Writing

I actually wrote something again--a book review. I'll link it on my blog here when it comes out, just so you can see that I am back at it again.

It was a challenge to string my thoughts into words and my words into sentences, but before I knew it, I was having to edit out bits and pieces to keep down the word count. Something in me needed to put some words on the page. Something in me needed to take that baby step toward being me again, healing past the hurt of April 3, 2009.

Stay with me. I'll write more later. I promise.

Peace - D
[image credit]

The Scream

When Munch painted The Scream, what was he thinking of? What had unsettled his mind? Some say he painted such pessimistic scenes because he lost his parents, a brother, and a sister when he was young. I can relate to this painting now in a way in which I could not before.

Though I have studied thanatology, my daughter's death continues to wear away at me. There is no way in which we can make sense of such an occurrence. She was 25.

In the car on the way home from a short outing Saturday, one thing led to another and soon I was saying, "I lost my daughter!" Then the only sound I could make was a scream.

And another, and another. I lost my mind for a little bit there and let it all come out. For a few minutes, I thought we might be going to the hospital to check me into the psych ward, but eventually the screaming passed.

Sometimes all we can do when facing such a thing is to scream. Munch knew it. I know it. Deep down, you know it, too.

Peace - D

The Holidays Suck

There is no other way to put it.

These are the first holidays without Stephanie and I am in physical, psychic, and emotional pain. Today I was walking Lily, the English Bulldog I bought Stephanie for her 17th birthday, and I broke down. I'd been depressed for days and had felt something coming on, but I didn't expect to find myself leaning up against a grizzled oak tree, sobbing. Lily wandered around at the end of the lead, sniffing here and there, enjoying the early evening, while I tried to right myself.

Last Thanksgiving was horrible. Just horrible. Stephanie should have been spending the night after getting a bellyful of good, home cooking. I made vegetarian selections just for her, but she barely touched any food. She went through a lot of vodka and not much else. She hadn't washed her hair. Alcoholism was tearing her apart, and thus, it was tearing the family apart. Sean was worried about her. I was worried about her. I was battling co-dependency with her. It was terrible watching what she was doing to herself, and yet, when we confronted her, we were met with angry tirades filled with "I am NOT an alcoholic!" Perhaps you know someone like this.

Though Stephanie did not stay the night, choosing to have her brother drive them both over to his place, she eventually came around and got help. She was sober when she died, as far as I know, and was helping others in AA. But last Thanksgiving will remain in my mind, stuck there, worrying at me and tearing me up again and again. I celebrated an early Thanksgiving over the weekend with my son and his friend, but the real Thanksgiving is coming up. How will I cope? I may have quite a few more breakdowns by then. After all, it's the first holiday in 25 years in which my daughter hasn't been at the table.

I understand why some parents who lose their children stop celebrating the holidays, even if it's only a temporary boycott. I'm tempted to boycott the holidays, but I will not make it a complete boycott because of my son. He'll still get gifts and some holiday cheer from Mom. But I will never forget those last holidays with my daughter. She struggled with her addiction through every one of them. Only her birthday - in January - was a sober celebration.

Each and every moment through these holidays will be a challenge and will carry a memory. Someday I may have the presence of mind to string together my experiences as a bereaved parent into a book or something. For now, it's hard to string together words into a sentence.

Hug your loved ones a little tighter. You never know when that last hug will be - well - the last hug.

Peace - D

Where Does Personality Lie?

As I wait the interminable amount of time to see the neurologist (December 30th), I have far too much time to look at myself and see how things have changed over the last few years. Being as it is, that my frontal lobes are under attack by this insidious invader, I have been looking into what that might mean for me.

The frontal lobes are the seat of personality, learning, speech, some motor skills, and judgment (or lack thereof). At times, during this most recent battle, my symptoms have been physical (numb, tingling calves and feet). At times, the symptoms have been emotional. Sometimes my anger turns on and doesn't turn off quickly. Sometimes I cry at the drop of a hat. My mind doesn't want to hang onto things. Yes, you could say that some of this is because of the terrible loss this year of my daughter, but not everything can be attributed to that. Lately, I seem to be dealing better with the loss (at least most of the time), but I don't always deal so well with disappointment, upset, or additional stress.

In looking at the last 6 months, only the months of June and August did not involve us having company to our home. And in June, we moved one household and took a trip to move the other, so it doesn't really count as a relaxing month, either. Stay with me...

I've also been a little worried about my son, as he is battling his own depression over the loss of his sister, a job he hates, and his return to school. He's angry at himself for not working harder to stick to one academic program, as now it is taking him longer to get through with school and into a career he loves. He has exhibited some signs of depression, but he is going to counseling and trying to deal with it. I worry that I dumped an awful lot in his lap, as I left the state and his father started having to travel for work. Yes, he's 22, but he is also now having to live alone, take care of the house (and himself) and 5 animals. It isn't what he bargained for, exactly. I'm hoping to take on one of the cats and teach her to be an outdoor cat in the spring.

But wait, there's more...

There's a lot about my old life that isn't part of my new life. That's neither good nor bad. It just is. I've had a lot of adjustments to make and a lot of culture shock to deal with. That's also neither good nor bad. I get more exercise and fresh air now, but I kind of miss the city sometimes.

So the question that rolls around in my head at night is this: is the MS eating away at my frontal lobes and changing my personality? Has it had anything at all to do with my feelings of anger and depression? Or is all that attributable to circumstance and events? Who knows. All I do know is that I want to see this doctor and get some answers, if he has them. I want to know what to expect.

If you want to read more on what the frontal lobe does, see the snippet below. I hope that the last item isn't affected in me - "the ability to express language" - because really, who would I be without my words?

Peace - D

CEREBRAL CORTEX Frontal Lobe: Most anterior, right under the forehead.

Functions:

• How we know what we are doing within our environment (Consciousness). How we initiate activity in response to our environment. Judgments we make about what occurs in our daily activities. Controls our emotional response. Controls our expressive language. Assigns meaning to the words we choose. Involves word associations.
• Memory for habits and motor activities.

Observed Problems:

• Loss of simple movement of various body parts (Paralysis). Inability to plan a sequence of complex movements needed to complete multi-stepped tasks, such as making coffee (Sequencing). Loss of spontaneity in interacting with others. Loss of flexibility in thinking. Persistence of a single thought (Perseveration). Inability to focus on task (Attending). Mood changes (Emotionally Labile). Changes in social behavior. Changes in personality. Difficulty with problem solving.
• Inablility to express language (Broca's Aphasia). [neuroskills]

Not Just a One-Hit Wonder

If you are on my Facebook page, this is old news to you. If not, I have been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. This is on the heels of positive lupus antibodies in my bloodwork (ANA is positive and anti-RNP is positive). That is on the heels of a separation and move several states away. That is on the heels of the death of my beloved daughter. It's been a tough year, folks. (Image from here).

But you know what? I am a survivor. I've been in training my whole life for this kind of pressure. From the time I was a young child, I was in the midst of chaos, but I survived. Since 1994, strange things have been going on with my health, which doctors could not figure out. I've had every "possible" diagnosis under the sun, only to end up being told I had fibromyalgia. There are lots of other diagnoses long with it, which I won't bore you with, but that was the reason I was given for the pain.

This year reminds me of 2006, when I went through the loss of my mother, two neck surgeries, and many hospitalizations. Maybe it's because the 6 is like an inverted 9 and vice versa. Maybe that's the root of the problem. I'm hoping '10 brings a different kind of energy. I'm praying and believing int hat.

Most of the lesions are in my frontal lobes -- the seat of personality, learning, cognition, speech, and stability. Perhaps that is why I have craved learning so much in my later life; I've been compensating for damage that is being done to my brain. A neurologist (and several psych teachers) explained "neuroplasticity" to me in relation to brain damage. The brain is a marvelous organ, if you use it, and can create new pathways around damaged areas. To that end, I intend to keep learning, reading, and growing.

My partner Denise and I are practicing Spanish together. Some people who rent from her are Mexican and speak a little English. They've all done well in communicating with each other for the past four years, but it never hurts to learn a new language and grow your brain and its pathways. So today we've been working on some specific terms that helped her communicate with the young man who worked on the roof at her rental property. "Aplicar mas fino, y seco, y otra mas fino". In a rudimentary way, that's saying, "Apply a thin layer. Let it dry. Then apply another thin layer." He spoke pretty good English, but I could tell he appreciated us trying to converse in his native tongue, and it was fun. I took two semesters of Spanish but have forgotten most of what I learned then, because I haven't used it. Doing so will help my brain build new language pathways, and it will help Denise, as well.

I'm hoping that at 47 years old, my brain is still very plastic, very adaptable. I need for it to be. I need to make new pathways around these darned lesions that are scarring my brain.

I'm being referred to a neurologist in Atlanta who is supposed to be quite good. I asked the doc to send me to the neurologist she would go to herself, if it were her who was the patient. Denise also knows this doctor, so I am confident that I'm going to get great care. While I don't relish the thought of giving myself injections to treat the disease, I am willing to do whatever it takes to stay healthy.

If you're the praying type, please add me to the list. If you're not, please send Reiki or other good energy to me. I believe that it all helps.

Wednesday, my son and his friend will be coming into town for an early Thanksgiving. We're so grateful they can do that, because I need to be with him right now. Not only did he lose his sister (and best friend) earlier this year, but he is now dealing with my diagnosis. After Stef's funeral, he told his father and I that we had to live extra long lives to compensate. I intend to do just that.

It is time for me to retire for the night, but I hope to start visiting blogs again soon.

Peace - D