No More Shufflin'

(Written Friday, March 14th.)

Wednesday marked my first run in a long time.  After running for far longer than I thought I would be able to, I was feeling pretty proud of myself.  That was about the time my knee started to ache.  

Pushing through, I focused on a house not too far ahead along the magic dirt road, and thought I could at least make it that much further.  Within a few steps, my ankle and hip started speaking up as well.  Grrrr.  

Slowing down to a walk, I realized the reason I had been able to run so far initially was I had been employing my usual shuffle/run.  This style of running has allowed me to run long distances for years, but it's also messed up the right side of my body in the process.  

My whole running process was broke down by a physical therapist I went to a couple of summers ago.  He actually recorded me running so I could see what I was doing wrong.  I basically run straight up and down, with no leaning forward, and my right knee/ankle turns inward every single stride.  I got away with it for a long time, but eventually my body started fighting back with pain.  

When the PT tried to teach me a better way to walk (because I've apparently been doing that wrong too) it just felt wrong.  Because doing anything a new way after years and years of doing it a different way always feels wrong.

Walking his way, I feel like a cowboy/gun fighter making my way into a saloon.  My legs are wider, and I am swinging my hips in an exaggerated swagger.  My arms swing in an intentional symmetrical motion, never missing a beat (normally, I only swing my left arm and my right arm stays glued to my side, which I am sure looks completely natural).  Running his way, I feel like a prancing pony.  My knees swing up high, and I can actually feel the moment both of my feet are off the ground between strides (this never happens while shuffling along). The problem is, the way I feel comfortable walking/running hurts me, and his way (although it hurts my pride) doesn't.  

This morning I went out there to give it another go, determined I was going to figure this out.  I would love to do another 1/2 marathon, but it's never going to happen if I can't stop the pain!  So, I put on my music and started my fast paced cowboy swagger up the road.  No pain.  Eventually, I broke into my 'high knee pony prance jog', and again no pain.  

The no pain part is good!  The bad thing (besides feeling a little silly) is that to achieve the right form, I have to run faster than I am used to.  I also have to focus on taking a higher stride each step, and the extra lifting of my thighs demands a lot more effort from me.  So, so much harder than my chillaxin shuffle/jog.  The walk to jog ratio was not as impressive today as it was on Wednesday.  Not at all.  It's going to take some stubbornness on my part to keep it going.  

One thing I've had to decide is that Jessy isn't going to be my walking/running buddy anymore.  It does make me sad, but I can't achieve the focus I need on my form with her by my side.  Between the physical pain of running with the bad form I have when I can't concentrate, and the frustration of running with this obstinate little creature who is yanking me all over the place in her distraction (so many things to smell and check out while out and about), it makes it VERY difficult to have the drive it takes to go out my front door and hit the pavement.  Little Jessy is a good girl, but when you walk with her, it is about her and keeping HER focused.  I'll just have to make time later in the day for her walks, and also the kids can get her out there.

ANYHOO, we (Derrick, Derrin and Kloe as well as a group of very good friends) are signed up for The Color Run May 3rd.  I also got a notice that The Tree Run 5k (did this run a couple of years ago) is April 12th, and I am thinking about signing up for that one as well.  Hopefully, having a couple of runs like this on the horizon will be enough to get my butt out the door running throughout this Spring and on into Summer.

A Void

Why is it so hard to write sad feelings and post them?  No one has ever told me that it's only okay to ever feel and express happiness.  But, when people ask how I'm doing, I smile and say I'm fine just like everybody else does.  We all do that, don't we?  And, besides some of the stuff I'm gonna write about here today, I AM fine.  I have so much to be grateful for.  I have a husband who I love and like, awesome kids, my sis and dad and family and friends, a home, food in the refrigerator.  I can see and hear and I'm still breathing, and even if I've made mistakes in my life I still have the choice to do better ever day that I am alive.

With that being said, it's been awhile since I wrote anything in here.  I've been in a bit of a void.  I've been trying to figure out how to describe 'the void', so I googled some of the feelings swirling around in there, and google let me know I am depressed.  My body and mind feeling stuffed with concrete was also a good indication. 

Naw, google didn't have to cue me in; I knew what was going on.  It's that time of year again.  Autumn has always been a time for me when the happy goes away and the time drawing up a survival plan has arrived.  I've let go of some of the good habits that have helped me through the last couple of years.  I haven't ran in months, and that was the thing that helped the most.  I hadn't had a panic attack for a couple of years, and I attribute that to consistant running.  My self-esteem was bolstered. After all, it's hard to give too much weight to other people's opinions of you when you run five miles a day on your own will power.  I think I had started to take the benefits of running for granted.  Or, I'd forgotton the misery of social anxiety and depression, and how it diminishes any light that can come into my life.

It's hard to be a very good friend when I'm like this.  I feel so guilty about that.  It's hard to make and keep play dates.  It's hard to be that safe harbor for others during their storms, when I feel so unanchored myself.  I want to be a good friend.

I had a bad panic attack at meeting last Sunday.  Thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest, or I was going to pass out.  It started right after the meeting.  We were sitting in the front row.  I stood up, and started walking back towards the other people, planning on talking to someone, and that's when my heart started racing.  I went back to the bathroom and sat there for a bit, trying to calm myself down.  I didn't know what I was going to do, because Derrick was still out there and he had the car keys.  So, I just sat there until I could breathe a little easier.  I finally peeked out the door, and Derrick wasn't too far away.  I went over to him, and actually talked a bit to the group he was talking to, but he told me I was a  bit wild eyed.  We left right away.  I'd actually went out the the car early the previous Sunday too, because I'd started to feel really uncomfortable.  It's a bit frustrating, and definitely something I need to get under control again, because I don't want everyone there to think that I am avoiding them or have some bad feelings about anything.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I guess the feeling of wanting to jump out of my own skin is not a "good" feeling, but it is entirely about me and has nothing to do with my feelings about them.

We had our assembly day yesterday.  It was full of encouraging talks. It was good to see everyone, although I wish we would have had more time to visit!  I completely missed some friends, and just had quick drive-bys with others.  I stuck pretty close to my sister and Derrick- my safe people.
Gah.  October 19th is looming.  This time last year, we were at Mom's, embarking on the darkest month of our lives (so far).  It boggles my mind that it has been a year since that time.  One of the hardest things has been trying to figure out who I am again.  Before Mom had cancer, I was a stay at home momma of two little ones, and that is who I was.  Then Mom got cancer, and the next five years I was one of the many people trying anything to keep her in our lives.  Everything related to it.  Now that she is gone, I'm having a bit of an identity crisis. 

I fought so hard to have a positive attitude after we lost her.  I knew I needed to work hard to stay afloat.  Life keeps going on.  I knew eventually Spring and Summer would come along, and they did.   I knew eventually Fall and Winter would come back too, but I tried not to think too much about that.  I think I quit fighting to stay afloat prematurely.  Need to start fighting again.

Anyways... well, this is about as disjointed as I thought it might be.  My goal is to not delete it after posting:)

With all of the above written down, a new goal list may be in order.  I checked out what I wrote last year, and it seems a bit ambitious right now.  But it's a good starting point:
Spiritual
1. Improve my prayers.
2.Service twice a week- Wednesday and Saturday mornings. 16 hours a month... better recordings of return visits.
3. Meeting attendance... go whether I feel like being around people or not, no excuses unless I'm bleeding out of my ears.
4.Use Thursday after work as time to study better for that night's meeting. Help the kids prepare an answer for bible reading.
5. Really read my bible every day- even if it's just a couple of verses.
6.Invite friends from our congregation(and not just the family kind) over for dinner at LEAST twice a month... quit being a chicken about having company.
Physical
1. Continue running- get back to 3-4 times a week. Aim for m, t, f 4 miles each and 6 miles on either weekend day- 18 miles total.
2. Continue green drinks daily.
3. Buy more vitamins!!! Take daily!
Financial
1. Make an arrangement to completely pay off our credit cards. Financial freedom!!! Down with credit card slavery!!!
2. Continue to put money into savings every pay day. Then don't spend it.
3. Start a separate savings account just for travel. Start to save for the Europe dream trip that WILL happen someday.
Art & Photography & All Projects
1. Do one photography project a week and post some pics in here.
2. Strip my end tables and stain them black so they FINALLY match my coffee table! Buy the glass for the top of the coffee table.
3. Paint my bathroom.
Relationships
1. Keep in better contact with my friends and family. Phone calls, emails, cards... so they know I love them, because I so do!!! NO MORE HERMIT TENDENCIES. Winter or not- I MUST keep in contact with friends. No disappearing. I am not a bear.
2. Buy Derrick more gifts... do things for him that I like when he does for me:)
3. Play with my kids more.
4. Be more proactive in relationships- make the first move more.
5. Stop sweating the small stuff in relationships, and also the stuff I can not change. Dwell on the positive, not the negative.

Willing Abstinence of Chocolate and Coffee??? And other life stuffs...

I quit drinking coffee FOUR days ago.  The first two days had predictable headaches, but I am on to better times now.  Living coffee-free is one of the first steps I am taking to feeling better, month-round. 

I am TIRED of being out of commission so much of the time, so it's time to come out fighting... again.  I bought super absorb-able multivitamins (with lots of the B's), and a giant jar of calcium/magnesium.  In September I will start a 'feel good again' diet, which will be challenging, but I think worth it. 

When I went to the vitamin store, I talked to the 'vitamin guy' for a long time about my general symptoms of icky-ness, and he gave me a weird test to try to see if I have an overgrowth of candida.  He said (and it is kinda gross, but fascinating) to spit into cup of cold water first thing in the morning before you take a drink of water or even swallow.  You are supposed to check in on it for about an hour, and if it stays all pretty floating on top, you don't have a candida overgrowth.  But, if it starts sinking, and looking stringy and gross, you do (sorta sounds like how they diagnosed if someone was a witch or not at one point in history...).  The faster it sinks, the more candida you have.  I did his fun little test, and it immediately pointed to yes. I am, indeed, a witch.  Or I have candida.  ONE of those things.  

I'm not completely sure about the validity of the spit test.  I did, however, read the list of symptoms for candida, and the list pretty much describes all of the symptoms that I would like to go away.  I have a doctor apt. in September, but I'm pretty sure she'll just prescribe the usual meds that every american eventually gets prescribed, and send me on my merry way.  I just don't want to mask a bunch of symptoms; I'd like to get rid of the problem.  I've got things to DO, kids to raise and play with, a husband I'd like to be clear-headed enough to talk things through, friends and family to have happy times with.  I don't have TIME for dead-on-the-couch days! 

The candida diet seems to mostly involve eliminating sugar and carbs.  This is going to seriously compromise my consumption of chocolate.  *Sigh*  Just one more re-affirmation that if I love something too much, most likely it is bad for me. 

Anyways, I'm waiting for September to start the 'diet' because August still has a trip to Seattle (yay! Get to see David and Tia), and other fun friend times.  So much of social activity has to do with food!

Bailey and Kloe

Different subject (again): SO, since I was a blogging lam-o last week, I didn't mention that Heidi, Tammy and all the kiddos came and stayed with us last week.  I was going to post pictures of some of our time together, but then I realized I was so busy gabbing with my fellow ladies that I didn't really take any.  My bad. 

It was nice getting to be with them!  Lots of playing at the park, in the water, and loud craziness (that's a given with five kids running around my little house).  Kloe went home with them and stayed for four days with her buddy Bailey.  A good time was had by all.

While she was gone, I took Derrin school shopping.  Yes, it is that time of year again.  Today, he gets to go hang out with his grampa while I take Kloe school shopping.  It is always better to divide them for these sort of out-goings; reduces the chaos greatly.

We went to the Celtic festival the weekend before, but in my blog-funk, the pictures never were posted.  Time to remedy that:

My childrens' 'having fun' faces

My husbands 'having fun' face

A little Riverdancing



Miss Kloe and Miss Sklyer

  



Letting the kids play in the middle
of the road



Heatheree n Me, Downtown

Puppy dog eyes



Preeclampsia and The Very Little Baby

During my 26-week prenatal doctor appointment, I found out I’d developed severe preeclampsia. I had tell-tale protein in my urine, my blood pressure was through the roof, and I’d gained a huge amount of weight freakishly fast. It was an acknowledgment for what I’d known for awhile: something was WRONG.

I was sent home on bed rest but the following Monday my blood pressure was higher than before, so they decided to admit me. I assumed I’d be in the hospital for a couple days; they’d get my blood pressure under control and then I’d go home for the rest of the pregnancy.

I was put on a magnesium drip as soon as I settled into my hospital room. The magnesium made me very relaxed and warm. Everyone else was buzzing around me, scared, but I was A-OK. Derrick showed up, scared, confused and tired. This had been a hard pregnancy from the beginning.

Both of our families were in and out of the room. Between the magnesium drip, the company, and the relief of not working, I was feeling better than I had in months. I wasn’t opposed to the idea of just staying in that room for the next three months if I needed to.

That wasn’t going to happen.

The blood tests the doctor ordered showed that my condition was getting worse. The doctor kept saying something about worrisome “leaky vessels.” I was developing something called HELLP Syndrome, which was causing my liver enzymes to skyrocket. The small capillaries within my kidneys were leaking. The danger of liver failure, seizure and coma were very real.

No one told me what all of this meant because worry was the last thing I needed. Not that I could have been bothered to worry; I was still all rainbows and butterflies on my magnesium drip. Even after my sister told me to prepare myself, I didn’t understand the magnitude of the problems.

~.~

September 28th was a Thursday morning. The doctor came in and announced it was time to have a baby, as continuing the pregnancy would be too dangerous for both myself and my baby. I was only 27 weeks along- three full months too early.

Right before going in to surgery.

They wheeled me into the operating room. Derrick stood up by my head, holding my hand. They wheeled me into the operating room for the c-section. Derrick stood up by my head, holding my hand, while I felt tugging and pulling for only a few minutes. One minute the little baby was inside my belly, the next minute I heard a teeny tiny cry. It sounded like a kitten.

All of the action was then diverted to a different part of the room as the NICU staff went to work saving my baby.

They sewed me up and as they started to wheel me out of the room, they paused briefly so I could look over at the baby laying under the bright lamp on the table. He weighed in at 1 pound and 10 ounces. He was bright red – his skin looked too undeveloped to have color, like it was transparent to the organs underneath. He didn’t look real. The amounts of magnesium in my body made me feel extremely detached, like this was all happening to someone else; this was some other girl and her baby.

They wheeled me back out of the room. I didn’t see him again for another four days. His daddy and grandparents saw him a lot those days (His Auntie Renae tried to slip into the NICU too, but got caught. Only parents and grandparents were allowed in there). He was hooked up to a lot of machinery, and struggling to breathe, but he WAS breathing.

They took me off of the magnesium and eased off the pain medication. By removing my baby from my body, I was out of harm’s way and on the mend. Now it was time to help him heal, too.

When I was finally able to walk from my room to the NICU to see my baby, they led me over to his tiny bed where he laid on a sheepskin blanket, tubes coming in and out of him to help him breathe. His color was better – not as red. He was wearing a diaper the size of a panty liner and it completely engulfed him. I pulled the hat he was wearing gently away from his head to look at his teeny ears. They were completely flat against his head, like they’d not had time to curl up into regular ears yet. He didn’t even have nipples yet. He just wasn’t done cooking.

First Trip to the NICU

After that I was in the NICU constantly watching him or gently laying my fingers on his back. I needed to touch him, but I was warned by the NICU nurse not to stroke him because his undeveloped nervous system couldn’t handle the stimulation. So I just held my hand across his back gently and felt the rise and fall of his lungs gasping for air.

Eventually, we were able to hold him. We’d hold him skin on skin against our chests (it’s called “kangerooing”), careful not to move too much. Even though he was still struggling to breathe, we were told it was more dangerous for him to lay there and not be held – even babies that premature need to feel human connection and love.

We named him Derrin, after my brother whom I’d lost when I was 8. It was the most special name I could have given him.

The day I was discharged was bittersweet – it was nice to get out of the hospital and sleep in my own bed, but it felt horrible to leave Derrin there.

I pumped milk frantically because it was the best nutrition he could have, but the results were seriously pathetic. I worked for HOURS to get minuscule amounts of milk. I’d bring it into the NICU, write our name on the little baggy, and put it in the freezer with the gallons of milk the other moms were producing.

I was put on medication to help me produce more and got in contact with the Le Leche League folks who gave me lots of advice. They set me up with a top of the line, grade-A breast pump but, still, I could only produce thimble-fulls. I kept at it, pumping those thimble fulls, supplementing with formula when necessary. I was sad I couldn’t produce more, but what I gave him made me feel connected to Derrin; a little more like I was his mom. While the nurses did the lion’s share of keeping him alive, I was the only one who could bring thimbles of real mommy milk.

First Bath

There were good days where he’d do really well…and there were other days where his whole chest would almost collapse while trying to breathe. Those days I felt helpless.

The nurses noticed that even though he was the smallest baby there, he was also one of the most stubborn. They’d arrange him just so, his body positioned perfectly to help him breathe, but he wiggled and rearranged himself. That little dash of stubbornness amused and comforted me; it was one more thing to help him pull through this.

He’d open his little eyes when we were there, whenever he heard our voices. His grandparents, daddy and I all read to him whenever we went to visit. We all held him close to our skin and rocked him while holding oxygen to his little face.

Gramma Patsy and Derrin

 For the most part, we had a happy little routine for that first month. He steadily gained weight, his breathing became less of a struggle, and nothing majorly wrong happened. I realized we were very fortunate, as I saw a lot of other babies in the NICU undergo surgeries and have scary things happen. I attended the funeral of one little baby, and we all just held our breath and prayed for the best.

~.~

I had the whole “why did this have to happen to US?” moment when one of my friends who’d been due two months before me came in to have her baby. She had a perfectly happy delivery and brought her baby home right away. It’s not that I bemoaned her happy delivery; it just hit home that what had happened with us was just so far away from the joyous event it could have been.

~.~

I took many pictures of Derrin. Since I couldn’t take him home to show him off I carried pictures everywhere. When he was two months old, I took some pictures and developed them right away. When they came back, I realized his skin looked very yellow. I hadn’t noticed that when I had been in the NICU.

I went back to the hospital, and the neonatal doctor was by his side, checking him out. They’d run blood tests and discovered that he had CMV (cytomegalovirus), which was causing jaundice. He could have contracted it from me during birth or from my breast milk (aw, sweet irony). CMV is very dangerous for preemies, potentially causing neurological and developmental problems, deafness and blindness. It was also very contagious, so he was moved out of the NICU and up to the third floor where he had his very own NICU nurse with him at all times.

The move actually made it a lot easier for me for be able to stay with him. I had stayed several times in spare rooms they kept for NICU moms, but now I could actually sleep in the same room with him.

His jaundice was under control fairly quickly, and he just kept trucking along. I quit trying to pump around that time, which was emotionally hard; my milk production had never really kicked in. Pumping isn’t that effective at spurring prolactin production which helps the milk to flow, and my poor little baby was still too undeveloped to have a suck reflex.

Auntie Nae and Grampa Billy

He had to gain more weight and learn to drink from a bottle. He got most of his formula from a little tube that went up his nose and down into his tummy until we found that if we held him just so and had a plastic bottle, we could squeeze streams of formula into his mouth and coax him to swallow. We did that for a week and HE PUT ON WEIGHT! We were thrilled!

Finally, they gave us the go-ahead to bring him home. It was December 28th – his original due date – exactly three months after he’d been born. It was also one of the happiest days of my life.

Feeding Tube

Unhappy about the Car Seat
But GOING HOME!!!

Bringing him home was also very scary. He’d had TEAMS of people keeping him alive for the last three months, and now they were just going to send him home with US? What were they thinking? But we did it!! His daddy and I took turns, waking up every three hours to feed him the thick, extra-calorie formula. Our poor little guy would throw it back up more often than not, and we’d start all over again. Derrick and I were walking zombies for quite awhile.

I had to take him to neurological testing and also eye and ear testing for the next two years because of the CMV virus and prematurity, but he quickly caught up to other babies born the same month as him and he always tested very high on the tests. He is one smart boy.

Now he is ten. NOW when I think about everything that could have happened my heart stops. You would never even guess that he was a micro-preemie by looking at him. He  is SO good with other people- serious social skills. I am always in awe when I watch him with other people. He genuinely just loves them. We have a theory that it's because he was exposed to so many people right from birth. He’s the healthiest person in our family; he loves to read, he’s in advanced math, and with some encouragement, he gets great grades.

He is the kind of kid who will wake up early and make his mommy the perfect cup of coffee just to be sweet. I am so BLESSED to have Derrin in my life.

I was able to stay home with both Derrin and his little sister when she was born.  All of those worries that we couldn't make it financially if I wasn't working just weren't true for us.  We figured out a way to make it possible, and even though being a stay-at-home mom of two small children was the hardest job I ever had, those years I was able to do it are some of the happiest of my life. 

                                                ~.~

My Baby Boy- Age 10

I think about the dream that Derrick and I had in the beginning, and of course we'd still love to travel the world some day, but the life we have with our kids is so much better than any dream we ever could have imagined.   Of course we've had our ups and some pretty hard downs, but I wouldn't trade it.

~.~

I know not all moms and their preemies are as fortunate, but I like tell Derrin’s story to new moms who are going through this scary situation because in our worst moments, it helped to hear positive outcomes of those who had been through it before me.

When we first had Derrin, one of the NICU nurses told us that someday this would all seem like a dream from a long time ago.

She was right.

Decisions Decisions....

“Whatever you don’t like, change.  It’s the beauty of being human.  We get to change our minds.  We get to choose again.  And we know how to laugh.”- Lois Levy

"For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else."- Ralph Waldo Emerson 


"Any change, even a change for the better, is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts."  Arnold Bennett

"If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude." Maya Angelou

"We can change our lives.  We can do, have and be exactly what we wish." Tony Robbins


Change is scary for me (and probably for most people).  Sometimes you have no say in the matter; life changes completely without your permission.  Other times there is choice involved.  The thing is, it can be hard to decide when you need to change things.  It's hard to tell if that little nagging voice in the back of your head needs to be heeded or hushed up.  I have a hard time letting myself quit, whether it's a project, a relationship, a job, or anything I've been giving my attention to.  It isn't so much stubbornness, as a general distrust of my own feelings.  Am I just tired of whatever I'm thinking of quitting?  Am I going to regret my choice when a little bit of time has passed?  Am I being lazy?  Do my feelings of wanting to quit have any validity?


What I know is that we are all the creators of our own reality.  Right now my reality does not feel like what I want to choose.  I want to have a positive attitude and really I am doing okay in that department, all things considered.  But I feel like I need to change some things.  Anyways, I am planning on taking action and setting some of those changes in motion.  Nothing immediate... just setting the groundwork for later.  As long as I can see things changing in the future, I can make it through the days feeling more in control.

Pros:

• To spend the kid's summer vacation with them- spend more time playing.
• To be able to spend more time with my sister, dad, steph, tara and david, friends, and to have  the freedom to do so.
• To be able to spend more time camping and making memories with my husband and family.  
• To be able to be at home on days when I can not deal with people and I'm feeling too fragile.
• Easier to schedule service.
• Easier to schedule running
• Tired of dealing with cranky people (of the grown-up variety)
• More time to pursue photography, art and making jewelry, and writing.

Cons:

• Will need to find another way to make money, or make due with less- although this may interfere any of the fun stuff that requires money.
• Won't be forced to deal with people as much (which is actually a good thing for me).
• Will need to force myself to be scheduled without being on someone else's schedule.
• The chances of finding a place to work where I like the people (fellow employees anyways), where they are so kind about my schedule, and where they pay as decently, are pretty slim.

What a "Green Drink" Does That Makes It Worth Drinking.....

...even though "some" people (i.e. Derrin and Kloe) say it looks icky and tastes funny....

I blend this stuff all together every morning and chug it down.  It is worth it! My energy is so much better on days I do this, my skin feels nicer, I can run better, think better.... my emotions are nicer...:)  Highly recommended.... (thanks heather, for telling me about this...)

Ingrediants

 Kale: http://hubpages.com/hub/Health-Benefits-of-Kale
Unusually high in fiber, excellent for vitamin A, C, and B6, Calcium, potassium, folate, antioxidants, fights cancer and heart disease

Carrots: http://www.organicfacts.net/health-benefits/vegetable/health-benefits-of-carrot.html

Helps with blood sugar regulation, great for fighting cancers, helps vision, great source of fiber...

 Blueberries:  http://www.womenfitness.net/blueberries.htm

Blueberries ROCK.  Not only do they taste good, but they aid in fighting infections, fight colon cancer (and many other forms of cancer),  fight belly fat (*!* just found that out), fight heart disease....
cranberries:  http://www.suite101.com/content/the-health-benefits-of-cranberries-a40863
fights infections (of course), fights bad cholesterol raises the good kind, fights both heart disease and cancer, helps with digestion...
bananas: http://bananasweb.com/bananas/Health+Benefits+of+Bananas

Immediate and slightly prolonged source of energy, improved mood, relatively high in iron, fiber, Eyesight Protection, Healthy Bones, highly protective to kidney health, prevents high blood pressure, Bananas are high in B vitamins that have been shows to improve nerve function.
Many people report that rubbing the inside of a banana peel on a mosquito bite is very effective in reducing itching and swelling. (*!* just had to include this because it's AWESOME)

Blogging from the Sick One

So this is a blog coming from a still sick mind, and therefore is going to be long and drawn out. My brain and equilibrium (as well as my lungs), seem to have resisted my non-stop good wishes towards wellness. My own wellness, that is. My body is reminding me that in this last year I have abandoned all of my efforts to really take care of it. Vitamins, while living cozily in my cupboards, have not been participating in my body’s health. The gym, while being paid for automatically for months, has not been a participant in making my body have the will to live. I discovered the double stack cheeseburger at Wendy’s a couple months ago, and have indulged (with a guilty side salad) at least two or three times a week for lunch ever since. I started drinking soda again after literally YEARS of abstinence. My attitude about my own health was an unconcerned one.

I’m not really a big bragger. Things I do brag about include: My kids (isn’t that allowed though?), My awesome thrift shopping abilities (I am almost superhuman in this department. No Jokes.), AND, My awesome immune system. Every year when Derrick and the kids get sick, guess who is always the last woman standing? Year after year of this tends to build the old confidence. I admit it, I was smug in my seeming immunity. I have never even had the chicken pox! HELLO! Kloe just had them a couple months ago, and guess who walked away unscathed yet again?

Enter ten days ago (TEN!), it is a Sunday morning, and I am waking up with a pounding headache that is not helped by the fact that I am shivering uncontrollably. I am in denial that anything serious is going on. I even manage to eventually shower and pull myself together to go to the hospital later when my friend’s have an accident (everything turned out okay there), but I am careful not to breathe on anyone just in case. The next day Derrick leaves for an out of town job- he’s not going to be back until FRIDAY. I wake with a fever, a body that is aching and chilled, but I am confident the ol’ immune system is gonna kick in any second. Enter day three. Actually go back a couple hours to the middle of the night as I lay there seeing red spots, having crazy fever dreams while sweating so much that I finally convince my body that it has to get up and change. Twice. It turns out my body’s strength of will is quite a lot stronger than my mind’s when it is sick. It didn’t want to do ANYTHING I told it too. Even if it was the one that wanted something! The next couple days included: Somehow getting the kids off to school (mostly they just got themselves dressed and fed and then patted me on the head as they walked out the door), and then I would lay on the couch curled into a sweaty little ball. My body would tell my mind it was thirsty. My mind would tell my body to get something to drink. My body would say NO WAY because it knew the sheer hell of hurti-freeziness that it would have to pay up front for the drink. But it wouldn’t leave my mind alone about the thirstiness. To quiet the mind and body, I watched hours of House. I watched the same episode over and over because I couldn’t follow the story. I still don’t really know what that episode was about. The kids finally came home from school and Derrin got me something to drink, which I was eternally grateful for. They made sandwiches for dinner.

The next day I hilariously thought I should try to go to work. Kathrine drove me there and picked me back up exactly twenty minutes later. As soon as I hit the couch, it was a repeat of the day before. Thursday was the same. Friday I got super clever and decided to go to work full of Tylenol and Robuttison. Answering phones that day, and trying to inform people about our programs was interesting to say the least. I somehow got disconnected several times… whether I hung up on them or they hung up on me I can’t say.

When I got home I called my sister to cry on her shoulder about how sick I was and about what a horrible day I had just had at work. She stopped me and asked why I was talking so funny. Turns out I was talking much slower than normal. Well, that was just great! I had just spent an entire day at work, answering phones in crazy slow motion voice! I called up my supervisor to tell her how upset I was about working under the influence of cold medicine, but then I hung up on her too. That was it. I gave up at that point.

Derrick came home that night, but he had to leave the very next day to see his brother. He took Derrin with him. Shannon and Phil came and took Kloe home with them (THANK YOU!) so she could actually go outside and play instead of staying inside with nearly dead mommy(sounds like an inaction figure). I lay on the couch in my sweaty little ball, shivering and being thirsty. When it was time to eat, I would take Robuttison and in awhile I could get something (in slow motion). Anyways, you get the picture. Sunday came and went, and I still had a fever. Monday a new symptom arrived in the form of the inability to breathe. By that time Derrick was home, and he made an appointment with the doctor. Even though she really helped, and it was the turning point for the good, her breathing treatment nearly knocked me off the rest of the way. On the way home I lay in the passenger side gasping for breath, and not being able to get any air at ALL. It was seriously scary! He took me home to his mom, who made sure I took my medicine all day long (every half hour), PLUS she gave me all the juice and water I could drink. This was the healing day.

That whole night I heard the death rattle in my lungs, and I knew it would only get worse and worse until I gave into the need to cough. I would fight as long as possible, but it was inevitable. I have to say my abs feel firmer than they have in years.

Yesterday I called in sick again, and laid on the couch, but it was getting better. By night I was able to take Derrin to his guitar lesson, although he told me that I looked sick and he wanted Gramma to take him. Ah, little boys don’t know the magic of make-up (to hide the dead skin look), cute hats (to hide the flat, haven’t fixed in a week hair), and big sweaters (to hide the shivering). The point is, I was TIRED of being sick, and enough was enough.

I went to work today. Even though I am not 100% (I still am on this darned couch, not quite up to cleaning the house, or doing the stacks of laundry), it is definitely getting better. I even lost about five pounds, although it could be the bad kind of weight loss that comes from not moving for days at a time. Maybe my appetite will stay minimal for awhile.

Anyways, that is my story about being sick. Take is as a cautionary one. It is telling you to TAKE CARE of yourself and also DON’T BRAG or being overconfident in your body’s ability to stay healthy. If I can leave you (and myself) with any lesson, let it be those.