Monthly Archives: September 2019

Work the Crazy

Chronic Illness, Depression, PTSD, Running

The alarm is beeping wildly and I couldn’t help but snuggle back into the warmth of the bed with the two dogs and nuzzle into my feather pillow. One doo is definitely not a morning dog and stretches her bod across my side of the king bed, the other playing on the corner with her toy. My goal this morning was to get up and complete my sculpting workout and activate my muscles for tonight, but we did have an extensive workout last night outdoors, varying between the girls.

The eighty pounder (maybe more now) is ready to run steady and can easily drag me and the other doo up the hill and the other beautiful hundred thirty pounder needs small doses of exercise in smaller increments; both crosses of Bullmastiff’s, but each their own amazing and loving personalities. Sometimes great little stinkers!

Last night as we rounded the corner towards the large grassy hill, I unleashed the short lead and there as we ran down I watched the big Doo, ears flapping, jowls hanging and endless smiles on her face enjoying those moments of running. Those are the moments I want to remember always.

I have spoken many times on how my big doo had given me back my life; helped me be able to leave the house, went to work daily and was my constant resource to help me deal with the ptsd. She is, as always doing it again. This time things have changed slightly, she has been waking me up when she knows I am starting to deal with the allergic reaction again.

Since the second incident, they have me taking daily doses of antihistamines to try and calm my system down, the bites on my legs, still scarred and bruised looking remnants of what started this whole affair with a chain reaction of additional events and the storm that erupted to cause my emergency.

During the night if something starts to change in my body there is my big doo waking me up, licking my hand, or hitting my arm so that I can take what is needed. She is so in tune and I can’t believe how lucky we were to find each other. Little Doo is usually snoring through the whole affair, but likes to tend to my tears, as she doesn’t like to see me cry. Both have been excellent at helping wake me up and chasing my nightmares away. They are my own magic wands.

This week my goal was to run a 5km run on the Friday. After this past weeks experience, the first thing I had was so much fear. Can I go? I need to take so much stuff now to run? Will my legs bother me (between the scars, the ms and my mind) it felt like I was trapped again in my own body. And somewhere in the back of my mind it limited me in how I thought, what I could do and created so much self doubt.

I am determined to do this! The best therapy I found was to work the crazy out. Run like the wind inside or outside, whatever made me comfortable and to let myself break. My body would start to heal more when I hit the 20 to 35 minute mark and I would be blubbering on the treadmill, gasping for air and wiping my nose. I was refreshed, I had clarity, and I had this building of internal strength along with building a great tushy.

I want to wake up and be excited about life! I want to be excited of running this race. I want to be excited about trying new things and not to be in constant fear. I want to be excited to let myself be myself. There truly is no one like you and I want to harness those feelings for the bad days to help give me strength and perseverance.

For me this all became my self care.

My self care, key word! Did I run like the wind tonight? Not a chance, more like small bursts of gusts, but I finished. I even stopped to absorb a beautiful field with perfect lighting. I finished feeling proud of myself, proud that I was able to keep fear at bay, proud of how far I have come over these years and of course I had some rocking tunes to bring me home, with Lenny Kravitz bringing me to the finish line asking if I’m gonna go my way.

As always, believing in yourself is the first step of self care, have faith and take small steps.

Love always the running, winded, oh dear god another hill, proud and crazy Woman in Process

P.S. this week I signed up for a 10km virtual run, it’s all about me and that medal, just to say I did it! Plus the medal is sooooo cool!

Time Stands Still

Anaphylaxis, Depression, PTSD

It felt like a movie scene. One played out with the characters that you like and dislike. Those that you think play the role of non existent in any aspect of life and those that always get into trouble.

I was waiting for someone to yell cut; scene! It didn’t happen, this truly was my life at this moment.

I seem to have been non existent for a while; caught in the work “bumbleness”of constant issues, drama and challenges. This was not for me.

I have worked too hard to see it all fade away, to see the rebuild and growth of what I had create to vanish. I have spent years carving out “me time”, learning how to get my toolbox out for each person’s issues and mine and to teach lessons.

Was this really how I was going to go? One person’s negligence and a storm effect like a tornado sweeping in and my life torn down like Dorothy’s barn.

The moment time stood still, it truly happens. The moment you decide if you are willing to keep fighting, the moment you see what truly is clear, what truly means most to you, and anger; anger for recklessness, anger for stupidity, anger for uncaring.

This brings me to here, today. Reliving each moment of that day, and tapping my way to being able to ask the person running the roller coast if I may get off now, I have seen enough.

This is the beginning of a new situation that may have put me back on the previous track. May have found my direction again, though my preference would have been a nice note.

Life never seems to happen like that. It can be loving and cold, dark and mesmerizing, bold and dramatic or loving and accepting; the yin and yang of life.

I had no idea that the previous weeks allergic reaction was not out of my system. I carried tablets, but no epi pen or other medications.

I was weakened, and with the storm of recklessness, I was in anaphylaxis. As I watched the people whom I thought would look after me in a distress situation, they all looked to me for their instructions. They couldn’t respond.

I was trapped in that moment thinking this is not how I am going! This was not my vision!

I was gasping for air and inside I’m telling them what to do. How could they not know? Did I not send them to first aid? Did they sleep through the class?

9-1-1 hit the buttons!

I could hear Mr. Jones in my head telling me not to panic, as work mode came on. I prepared to dial the emergency myself while searching for tablets, while the person acting like a Chihuahua was barking at me not knowing what to do. I gasped the beginning of the word now. Get your tablets now. Why let me stand here coughing and losing my air to live?

As I get them in I’m still trapped, call now? Are the tablets working? I still can’t get info to them but I know with my purse in hand and my medical info on my emergency section of my phone they could help me.

That’s when the cavalry walked in and their arms of comfort come around my body. For some reason my sister (she never comes to work) showed up and with her checking me and the tablets in, finally a tiny gasp of air comes in. Time had slowed down.

I’m raw. My throat and chest ache, my soul is aching and I feel completely deflated from this experience. Like anything the after effect is teachable. Each one of them slowly realizing I was suffocating in front of them and they were Jigsaw asking if I wanted to play a game. They were choosing if I lived or died at that moment, but why was it their choice?

I choose to live, however that means.

With the challenges of trust with me, the fight and flight taking place and the nightmares back from the PTSD, I am fully equipped with my required medical items. The fear changed me. Did it change me for better or worse?

I have never been more happy to get home that day, stroke the fur babies now as we have two, and have Mr. Jones hold my hand.

My world turned upside down for a while and now I’m working on just trying to find a happy medium of acceptance of myself at this time.

The others I know it was not intentional, but their lack of trying to help me was. That will take time, and how ever long that is, it is.

In the meantime I can still educate others on it, educate myself and be prepared that no one ever has to deal with this at work again.

The curtain call came and I’m still standing.

Love always from the raspy, bumbling, shoe loving Woman in Process