Hanging In There

August 21, 2014 at 1:42 pm (Disability, Living, Living With Chronic Illness, Mental Health, Spiritual) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

If you’ve ever had any kind of conversation with me, regardless of the medium, there is an incredibly high probability that when you’ve asked some version of “How are you doing?” I have responded with my fallback, favorite, non-pessimistic, doesn’t-drag-you-into-a-conversation-you-didn’t-want-to-have response:

“I’m hanging in there.”

Those who get to know me more intimately hear that phrase so often it begins to lack meaning. Or they’ll see a twinge, a wink, a deep exhalation; something to cue the listener to the “where” I might be “hanging in”.

I learned at a party four years ago that “How are you, really?”, can easily be mistaken for “I know you had a medical ‘thing’ recently; please tell me how miraculous your healing has been so I can feel good about the world.” I know some people actually mean “I read your blog and I have a general sense of the technical side of what’s not working for you; we’d just like some secret stuff not shared on the blog and I know some pretty awesome doctors who treat Ginger Cancer*.” But once the gathering gets past the awkward social niceties, no one is sure what the next step should be. (If you’re roleplaying 1950, I believe it is to take his hat and coat and usher him into the downstairs sitting/crochet/wielding/welding/spelling correction room while asking him about coffee preferences.)

Sometimes people really do want to know how I’m feeling, generally or right in the moment. Maybe they read this blog and want to hear some of the wacky stories straight from my mouth, or they want to ask questions about things I’ve written.

And sometimes people are super grateful when I answer with something so non-committal, so they can skip past the whole ‘Del’s life is hard’ part and get straight to the “Do you want to go catch frogs with me?” mode. Or just about any other question or conversation or activity.

People are correct that when I go to a party or fun gatherings or even just have you over for hangouts, that I am both of the following at the same time:

  • Totally willing to answer any questions or share any details about my medical journey. Remember, that’s what Baphomet said in the beginning of all this, was to share my experiences as far and wide as I can.
  • Sick and fucking tired of every conversation I have with any human being on the planet is somehow related to me being sick, disabled, or in pain. I want to pretend for an hour or three that I’m just an average ordinary Joe doing ordinary Joe things like going to the movies or setting my friends on fire. Y’know, stuff that just happens every day.

I have been getting MUCH better at setting and supporting boundaries around these things, including being totally willing to withdraw into my bedroom if we are hanging out and I’m starting to feel weak, tired, in pain, etc. I warn people before they visit that it will happen, and sometimes it happens for the majority of a visit, and sometimes it was just during the most critical moments of why they came to see me. But there’s nothing I can do about that, so I accept it and move on.

Too Intimidating?

Another social thing I’ve been trying to figure out lately is that many people think of me as being intimidating. I think the first time someone brought this to my attention was a wonderfully powerful and bodily petite Priestess. We had been to a lot of the same events and such, and when necessary we’ve have fun and interesting but politely distant social contact. I couldn’t really tell if she liked me as a person, or if she was being respectful of my experience while secretly disagreeing with any one of my many unusual beliefs or practices, or if she just thought I smelled funny.

Anyway, said Priestess comes striding into my cabin during a camping event, and sits on the edge of my bed. “Del,” I paraphrased, “I am done being intimidated by you.

This is the sort of thing I hear a lot. People saying that they read something I wrote or went to one of my classes or saw me at a party but couldn’t approach because I am intimidating. It baffles me, as I try to be open and warm and friendly, even though I am introverted down to the remnants of my toenails. But it’s a perception, and all I can do to change perception to be reliably un-intimidating (whatever that looks like).

I mean, it’s nothing like what you’re going through…

People are sometimes afraid to talk to me, especially about wellness-related issues, because they’re afraid that being worried/upset/tired/challenged with their health situation when compared to whatever they perceive I’m going through.

What you don’t see is how that reflects on me. Here are some of the things I hear between the lines when people say things like this:

  • You’re so much sicker/weaker/poorer off than I, so much so it’s only okay to talk about your struggles all the time.
  • You’re never going to take my struggles seriously because yours are so much bigger and more threatening than mine,
  • You are so, so ill that even a simple conversation causes you pain, so instead I will only engage in flighty small talk with you.

I’m sure you get my drift.

Now, this is not an invitation to grill me further the next time I tell you I’m “hanging in there”. Sometimes I really do need a little pushing to open up about things, partially because I find myself telling the same stories over and over again (Baphomet sorta promised me this blog would stop that from happening), and partially because I don’t want to waste the 20 minutes of face time I’m going to get with you at the party/gathering/concert/event to be all about my blood sugar numbers and my O2 sats.
I also have a hard time telling who really wants to hear every single detail about what tests I’ve had and what they’ve shown and who all the “charming players” there are (I not-so-secretly nickname most of my doctors and nurses, especially if there are ones that stand out screaming for one. This trip to JH has given us several – Nurses Anxious, Snake, and Afro; Doctors Bopper, Blondie, and Randomly In Charge; even techs like Pocket Fairy and New Best Friend. In fact, I’ve been asked to come up with a new cast of characters and why they got the nicknames they did, so I’m going to end this post a little prematurely so I can take a break and then tackle that. The next post will also likely have much bigger updates as to what’s going on and why I’m not discharged yet…

….and I just may have found my Zebra hunters. Oh yes, another nickname. The “Zebra” thing comes from an old medical school saying – “When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.”

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Things are Looking UP!

November 26, 2012 at 9:38 pm (Chronic Pain, Disability, Hospitalizations, Living, Living With Chronic Illness, Medical, Mental Health, Spiritual, The Journey Towards Diagnosis, The Panniculectomy, Tuberculosis (Inactive)) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

I get comments sometimes that this blog has turned into one gripe after another about how negative my life is; a “bitch fest”, “too much focus on the negative, and not enough positive thinking”, etc. So I thought since I’m having a pretty red-letter day that I would take a moment to let all of you know some of the positive things that are going on in my life.

First and foremost, when I was seen for my post-hospital stay follow up, my surgery team jointly decided that there was no need for me to be seen again until my pre-surgery appointment on December 14th. This is great news, and basically turned 4 appointments into one. We decided to leave the drain in until surgery, both to reduce the number of appointments and also to keep the abscess from cultivating more ick before it’s surgically excised.

We’ve found a great service that we’re going to be using to control all the informational traffic around the surgery and aftermath; rather than litter social media and having multiple phone trees, we’re using Wiggio as our sole information stream. We chose Wiggio because it has a ton of features that will be useful for us, including the ability to send mass text messages, have a shared calendar to schedule visits, project folders to organize different things that I or Rave will need help with, and lots more. The way the Wiggio works, you need to send us an email at delandrave@gmail.com to request an invite; we did this so we can know everyone who is on the group and make sure people who are on there are more than just passively interested in what’s going on. There will be some posts made to social media, so if all you want to know is if I’m out of surgery or ICU, there will likely be posts to that effect eventually. On the other hand, if you want to be actively involved in helping Rave with things during my hospital stay, or want up-to-the-minute information on my situation, please feel free to ask us for an invite. If you’re not someone we already know, you may want to include some information as to how you know me and how you expect to be helpful, so we have some idea. Like I said, we want to make sure everyone who is on the Wiggio is someone we trust to be an active partner in what is happening.

In that vein, the house that we’ve been affectionately referring to as “The Squat” is on the market, and the arrangement was that we could stay here until it sells. Well, an offer has been made, and if the bank accepts it, we have 45 days to vacate the premises. But fortunately, we found a perfect place for us right in southeastern Frederick; Rave went to tour the house today and found it to be old and a little beat up, but otherwise totally awesome. It’s on a 41 acre horse farm, a four bedroom house with a master bedroom/kitchen/full bath all on the first floor. I love that we’ll have space for two guest rooms, which will double as a sewing room for Rave and an altar room for me. We should be getting an application tomorrow; we tried to make a deposit because the landlady said she’s had a LOT of interest, but she wouldn’t accept it. So for now, we just ask that you keep your everythings crossed that the application goes through with flying colors and we can solidify a place to live. It would mean a large burden off of both of our shoulders, so we can focus on the surgery without having to split that focus with the arduous task for finding a place to live.

And what’s made that all workable has been the incredibly wonderful response to our request for help. We’ve received so many packages from my Amazon wish list, and a blessed amount of financial assistance. We have enough to make a good deposit on the house, should we pass the application. However, we can always use more help, so if you haven’t had a chance to check it out, please take a look at my entry detailing the many ways you can be of assistance to us.

That’s not all! Rave went down to my old house to pick up some belongings and happened to find a piece of mail I have been waiting on for four months! Yes, that’s right, my name change has been approved, no court date needed! I am so incredibly pleased that my name is finally my own in all senses; I have been told by my Gods that I am *never* to change it again, no matter what. I finally have a name I chose for myself, one that represents who I am and how I move in the world. I took my long-time nickname and nom de plume, “Del”, as my first name. I kept the middle name my parents gave me, because it’s pretty awesome and also as a tie to my familial line, so it stays “Astra”. Finally, I was able to shed myself of my STBX’s last name (which I wasn’t thrilled about taking in the first place, but did it as a token of my love and devotion to him) and take my Clan’s name, something I’ve been wanting to do for quite some time but my STBX was totally against. So my full legal name, which I am unafraid to post on the Internet, is Del Astra Tashlin.

Another great thing is that I am now on a course of drugs to finally treat my latent tuberculosis, and I haven’t had any withdrawal or other terrible side effects. I, by no means, am trying to say it’s been a walk in the park, especially combined with all the antibiotics and other meds I’m on, but it’s nothing like when I tried the Rifampin, twice, so I am so pleased that someday, I will be TB free.

So in all, things have been looking up here at The Squat. We’ve finally hit a streak of good news, tons of support from our friends and family, and are preparing for a surgery that, although it won’t heal *all* the problems I face, will significantly reduce my suffering (especially in terms of infections and repeated hernia surgeries) for some time. There is hope that while I’m in the hospital, they will be able to run a battery of tests to help discover why my immune system seems to be so suppressed/why I seem to get every infection that walks by, as well as possibly transfer my pain management to an office closer to where I live now (the one I currently see is now over three hours away!), and also get more Johns Hopkins doctors interested in my case so I can get some integrated care – where the ID doc knows what tests the neurologist ran, and the pain management doctor can talk to my surgeon about how to administer meds so my chronic *and* acute pain can be treated simultaneously, and the like. This is all very exciting, and a really good reason to live, which is the real thing I’ve been looking for these past four months.

Thank you to all the Gods and Spirits who have been with me patiently while I thrashed through my suffering! May they stay beside me through the trials ahead, but also be able to celebrate with me all the good things that have come into my life! Thank you to all the people who have done the same!

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