a blog about life with diabetes, depression & dysfunction & how to manage them with HOPE!

that place between heartache and happiness

That’s where I am these day.  Torn, and swinging wildly between, being overjoyed and heartbroken enough I have to fight back the tears.

To some it may seem trivial.  Maybe it is something other people expect to happen, but for me, the thought that this might happen has never entered my mind.

My baby is moving away.

I knew that a company in Ohio had reached out to Corey about a position and that he’d gone up for a meet-and-greet-slash-interview.  I knew he’d sent them the resume they requested.  I knew he’d been looking into the company, trying to learn more about them, see if it was something he even wanted to consider.

I also knew that all he’d discovered was very positive and desirable!

After the first meeting, he was disappointed because the man from the finance department of the company (they are big enough to have ‘departments’) told him they had initially wanted him for a management position, but then his age and lack of experience with a large company made them think he might not be ready for that yet.


To me, at that time, it was encouraging.  I mean, I told you I was torn, guys.  I wasn’t kidding!!  I was so proud that a huge company like that was considering hiring my boy for a high position, not to mention that they instigated the contact!  It didn’t bother me that they were leery of him due to his young age and his lack of a college degree.  Most places are very big on a piece of paper from a university that says you know certain stuff.  I am of the opinion, however, that personal experience and the ability to teach one’s self and learn whatever is necessary is much more valuable than a degree that may or may not be a true indication of the person’s knowledge.  Of course, there’s not a lot of quantifiable proof for personal experience and the ability to self-teach either, but I’ve seen for myself that it’s a definite advantage in many areas of life.

I guess, deep down, I was content with knowing that Corey could attract attention from a big company, that he presented himself well and wasn’t lacking in any way from being homeschooled.  I mean, it was on his resume, after all.  They knew he had been taught at home.  I sorta felt that would be the end of it.  Which wasn’t a relief entirely because, confession time:  I’ve been praying for both my boys to be able to get away from all the stress they have with their jobs.

Yes, I should have been praising God for answered prayer, but you know how it goes.  Sometimes God answers in a way you never considered.  Kinda like praying for patience, so God lets you break your leg.  “There.”  He might say.  “Patience is earned, my child.”  All the while, I imagine He’s snickering to Himself.  Bahaha!

But seriously, it would be a big relief to see them have jobs where they weren’t constantly being brow-beaten and put down and having to deal with my dad.  I feel like I’ve posted about this whole complicated mess-of-a relationship before, but I’m not positive about that and I can’t find any reference to it, so I’ll try to explain while keeping it short.

My father has always been an entrepreneurial type of fella.  Always had his own business.  Everything from a coal tipple to a paving business, a wood burning stove store, therapeutic massage chairs to spray foam insulation.  You name it, he’s prolly done it or at least thought about it.  Excavation is where he always excelled.  He was good on a dozer and so began a core drilling business.  That led to him being asked to help bulldoze roads during a forest fire so the firefighters could access the fire.  Finally, he began this current company in 1994 originally doing only dozer and backhoe work.  It evolved into the plumbing arena and he had to get permits and such.  During that time, he learned about and got into the underground camera and jetting business, which is mostly what the business does now.  It’s considered a “plumbing” company, although dad has never been a plumber.  He always had to employ one, though and now, both my sons are licensed plumbers.  Corey has his master plumber’s license and Casey has a journeyman’s license.

The boys began working for my dad when they were teenagers.  Originally, it was just to do the extra work, the grunt work.  Wheelbarrowing dirt out of the way or digging trenches, that kind of stuff.  And it was just as needed because for the last 15 or so years, Dad’s only had one or two regular employees and in the last 10 or so years, that’s been older men like himself.  Not young men who could lift and heft and work hard, but older men who were a little more feeble and less agile and able-bodied.  I felt okay with that and I was happy about the experience it gave them.  Most kids their age had no clue about the real work-a-day world, ya know?  My boys did and they were learning all kinds of stuff about using tools and how things work.  Most of the time, they’d work pretty much full time during the summer months.  Soon though, dad started talking about when Corey graduated and could come in full time and all this crap about “handing down” the business to him one day.

That made me nervous.  My dad is a workaholic.  Even in his mid-seventies now, you can’t keep him still.  He can barely get around sometimes but insists on working.  It worries me to death but he’s as bullheaded as he is anything else, so you can’t tell him anything.

My dad has always been what some would call a “loudmouth”.  Ha ha.  Sometimes that’s a more apt description than others, but he’s very outspoken, opinionated and pretty judgemental.  Ever since I was old enough to realize it, I have seen that people either love or hate my dad.  They either get his brusque manner and laugh at his blustery speech or they despise his attitude and think he’s a blowhard.  I guess on both sides there’s a little truth, but in these past few years, he seems to have leaned even more toward the brusque/harsh side of his personality.  I think some of it is just the growing older process but the boys say he makes remarks about how he’s lived to the age his older brother and father were when they died so now he’s just “living on borrowed time” which is ridiculous since our days are numbered by God, not our ancestors!!  I don’t understand why he would think this way when he knows better.

So anyway, I tell you all of that so you might understand just a little why I have wanted my boys to not be working with or for my dad.  It has made them bitter and hard, more so for my youngest for some reason.  He’s never been a really ‘soft’ kinda guy anyway so that may just be his natural tendency.  But it is so worrisome.  Especially when he also lives right beneath my parents,  ya know?  He doesn’t really escape that stuff at all.  The boys don’t really have a grandfather relationship with him since he has treated them more like employees, disappointing employees at that, than like grandsons.  I have worried for their self-image and sense of self-worth for years because of how Dad is with them.

I know that sounds horrible of me, but it’s just the truth.  Telling you otherwise, pretending otherwise, doesn’t change the facts of the matter.  My parents harbor a LOT of negativity, which is one reason I don’t go around very much.  It just drains me.  It makes me feel ill, beaten down, hopeless and sad.  I struggle with depression enough as it is, and so I’ve found that my battle with it is easier if I don’t spend a ton of time with them.  Yes, that DOES make me sad, but self-preservation is important especially when I tend to become non-functional when I get in a deeply depressed state.  I pulled myself out of that once and I don’t want to ever have to do it again.  Is that wrong of me?  To guard my emotional, and also my physical, well-being?  If it is wrong, then I don’t know how to cope otherwise because spending time with them, lots of time, will inevitably lead to me spiraling into a horrible place where I shut down and then don’t take care of anyone or anything.  I’m not sure how they live in that darkness.  It’s like a tangible cloud of negativity and animosity.   They can’t speak about someone without pointing out all the perceived or concocted flaws the person has, they can’t be encouraging about any situation that isn’t exactly what they would choose for themselves, they are judgemental of everyone and don’t even think that your past won’t follow you toward them because they will never let you forget that thing you did but no longer do, no matter how much you have changed.

So… I feel like I’m rambling and I honestly don’t know how to end this post.  Apparently, the start date has been moved up to January 9 from January 23 so it’s even more of a time crunch!  Melissa wants to paint some of the walls so the apartment isn’t so “vanilla/boring” so she and I will go up a day or two after Christmas and stay for a couple days to do that.  For that, we’re having to decide which vehicle to take.  They have one vehicle between them, a 4WD pickup, we have our 4WD “second” vehicle (a pickup, too) and our new car, the Challenger, which we’ve never had in snow before.  It looks like it would be best if we took the car, but then there’s the issue of weather and Tommy’s insane obsession with keeping the car spotless.  Yeah, right!  I want it to stay awesome-looking too, but there’s only so much you can do if  you actually want to use the vehicle, ya know?  So anyway, I think we can get everything we’d need in there since the back seats fold down… you know, step stools, extension handles and all the painting material.  Then we’ll need to go buy paint unless she plans to do that here, then we’ll have to haul it up with us along with some air mattresses, clothes & food items.  The apartment is central to EVERYTHING almost, so running out to get anything we’d need won’t be a problem as long as the weather holds.  Then the guys will come up with a pickup load of stuff that weekend, I guess.  And we’ll be ready to start the actual moving process.

The kids are going back up there this weekend to finalize some stuff, and look at one more apartment that will now be empty to see if they like it better.  I think they’ve settled on this first floor one though even though the other is a tad bigger, it’s on the third floor.  With their dog, it will be a lot easier to be on ground level plus only first-floor apartments can have barbecues!  They grill out a LOT!  So…

I’m trying to steel myself for the wild rush to begin.  I’m praying for strength and focus and to stay well so I can help them all I can!  I’m taking advantage of every opportunity to be with them while they’re getting all their ducks in a row.  I’m not sure how I’ll survive this, but I know I will.  Like I said, I’m reminding myself multiple times a day that God promises to take care of us, to prosper us and not harm us.  I just need to stop looking at how much my heart hurts and focus on waiting to see what God’s going to do with this big change in all our lives.

Try to overlook me while I process everything, okay?  Thanks.


the worst one yet: a hypo story

So yeah, in this post I mentioned that the reason it was delayed is because I ended up in the hospital that evening.  I promised to tell you about that, so here goes…

I’ve been really REALLY sick since the end of August.  If you’ve visited at all in that time frame, you probably know this already.  I was just miserably sick with some sort of bronchial-slash-allergy illness from Hades!  I was on and off antibiotics and steroids and all sorts of allergy medication, nebulizer meds, inhalers and nasal sprays.  I was using an oil diffuser, vitamins and herbals, teas, Vicks on my feet… you name it and I tried it.  For the longest time, I just could not seem to get better at all, or I’d get better for a couple of days and then go back or get worse.  Finally, FINALLY, I started to feel like I was over the hump and improving a little.  I had started immunotherapy and either that was helping or The Sick just got tired of me at last and went to torment someone else.  I honestly don’t know.  I just knew I was thankful to feel almost human again!

That was a couple of days before Thanksgiving.  I felt good enough to help plan the meal.  I even baked a turkey sans stuffing specially for Corey because poor Mom couldn’t seem to understand that even if she only put stuffing inside the turkey, it could still cause his celiac to flare and had loaded hers full of regular, gluten-laden stuffing.  I also made him some gluten free dumplings, gravy and dessert before going up to Mom’s to make my usual batch of dumplings for the rest of us.  It was a great day, the best Thanksgiving we’ve had in a while.  My cousin Gabe was able to be with us and about six other random friends of ours or our kids were there with us unexpectedly.  I was thankful that my parents didn’t flip out having so many people over, but they seemed to enjoy it once the initial shock wore off.   We were there until almost 11 pm playing games and having a really good time.

That was on Friday.  Yes, I know Thanksgiving is on Thursday but for whatever reason, Mom had decided we would do our Thanksgiving dinner on Friday, and so we did.  So I got through the weekend fine and continued to feel better.  So much better I was beginning to tackle the house, which has been in a horrific state of neglect for MONTHS now.

Then on Monday, I once again was feeling really good.  It’s not often I have days like that, and especially after being sick for so long, so I was relishing the fact that I didn’t need a nap before noon and that I was actually able to finish several tasks without getting wiped out or discouraged.  It was starting to seem possible to get the house in shape enough to get ready for Christmas!

I had gone to get my allergy shots around 9:30 so being dressed and out and actually getting an errand completed by that time of day was a major accomplishment!  I switched out some laundry, folded and put a load of it away, unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, washed the big dishes and put them away and scrubbed the sinks.  I felt like I had conquered the world!  The only downer at that point was that my sugar had been hovering around 200 for much of the day.  I ate leftover dumplings with Tommy for lunch around 11:30 and had struggled to get the number down ever since.  By 2:00 it was still up and of course, my CGM was “screaming” at me every five minutes.  It just kept alerting me that my sugar was high.

Really?!?!  Yeah, I know already!  I really love my CGM and it’s a great tool to have, but I wish there was a way to make it not continue to make that noise after you already know it’s doing whatever Dex is alerting you about while you’re trying to correct the problem!  Gah!  I had started a post earlier and now it was finally finished.  I just needed some photos to compliment the theme, so I was busy searching, uploading, transferring and editing so I could publish when I suddenly got extremely tired.

It wasn’t a “low” tired, but then again they never seem like “low” tireds.  sigh  I just figured that all my energy had been spent and it was time for me to recharge.  By this time it was about 3:30 – 3:45.  While I’ve been sick, I got in the habit of just laying down whenever I felt tired and napping instead of fighting it.  I figured if I slept for 45 minutes to an hour, I’d feel lots better and could get some more done around the house.

That’s the last thing I remember before the ambulance.

I can remember hearing unfamiliar voices.  I can remember the sort-of fading-in of voices asking me questions … it was like tuning in a radio station.  I couldn’t understand the words for a time until I got them “tuned in”.  Then I would hear someone talking about me.  Saying what my blood pressure was, talking about turning “her” or that “she’s starting to come around”.  I think that last sentence is what caused me to realize what was going on and open my eyes.

Somehow, I knew I was lying on the floor of my bedroom with my head at the foot of the bed next to the closet doors.  I remember wondering how so many people were able to fit in such a small space then I began to wonder what in the world had happened.

About that time, I heard Corey’s voice and spoke his name.  I’ve gotten in the habit, ever since I started having those sudden severe lows, of stating what I can see or hear in an effort to let people know that my brain is operating, at least a little.  Then I saw Taylor’s face and spoke her name.  Both of them said things like “it’s going to be okay”, “you’re okay” and “it’s alright now”.  I started trying to ask what happened but must not have been doing a good job when a man to my right leaned over and told me his name was Daniel.  That’s when I knew I was in real trouble, or at least I had been.  I could see his EMT uniform and the creepy blue gloves on his hands.  Beyond that, I couldn’t tell anything else was going on with my body other than I was freezing.  I began saying, “Cold.  Cold.  COLD.”  That’s when they counted and I could feel them lift me with a blanket and plop me onto a gurney.

I could see I was being wheeled through my kitchen and out the door onto the porch.  It hit me then.  The realization that I’d been the cause of yet another medical bill.  I began saying, “I’m sorry.”  And I was, both for racking up another bill to pay and for worrying my kids like this.  Corey told me there was no reason to be sorry.  I continued telling them I was cold because folks, a post-hypo freeze is nothing to be toyed with.  One nurse later told me a severe hypoglycemic episode can put you near hypothermia!  I believe it!

They loaded me into the ambulance and both Daniel and Corey climbed in on either side of me.  I began asking Corey what had happened.  He started off by saying I had probably busted my nose, but it was okay.  That was puzzling because my nose didn’t hurt.  I touched it and it felt fine.  I didn’t know what he was talking about.  Then I felt the stiff remains of dried blood on my face, then the stickiness of something else… Corey gently wiped at my face with a tissue.  “It’s okay.  You’ve got some blood on your face.  We’ll get it off in a minute.”  I said, “Sticky.”  He said, chuckling, “Yeah, I got a little syrup on your face.  We’ll wash it off soon.”  Then I asked him again what happened.  He said, “You got really, really low, Mom.  But you’re okay now.”

I listened as he and Daniel talked about me and then about the job.  Daniel remembered hearing about the EMT Cadet program that Corey had been part of before it shut down.  He said, “I could tell you’d had some sort of training by the way you handled things in there.  She’s up to one-nineteen now.  That’s much better.”

When the ambulance stopped, I remember noticing all the red brick and then seeing Casey, Melissa and Taylor standing outside the open doors as Corey and Daniel began to move me out into the cold air.  Then I saw Tommy, who I hadn’t even had time to wonder about.  They got me into a little room in the ER and another guy came in and tested my sugar.  “Sixty-nine,” he said.   Then he asked Daniel what my sugar had been last time and decided to give me a second dose of D50.  I’m not sure why this was done since by then I was able to eat and drink.  After researching about D50, I learned that it’s not good on the veins and Lord knows, I have bad enough veins to begin with!

I finally began to get warm after about 2 hours.  And my sugar began to rise too.  I had found out by now that Tommy had had Corey remove my pump as soon as he found me passed out.  I connected back to it and bolused for the 170+ sugar.  From that moment on, I would have to fight for every single unit of insulin I received during my 22-hour stay.

The hospitalist had me disconnect from my pump.  Don’t get me started on how little most hospital staff know about diabetes.  In this instance, since at that point we weren’t sure what had happened and thought maybe it had been a pump error that caused the severe low, I was okay with removing my pump.  However, I was NOT okay with the hospital’s method of dosing.  Nor with their schedule for testing my blood sugar.  According to them, if it wasn’t done on their glucometer, it wouldn’t be scanned into the system.  Whatever.  I still don’t want to wait til  you think it needs testing.  So when I check and it’s 198 and I tell you I need some insulin, don’t tell me it’s not time, you’ll bring it with my supper or you will be right back with it (then don’t come back for three more hours).  It was INFURIATING trying to manage my sugars in there.  

Also, don’t confuse your medical degree with my decades of first-hand, 24/7/365 experience of dealing with my own disease.  Thank you.

I’d forgotten how horrible diabetes-in-the-hospital can be.  When I complained to the hospitalist about the fact that my sugar was approaching 400 and I had asked several times for insulin, she told me in the ER (because apparently, if you work in the ER, you only know abut ER stuff??) they usually see diabetes patients with sugars well above 600 and have no clue they are running that high.  I informed her that —I— was not one of those patients and when my sugar got above 200, I felt sick and I wanted to keep it under that.  She agreed and said she’d write it in the chart.

I don’t know what “it” was, but the treatment I got regarding my insulin in no way resembled control.  I won’t keep going on about this.  Maybe it’s fodder for another post instead, but the reality of ill-educated medical staff when it comes to diabetes is just epidemic!

Okay, so when Tommy and I started going back through the history on my pump, we saw that I had somehow (“somehow”) given about 20 units more insulin after my meal of dumplings.  Obviously, I had needed more than I estimated, but not THAT much more.  When we looked at the times of the boluses, we could see that I’d given several of them either in my sleep or at such a low level that I didn’t realize what I was doing.  All I can figure is that I went to sleep frustrated over trying to give enough insulin to get my blood sugar down and had heard my CGM go off so many times that day that when it continued alerting, now for lows instead of highs, I would automatically bolus thinking it was still saying I was too high.

That and also what the pump trainer said… after bumping up my basal rates in tiny increments over the last several months, having the lung infection then being on all those meds, and then finally getting well, my body went back to its former insulin needs quicker than I expected or could adjust for them.  So it was another perfect storm as far as situations that combined to cause this horrible low.

I’m just immensely thankful to be alive.  I’m working to train myself out of the habit of just hitting that bolus button before testing and actually not to use it at all, but instead use a temporary basal rate to correct highs and an extended delivery (a square or dual-wave) bolus when I eat so all the insulin isn’t hitting my system at once.  Tommy, bless his heart, has been off all week watching over me and helping me test these adjustments to see exactly what works best.  He gets extremely stressed and fretful if my sugar gets to 60, which is something I’m not used to.  He’s usually the most calm, collected person I know, but after seeing me bleeding, lying in the floor seizing and thinking I was dying right in front of him, he now worries any time my sugar even hints at going low.

I am truly blessed with the best family ever.  If not for my hubby, who had called to check on me when I was around 50, but I don’t recall talking to him.  When he thought I was treating my low myself, he hung up with me, but then got busy with his work and didn’t call again until 30 minutes later when his app alerted him.  When he couldn’t get me on the phone, he called Corey to see if he could go check on me.  As soon as Corey found me, he called his dad and just said, “You need to come home, Dad, it’s bad.”   Tommy called 911 immediately and tore out of the work site heading home.

I’m not sure when Taylor and Casey arrived, but I’m pretty sure Corey called Casey and he called Taylor so she could come straight to the house when she got home from work.

Hopefully, my sharing these kinds of things will help you understand how hard it can be to manage and regulate diabetes.  That it’s not a cut-and-dried medical issue, not one-size-fits-all treatment and not even this-works-every-time because ultimately, Diabetes does it’s own thing sometimes and it doesn’t have to make sense.

It’s a cruel, exhausting disease so when you meet a person with diabetes, be kind.  Be sympathetic.  Be nice.  Shoot, just be that way all the time, but please extend a hand to the PWDs in your life.  As the meme goes, be kind to PWDs, we deal with enough pricks already.



The #1 Misconception about Jesus

[NOTE:  This post was written last week, Monday, November 28, 2016.  However, I didn’t get the chance to post it because I ended up in the hospital that evening.  More on that later, though… I think this is an important post!]

Wow.  What a heavy title, huh?  Well, stick with me.  I think you will be as blown away by this as I was.

If you’ve read here much at all, you will know I am very much a “grace and truth” person.  Taken from this scripture: [notes in brackets are mine]

John 1: 14 ~ “And the Word became flesh [Jesus] and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father [God], full of grace and truth.”

I believe Jesus was more about love than law. Not that we should dismiss God’s law outright.  However, Jesus valued a proper balance of grace with truth, not beating people up with truth until we feel like giving them a little grace.  Not about hurting people with truth without also giving them a good dose of grace to go along with it.  He did not disregard the Law, but Jesus simply loved more than He fretted about law-keeping.  As our pastor started the sermon yesterday, he read from Matthew…

Matthew 12:1-2 ~  At that time Jesus went through the grainfields on the Sabbath. His disciples were hungry, and they began to pluck heads of grain and to eat. But when the Pharisees saw it, they said to him, “Look, your disciples are doing what is not lawful to do on the Sabbath.””

He pointed out how the Pharisees’ first thought was to point out the law-breaking.  They were not concerned that these men were hungry and had no other food available to them.  Remember that another law in play here is the one about leaving behind  any plants that are missed or any grain that has fallen during harvest in order that the needy could glean the fields and feed themselves.  (Leviticus 23:22)

The first thing that came rushing to my mind is all the times, as I was growing up in a traditional, conservative Christian church, I had seen people shunned or ignored because they were not dressed like the rest of us, or because they had done things considered ‘unforgivable’ while at the same time, only moments later, hearing a sermon about how loving and kind Jesus was to all people… the drunkards and the harlots and the sinners.  How He seemed to always reserve His harshest words for those in the “religious elite”, the high priests, and the religious scholars.

As a child, this always seemed so backward, but as anyone raised in this sort of environment knows, you don’t question those unspoken rules.  That is frowned upon and discouraged if not outright disallowed!  You just don’t question things that seem to be wrong with the status quo of the church.

Even as an adult, I went along with these sort of things.  My thinking was just as convoluted as those I still love today who are so set on sticking with the man-made rules and traditions in most churches.  I thought if you didn’t dress correctly, you were better off to stay home than come to church ill-dressed.  If you had been in jail or were known to be “living in sin”/shacking up, etc, then you had best sit in the back if you dared to show your face at all.  Don’t expect to be welcomed or even greeted in most cases.

Now, I am NOT saying that we should just ignore what the Bible clearly calls sin, but you cannot claim to “love the sinner and hate the sin” if you treat people like second-class citizens and push them to the fringe, making sure they know they’re ‘not good enough’.  That was the favorite cop-out of most churches I was ever involved in…”love the sinner and hate the sin”.  In theory, this is an excellent way to live, however, if you’re not willing to actually love the sinner then it becomes merely hypocrisy.

We are to hate sin just as much as God Himself hates it!!  He hated it so much and loved the children He had created so much that He became flesh and submitted Himself to the cross to save us from it!!  The thing we have really screwed up down here is the value God places on people (love) versus the value He places on things (law).

We think God places utmost value on His law and thus, our keeping of His law, when in reality, He values people the most.  That’s us, you and me and everyone you know…and everyone I know AND all the people they know.  So the essence of what Jesus came to do was not bulk up religion, not reinforce it or endorse it but to reject it, rescind it, to show us the better way.  Religion is about the law.  We, as our sin nature tends to do, have perverted the value of the law, putting it above love and human life.  It was love that caused God to give us the law.  The law is and has always been to help protect us, God’s children, His creations.  It was never created to be a noose, a burden, a dead weight that makes us view life as dreary.  Therefore, when it comes to a situation where it is love versus law, love always wins in God’s eyes.  God created the law for man, not man for the law.  He didn’t create laws first and then people to keep them.  He created people first, and then laws they needed to protect them.

That’s not to say we can make excuses to discount and disregard God’s law.  But, as in this instance, when it comes to our well-being or keeping a law, God will always opt in favor of our well-being, which is why He even made any law to begin with.

The example that Jesus used up there in Matthew to let the Pharisees know they were seeing things wrong was of David, when he was running from the murderous wrath of King Saul and sought shelter in a temple.  He and his men were tired and hungry.  The only thing available to eat was the consecrated bread which the law dictated was only to be eaten by the priests.  In the presence of the priest, David and his men ate the “shew bread”, the bread blessed and set aside for the temple priests, without condemnation from either God or the priests.  Nowhere in the scripture does it ever indicate or mention that God showed any displeasure or outrage at what David did in this scripture.

I had NEVER caught that part of the story.  I mean, it’s right there.  Plain as day.  Jesus is telling the Pharisees that just as David wasn’t condemned for eating consecrated bread because his well being was threatened if he and his men didn’t feed themselves, that He and the disciples were also not condemned for picking grain to eat right there on the Sabbath because they  had no previously prepared food nor place to get any food that day.  It was a necessity that they eat.  As strict law-keepers, the Pharisees would have rather they starved for the day instead of sustain themselves.  To them, that law was more important than loving the men enough to let them feed themselves.  The scripture goes on to inform us that after this, when they couldn’t prove Jesus to be wrong (because that would have meant they had to say David, the man they bragged 0f having as their ancestor, had committed a dreadful sin!) the Pharisees responded by beginning to plot how they could kill Jesus.  Yeah.  Law was WAY more important than Love to them.

For Jesus, LOVE is much more important than LAW.

Why has the church or we as Christians lost sight of this today?  Why can’t we see that loving people is so much more important than harping on such unimportant things as how they dress or whether they attend church on a certain day, or what type of music they prefer to worship with or how their preacher dresses?  Why must we focus on a person’s past when there is so much potential for their future in Christ?  Why do we drive people away because they don’t fit our preferences instead of loving them as Jesus would?

Our pastor has titled this series “Reeds and Wicks” and the message yesterday “Why Christmas is Not a Religious Holiday” using this scripture, also in Matthew:

Matthew 12:20 ~ “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he has brought justice through to victory.”

We are those bruised reeds, the ones broken and rendered useless to the world…the wicks that are so low in the wax that we are barely able to hold the tiny flame and people will soon throw us out because we don’t produce enough light.  Jesus repairs us, He makes us whole, He pours out the excess wax snuffing out our flames, He provides a use for our bent and bruised reeds.  Where the world calls us worthless, Jesus calls us worthwhile.  He gives us purpose and perspective.  He loves us even though we’ve been stepped on or are almost to the point of drowning in the wax.  He rescues us from our lowly state and not only uses us, cleans us up and gives us a purpose, but He loves us more than anyone ever will.

How can we trivialize Him by confining His love inside laws that don’t always apply?  When we use the law of God to withhold the love of God, we misrepresent God!  Rather than asking, like the Pharisees, “Is it lawful?”, we should ask “Is it loving?”  God’s love draws in those whom God’s law has cast out.  God cares more about sinners than their sins, and more about lawbreakers than broken laws.

I don’t know about you, but I’m going to endeavor to do the same.  Lord, let me love like You do!




getting back to business…

Wow.  I dunno about you guys, but this has been a crazy, mostly-yucky few months for me!  Between this god-awful allergy/bronchitis/whooping cough/sumpin’-sumpin’ and then getting that molar pulled followed swiftly by a lovely dry socket, I have been, let’s just say not fit for company.

Thank God I am finally feeling better.  I still don’t have my voice back though.  Yeah, yeah…funny.  Ha.  Ha.  I can talk at least, but it’s just squeaky and crackly.  I’ve never had laryngitis or whatever this is called for this long.  Usually a week or possibly two and I’m over it, but this is nuts!  I never realized how much I hum or sing harmony along with whatever song is playing.  I notice it now because I simply can NOT do it!

It’s definitely true, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.  Well, except for that tooth.  I don’t miss it.  I can finally swallow and talk (or squeak) without it jabbing into my tongue all the time.  Yay for that!

Okay, so let’s catch up.  I guess everyone is getting ready for Thanksgiving now.  I swear, every year at this time, I always feel like time just speeds up even faster than normal.  No matter what vows I make to do better “next year”, be more prepared, the holidays always seem to catch me off guard.  I’ve decided, at least for me, it’s that we’re all trying to wring the last bit of summer out that we can, so we’re rushing around doing summer things and then suddenly BOOM! it’s fall.  Ha ha ha!  That’s sure the way it has been this year, too.

For several years of our married life, autumn has found us doing some major remodeling on the house of some sort.  So then as Thanksgiving looms, we are rushing and working all hours to get done so we can host at least one gathering of family.   One year, we were almost done painting the last of our three biggest rooms!  Another year I think we had just swapped furniture in the living room and family room.

This year?  Well, no big projects going on, but one is in the pipe.  We actually have material stacked up in the hallway waiting for the chaos to commence.

We built our house.  Well, I say “we” but y’know, my man built it.  Seriously.  He framed it and did the wiring and plumbing.  We hired all of the drywall, siding, roof and foundation out.  We were thrilled snotless to be finally getting a house after living eight years in a 12×60 single wide with a toddler!  Then we had lived several months with both the boys in my parents’ basement.  We were ready for some space!  We thought we had tons.

We were wrong.

Of course, we tried to save money, build it nice but not extravagant by any means. And we really DID think we had given ourselves plenty of room.  Most of the rooms are perfectly fine, but our master bedroom is just cramped.  That’s the only way you can put it.

We have your typical 3-bed/2-bath ranch style house with family room, living room, utility room and dine-in kitchen.   Our original floor plan had a walk-in closet in the master bedroom that jutted out into the kitchen.  My dad convinced us that it was going to make the kitchen way too small, and he was right.  I would have hated the kitchen if we’d done it that way.  So to remedy that, we basically shoved that closet back into the bedroom, made it smaller and gave up a chunk of space we — thought — we could spare.

We were wrong.

The bedroom has two doors and one 36-inch window, plus the two hinge-type closet doors.  One door opens to the kitchen, the other is a pocket door that opens to the walk-thru master bath which then leads through the utility room that then opens up into the kitchen as well.  IF you are still with me after that, you are amazing.  Can I just say that right now?  🙂

So our bedroom/bathroom/utility/kitchen have a circular path through them and we use all of those on a regular basis.  ANYway, so for a couple years, we’ve sporadically talked about pushing one wall of the bedroom into the living that we seldom use anyway.  Our front door is in the living room and opens to our porch.  We don’t use that door much and it is directly in line with a larger arched opening into the family room.  It’s a straight shot from one to the other.  To the left of the arched doorway, if you’re facing in toward the house, is that little hallway to the two bedrooms.  So if we pushed the bedroom all the way to the front door, it would basically create another short hallway from the front door to the family room and connected to the current hallway in an L shape.   Doing that would give us about 120 extra square feet in the bedroom.  That is some much needed space!

The main reason we never started the project before was because of the cost of flooring.  The other stuff is not terribly expensive and can be bought in smaller batches as it is used and needed.  But not the floor.  And we are getting rid of all the carpet, remember?   And, as my mother is always so quick to point out, “Carpet is the cheapest” but we want wood, sooOOOOoo…. sigh  There’s our conundrum.

Sometime last week, Melissa texted me a post from Facebook where the sister of someone we know was selling several boxes of nice hardwood flooring.  We looked around online to compare prices and even if it was discounted a little from retail, it was still going to be out of our ability to pay for, so we politely declined to buy it.  They came back with a slightly cheaper price and we thought and figured again, but things are very tight right now with Tommy repairing this other truck, so we still couldn’t afford it.

Somewhere along the line, I mentioned all this to my mom.  Just while chatting on the phone.  In typical mom-style, she asked how much the people wanted for the wood.  She would buy it for us “for Christmas”.  She insisted until I said I would talk it over with Tommy.  He reminded me of how many times our parents have helped my sister and her husband out financially, so he said go ahead and let her buy it.  So now we have nine boxes of hardwood stacked in the hallway.  It is just enough to do our entire bedroom…the way it is now.

If we expand the room like we want, we will need another three boxes.  We’ve found that, contrary to what the floor-selling people told us, there is a place local that we can get more of this same color/style wood, so that’s not a worry, although it will be around $300 to buy the additional wood.  We wouldn’t have to have it just yet.

We’re not quite going to this extreme, but close…

We kept talking about this whole idea and decided that if we were going to stay here, and after 25 years, I’m pretty sure we’re not going anywhere, we should probably go ahead and make the house like we want, more practical and comfortable while we are still able.

We’re not spring chickens anymore, in case you didn’t know.  So now I’m thinking about logistics, the moving our bedroom into one of the spare rooms, the fact that doing that requires renting a carpet cleaner because Max occasionally thinks that’s his bathroom 🙁 and we didn’t realize it for awhile.  GASP!

There will be ceiling to repair/redo, which means Yay! I’ll be getting rid of the popcorn in the bedroom, but Urgh, It will be a job doing it back slick.  Tommy doesn’t seem to have any reservations and I’ve never seen the man not do something he set his mind to, so I’m not worrying about it either.

I’ll get to repaint the bedroom, like I wanted to already since we got rid of all our old bedding and got new allergen-free/resistant stuff.  Getting the carpet out will help the allergies a lot and so I can paint the room to match the new spread I got for the bed.  It’s grey, in case you wondered, a very light grey and it’s just a quilted cotton coverlet type, but the main reason I got it was because it can be thrown in the washer.   I’m going to use some tone of blue as an accent, I think.  Maybe even do one wall a different color.  Here are examples of my color ideas for wall paint:

I’m thinking something like either of these two shades for the main grey color….

I couldn’t find any bedroom pix with the grey/blue combo, so here are a couple living rooms with the tone of blue I’m thinking for accent…

or possibly…

We shall see.  As of right now, I made the mistake of looking around for some images of “remodeling chaos” and up popped a bunch of Pinterest stuff and “after” shots from professional remodeling jobs.  Now I’m all like, dang!  Have you seen my house?  Better yet, have you seen my bank balance?!?

Can you feel me?  Yeah…I gotta stick to the real world here in Po’ville where we barely scrapin’ by.  Ha, ha!

Nothing like moving large pieces of furniture from room to room to make you realize how much space they actually take up.  That’s what I dread the most, I guess.  Living with the added mess and chaos that just comes with a remodel.  When you have to move one room into another while the other one is still there.  Not knowing where anything is because you had to find a whole new place to put it where it wouldn’t get in the way in a room it doesn’t even belong anyway.  See?  

Oh well… soon, maybe.  You know I’ll keep you posted.  And with my actual pix possibly!  Ha!

it’s back! (& delayed!)

ADDENDUM:  This post, originally began on November 1, has been a tad delayed by life and sickness and monumental elections and dental appointments …. you know, the normal stuff that happens to me.  😉  So anyhow, I wanted to explain why this post starts off talking about my birthday but ends up over a week later!  Hey, that’s how I roll!!  Read on:::

Well folks, it’s that time of year again.  The leaves have turned all my favorite colors, the air is getting that “crisp-clear” feeling, the days are shorter and nights are longer and nippier.


It’s my birthday!

I don’t know about you, but in my “old age”, I’ve become pretty ambivalent about the anniversary of me rolling around.  I was about 19 or so when I realized that birthdays were not going to be as fun as an adult as they’d been when I was a kid.  I was a young married woman, probably working at the time, but I don’t recall where.  And we were feeling the squeeze of real life around the wallet/pocketbook area.  Ha ha.  Yeah, those money struggles had become real and I was still figuring out how to deal with it.

I’d never known a thing about finances in our family growing up.  Mom and Dad never let us know if money was tight and my sister and I never lacked for anything we really needed and while we certainly didn’t get whatever we asked for, we didn’t want for anything, either.  We always had everything we needed, so I was clueless about money management or dealing with lack.

Boy, did I make up for that as an adult!  Wow!  I don’t talk about this a lot because it tends to make Tommy, my husband, feel bad.  So understand, it’s not that he doesn’t make good money.  He has a good-paying job and does tons of side jobs to earn extra when  he can.  But diabetes is expensive.  That’s all I can figure.  It’s healthcare that keeps us in a chokehold financially.

And don’t even get me started on that.

I was talking about my birthday.  So I have this….uh…sorta dream, I guess.  To me, it’s just more of an idea or a desire.  I’m 49 today.  Forty-nine.  For-tee.  Nine-uh.  HAVE MERCY!!  When on earth did I get this old?!?!

It’s not that I don’t FEEL old.  Trust me, I do.  I often say I have the mind of a much younger person in the body of a MUCH older person and the two never have the same agenda.  As I’ve said about the name of the blog, My Life in Dog Years,  I feel TONS older than my actual age and I blame diabetes for that.  But still… I’m not ready to be almost-50!  See?  I can’t even enjoy being 49, I have to obsess about how close to 50 I am now.   Bahaha!

this will SO be me…  LOL!

Okay, so here’s the thing.  I lost about 30 pounds last year riding my bicycle and just trying to be healthier.  It was AWESOME to actually drop those pounds when it’s such a hard thing to do as a type one.  Taking the insulin hormone and also thyroid hormone, it’s just very hard to drop any weight doing the same things other people do.

So… being SO sick these past almost-three months (I’m still dealing with congestion issues, random coughing fits/asthma attacks and my voice still isn’t fully recovered, so I’m still that cross between Mickey Mouse and a zombie from The Walking Dead.

Back to it being my birthday…so yeah, I’m closer to that milestone of 50.  And the dream or desire I have is to be more fit by the time I turn 50.  So at this point, where I’ve gained back the weight I’d lost and I’m frustrated about it.  But honestly, I can’t change it, as in that I can’t undo it.  I guess it makes me even madder when I think about having to “redo” or “re-lose” all the weight I’d gotten rid of and then more!  I would LOVE to be at least 50 pounds lighter.  Not to match my age, ha ha ha!  But because I think I would feel good, at least tons better, with that much off me.  And I could be “satisfied” with myself at that weight.  But I don’t want to set that goal and not hit it.  So I am just saying that I want to weigh less by the time my 50th birthday rolls around.  In my mind, I want to weigh at least 30 pounds less.  And I think that’s doable.

After being so sick all this time and still not completely over it, I sure don’t feel like trying to get fit.  I can’t really exercise because of difficulty breathing and the asthma issues.  And I’ve fallen into the habit of eating some junkie foods, and right now, it’s hard to even think about giving them up.

Now this issue is something I KNOW can be done.  I really feel like once I feel better, not sick anymore, it will be easier to switch back to healthier eating.  I think because I’ve felt so lousy that I have tried to comfort myself with foods I really love, ya know?  Does that make sense?  So I think once I am not so sick, I will be much more able to switch to mostly veggies and stuff.

And I haven’t even told you about all my mouth issues.  I have about died during all my awful coughing, not only because they were body-wracking coughs, but because I have this broken molar in the back of my mouth.  It’s been broken for awhile.  I hate going to the dentist, people.  Both the physical experience of it and the daggone expense!  And this tooth wasn’t hurting me, but occasionally when my mouth would become super-sensitive and reactive to certain foods, it felt like that jagged tooth got sharper.  I’m sure it didn’t, but I could sure feel it more than at other times.  It had a point and it angled toward the back of my mouth, sorta pointing toward my tonsils.  It’s a bottom molar, right under my tongue. So every time I coughed, that thing was stabbing the heck out of my tongue.  So much so that by the end of the first few weeks, I had a VERY sore spot and when I finally decided to look at it, there was actually a hole worn in it.

It was EXTREMELY painful.  Every time I moved my tongue, it hurt and you can’t do much of anything without moving your tongue.  Go ahead and try it, you’ll see.  Your tongue moves even when you are just swallowing!  So I needed this tooth gone.

My usual dentist had talked about putting a crown on it, but it’s had a filling in it since I was a kid, and of course, that’s been replaced and expanded several times over the years.  There obviously wasn’t much actual tooth left.  I just couldn’t see sinking more money into it, especially when it seems my teeth just keep getting weaker as I get older.  I actually have another tooth right behind this one that’s been broken even longer.  It’s on the outside and not as much trouble as this one, but it does also need work of some sort.

And I want you to know, lo and behold, another tooth on the other side had a small part crumble off of it not two days after I’d called the oral surgeon to be put on the call-in list!!  GAH!

So yeah, as it would have to happen, the office called me the morning of my birthday to say they’d had a cancellation and could I come in that afternoon.  Well, I sure couldn’t afford to pass up the opportunity, so I got to have a tooth pulled for my birthday!  Yay.  (not)

Now, I’ve had about 3 or 4 other teeth pulled over the years.  Like I said, my teeth tend to be really weak.  I blame my poor mama for that.  Her teeth are exactly the same…they’ll just literally fall apart!  So I’ve had several that have broken or just basically split open and crumble out.  I’ve never gotten a dry socket with any of them.  Not a hint of trouble, really.

But this one… it’s really hurting.  And yeah, I ended up with a dry socket!  I got it pulled on the first of November, right?  By Thursday, I was dying.  It had just gotten a ton more painful, so I called the doctor’s office and they had me come in.  He rinsed it and packed it and told me to stick to soft foods and all that.  So okay… I went home and it really didn’t feel any better.

And remember, this is the week of my birthday.  My kids had originally planned to take me camping but when I got so sick, and it turned off cold, we decided to scrap that idea.  They told me to figure out what I wanted to do and so I chose something I’d been thinking about for awhile.  I wanted to do a Breakout game!

I saw these online a few years ago and thought it would be the most fun thing to do with family or a group of friends, but we’d never had a chance to go.  I chose The Hostage scenario for us and got the room booked and all.  So when I started hurting so bad, I was crushed at the thought that I might not even get to go or take part.

It ended up working out okay, though, thank God!  I didn’t feel great, but at least I wasn’t hurting nearly as bad.  We went to Breakout first thing.  It was so much fun!  If you’ve been thinking about going, I highly recommend it!  The kids are all wanting to come back… more likely with their friends and small groups, but maybe they will let us tag along too.

So the tooth thing… I’m still having trouble with it.  The last time I went was two days ago with it hurting like crazy.  He found a small bone sliver sticking out of the gum and filed it down, using only topical numbing stuff and this loud, sand-y/drill-y machine that would slip off the bone and hit my gum occasionally.  Needless to say, I hurt worse after I left.  He asked if I wanted him to pack it again to which I replied, “I dunno, what do you think?”  I wanted to say, “You’re the dental expert here, not me.”  but I didn’t.  He said he could but then I reminded him of how it hurt to have it packed and the packing never seemed to stay in for more than a couple hours after which I am left to fret with trying to keep it in place as long as possible, which hurts, until I finally just take it out, which also hurts.  GAH! 

So we decided to try it without the packing.  He said if I felt like it needed to be packed, I could just come to the office that afternoon and he’d take care of it.

I went home, took a Duexis and grabbed an ice pack, threw off my jeans and sweater and crawled in the bed.  I felt a little better after I woke up, so I didn’t go back for packing.  As of this morning, November 10, it’s actually feeling a tiny bit better, but I’m afraid to say that, so I won’t.  Heh.

If I could only scrounge up some energy and focus, I’d be flying.  But that, sadly, is NOT how I roll.

Til next time, my peeps!



do you have dreams?

Not the kind when you’re asleep that you can’t quite remember when you wake up.  I’m talking about “big” dreams…some people call them goals.  Things you wish for, think about, plan to do, ponder and well…dream about doing.  

The current series our pastor is in at church is mostly about dreams and what we are doing (or not doing) to accomplish them.  It’s brought home a really uncomfortable truth for me:

I don’t really have goals and dreams.  Is that weird?  I’m not sure.  I’ve actually always known that I tend to not set goals and thus, I don’t really dream dreams for things I want or would like to do.  

Maybe it’s because I deal with depression, but I’m not sure I can blame it on that.  I need to poll my depression peeps and see if that’s a connection we have as folks who struggle to be happy sometimes.

I feel like my lack of goals stems from the fact that I want to avoid being disappointed.  I don’t want to fail to meet said goal, and so my solution is to just not set one.  And that’s always seemed to work for me.  heh  Not that I consciously did that, it’s just how I operated.  It’s how I still operate for the most part.

Tommy and I have talked about this, at least partially, a few times.  He likes to “window shop”.  He’ll get a big idea that he wants something we could never afford and he’ll go look at whatever it is, looking it up online or going to a store to check it out.

I don’t do that.  For instance, if I wanted some fancy dress, (I don’t, but if I did…) I would avoid all the fancy dress stores.  I would avoid any online store that sells fancy dresses.  I figure if it’s a given that I’ll never be able to have the thing I desire, I won’t look at the thing knowing it can never be mine.

Maybe Tommy doesn’t feel that way.  Even though realistically we can’t afford his desired thing, he will look at and research and learn all he can about it.  Maybe it’s because he doesn’t feel it’s an impossibility?  Maybe he thinks one day he might actually get the thing he wants. 

I dunno…he and I are very different in that area.  I seldom spend on myself.  I’m not as bad as I used to be, like when the boys were still at home, but I only bought clothes for myself if I absolutely HAD to have something and then it was only off the sale racks.  I didn’t feel like it was “fair” for me to spend on myself when the boys or even Tommy needed something else.  Whether that something else was clothes or a hobby item or maybe a birthday gift.  I never felt it was “okay” to spend on myself.

And that’s not because Tommy did anything to make me feel that way.  He’s never been a control freak about our money.  Maybe that’s part of my refusal to spend on myself…the fear that he might make a rash decision to purchase something we couldn’t afford so then I needed to be “the responsible one”.  Or maybe…maybe I cloaked my self-denial in the title of “responsible”??  Hmm….

Not that he’s terrible about doing that, but in years past, it happened a few times.  Money we’d agreed to use for an improvement to the house, for example, bought go karts instead.  That was a bad time in our marriage.  The times he spent what I considered ungodly amounts on fishing poles or guns or some hunting item… I would be livid about that.  And looking back, I probably had a right to be since we could barely pay the bills most of the time.

Then I’d feel guilty because Tommy is a hard worker.  Anyone who knows him knows he works all the time.  Especially the past few years.  He never tells anyone ‘no’ he won’t fix their broken whatever or  no, he doesn’t have time to diagnose their car or some machine that isn’t working.  

Then when I had times like I’ve had the past couple of months, being so sick I couldn’t even keep up with the bare minimum chores around the house, I’d feel like a big bum and start thinking “What right do you have to begrudge him some splurge item?  You never lift a finger around here…”  Maybe that’s another reason I have always refused to spend on myself.

I guess, if I had to say, “THIS…this is my dream,”  since I’ve never really given it a lot of thought, it would be to be debt free and not have to worry about money.  I don’t wanna be rich, like I don’t want to live in a mansion.  I’d love to be able to fix what needs fixing on our house and do some remodeling.  We need to replace the siding and windows desperately.  We need to pave our driveway and finish pouring sidewalk to the shop.  The landscape needs serious attention and we need to get rid of the carpet now that I’m trying to get rid of dust/dust mites and so I’d like to put down hardwood or tile in the four rooms that have carpet.  I’d like to expand our bedroom which was too small to begin with.  Originally, our closet was going to be in the kitchen, not “in” the bedroom, but when we changed the layout of the kitchen, we pushed the closet into the bedroom, which took up a considerable amount of room.  If there were only a twin bed in there, the amount of room would probably be adequate, but a king-size bed plus two chests and a dresser leave very little room.  It’s cramped and makes me feel claustrophobic.  I’d also sorta like to expand the master bath, which is a decent size, but not laid out well since it is a ‘walk thru’…you can come into it from the bedroom on one side or from the utility room on the other side.  That leaves very little storage space after you add the commode, tub and a double vanity.  We put a pocket door between it and our bedroom because otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to use the bathroom at all!  So I’d like to expand it and if we went to that length, I’d really hope we could put in a jacuzzi, which I would use all the time.  heh  Nothing fancy, just something to bubble the aches and pains away and big enough for Tommy to feel comfy in whenever he takes a bath.

Beyond that?  Well, I’d really like to paint all my oak cabinets, in the kitchen and the bathrooms.  I’d like to eventually get new living room furniture.  What we have now is in good shape.  Mom bought it for us several years ago but I’d love to have a matching set of what I want, ya know?  Not just what’s on sale or what I can afford to get by with..but something I really like.  I’d love to have a nice leather set with the big brass tacks and deep, soft cushions.

Then?  Then I’d love to be able to give gifts without worrying.  I would love to be a gift giver, but we always struggle to buy gifts for our family, let alone giving to others.  Like, I don’t go to showers, baby showers or household showers, because many times, I don’t have money to buy a decent gift without worrying if we’d have enough money to pay bills and if we do happen to have a bit of extra so that I could buy a gift, I don’t go because I’m worried that someone else, down the road will be offended when I don’t buy for them.  I think I probably get that from Mom.  She keeps track of who bought gifts when and for which occasion.  She keeps track of how many daughters or sons she has showered and whether or not they or their parents reciprocated for her children.  Ugh.

Anyhow, for all my talk about overcoming fear and not being afraid of anything because God is our Father and we shouldn’t be afraid of anything… my biggest fear is needing money.  That we won’t have enough money.  Worrying about affording necessary medicines or supplies.  I’m not sure why I am like that.  I mean, we’ve never been well off by any means, but as a kid I never worried about money.  Mom and Dad never let us know if things were tight or if there were worries about having enough for that month.  I think they always had plenty, but Mom did tell me about when I was in junior high and needing a dress for the prom (needing?!?) and they didn’t have the money and she put it on a card and then was able to pay it off in a couple months.  I had no clue.  I had no idea they couldn’t afford to just buy whatever we needed because they always did.

I don’t think our boys knew every time we worried about having enough money, but they knew that things were tight.  That’s why they had to work for what they wanted, which, I think, has made them better men.  Nothing was ever given to them.  They earned it all and I guess that’s why they have nice things today and take such good care of their belongings.  I never really learned about money until I got married and then it was sort of a shock.

We didn’t really have money problems, after marriage, until insurance became a big issue.  When we didn’t have insurance for awhile, it got really scary really fast.  I found out no one wanted to insure a woman with diabetes, and if they DID perhaps say that they would, they wanted an arm and a leg to do it.   I think that’s when my fear of never having enough really settled in.

I’m the type of person who will use a product so sparingly that I don’t get its full effects, or I’ll start trying to spread it out to last as long as possible or I’ll stop using it so I “don’t run out”….  I know it’s bizarre, but I can’t seem to help myself.  I hate sample products.  I hate them because what if I find that the product is really great and I want to keep using it?  What if it’s expensive and I can’t afford to buy it?  Then what?  Then I’ll just be sad because I can’t afford it, so I just won’t use it at all.

I’m not kidding…that’s how my mind works.  

Now, is it that I “love money”?  Because we know, loving money is the root of all evil, right?  No, it’s not that.  I don’t “love” money.   I just want to have enough so that I don’t have to worry about not having enough.  Ha.  Honestly.  I don’t want to be rich.  Comfortable, yes.  But then, God doesn’t call us to be comfortable, huh?  However, living the way we do, struggling and worrying about how to pay the bills feels like I’m not doing something right.  It makes me feel like I haven’t done whatever I am, or we as a family are supposed to do.

And it’s not that we’re wasteful.  I mean, yeah, we’ve made mistakes over the years, but to say we waste money on stuff, I can really say we don’t.  We don’t have cable, we don’t have any satellite radio subscriptions or anything like that.  We don’t have a lot of toys.  I mean, we have our bikes, which have been good for our health, when we were riding, that is.  And I hope we will ride next year and get back into like we were last year.  We don’t have a new vehicle.  Ours is over 6 years old, and it’s a base model.  We only have one vehicle that can be considered “nice” and Tommy usually has an old beat-up truck of some sort.  Right now, he’s trying to fix the 2009 F150 so we can trade our 2010 F150 to a car for me and still have a 4WD truck for winters.  And he got this truck in an even trade for a 2004 pickup so we don’t owe anything on it.   Since I started this post before THIS one, you now know that we were able to trade, and for an amazing car, the one I have maybe not “dreamed” of, but wanted the most and we love it!

Our house is financed for way less than it is valued because we built it ourselves, so we do have equity in it.  Of course, without being able to make repairs and updates, it won’t retain as much value.  sigh

When I started selling Mary Kay a couple years ago, I thought I’d just do it to get the discount.  I thought I could get enough together to make an order with the girls and Mom, but one is allergic to it and the other buys from someone else and so just two people don’t need enough for a minimum order each time.  Of course, then I got sick…that nasty arm pit rash, increased sensitivity to scents and the depression.  I really had to just quit and I felt like that was God’s way of moving me away from that.  I was torn between feeling like a failure and that it was a good experience.

I wonder if this is really true...

I wonder if this is really true…

Then I started feeling like I should try to do something to help add to our family finances, so I started looking into medical coding courses with the idea that I could work from home.  I had gone so far as to reach out to the college and seeing what paperwork I needed to be getting in order so I could enroll.  The more I looked into the actual market though, the more I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to get a position working from home.  I saw that most of the job postings asked for 3 years of experience to work in an office, let alone working from home.  So then I got this strong feeling that I should try blogging again.  I read and I researched about making an income from a blog and after a few months of that and talking to Tommy and praying and just feeling convinced that this is what God wanted me to do, I jumped in with both feet.

And here I am.  I haven’t earned a dime and have spent MUCH more than that on this blog and I still don’t have any regular readers, let alone anything resembling an audience.  Granted, I haven’t been very regular with posting lately, but I’m not beating myself up over it since I’ve been sicker than a dog.

Now I tend to second-guess myself a lot.  Usually, when I get to that point, I end up quickly reassuring myself that this IS what God wanted and wants me to do.  I feel like I’ve just not figured out HOW to do it yet.  I obviously haven’t figured out what my “niche” is, if I even have one.  I haven’t found my voice.  I haven’t decided if I’m bold enough, brave enough to really put myself out there like I envisioned.  Dirty laundry, ugly moles and everything.  And this applies more to the book I really feel I’m supposed to write.  I’m wrestling with whether I “tell all” and risk having people get hurt or mad at me.  If I don’t “tell all”, then what’s the use in telling anything?  Why bother?  I used to think that no one would want to read what I want to write, but when I talk to people about those stories, they are very interested and either tell me I should write a book or tell me when I write it, they’ll read it.

Honestly, I thought writing a book would be tons easier.  Yes, I am that naive!  I know what I want to say, what I want to write about, but man…putting words on paper (or a screen) is much harder when it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty.  That makes me wish I had access to writing classes.  I did a class with the boys when we were homeschooling that I found to be a lot of fun.  It was more about fiction writing, but it helped you understand about various forms of writing and using creative writing. It wasn’t a super-formal class, but I think we all enjoyed it.  Well, maybe not Casey,  my unconventional learner, but Corey really enjoyed the story writing exercises.  

Anyhow, so yeah, am I the only person who doesn’t really have dreams and goals?  Surely I can’t be the only one.  I mean, it’s pitiful enough when I realize this about myself… what kind of person doesn’t have at least one goal or dream?!?!  But to be THE ONLY person who is that way??

That’s pathetic!!

Or… do I actually have a dream and it’s more that I’m afraid to actually call it that?  Maybe it’s that my ‘dream’ is too vague?  I can’t clearly see it?  I don’t know.  But I want to figure this out, or at least look into it a little deeper.

Am I just a big scaredy cat?  Am I merely afraid to dream a big dream?  Am I so opposed to possible failure that I just refuse to set any goal?  Do I have to have “a dream”?  Should I have one…does every person need to “have a dream”?  Hmm… deep thoughts.

Let me know what you think!

(If you would, please comment on this post.  If you CAN’T comment OR if the process to use the comment feature is giving you problems or is too much trouble, please email me:  geannie [at] live [dot] com  I’d like to know what I can do to make commenting easier!  THANKS!)

thrilled and stunned

Guys, I’m all excited.  We have been talking about trading vehicles for awhile now.  I’m not really a “car girl”, but I do appreciate a well-designed car that commands your attention without being flashy or gaudy.  I have been pretty in love with a Dodge Challenger since they went back to the more traditional body style.  So when the topic came up, I let Tommy know that I really liked the looks of the Challengers.  To my surprise, he began looking for one.

While we looked both on the road and online, we realized that neither of us had ever even driven one and didn’t know if we’d even like how the car handled and stuff.  So a couple weeks ago, when I was in Lexington for a doctor appointment, we drove through a lot up there and ended up driving a Challenger to my appointments and were still in the pressure cooker at 10 pm that night.  Yeah, we’re those people who can’t make a decision and finally, when we at last escape the salesman’s grip, will tell you we’ll get back with you after we think about it some more.

We are NOT spontaneous purchasers of automobiles!  The Lexington dealership didn’t really have exactly the color or trim package we wanted, but we found one we really liked and were considering our options.  Like I said, we were up there late while they pressed us to make a deal.  I will say all the salespeople we talked to were nice and we have definitely dealt with MUCH pushier ones in the past, but they were in full-on let’s-make-a-deal mode for sure!

We just couldn’t do it though.  I mean, after all this was the very first time we’d driven one and the first ones we’d even looked at.  We really needed to give it some more time and research.  Casey was adamant that we not buy a new car.  And he was right.  I didn’t want to buy new either and we sorta felt like we weren’t exactly since we were looking at the 2016s in October!  That’s how we bought the truck, but it had been a rental so it was considered used/fleet and we bought it at the end of its model year too.

So Casey kept sending us links to other Challengers, all the while saying that we shouldn’t get a 2-door vehicle.  When we asked why, he said because it would be hard once there were grandbabies.  I’m like, “Do you have something to tell us or are you just yanking my chain?”  He assured me there were no babies on the way as far as he and Taylor were concerned.  So I said, “When you hand me a grandbaby, I’ll figure out a way to haul it.  In the meantime, I like this car!”  My kids think I’m not smart, I guess…thought they could hint about a baby and I’d buy what they wanted me to (which is a four-door Jeep!)  but nope, I’m not falling for it.  Granted, I have been known to insinuate that there could be a prize for the first ones to give us a grandbaby, but so far, that hasn’t worked either.

We came across a new 2015 Challenger in Hazard, about 50 miles east of us.  Tommy called about it, we looked at the photos and researched its worth.  He and Casey have been crazy getting ready for Jeep Jamboree coming up this weekend.  They’d been bummed to find out they were put on a waiting list for tickets, but then, since they are local to the event, they can go as guides after helping clear the trails the past two weekends.  So yay, but it’s the entire weekend, which they start on Thursday (wha?) so it wasn’t going to leave a lot of time to look into this if we didn’t hurry and we’d already lost one sweet deal by waiting.


We decided to drive over there and look at it last night.  It was dusk by the time we got there, and we hadn’t told the salesman for sure we were coming, so the car was parked behind some others and was super-dirty, but we took it for a drive and fell in love.  It drove and rode smoother than the ones we’d driven in Lexington, plus it had all of the options we wanted (except for one that they said they’d throw in) and an upgraded leather package.   Since it was a year old already, they wanted to make a deal.  They offered us above book value for our truck and threw in factory remote start and navigation activation, which came to almost a thousand dollars.  We really appreciated the way they did business too.  There was no game-playing and “let me go ask my manager”, or “I don’t think he’ll let me do that without some money down”, whatever.  They told us what they could do, we told them what we wanted and a compromise was struck.  We drove Ruby home last night.  Exhausted and giddy, we took her up to show Casey and Taylor (Corey and Melissa were still at church) by that time, it was after 11 pm.  Once we finally left there, we then came home and spent several hours flipping our mattress, vacuuming it and the entire bed, putting on the new hypoallergenic covers and pillows, throwing away all the other stuff and making the bed before we could finally go to sleep.  And then I stayed low for several hours.

Needless to say, I’m really tired today, but it’s been good.  I think I’m still improving slightly.  Had one really bad coughing bout, but once it subsided, I’ve been okay.  I slept a little bit.  Tommy took the car to check on getting a ceramic coating put on and also having the windows tinted.  We need to keep that sun off Ruby’s nice red interior, so they were able to do the tint today.  I’m going in a bit to pick her up.

These photos do not do her justice.  This is SUCH a fine car, you guys!  We’ve never owned anything so nice with so many bells and whistles, nor so much attitude.  😉  Did you see the red interior?

These definitely don’t do justice.  I was honestly afraid the red interior would be the deal-breaker for me until I saw them in real life.  They are much nicer than they look in the pictures.  And the ride…smooth as silk.  We just absolutely love this car!!  We’re sorta dazed right now because we weren’t really planning to buy, but the deal just fell into place, the dealership gave us everything we wanted and without any arm twisting.  It was the easiest car purchase we’ve ever made, that’s for certain!  Our payment could have been much less than what we had been paying previously, but we opted to keep it about the same and finance for less time.  Apparently, in all the debating I’ve had to do with Tommy over the reasons we can’t have a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon (price being the very biggest one!) he has fallen in love with my car as well.  Once Casey got in it and drove  her around, he’s pretty smitten too.  I KNEW the reason he was so against this is that he didn’t want his mom to have a cooler car than him!!  Ha ha ha!

Expect a few more pictures as I get better ones in the next few days.  We are SO thankful to have something we’ve actually wanted.  We’re so used to getting just what we can ‘get by’ with because what we want or sometimes really need, is too expensive…this is a very huge blessing and a nice surprise.  I guess this will be considered my early birthday present.  Just wait and see what Tommy does by the time it rolls around.  HA HA HA!

Before I go, let me share a group text with you between me and two of my friends…

G: We’ve been looking to trade our truck & mama want this!  (includes link for the car)  Does it scream midlife crisis as much as I think it does?  Yes?  Mama doesn’t care…

Friend 1: Nice!

Friend 2: Remember if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

G: ‘zackly!  Mama oughta look hawt when she goes to the Walmarts, am I right?

F2: Hey if you got it flaunt it

G:  LOL..or drive something that looks like u might have it…BAHAHA!  The kids r all like u don’t need that for when u have grandkids, as if I’m gonna order them online or something.  I’m like, u provide the babies & we’ll take care of something to haul them in.  Idk y the kids r so against me getting this car. Does is scream ML crisis louder than I think?  Maybe they’ll be embarrassed?

F1: Probably.  It would embarrass them.

G:  Idk y.  It’s not like I’m getting a boob job!

F2: Oh, thanks.  Now I’m picturing you with a boob job, 3G.  I needed that laugh!


G:  Ur welcome.  :p

I will leave you with some pix of Ruby after her tint job…is that like a boob job for cars, I wonder?  Hmm…

I hope none of you pass out from all this hotness….

title goes here

Folks, I am just at a loss.  I couldn’t come up with a catchy title because well, it’s just the same-‘ol-same.

Yep, still sick.  Yep, still no real answers.  Yep, doctors still seem puzzled as to why I am not getting better.

So my plan is to just sorta document what’s going on, what meds they have me taking now and the results of my allergy test yesterday.  I did something similar HERE last year and it has been helpful to look back and see what happened, how it was treated/how it progressed and what time of year it was.

I didn’t even make it to my endo appointment because I was at the allergist’s for so long!  (going back to try that again on Tuesday)  They only did environmental testing yesterday because the doc was afraid to do more with me coughing the way I was.  Yeah, the coughing is back after just 4-5 days’ relief from that.  I’m not sure if it is because I was out so much on Monday, traveling with Tommy to pick up truck parts or that I got so tired from being out all day… but it’s back.

As far as my meds, I’m not on too much that’s new.  Still taking these, and have been since that post above, from November of last year…




I got a couple of these nebulizer mouthpieces that I like much better than the open ones I’ve always had.  It doesn’t allow tons of the medicine to escape and the actual mouthpiece is much more comfortable.

  Of course, they always want to give me these flippin’ Tessalon pearls for coughing and they never do a thing for me, so I have a basically full bottle of them.  Argh!

At least now my doc understands that these don’t work for me.  I don’t think she’ll insist that I try them again.  They are honestly like taking nothing at all.  She gave me this instead, and it doesn’t do a whole lot if I’m already to the point of coughing so bad I can’t breathe.
Besides the fact that if you happen to take it a tad more often than prescribed, the insurance companies will REFUSE to refill it for you (because it contains Codeine) and so, you will then have to resort to liquor to quiet your coughing.  Nice job, Insurance peeps… turn folks into alkies, whydoncha?  Ugh!

The allergist now has me on two steroid inhalers:





As for antibiotics, yep, I’m on the third one of those… we started with my old standby:

  when that seemed to do nothing, they switched me to 





And now, I’m on “the big gun” (that’s what they said!)

Actually, I took the last of it today…  I’m wondering if they’ll want to me to do another course of Levaquin now?  That scares me a little given my history with antibiotics and my experience with Stevens-Johnson syndrome!  Ugh!

Okay, so the allergy testing… like I said, she only did the environmental tests and I lit up pretty good with those.  There were about three that I tested super-high in… Epicoccum, which is a mold fungi.  Yay.  When our house was terribly ill-equipped with the wrong-sized air conditioning unit (thanks, Larkey) we had a constant humidity problem.  The humidity in the house stayed super-high so of course, molds developed in the window sills and other places.  Seriously, this “mistake”, telling us we needed an HVAC system MUCH too big for our house, caused a LOT of problems.  Make sure you are using a very reputable company when getting those things installed or serviced.  We had other problems with this company, too like when the unit stopped working, they sent a guy out who somehow locked the unit in heat mode (in the dead of summer, y’all) and went back to the shop.  Yep, I’m just glad we were home and it didn’t melt the place, start a fire or worse.

ANYway, so yeah, we got a new, suitably-sized unit last year, and all those humidity problems ceased.  (thank you, for REAL, Leo Jones & Son! —we highly recommend LJ!  Ask for David & tell him we sent you!)  The damage had already been done, though.  Our house has been damaged by the mold for all those years (yep, we had this incompatible unit the entire life of the house til then).

I also reacted heavily to dust mites.. yay.  And cocklebur/mugwort…  Huh?  Weedy things, I think.  So I just ordered a ton of bedding… hypo-allergenic mattress cover, pillows & pillow covers.  My next big project I wanna do is to rip all the carpet out of the house, but we have to be able to afford to replace the flooring first.  UGH!  I would be fine with putting tile (the wood-look stuff that’s so popular!) in the bedroom, but Tommy is all “No way!”   He can be such a butt!!  He’s so weird about stuff like that.  He has a certain way set in his mind and no matter how little sense it makes, you can’t convince him otherwise.  DRIVES ME UP A WALL!  What does he want?  Wood.  Why?  He thinks it’s better.  ???  I dunno why.  For one, it’s tons more messy with the sawdust factor.  Secondly, HELLO!  I’m allergic to some trees.  And he wants to put dead ones all over the floor??  What?!?!?  I also assume wood would be more expensive, but I dunno for sure.

I am so ready to stop feeling crap-u-licious, you guys!

Oh, and while I was looking up all these graphics, I found this little jewel:

Just FYI…this is completely not true.  I tried it several times.  Maybe it’s because I was coughing so violently, so much that it couldn’t work?  I don’t know.  However, I DO know that this just does NOT work.  “Immediately”??  Um, nope.  It may have helped soothe it eventually, but stopping it?  Not at all.


Alrighty, well that’s my report for now.  Hopefully, I will soon have some improvements to tell you about.  Lord, I surely hope so.  I am so tired of being so stinkin’ sick.



doing that thing you do…

Hello, boys and girls!  Today we’re going to talk about something that everybody does, but in most circumstances, nobody talks about.  This is an important thing.  Something that, if left undone, would eventually cause the human race to disappear from the earth. It’s something we should be taught about when we’re young, before things get too out of hand and we can’t get back in control.  Something that, left explained or considered unimportant, we may make foolish decisions about and soon find our lives are wrecked.

I am sure by now, most of you know what I’m talking about.  Many of us have problems with this while others seem to find it a non-issue.   Those who are “good” at it don’t understand those who struggle with it.  Those who spend their lives trying to master it, can’t even fathom those people who seem to do it without even thinking.

I’m talking about pooping.  Dropping the bomb.  Dumping the load.  Laying the brick.  Doing the dookey.   Taking a $#!+.  Whatever you call it, however you refer to it, it’s important.

Wait…what did you think I was talking about?

Sheesh!  Minds out of the gutter, people!

So yeah, I’ve been sick as a dog for over a month now.  Trying not to die takes a lot of time and concentration.  You’re worried about taking your meds, do you feed a cold and starve a fever or the other way around, will your ribs break if you cough any more?  It takes considerable thought just to breathe! So I’ve been a little busy with all that stuff, besides feeling like death reheated!

Annnnd…. I may have neglected a few other very important tasks.  Yes,

–stands up– My name is Geannie and I am a Problem Pooper.  sigh  There, now you know.

And it’s true, I don’t get you people who can just drop a turd at the drop of a hat.  What IS that?!?  I mean, it could take me hours.  I just don’t see how you can just snap do the deed and go on about your life like




My husband, Tommy, is like that.  That man poops at least five times a day and twice during a full moon.  If I take the least bit more time getting ready to go somewhere than he does, just when I’m ready to walk out the door, he’s all, “I gotta poop.”

blink, blink

“NO WAY!  We don’t have time for that!!” I wail.  Then -boom-, two minutes and he’s back, ready to go and it’s like he never even left the room (as long as he turns the fan on and shuts the door).

I cannot do that, people.  It takes time.  Concentration.  Sometimes hot coffee, a laxative and an enema!  And even then, it’s not a sure thing.

How is it that you people can just POOP?!?!  Just drop the bomb, anytime, anywhere, even with other people in there just on the other side the door that doesn’t latch properly.   Nuh-uh.  Not happening.

It’s not that we don’t WANT to.  We’d love to be like you poopers who are not hindered by geography, audio interference or emotional distress.  Those who’s poop seemingly just slithers right out, nice as you please, like a big ol’ chocolate snake, allowing you to continue on with your life.

No, it’s not that we want to be bound by this heavy burden.   I could never understand as a child why my mom was always worrying about whether I pooped or not.  To me, pooping was an irksome task that interrupted my playtime.  I mean, I guess it never occurred to me that I could just poop in the woods like the forest creatures because that’s where I usually was, playing for hours.  No, I thought I had to walk allll the way back to the house for this, and so many times, I would not.

Nope.  That poop wasn’t gonna be the boss of me.  I’d show it.

I eventually developed the sphincter of an iron man.

But as I grew and became an adult, I realized that pooping may have been a tad more important than I had assumed.  By then, however, it was too late.  I was caught in Pinch Mode.  It was automatic, if I felt the least urge to lay one down, I’d pinch up tighter.  Seriously, The Gatekeeper learns what you teach it.  I had taught mine not to let ANYBODY out.  Ever!

When I got pregnant with my first, my mother scared me to death about getting a hemorrhoid.  I did everything possible to eek out a turd every day.  I wasn’t always successful and it was a lot more work than it should have been, but I got by without the dreaded butt condition developing and it felt like I had escaped the jaws of death.

As I’m writing this and pondering the topic, I wonder how ANY body in history kept a clear bowel.  Especially women!  I’m thinking pioneer days, late 1700’s to early 1800’s.  I can’t imagine coping with all that long material in those heavy skirts and petite coats trying to squat and poop in the middle of a prairie, probably with some bad-guy train robbers in hot pursuit, shooting arrows or Minie balls at you.  I mean, c’mon!  There’s no way any of those women could have been “regular”.   Let’s don’t even talk about how you wiped.  How they even found their hind quarters in those things is a mystery, let alone actually wiping it.  shudder

Ah, but today, we’re all civilized with special seats and nice soft paper to wipe with, all in temperature controlled rooms and with exhaust fans even!  Not to mention specialty things like this:  Poopouri & Squatty Potty

We’ve come a long way.

Except for those of us who haven’t.  But you know, at one point in my life, I’m not sure what happened.  I’ve had so many medical mishaps and of course, our bodies change over time, but I was in the Super Poopers league for awhile.  I’m not kidding!  Sometimes… whispering –I could even go twice in one day!

I never got to the point that I could dump a load away from home, though.  I mean, some things are just sacred.

#1, I need my things.  My toilet, my magazines, my toilet paper.  You know.  And


(BAHAHAHA!!  Number 2!!)

I need space.  You can’t even turn around in some of those stalls.  There’s no way I could launch one in there!

#3, I need quiet.  How can I poop if people are standing around out there talking..  AND I can SEE THEIR FEET??

Then there are the other issues…I may occasionally make noise.  I mean, getting the brown train to exit the tunnel takes a lot of work.  It’s like hard, manual labor, people.  Not to mention if I were to be able to just drop a single train car, let’s say… the ensuing “bloop-splash” sound would just shut it all down. POW!  Sorry folks, this station is closed and I mean RIGHT NOW!  EVERYBODY STOP!  The tunnel would close indefinitely and who knows when you might expect to hear from the rest of the train!?!?

As an adult seeking to become one of the Perfect Poopers, I’ve read a lot of stuff about the role our nerves play in the whole elimination process.  I told you we sorta train our GateKeeper and the same goes with those nerves.  If we ignore every time we get an urge to even think about possibly releasing a brown bear, then our nerves eventually stop telling us there even IS a brown bear.  Heck, we don’t even know there’s a forest nearby, let alone a bear!  And I think that might be part of the issue, too.  Those Pro Poopers, they get a load right up the dump point before their nerves are all like, “Okay, comin’ out!”  so they run off and launch their rocket.  Wham!  Bam!  Thank you, ma’am!  No prob.  I think the rest of us, our train gets its nose in the tunnel and those nerves, the little conductors of dookey, are like “Yo!  I’m leaving now!  Should be there..oh, in a couple hours.  Maybe tomorrow.  I dunno…”  So if we tried to evacuate headquarters right then, it’d be useless.  That train is still a mile down the track and not in any hurry to leave.  “Hey, yeah!  I see you’ve opened the gate.  I’ll be there…hang on…”  Um no.  Seriously!  Ain’t nobody got time for that!  So we go on about our business and by the time our business finally arrives at the exit position, we are in full-on pinch down.  Too bad, buddy.  You had your chance.

Look, it’s a doo-keychain! BAHAHA!

Before long, the dookey conductors stop communicating.  “Oh, look!  The Turd Train is here.  Let’s don’t tell her.  hee hee  Let’s see how she likes that.”  All the while, said train is backing all up in the terminal and the conductors are soon rethinking things.  “Maybe we should have told her?”  But it’s too late. You missed your chance, suckers.

So anyway, as I said in the beginning.  Getting deathly ill has put me on the outs at the Elimination Station and I have got to set things right!   As the CEO of the rail line, I’ve got to get this train back on the track and moving!

I have doodies to attend!

Let’s put on a pot of coffee….  All aboard!!  Poooo-poo!

I’m not a whiner…however…

I am seriously over this crud!  Guys, I’m still hacking and coughing.  I am beginning to wonder what in the heck is going on.  Seriously!  I’ve had, thus far, 2 Decadron shots, 2 rounds of Prednisone, 2 different antibiotics, every anti-allergy med known to man in varying and increasing doses, dual-dose nebulizer treatments throughout, Dulera inhaler, and Flonase spray along with whatever other OTC/vitamin supplements that are supposed to help.  There have been changes, sometimes from day to day, in how this “is”…whether the secretions are thick or thin, whether the congestion seems loose or tight, the cough “wet” or dry, etc. but overall, there’s really not a whole heckuva lot of improvement.

It’s driving me nuts.  Besides absolutely wearing me out.  I’m exhausted.  The house is beyond hopeless and I’m stuck in it all day.  I have not stepped foot outside the house since I went to the allergist on Thursday.  I opened the back door to wave at one of the boys in the yard.  That’s as “outside” as I have been.

I’m scheduled for allergy testing on the 13th which is too stinkin’ long to live with this after I’m past a month with it already.  I’m considering trying to get in with a pulmonologist.  I mean, I’m sure I need the allergy testing anyway, but I’m wondering if there’s not some lung issue.  Why are the steroids not more effective?  I mean, I’ve taken them often enough over the years, not often, but enough times to know that they normally produce a noticeable improvement within a couple of days.  But with this?  No such thing.  And I’m sitting here wondering if I should finish up this last course of Prednisone I have.  I mean, that stuff jacks my sugars up so bad.  It’s like insulin has no effect on it almost.  I raise my temp basal as high as it will go, 173% and STILL have to override the boluses to give 2-4 more units of insulin to cover my food.  Well, not cover it even, just to keep it below 200.

I’m thankful to have the CGM now so I can keep on top of what my sugars are doing while the steroids jack with my sugars.  I shudder to think of how bad they have been in the past when I didn’t have a way to keep such a constant watch on them.  Ugh!  At the same time, though, watching them stay up there while I’m “throwing” insulin at it as hard as I can is just maddening and more than a little scary.  I don’t know about any of you guys, but when I know my sugars are up and I can’t get them down (quick enough to suit me, of course) all I can think about is all the damage being done.  All the blood vessels being clamped shut and nerves being killed out or whatever goes on in there while there’s an overabundance of sugar floating around.  It drives me nuts!

So here I am.  Still hacking, still unable to speak with my actual voice.  It’s more like I’m doing the voice of some alien monster thing complete with alternate growling and shrieking.  I just wanna get well, y’all.  Is that too much to ask?

Alright.  Like I said, I’m not a whiner, so I guess I’d better shut this down before I become one.  heh  Maybe that should be, “I TRY not to be a whiner”?  Yeah, probably so.

Ah well…I’m not changing it now!  ha ha

I hope none of you guys are this sick.  I guess I’ll update you if I get in with a lung doc next week.  For someone who never worked in an environment that was potentially lung-damaging or who never smoked (other than a couple months in high school), it sure seems odd to me that this would be some lung issue.  It honestly seems like it should be entirely allergy related.  But then that brings the question of why in the world aren’t the meds helping, then?  I have always been weird with medicines…either it takes a ton of it to work for me (pain meds) or I’m allergic to them (antibiotics) or they stop working…??  Why would that happen?  It’s not like I’ve ever taken steroids for long periods of time.  I have had them several times over the years, but not for extended periods or even frequently, so what gives?

Argh.  I give up.  It’s scary to think that there’s some (other/more) weird thing going on that is causing my body to no longer respond to these medicines.  What do you do when nothing will heal you?  Um…die?

Gah.  I need to stop thinking about this.  And I need some answers…and um, some relief.  “and that’s all I need…” ~Navin R. Johnson




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    frankly Friday (but not really) Prepping to attend Master Lab 2016

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