western medicine insists I cannot be cured. To doctors, I am on a downward spiral during which my illness will only continue to get worse. So they say. I say different.
But that is not the point for today. Today the point, or rather the question, is: why am I sick? Again, western medicine points to the environmental factor of my many years of cigarette smoking, but it also now admits there is a genetic component to emphysema, COPD, whatever they choose to call it.
However, if the disease was caused by cigarette smoking, it should have improved when I quit and steadily gotten better as long as I did not smoke again. And I haven't. Yes, all physical conditions may progress with age. But I am not so old that I should have progressed to the point where I need supplemental oxygen. Perhaps it is genetic, but I do not believe I possess an emphysemic gene. The gene I possess is one of depression, anxiety, fear, putting on a brave face, hiding my feelings. That, I believe, is my gene and that, I believe, is why I am sick.
What does depression do to the body? How does one feel? How does one look? One feels tired, incredibly tired - hardly able to draw in a breath. One looks tired. Shoulders are slumped, head is held down. Not much air can enter the body in this position, nor leave it, for that matter.
What do anxiety and fear do to the body? How does one feel and look? One feels constantly on edge, alert, edgy, on guard - afraid. How does that look? Shoulders hunched up, fists clenched ready to do battle, eyes blinking, breaths coming in shallow and quick, muscles tensed. A recipe for healthy lungs? I don't think so.
"Body" doctors look at the body. Psychiatrists look at the mind. Both see a disease, one physical, one mental. But which came first - the chicken or the egg? In the case of current humans, it was the egg that developed and grew into some kind of person. Persons in various degrees of health and well being, mental and physical.
I believe my body is responding to the abuse of my mind. My mind has told "me" that, for some reason, I don't deserve to breathe. But I now believe that I do. I just have to convince my body of that. And to that end, I will use the holistic and western treatments combined. But I must work on my very self, my very, very self. The Original Me. Whoever she is, wherever she came from. I believe I can heal her, because I believe she is already healed. I just have to find her.
If I am really "on to something" here, then I will share my findings with any and all who will listen. The Mind/Body connection is not a new idea. Even the Soul/Mind/Body connection is not new. I think there may be nothing new at all. Everything has already been learned, experienced, and forgotten. I suppose all I am really trying to do is remember that it is my birthright to breathe, my birthright to be healthy, my birthright to live a long, fulfilling life. It's everyone's birthright. I think the We of Us just continually continues to punish. For my part, I quit. No more punishing myself - mentally, emotionally, spiritually. That is my Intent. When I am truly able to do that, the physical punishment will end as well.
But that is not the point for today. Today the point, or rather the question, is: why am I sick? Again, western medicine points to the environmental factor of my many years of cigarette smoking, but it also now admits there is a genetic component to emphysema, COPD, whatever they choose to call it.
However, if the disease was caused by cigarette smoking, it should have improved when I quit and steadily gotten better as long as I did not smoke again. And I haven't. Yes, all physical conditions may progress with age. But I am not so old that I should have progressed to the point where I need supplemental oxygen. Perhaps it is genetic, but I do not believe I possess an emphysemic gene. The gene I possess is one of depression, anxiety, fear, putting on a brave face, hiding my feelings. That, I believe, is my gene and that, I believe, is why I am sick.
What does depression do to the body? How does one feel? How does one look? One feels tired, incredibly tired - hardly able to draw in a breath. One looks tired. Shoulders are slumped, head is held down. Not much air can enter the body in this position, nor leave it, for that matter.
What do anxiety and fear do to the body? How does one feel and look? One feels constantly on edge, alert, edgy, on guard - afraid. How does that look? Shoulders hunched up, fists clenched ready to do battle, eyes blinking, breaths coming in shallow and quick, muscles tensed. A recipe for healthy lungs? I don't think so.
"Body" doctors look at the body. Psychiatrists look at the mind. Both see a disease, one physical, one mental. But which came first - the chicken or the egg? In the case of current humans, it was the egg that developed and grew into some kind of person. Persons in various degrees of health and well being, mental and physical.
I believe my body is responding to the abuse of my mind. My mind has told "me" that, for some reason, I don't deserve to breathe. But I now believe that I do. I just have to convince my body of that. And to that end, I will use the holistic and western treatments combined. But I must work on my very self, my very, very self. The Original Me. Whoever she is, wherever she came from. I believe I can heal her, because I believe she is already healed. I just have to find her.
If I am really "on to something" here, then I will share my findings with any and all who will listen. The Mind/Body connection is not a new idea. Even the Soul/Mind/Body connection is not new. I think there may be nothing new at all. Everything has already been learned, experienced, and forgotten. I suppose all I am really trying to do is remember that it is my birthright to breathe, my birthright to be healthy, my birthright to live a long, fulfilling life. It's everyone's birthright. I think the We of Us just continually continues to punish. For my part, I quit. No more punishing myself - mentally, emotionally, spiritually. That is my Intent. When I am truly able to do that, the physical punishment will end as well.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Breakthrough
Yesterday I did indeed have a breakthrough. In the morning I attended my Qigong class. It was wonderful. I could feel myself opening up, receiving energy and air into all parts of my body. My lungs felt clean and clear, my shoulders and neck were not tight. I felt as if I were healing at warp speed.
My Qigong facilitator is amazing. She has studied in China and is working on her Master's degree in Medical Qigong. I believe she is also a gifted healer. She removed some black energy from my upper back region before we started class. I know this contributed to my sense of well being, and the feeling has lasted.
In the afternoon I got gas for my car and went to the grocery. I used my portable oxygen and it did not bother me one bit. I held my head high and literally raced around the store. I smiled and nodded at people, spoke with the cashier - and she with me - as if I was not attached to an oxygen tank. It was possibly the best trip I've had to a grocery store ever.
The evening continued peacefully watching television with my dog, and sampling the marvelous delicacies I had bought at the store. For dinner I had a peanut butter and banana sandwich on toast. Delicious.
The feeling stays with me this morning. I believe I have, at last, begun the uphill climb toward health and well being. That's not to say I won't have any more depression or not-so-fabulous days, but if I don't, I won't be surprised. I feel so much better about my health, my life, my purpose. There have been times during which I felt my only purpose in life was to offer other people the opportunity to be kind and compassionate. That sounds as if I nominated myself for Secret Sainthood, but that's not the case. It was the only way I could explain to myself why my life seemed so hard and why I could not accomplish great things - things that would uplift mankind. Delusions of grandeur? No, just a genuine desire to help. And I do believe there are people who come into this lifetime in difficult circumstances exactly for the purpose I stated above. But these are true Secret Saints and I will no longer attempt to align my situation in life with theirs. I am a different kind of Secret with a different kind of purpose. I will think more on that and write an explanation as it comes to me.
It's certainly possible that there is no purpose for any of us. But I believe there is, and what each one of us believes about ourselves is really all that matters. I believe I can heal myself and I hope to help heal others by example. For now, it is a beautiful summer day. I have the anticipation of visiting with my daughter and granddaughter today. And I feel wonderful.
My Qigong facilitator is amazing. She has studied in China and is working on her Master's degree in Medical Qigong. I believe she is also a gifted healer. She removed some black energy from my upper back region before we started class. I know this contributed to my sense of well being, and the feeling has lasted.
In the afternoon I got gas for my car and went to the grocery. I used my portable oxygen and it did not bother me one bit. I held my head high and literally raced around the store. I smiled and nodded at people, spoke with the cashier - and she with me - as if I was not attached to an oxygen tank. It was possibly the best trip I've had to a grocery store ever.
The evening continued peacefully watching television with my dog, and sampling the marvelous delicacies I had bought at the store. For dinner I had a peanut butter and banana sandwich on toast. Delicious.
The feeling stays with me this morning. I believe I have, at last, begun the uphill climb toward health and well being. That's not to say I won't have any more depression or not-so-fabulous days, but if I don't, I won't be surprised. I feel so much better about my health, my life, my purpose. There have been times during which I felt my only purpose in life was to offer other people the opportunity to be kind and compassionate. That sounds as if I nominated myself for Secret Sainthood, but that's not the case. It was the only way I could explain to myself why my life seemed so hard and why I could not accomplish great things - things that would uplift mankind. Delusions of grandeur? No, just a genuine desire to help. And I do believe there are people who come into this lifetime in difficult circumstances exactly for the purpose I stated above. But these are true Secret Saints and I will no longer attempt to align my situation in life with theirs. I am a different kind of Secret with a different kind of purpose. I will think more on that and write an explanation as it comes to me.
It's certainly possible that there is no purpose for any of us. But I believe there is, and what each one of us believes about ourselves is really all that matters. I believe I can heal myself and I hope to help heal others by example. For now, it is a beautiful summer day. I have the anticipation of visiting with my daughter and granddaughter today. And I feel wonderful.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Enhancing my education
I choked this evening. After swallowing a medication I take that I refer to as a horse pill, I realized that It hadn't gone down and was lodged in my throat, just beyond the swallowing place (another technical term). I immediately took more swallows of water, but they didn't go anywhere and simply rolled out of my mouth. Then came the moment when I attempted to take a breath. The air stopped at the back of my throat as if it had slammed into a wall. I knew I was choking and could die, but didn't panic. I first thought of trying the Heimlich maneuver on myself by throwing myself over the back of one of my kitchen table chairs. Somehow I knew that wouldn't work and I also knew I didn't have much time. I decided I must get to my next door neighbor's - fast. I stopped at the keypad to turn off my alarm; when the door opens and it's on, the racket is horrendous. Yes, I thought of all these things at the same time I could have been dying. As I raised my hand to the keypad, I breathed in air. It was over and I was OK.
How long did the entire episode last? Less than 20 seconds, I'm sure. And it didn't seem any different to me. Time didn't stand still, nor did it move in slow motion. Possibly for the first time in my life, I was in serious, immediate danger. And I didn't panic. I thought quite clearly and acted on my thoughts. That may seem peculiar for a person with panic disorder, but it's not the first time that's happened. In other frightening situations, not involving myself, I have acted in a calm, controlled manner and, on one occasion in particular, very much saved the day when my toddler daughter and nephew were caught on a runaway horse. But that's a story for another day - perhaps.
Was there a lesson to be learned here? Of course. It's the same lesson I've been trying to teach myself since I began this blog - Everyday Is Today. Every day matters so much. Every day is for living, learning, laughing - doing anything except worrying about tomorrow. Yes, I want to heal my lungs and I believe I can. That is, more or less, my mission at this point in my life. But when, where, and how I will leave this body is something I do not know and cannot know. At least, we aren't supposed to know and that's just one of the many reasons I'm opposed to capital punishment.
But back to my worries, my fears, my efforts to live every day as fully and as happily as I can. I really have been doing that. The choking episode this evening simply reinforces. I must not be afraid. I must not be downhearted. That serves no one - especially me.
I want to start writing again. I want to write children's books. Perhaps I can incorporate, in an age-appropriate-way, the things I have learned in my studies of Reality, Other Religions Besides Christianity, Christianity, and Many More Exciting And Important Things. I actually like that as a title - Exciting And Important Things. And there's always that classic, The Joy Of Not Choking.
How long did the entire episode last? Less than 20 seconds, I'm sure. And it didn't seem any different to me. Time didn't stand still, nor did it move in slow motion. Possibly for the first time in my life, I was in serious, immediate danger. And I didn't panic. I thought quite clearly and acted on my thoughts. That may seem peculiar for a person with panic disorder, but it's not the first time that's happened. In other frightening situations, not involving myself, I have acted in a calm, controlled manner and, on one occasion in particular, very much saved the day when my toddler daughter and nephew were caught on a runaway horse. But that's a story for another day - perhaps.
Was there a lesson to be learned here? Of course. It's the same lesson I've been trying to teach myself since I began this blog - Everyday Is Today. Every day matters so much. Every day is for living, learning, laughing - doing anything except worrying about tomorrow. Yes, I want to heal my lungs and I believe I can. That is, more or less, my mission at this point in my life. But when, where, and how I will leave this body is something I do not know and cannot know. At least, we aren't supposed to know and that's just one of the many reasons I'm opposed to capital punishment.
But back to my worries, my fears, my efforts to live every day as fully and as happily as I can. I really have been doing that. The choking episode this evening simply reinforces. I must not be afraid. I must not be downhearted. That serves no one - especially me.
I want to start writing again. I want to write children's books. Perhaps I can incorporate, in an age-appropriate-way, the things I have learned in my studies of Reality, Other Religions Besides Christianity, Christianity, and Many More Exciting And Important Things. I actually like that as a title - Exciting And Important Things. And there's always that classic, The Joy Of Not Choking.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Busy, busy - with tears
I haven't blogged, or even been on my computer, for a while now. As the title reads, I've been busy. Last Thursday was a jam-packed day. I went swimming in the morning and, for the first time in a few years, actually swam. I did the breast stroke, side stroke, and back stroke. I floated and got my hair completely wet. A major incentive for this dive (pardon the pun) into swimming activity was the appointment I had in the afternoon with my hairdresser. My hair is naturally curly and looks especially hideous after I've dunked it in pool water.
At any rate, I had a blast! Then on to the hairdresser who made me presentable once again, then an impulsive trip to the grocery. I needed to go to the grocery, but was hesitant to do so much in one day. The temperature was high and I have to use my supplemental oxygen now when I shop or walk a more-than-normal-distance. I even wore it while walking up the stairs to get to my hairdresser's salon. I always get out of breath doing that so I knew I needed the oxygen.
Was I still embarrassed? Oh yes. Actually, I got rather nervous in the grocery. I shopped hurriedly, wanting to get out quickly. I could feel my shoulders hunching up, head going down, at times feeling somewhat faint. These are anxiety symptoms. I know them all - too well. But I did it.
The next day I was invited to go to an art class with my daughter and granddaughter, but the art place wasn't open so we went shopping instead at my favorite craft store. I had brought my portable oxygen with me, just in case, and it turned out I needed it as we were going to be walking around in the store. Some children there stared at me, running around corners, then sneaking back to catch another glimpse. Perhaps they thought I was a mermaid who needed oxygen while out of the water. Or perhaps they had simply never seen anyone out in public before with a cannula strapped to her face.
I made a big mistake after that shopping adventure, partly because of the little girls' reaction. My daughter went to a nearby grocery to get items for us to make lunch back at my house and my granddaughter and I opted to stay in the air conditioned car. Come to think of it, I made two mistakes. There in the car alone with my granddaughter, I asked her: "Does this bother you?" - speaking of the cannula, etc. That was my first mistake. I should have not have asked. I should have waited until, or if, she asked about it. My second mistake was to ask her if she wanted me to take it off. Her answers were: "Yes," and "It's yucky." That made tears stream down my face. (Did I mention I was nervous that day, too? Walking around with that darn thing just does make me nervous!) OK, make that three mistakes as I did take out the cannula and turn off the tank.
I should have handled that part, at least, more confidently. When she said, "It's yucky," instead of crying and removing the offense I could have said, "No, it's not. Sometimes people need different kinds of medicine to help different kinds of illnesses. This contraption puts more oxygen in my system and makes me healthier." Brilliant, eh? Too bad it didn't happen.
Because of my anxiety problems, I've been in and out of therapy for decades. I have learned that one should never use the word, "should." Now there's some irony. But "should" is a valid word with a valid meaning and I believe in the preceding I have used it as I should. And once again. To have used the word "could" may have been more psychologically appropriate and maybe even more accurate. I don't know. All I do know is that as I'm writing this, I know I should have handled the situation with my granddaughter in a more positive manner. When the situation comes up again, and I'm sure it will, hopefully I will be more confident with my oxygen enhancement and be more confident in speaking about it with my granddaughter.
At any rate, I had a blast! Then on to the hairdresser who made me presentable once again, then an impulsive trip to the grocery. I needed to go to the grocery, but was hesitant to do so much in one day. The temperature was high and I have to use my supplemental oxygen now when I shop or walk a more-than-normal-distance. I even wore it while walking up the stairs to get to my hairdresser's salon. I always get out of breath doing that so I knew I needed the oxygen.
Was I still embarrassed? Oh yes. Actually, I got rather nervous in the grocery. I shopped hurriedly, wanting to get out quickly. I could feel my shoulders hunching up, head going down, at times feeling somewhat faint. These are anxiety symptoms. I know them all - too well. But I did it.
The next day I was invited to go to an art class with my daughter and granddaughter, but the art place wasn't open so we went shopping instead at my favorite craft store. I had brought my portable oxygen with me, just in case, and it turned out I needed it as we were going to be walking around in the store. Some children there stared at me, running around corners, then sneaking back to catch another glimpse. Perhaps they thought I was a mermaid who needed oxygen while out of the water. Or perhaps they had simply never seen anyone out in public before with a cannula strapped to her face.
I made a big mistake after that shopping adventure, partly because of the little girls' reaction. My daughter went to a nearby grocery to get items for us to make lunch back at my house and my granddaughter and I opted to stay in the air conditioned car. Come to think of it, I made two mistakes. There in the car alone with my granddaughter, I asked her: "Does this bother you?" - speaking of the cannula, etc. That was my first mistake. I should have not have asked. I should have waited until, or if, she asked about it. My second mistake was to ask her if she wanted me to take it off. Her answers were: "Yes," and "It's yucky." That made tears stream down my face. (Did I mention I was nervous that day, too? Walking around with that darn thing just does make me nervous!) OK, make that three mistakes as I did take out the cannula and turn off the tank.
I should have handled that part, at least, more confidently. When she said, "It's yucky," instead of crying and removing the offense I could have said, "No, it's not. Sometimes people need different kinds of medicine to help different kinds of illnesses. This contraption puts more oxygen in my system and makes me healthier." Brilliant, eh? Too bad it didn't happen.
Because of my anxiety problems, I've been in and out of therapy for decades. I have learned that one should never use the word, "should." Now there's some irony. But "should" is a valid word with a valid meaning and I believe in the preceding I have used it as I should. And once again. To have used the word "could" may have been more psychologically appropriate and maybe even more accurate. I don't know. All I do know is that as I'm writing this, I know I should have handled the situation with my granddaughter in a more positive manner. When the situation comes up again, and I'm sure it will, hopefully I will be more confident with my oxygen enhancement and be more confident in speaking about it with my granddaughter.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Feeling a little glum today...
And so what?
Well, You, it does matter. I believe that depression got You into this mess in the first place - the mess of having to have supplemental oxygen, that is. When You lost Your job in November of 2009, You spent a lot of time just sitting in a, more of less, frozen position on the couch. That is, when You weren't sleeping. In other words, You weren't getting up and walking around very much. Not nearly as much as when You were working.
I hate working.
That's OK. But at least now You are up and around, trying to move as much as possible and that does matter. See?
Yes, and I should be tired by now of talking to myself and referencing myself as "You." But that's OK, too. I just didn't feel like getting out of bed this morning and maybe I didn't feel like talking myself out of it, which is what I just did. So I'm glad I got up and blogged first thing. I do actually feel a little better now. Yesterday was a long day. Qigong class in the morning, which ran long, then playing with my granddaughter all afternoon. I loved that, of course, and Qigong class, too. I'm just not used to doing so much in one day. Something I will work on. Perhaps scheduling two activities for each day. Going to the pool, then maybe a drive somewhere. Or a small shopping trip, then a walk. Who knows? Each day is different and each day is still a little depressing and scary. I do NOT want to have to have that walking-around-oxygen-tank. I hate it. I was brave when I went to the grocery, but I really, really hate it.
Well, there's talking to Myself in here, depression, and ending with rage. Good deal. On with another day... And P.S., I'm lonely. Boo hoo. Ah, Grasshopper, don't make light of Your loneliness. It's part of Your overall problem.
Well, You, it does matter. I believe that depression got You into this mess in the first place - the mess of having to have supplemental oxygen, that is. When You lost Your job in November of 2009, You spent a lot of time just sitting in a, more of less, frozen position on the couch. That is, when You weren't sleeping. In other words, You weren't getting up and walking around very much. Not nearly as much as when You were working.
I hate working.
That's OK. But at least now You are up and around, trying to move as much as possible and that does matter. See?
Yes, and I should be tired by now of talking to myself and referencing myself as "You." But that's OK, too. I just didn't feel like getting out of bed this morning and maybe I didn't feel like talking myself out of it, which is what I just did. So I'm glad I got up and blogged first thing. I do actually feel a little better now. Yesterday was a long day. Qigong class in the morning, which ran long, then playing with my granddaughter all afternoon. I loved that, of course, and Qigong class, too. I'm just not used to doing so much in one day. Something I will work on. Perhaps scheduling two activities for each day. Going to the pool, then maybe a drive somewhere. Or a small shopping trip, then a walk. Who knows? Each day is different and each day is still a little depressing and scary. I do NOT want to have to have that walking-around-oxygen-tank. I hate it. I was brave when I went to the grocery, but I really, really hate it.
Well, there's talking to Myself in here, depression, and ending with rage. Good deal. On with another day... And P.S., I'm lonely. Boo hoo. Ah, Grasshopper, don't make light of Your loneliness. It's part of Your overall problem.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
I am my own cheerleader
This started out as a pity party. Because I live alone, it would be nice to have someone cheer me on. Someone to say they were proud of me for going to the grocery and the pool. Probably someone has (after the fact) and in my pity mode of today I've just forgotten. But I do realize that I always have been and always will be the best cheerleader - or heckler - I can have. That's just the way it is. I would seriously like to stop heckling myself, downgrading, degrading, etc. and I believe I am more successful at this as the years go by. My "inner critic" is not nearly so loud as she used to be. Glad to report, however, that my inner child is still capable of great play!
I've been to the pool twice this week, having a good time and staying about two and a half hours each time. Yesterday, before I went to the pool, my heart was pounding which could mean my oxygen is low. I took a reading (something I'm not supposed to do, but I did). Anyway, the oximeter was beeping which means either oxygen is too low or heart rate is too high or both. Yesterday it was both, but my oxygen level began to rise even though my heart rate finally "cooled down" to around 110. It started at above 120. Since my oxygen was OK I said what the heck - I'm going to the pool! And I did. And I had fun. And the amazing thing was, when I did get to the pool I never noticed that my heart was pounding or racing. I didn't even think about it.
It is still difficult for me to know when my "symptoms" are illness related or just nerves. I think yesterday it was a little of both, but obviously mostly nerves as I had a great time.
Back to the original pity fest, I suppose I was wondering if I will always have to be my own cheerleader to get myself going. Well, why not? I'm the best one who knows what's going on inside me. And I am the only one, really, who can make myself healthier, continue to exercise, go out, and do things. Even when it seems embarrassing or hard or scary.
So rah, rah, rah for me!!!!! Two, four, six, eight. Who do I appreciate? Me! Me! Me!!!!!!!!!!!!
I've been to the pool twice this week, having a good time and staying about two and a half hours each time. Yesterday, before I went to the pool, my heart was pounding which could mean my oxygen is low. I took a reading (something I'm not supposed to do, but I did). Anyway, the oximeter was beeping which means either oxygen is too low or heart rate is too high or both. Yesterday it was both, but my oxygen level began to rise even though my heart rate finally "cooled down" to around 110. It started at above 120. Since my oxygen was OK I said what the heck - I'm going to the pool! And I did. And I had fun. And the amazing thing was, when I did get to the pool I never noticed that my heart was pounding or racing. I didn't even think about it.
It is still difficult for me to know when my "symptoms" are illness related or just nerves. I think yesterday it was a little of both, but obviously mostly nerves as I had a great time.
Back to the original pity fest, I suppose I was wondering if I will always have to be my own cheerleader to get myself going. Well, why not? I'm the best one who knows what's going on inside me. And I am the only one, really, who can make myself healthier, continue to exercise, go out, and do things. Even when it seems embarrassing or hard or scary.
So rah, rah, rah for me!!!!! Two, four, six, eight. Who do I appreciate? Me! Me! Me!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I did it!
I'm three days late in writing about it, but I did go to the grocery store with my oxygen-tank-in-a-bag. When I wrote my last blog, I was misreading the clock. When I wrote it was quarter to five, it was really only quarter to four. After I finished writing, I combed by hair, checked my oxygen tank and took off. It was 4:30 p.m.
I didn't drive with the tank on because I don't have to. It's for walking long distances or for a long time. That's when my oxygen gets low. Back to the subject. I found a parking spot relatively close, then I put the cannula in, slung the strap of the - yes, it's still heavy! - bag over my shoulder and took off. It's a large, popular grocery store. But I walked through the parking lot looking straight ahead and when I got inside, I got a cart and put the bag in the basket. Phew! A relief not to have to carry it. I pushed the cart around and did my shopping leisurely. I found that I was indeed in better shape with the extra oxygen than without. Apparently, my oxygen level has been low for quite a while.
At first, I avoided eye contact with other people. Then I said to myself, what the heck? So I proceeded to shop as if I were normal - i.e., that I wasn't attached to a tube that dispensed oxygen. That was great except for the fact that the tube is rather short and the bag was in the cart basket. I would park my cart in order to peruse items in an aisle only to be pulled up short by the tube like a dog on a leash. Now that was embarrassing!
Of course the bag boy offered to take my groceries to my car - they always do - and I always refuse. I did on Sunday, too. I had no trouble pushing the cart back to my car and putting the groceries in the trunk. I did, however, have trouble bringing the groceries into my kitchen. It was hot and by the time I got them all in, I was quite breathless. And still using the oxygen. But I settled down quickly and felt time. My recovery time is short and I know that is in my favor. Still, I intend to go shopping more often and buy less at any given time. That way it won't be so hard on me. Meanwhile, I continue to work towards increasing my oxygen level without supplemental help.
Did people stare at me in the store? Probably. I caught a few glimpses out of the corner of my eye, but would not say in a court of law that they were looking at me. In short, it was OK. Sometimes you've just got to do what you've got to do. And I did.
My brother called me yesterday. He didn't know I was "on the tank," so to speak, so I told him that and also relayed my grocery store adventure. He didn't like that I struggled to get the groceries in the house and told me to let him know anytime I need help with anything. He said he would meet me at my house and take the groceries in for me and I better let him know when I went shopping! This is from a man who just underwent heart valve replacement surgery. What a guy. He doesn't talk much, but he loves me and since we were children, he has always been my Big Brother Protector. I love him very much.
Well, that's the denouement of my embarrassment story. I did OK, but I'm still determined to not have to rely on those tanks for air. It is my intention to increase my oxygen level on my own.
Got to run. It's morning and I have things I do in the morning. Lots and lots of things!
I didn't drive with the tank on because I don't have to. It's for walking long distances or for a long time. That's when my oxygen gets low. Back to the subject. I found a parking spot relatively close, then I put the cannula in, slung the strap of the - yes, it's still heavy! - bag over my shoulder and took off. It's a large, popular grocery store. But I walked through the parking lot looking straight ahead and when I got inside, I got a cart and put the bag in the basket. Phew! A relief not to have to carry it. I pushed the cart around and did my shopping leisurely. I found that I was indeed in better shape with the extra oxygen than without. Apparently, my oxygen level has been low for quite a while.
At first, I avoided eye contact with other people. Then I said to myself, what the heck? So I proceeded to shop as if I were normal - i.e., that I wasn't attached to a tube that dispensed oxygen. That was great except for the fact that the tube is rather short and the bag was in the cart basket. I would park my cart in order to peruse items in an aisle only to be pulled up short by the tube like a dog on a leash. Now that was embarrassing!
Of course the bag boy offered to take my groceries to my car - they always do - and I always refuse. I did on Sunday, too. I had no trouble pushing the cart back to my car and putting the groceries in the trunk. I did, however, have trouble bringing the groceries into my kitchen. It was hot and by the time I got them all in, I was quite breathless. And still using the oxygen. But I settled down quickly and felt time. My recovery time is short and I know that is in my favor. Still, I intend to go shopping more often and buy less at any given time. That way it won't be so hard on me. Meanwhile, I continue to work towards increasing my oxygen level without supplemental help.
Did people stare at me in the store? Probably. I caught a few glimpses out of the corner of my eye, but would not say in a court of law that they were looking at me. In short, it was OK. Sometimes you've just got to do what you've got to do. And I did.
My brother called me yesterday. He didn't know I was "on the tank," so to speak, so I told him that and also relayed my grocery store adventure. He didn't like that I struggled to get the groceries in the house and told me to let him know anytime I need help with anything. He said he would meet me at my house and take the groceries in for me and I better let him know when I went shopping! This is from a man who just underwent heart valve replacement surgery. What a guy. He doesn't talk much, but he loves me and since we were children, he has always been my Big Brother Protector. I love him very much.
Well, that's the denouement of my embarrassment story. I did OK, but I'm still determined to not have to rely on those tanks for air. It is my intention to increase my oxygen level on my own.
Got to run. It's morning and I have things I do in the morning. Lots and lots of things!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Brave talk
My last entry was about embarrassment. I bravely insinuated that I would go to the grocery, etc., and charge on, so to speak.
I didn't.
I tried.
I didn't.
Yesterday evening I desperately wanted something sweet to eat. I intended to go to the grocery as I needed other things as well. I intended to do a regular shopping, portable oxygen tank and all. I couldn't do it. I went to the drive-thru donut store, then to a drug store where I bought some "staples," - paper towels, soap, more snack food. About $35 worth of stuff.
Today I am out of dog food and my dog is hungry. There was enough for a morning meal, but there is none for her dinner. I have to go out. I have to go to the great big gigantic grocery store. And I have to go with my oxygen bag.
It's heavy.
I have to go.
The cannula and long extended double hose-pipe-like tubing showing on my face, down my chest, to the bag, slung over my shoulder, pulling down the top of my shirt because....
it's heavy.
I have to go and now it is storming. It's 4:45 p.m. I had set a goal to leave at 5:00 p.m. I put on makeup this morning. The oxygen seemed like too much ugly. If I go, it will be because I am indeed very brave or because I really love my dog or both.
It's getting closer to 5:00 p.m. Maybe I will go at 6:00 p.m. Who goes to the grocery at 6:00 p.m. on a Sunday night? Who will there be to see me? Why do I care? I don't know anyone who shops there. Strangers staring. Pity? Judgement? I feel shamed. I smoked cigarettes and look at me now. Parents whispering to their children, "Don't smoke. Do you want to wind up like her?" My heart is pounding.
It's 4:50 p.m. Now my hands are shaking.
Brave talk. All talk. Where is the action?
I didn't.
I tried.
I didn't.
Yesterday evening I desperately wanted something sweet to eat. I intended to go to the grocery as I needed other things as well. I intended to do a regular shopping, portable oxygen tank and all. I couldn't do it. I went to the drive-thru donut store, then to a drug store where I bought some "staples," - paper towels, soap, more snack food. About $35 worth of stuff.
Today I am out of dog food and my dog is hungry. There was enough for a morning meal, but there is none for her dinner. I have to go out. I have to go to the great big gigantic grocery store. And I have to go with my oxygen bag.
It's heavy.
I have to go.
The cannula and long extended double hose-pipe-like tubing showing on my face, down my chest, to the bag, slung over my shoulder, pulling down the top of my shirt because....
it's heavy.
I have to go and now it is storming. It's 4:45 p.m. I had set a goal to leave at 5:00 p.m. I put on makeup this morning. The oxygen seemed like too much ugly. If I go, it will be because I am indeed very brave or because I really love my dog or both.
It's getting closer to 5:00 p.m. Maybe I will go at 6:00 p.m. Who goes to the grocery at 6:00 p.m. on a Sunday night? Who will there be to see me? Why do I care? I don't know anyone who shops there. Strangers staring. Pity? Judgement? I feel shamed. I smoked cigarettes and look at me now. Parents whispering to their children, "Don't smoke. Do you want to wind up like her?" My heart is pounding.
It's 4:50 p.m. Now my hands are shaking.
Brave talk. All talk. Where is the action?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Embarrassment
Yesterday I was fortunate enough to be invited to attend a book signing event with my daughter and granddaughter. It was for a children's book, but my granddaughter didn't seem very enthusiastic. In fact, she was angry with me at times and shy around the crowd of people. It took me a while to find out why.
My granddaughter has been losing her baby teeth in rapid succession. When I first saw her yesterday, she had lost two more since the last time I saw her and another one was loose. I said something to the effect of, "Wow! You're going to have to start eating mashed potatoes!" I was excited that she was showing such signs of growing up and imagined she'd be pleased. I wanted to see a big gaped-toothed grin! But I didn't.
Inside the bookstore, there was a book about the character we were going to see - Junie B. Jones. The book was about Junie B. losing her baby teeth. The picture on the cover showed a big grin with gaps similar to my granddaughter's. I picked up the book and wanted to buy it for her. She grabbed it out of my hand and put it back. "Look!" I said. "Junie B. has lost her teeth just like you have! Don't you want the book?" I think she hit me again. I said, "What's the matter, Sweetheart?" Her whispered reply? "I'm embarrassed."
How unthinking can a grandmother be? I told her I was sorry I had embarrassed her and I certainly didn't mean to. It never dawned on me that she would be embarrassed by her smile. But it's part of life. I was probably embarrassed when I lost my baby teeth. I know I was embarrassed when my adult teeth grew in because they were huge and protruded until I was old enough to wear braces. And that was another embarrassment. Prior to that, I had to wear glasses. Being called four-eyes was, yet again, embarrassing.
How many times I've been embarrassed in my life by something that seemed wrong about my looks or something I'd said or done, I don't know. How many times I may have tripped or actually fallen down. How many times I've said something completely inappropriate or laughed at a sad event. All my life, it seems. All of everyones', I suppose. But here is the newest I must face. I went to my pulmonary doctor's today to get some more information about my condition and what I should and shouldn't do regarding exercise. I wound up walking out of the office with a prescription for portable oxygen for things like grocery shopping.
Grocery shopping! She's got to be kidding! I have to go to the grocery store now with a cannula shoved up my nose while carrying a container of oxygen????? Well, yes. Yes, I do. And when I walk the dog and when I get the mail and when I go to book signings with my granddaughter. But if I feel embarrassed, I hope I will remember that little girl's plight of having so many of her baby teeth fall out at once. And I hope I can teach her something about embarrassment by not being embarrassed myself.
I don't have the portable canister yet. I had planned to grocery shop on my way back from the doctor's but didn't because I thought I needed to get back right away in case the oxygen supply company called. So far they haven't. The waiting is slightly uneasy. I'd just like to get it over with.
But I think once I go out with it, it will be OK. Or maybe it won't. Maybe people will stare. Maybe I will cry. But maybe I will walk stronger and longer. And I will live to see my granddaughter grow into a beautiful woman. Embarrassed about that? I don't think so.
My granddaughter has been losing her baby teeth in rapid succession. When I first saw her yesterday, she had lost two more since the last time I saw her and another one was loose. I said something to the effect of, "Wow! You're going to have to start eating mashed potatoes!" I was excited that she was showing such signs of growing up and imagined she'd be pleased. I wanted to see a big gaped-toothed grin! But I didn't.
Inside the bookstore, there was a book about the character we were going to see - Junie B. Jones. The book was about Junie B. losing her baby teeth. The picture on the cover showed a big grin with gaps similar to my granddaughter's. I picked up the book and wanted to buy it for her. She grabbed it out of my hand and put it back. "Look!" I said. "Junie B. has lost her teeth just like you have! Don't you want the book?" I think she hit me again. I said, "What's the matter, Sweetheart?" Her whispered reply? "I'm embarrassed."
How unthinking can a grandmother be? I told her I was sorry I had embarrassed her and I certainly didn't mean to. It never dawned on me that she would be embarrassed by her smile. But it's part of life. I was probably embarrassed when I lost my baby teeth. I know I was embarrassed when my adult teeth grew in because they were huge and protruded until I was old enough to wear braces. And that was another embarrassment. Prior to that, I had to wear glasses. Being called four-eyes was, yet again, embarrassing.
How many times I've been embarrassed in my life by something that seemed wrong about my looks or something I'd said or done, I don't know. How many times I may have tripped or actually fallen down. How many times I've said something completely inappropriate or laughed at a sad event. All my life, it seems. All of everyones', I suppose. But here is the newest I must face. I went to my pulmonary doctor's today to get some more information about my condition and what I should and shouldn't do regarding exercise. I wound up walking out of the office with a prescription for portable oxygen for things like grocery shopping.
Grocery shopping! She's got to be kidding! I have to go to the grocery store now with a cannula shoved up my nose while carrying a container of oxygen????? Well, yes. Yes, I do. And when I walk the dog and when I get the mail and when I go to book signings with my granddaughter. But if I feel embarrassed, I hope I will remember that little girl's plight of having so many of her baby teeth fall out at once. And I hope I can teach her something about embarrassment by not being embarrassed myself.
I don't have the portable canister yet. I had planned to grocery shop on my way back from the doctor's but didn't because I thought I needed to get back right away in case the oxygen supply company called. So far they haven't. The waiting is slightly uneasy. I'd just like to get it over with.
But I think once I go out with it, it will be OK. Or maybe it won't. Maybe people will stare. Maybe I will cry. But maybe I will walk stronger and longer. And I will live to see my granddaughter grow into a beautiful woman. Embarrassed about that? I don't think so.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Figuring myself out
I have been doing a lot lately to heal myself. I have bought CDs of healing music, a DVD of a Qigong Master, rereading A Course In Miracles. I do Dr. Weil's breathing exercises everyday. I walk every day - I am up to three minutes. Doesn't sound like much, but I keep reminding myself that "a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Lots and lots of work. I realize it would have been prudent to do it sooner, to never have smoked, blah, blah, but I came to a bigger realization yesterday. It is a very simple thing yet when I "discovered" it, it made perfect sense. It has to do with energy. Mine, specifically. I have low energy. I put out low energy. I am low energy. So low as to attempt invisibility in many areas of my life, particularly in childhood. And yet I am not, and never have been, invisible. I am quite visible to myself at night when I have that cannula in my nose. Still, I believe my visibility has been pale. I believe I have lived, up until now, a pale life. Just barely there. Sometimes skirting the edges of the world with enough force to make an impact, but mostly, just there. Barely.
Recourse: change the energy. Intensify it. Walk with shoulders back. Speak not loudly, but with strength. Believe I am here because I am here.
It is all on the inside. It simply manifests on the outside. In shyness, in anxiety, in depression, in illness. I can change it. At this moment in time, I'm not exactly sure how I can change it, but I know I can. When I figure that part out, I will write about it. For now, I am concentrating on my energy. My inside energy. My life force. The part of my soul that is inhabiting this body - for I feel souls are huge and are involved in more than one activity at a time. This would not diminish the work it can do in this body, with my help. It simply is there, quietly watching. Perhaps waiting or wanting to help. I don't know. But I want to. I want to know as much as I possibly can while in this lifetime. I want to discover things about the nature of who I really am and what this human life is really all about. A Course In Miracles teaches some of that but, as it even says, it is only "A" course, not "The" course. So there must be many, many others of many different kinds. Which course, besides the one I've chosen to "take" on Miracles, am I enrolled in with this energy study? Something big, I am thinking. Something really big.
I don't know where to start. Back to the journey of a thousand miles. This is my first, single step.
Recourse: change the energy. Intensify it. Walk with shoulders back. Speak not loudly, but with strength. Believe I am here because I am here.
It is all on the inside. It simply manifests on the outside. In shyness, in anxiety, in depression, in illness. I can change it. At this moment in time, I'm not exactly sure how I can change it, but I know I can. When I figure that part out, I will write about it. For now, I am concentrating on my energy. My inside energy. My life force. The part of my soul that is inhabiting this body - for I feel souls are huge and are involved in more than one activity at a time. This would not diminish the work it can do in this body, with my help. It simply is there, quietly watching. Perhaps waiting or wanting to help. I don't know. But I want to. I want to know as much as I possibly can while in this lifetime. I want to discover things about the nature of who I really am and what this human life is really all about. A Course In Miracles teaches some of that but, as it even says, it is only "A" course, not "The" course. So there must be many, many others of many different kinds. Which course, besides the one I've chosen to "take" on Miracles, am I enrolled in with this energy study? Something big, I am thinking. Something really big.
I don't know where to start. Back to the journey of a thousand miles. This is my first, single step.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
A day turned around
I thought I was having a bad day today. I was tired. That used to be OK, but now it makes me nervous because I think it means a lack of oxygen. I walked to the mailbox anyway, but was still feeling sorry for myself until I read an email from on old friend. He congratulated me on the exercising I'm doing and that I'm raising my O2 level. And I am. I just forgot that today, I suppose. It's that instant gratification thing. I want to feel fabulous all the time. I don't know why - I never have and I doubt that anyone feels great all the time. I just wanted to enjoy this summer. I love to swim and had even thought I might make a trip to the beach. And who knows? I might. I do know, however, I will swim and swim and swim and if I get tired, so what!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Lost in another world
I have not blogged in a while. I joined an online support group for people with COPD and I am still learning to navigate the website and have lots of "letters" to answer. They are very nice people and very supportive. They are all ill with COPD in varying degrees. Some work - one is a concert pianist. Wonder how he manages that. He has a diary that I just haven't had the time to read. I've been busy trying to heal myself. That's the only thing about the group... They talk about how to live with the disease. I need to learn that, of course, but I am really working to heal myself and be free of it. At least I desire to have a few more years of not having to have oxygen all the time. At night is not so bad, but it can be a bit of a hassle if I have to get out of bed once I'm there. I had to several times last night as Asia, my dog, just wouldn't settle down. I managed though.
I had an excellent Qigong class on Friday. It was just Sarah and me. No one else showed up. I like it like that. Well, I would, wouldn't I?
Yesterday I ran around taking my oxygen level all day. I slept late and when I do that I don't feel well the next day. However, the night before I simply could not go to sleep. It was at least 3 o'clock, or maybe 4, before I could sleep. I had a terrible headache, but didn't want to get up and take aspirin. However, when I finally did I was able to sleep. I won't make that mistake again.
I haven't talked to anyone since leaving Qigong class on Friday. Not that unusual, and doesn't really bother me. But sometimes I wish someone would call to check on me. No one does and even though I do have a follower, I don't she has time to read this so I'm just talking to myself. Which is OK.
I had a good day today. Hot outside and was tempted to go to the pool, but feared the water would still be too cold. This week the water should begin to warm up and I may even give it a try tomorrow. That's what I've been looking forward to for so long! And I know the exercise will be good for me. And the sun!!! Lovely Sun!
Well, got to go. There are two horror movies I intend to watch tonight while eating chocolate ice cream. Sounds like fun to me. Is that sad??? Maybe...
I had an excellent Qigong class on Friday. It was just Sarah and me. No one else showed up. I like it like that. Well, I would, wouldn't I?
Yesterday I ran around taking my oxygen level all day. I slept late and when I do that I don't feel well the next day. However, the night before I simply could not go to sleep. It was at least 3 o'clock, or maybe 4, before I could sleep. I had a terrible headache, but didn't want to get up and take aspirin. However, when I finally did I was able to sleep. I won't make that mistake again.
I haven't talked to anyone since leaving Qigong class on Friday. Not that unusual, and doesn't really bother me. But sometimes I wish someone would call to check on me. No one does and even though I do have a follower, I don't she has time to read this so I'm just talking to myself. Which is OK.
I had a good day today. Hot outside and was tempted to go to the pool, but feared the water would still be too cold. This week the water should begin to warm up and I may even give it a try tomorrow. That's what I've been looking forward to for so long! And I know the exercise will be good for me. And the sun!!! Lovely Sun!
Well, got to go. There are two horror movies I intend to watch tonight while eating chocolate ice cream. Sounds like fun to me. Is that sad??? Maybe...
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Cloudy Sunday
That must be an oxymoron - cloudy sun-day. Still, this is Sunday and it's cloudy and rather dreary. Unfortunately, that matches my mood. I am feeling tired today and worried about my health. I'm not keeping to the "live in the now" philosophy I have attempted to adopt. I am looking to the future, not believing I can really heal myself. Worried that other things are wrong with me. Why am I doing that? Don't I have enough problems?
Well, writing that seemed to help. At this very moment in time, I don't have any problems at all. I am not being bothered by illness, finances, sadness or worry for another, loneliness. Sitting here, writing in my little blog, I'm perfectly safe, sound, whole, and well. Worrying doesn't solve problems. Action does.
Words on a page battling with other thoughts in my head, that aches slightly, by the way, due to the impending rain. I have had good days of late. Especially Friday when my niece accompanied me to Qigong class. Afterwards, we met my nephew, his lady, and their baby, for lunch. My niece came back to my house with me and we sat and talked for quite a while. I greatly enjoyed her company.
Yesterday, I worked on healing myself with music and sound, watched a good movie about the poet, Keats, and would classify it as a good day. Yet this morning I am worried about my health. The word "patience" has come to me. That is how I intend to spend today. With patience and faith.
Well, writing that seemed to help. At this very moment in time, I don't have any problems at all. I am not being bothered by illness, finances, sadness or worry for another, loneliness. Sitting here, writing in my little blog, I'm perfectly safe, sound, whole, and well. Worrying doesn't solve problems. Action does.
Words on a page battling with other thoughts in my head, that aches slightly, by the way, due to the impending rain. I have had good days of late. Especially Friday when my niece accompanied me to Qigong class. Afterwards, we met my nephew, his lady, and their baby, for lunch. My niece came back to my house with me and we sat and talked for quite a while. I greatly enjoyed her company.
Yesterday, I worked on healing myself with music and sound, watched a good movie about the poet, Keats, and would classify it as a good day. Yet this morning I am worried about my health. The word "patience" has come to me. That is how I intend to spend today. With patience and faith.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Today, today, today...
Sorry to say, to myself, that it wasn't a great day as far as how I felt. I have been breathless most all day whenever I have done anything. Doesn't mean I was idle - I exercised, did my Qigong and breathing exercises, climbed stairs to get to my hairdressers, walked my dog, walked to the mailbox, went grocery shopping.
Well. After typing all that, I am wondering if that's why I haven't felt well. I did a lot today. While I was at my house in the morning I felt OK doing exercises, walking the dog. It was in the afternoon, starting with the trip to the mailbox when I started to feel out of breath. I took my little oximeter reading too many times. Once it was 88. Didn't like that. But once it was 96. Go figure.
I wish I had some kind of guide as to what I should and maybe shouldn't be doing. My doctor, when she put me on the oxygen, said, "Go swimming!" when I bemoaned the fact that I couldn't swim while hauling around an oxygen tank and that I loved going to the pool. I supposed I based my new routine on her saying that. I guess I figure if I am able to swim, then I am able to do less strenuous exercises. Still, I am so aware now of when I am out of breath. I used to always attribute it to stress - hyperventilation. Something I've done a billion times in my life. This feels the same so it's hard for me to know if I'm anxious or running low on oxygen. I do have my oximeter. But if I had had it when I was really having horrific panic attacks, I wonder if it would have read that I was low on oxygen. Doctors used to tell me not to be afraid of the panic attacks because the worst thing that would happen to me was I would faint. Then my breathing would return to normal - in that unconscious state. That was a fabulous thing to tell me. Subsequently, I developed a fear of fainting in public that I still have today.
But that stuff is about my panic disorder and this blog concerns my journey to heal my lungs. I believe the two are connected, but I won't write about it today. Today I will say that even though I feel I had a "bad" day, it really wasn't. I accomplished a lot, didn't faint or have a heart attack. Today I was better that I thought I was. I will take that to bed with me and concentrate on healing.
Well. After typing all that, I am wondering if that's why I haven't felt well. I did a lot today. While I was at my house in the morning I felt OK doing exercises, walking the dog. It was in the afternoon, starting with the trip to the mailbox when I started to feel out of breath. I took my little oximeter reading too many times. Once it was 88. Didn't like that. But once it was 96. Go figure.
I wish I had some kind of guide as to what I should and maybe shouldn't be doing. My doctor, when she put me on the oxygen, said, "Go swimming!" when I bemoaned the fact that I couldn't swim while hauling around an oxygen tank and that I loved going to the pool. I supposed I based my new routine on her saying that. I guess I figure if I am able to swim, then I am able to do less strenuous exercises. Still, I am so aware now of when I am out of breath. I used to always attribute it to stress - hyperventilation. Something I've done a billion times in my life. This feels the same so it's hard for me to know if I'm anxious or running low on oxygen. I do have my oximeter. But if I had had it when I was really having horrific panic attacks, I wonder if it would have read that I was low on oxygen. Doctors used to tell me not to be afraid of the panic attacks because the worst thing that would happen to me was I would faint. Then my breathing would return to normal - in that unconscious state. That was a fabulous thing to tell me. Subsequently, I developed a fear of fainting in public that I still have today.
But that stuff is about my panic disorder and this blog concerns my journey to heal my lungs. I believe the two are connected, but I won't write about it today. Today I will say that even though I feel I had a "bad" day, it really wasn't. I accomplished a lot, didn't faint or have a heart attack. Today I was better that I thought I was. I will take that to bed with me and concentrate on healing.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I will believe what I desire to believe
Today I was researching the internet for ways in which other people have healed themselves of emphysema. I haven't done a complete research, but what I have found so far is not encouraging. Most everything says, the condition cannot be healed. I simply don't believe this. I think it can be reversed and that damaged lungs can be restored to good health.
I ran today. Just for a little - probably 45 seconds or less - but I ran. I have done it once before, since I started this journey. That time I ran for 60 seconds and it was a strong run, not a sort of jog as I did today. I have not felt 100% today or yesterday due to minor sinus problems brought on by a sudden cold snap and more rain. (I admit the prospects of more rain are a bit scary, but I simply must not be afraid of rain or pretty much anything else anymore. Fear has run most of my life. Again, that's another blog entry...) The temperature has risen from a dismal 66 this morning when I got up to around 80. I have gone today from sitting wrapped in an afghan to turning on the air conditioner after my 30 second jog. That's the kind of Spring it is and that's OK.
This will be a short entry. I really don't have much to say. During my "afghan period" today, I fell asleep sitting up on the couch with the tv on. I slept for at least an hour and a half. It was right around noon. When I woke up, I took my oxygen level and it was 89. That bothered me and I was not able to breathe it up. But look at me now in the evening. I ran! My level was up to a steady 94 and at times, after I was startled by the 89, I worked to "breathe it up" and got to a 98 at one point. I can do this - restore my health. I know I can. I'm still going to look for evidence from others that they have reversed their "disease." I am determined to do the same. I have read of one lady who went from full time supplemental oxygen to none at all and being able to walk on a treadmill for 45 minutes with no problem. I have not been able to find that article again, but that is what started my journey to heal and I say "God Bless You," to whoever she is.
I ran today. Just for a little - probably 45 seconds or less - but I ran. I have done it once before, since I started this journey. That time I ran for 60 seconds and it was a strong run, not a sort of jog as I did today. I have not felt 100% today or yesterday due to minor sinus problems brought on by a sudden cold snap and more rain. (I admit the prospects of more rain are a bit scary, but I simply must not be afraid of rain or pretty much anything else anymore. Fear has run most of my life. Again, that's another blog entry...) The temperature has risen from a dismal 66 this morning when I got up to around 80. I have gone today from sitting wrapped in an afghan to turning on the air conditioner after my 30 second jog. That's the kind of Spring it is and that's OK.
This will be a short entry. I really don't have much to say. During my "afghan period" today, I fell asleep sitting up on the couch with the tv on. I slept for at least an hour and a half. It was right around noon. When I woke up, I took my oxygen level and it was 89. That bothered me and I was not able to breathe it up. But look at me now in the evening. I ran! My level was up to a steady 94 and at times, after I was startled by the 89, I worked to "breathe it up" and got to a 98 at one point. I can do this - restore my health. I know I can. I'm still going to look for evidence from others that they have reversed their "disease." I am determined to do the same. I have read of one lady who went from full time supplemental oxygen to none at all and being able to walk on a treadmill for 45 minutes with no problem. I have not been able to find that article again, but that is what started my journey to heal and I say "God Bless You," to whoever she is.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
My beautiful white tiger
I simply used another picture and it worked fine. Actually, all pictures seem a little large, but I have just now decided that's OK!
Very interesting...
It is still Sunday, Mother's Day, and I am indeed having dinner this evening with my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter. After learning what time they were coming, I decided to use the free time to work on the appearance of my blog. I added some pictures, successfully, except for one. In a meditation my Qigong instructor gave to me, the white tiger was the symbol for the lungs. I wanted to put a picture of one on my blog and I did. However, even though I was able to edit the other pictures I put there - making them larger - I cannot make the picture of the white tiger bigger! It worries me. Makes me think my lungs are still small - I started to say weak and small, but the tiger is not weak. I picked one of a strong, running, Thunder Tiger. So he is strong, but I cannot enlarge the picture. Naturally, I think it is a metaphor for me and my lungs. I'm always looking for symbols and signs. My little dog has not been feeling well, so I need to go down and spend time with her. Took her to the vet yesterday and all was well, but still have neglected her this morning. That translates into I am leaving behind my attempts to enlarge the tiger picture for now. I will go down and do some Qigong exercises and perhaps later tonight or tomorrow, he will "magically" enlarge.
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