Starting a new medication is scary

Starting a new medication is scary

I yearn to go back to the days where my mom would get out that trusted old syrupy bottle of cough syrup from the kitchen cupboard, (the one where the the lid was completely crusted over from some previously dried up medicine), and she would dump a bunch of it on a spoon, and bring it over to where you were lying sick on the couch. Often, I would be all cozied up under warm blanket watching ‘The Price is Right’, or whatever show was on that I usually missed because of being in school. That feeling of being taken care of, and knowing that the medicine would make you feel better, that mom’s can fix anything, is something that miss now that I am the mom of a family, and now that I have a chronic health issue. That one bottle of medicine, in all its syrupy glory, seemed to fix everything. I trusted it. I trusted my mom. I trusted the simplicity.

Things have changed a lot since I was a kid, lying on the couch watching ‘The Price is Right’. As a paramedic I became the fixer. As a mom I became the fixer. As a wife I became the fixer. But who was fixing me? I won’t lie, I still rely on my parents to help fix a lot of things in my life. They are there to help me with the kids, or to keep me company if I am not feeling well and my husband is working. They take me to appts, and they help calm me down. They are still my superhero’s in more way than one. But, there is literally no safer feeling that being 8 years old, lying on the couch, knowing that you don’t have to worry about anything at all, because your parents will make your sickness go away. That is the scary thing about growing up, and being diagnosed with an illness. Your parents just can’t make it go away like they used to. You can’t just drink the syrup and feel better. No amount of watching ‘The Price is Right’ will fix you. The doctors that always seemed to be able to fix every cough you had, now scratch their heads in bewilderment. You feel, alone. You realize that your parents, and doctors, are only human, and don’t always have the answers. Everyone starts to lose their superhero status, and you have to hope for more powerful forces to help you out.

And one day you’ll realize
I’ve lost my cape, I can’t fly
And I’m only human
And you’ll need more than me
But you know to hit your knees
If I’ve done my job right
You’ll know where to find the man who really hung the moon

Lyrics from Brantley Gilbert, Song ‘Man that hung the Moon’

It took 2.5 years to get my Postural Tachycardia diagnosis, and it has been 10 plus years of learning how to manage it. I now have something else going on, and the cycle of being shuffled from specialist to specialist, and hospital to hospital, is well underway again. I no longer have a cough that can be cured with medicine. I am a guinea pig spinning on the wheels of a cage in a medical laboratory. The best anyone can do, is to offer up a medicine to ‘see if it works’. I have a history of being sensitive to medications, so being handed a new medication scares the hell out of me. Having a bad reaction to medication, makes you fearful. Some days it takes over 5 days to build up the courage to take the first pill. After taking the first pill, I spend the next 2 hours worried about having an allergic reaction, and then I spend the next day worrying if I will have any side effects. That is only on the low starting dose too! Don’t even get me started on having to bump up the dosage. This is all for a medication that I am taking to “SEE” if it helps.

I am a firm believer of not taking a medication unless I know what it is for, and why I need it. I don’t like the bandaid solutions. What I mean by bandaid, is that I don’t want a medicine to take away my pain without knowing what is causing it. I want to know why I am having the pain, and then I want to fix that. If I need some medicine after I know what the problem is, and this is the fix, then so be it. So I really struggle with taking something that is for management of an ailment that I don’t even have a name for, and no doctor can figure out.

I also dislike the idea that a medication can take months for it to “start’ working. Oh, and during that time you also get to have a whole host of awful side effects. BONUS! When you feel awful all the time to start with, the idea that you will be taking something that will make you feel worse, before you get better….well that is a tough pill to swallow. Literally, and figuratively.

Photo by Daria Obymaha on Pexels.com

What I want is to reach into my cupboard, pull out that crusted over medicine that fixed everything as a kid, and feel its magic again. I want to take that one spoonful, with no worries, and feel better. I want my mom and dad to fix everything. I want to bound out of the house the next day, feeling rejuvenated. I want a diagnosis. I want my life to revolve around living. My calendar currently revolves around counting down the days till my next specialist appointment, and the disappointment or hope that follows. I want to travel, explore, and work on finding happiness in the smallest of corners. Having answers, and a way to manage something that right now is invisible , makes life possible. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to live cornered by the fear of having a flare, or the fear of starting a new medication. That is not living. So I will continue to take the new medications that scare me, and hope for the best. Maybe this time, this one medication, will be the one that helps me turn the corner. The one that allows me to take a seat at the table of life. It’s time to hit my knees, and pray for healing, and pray for life. It’s time that I stop putting the superhero cape on everyone else, and put my own cape on, and become the maitre d of my ownlife. One reservation for life please .

How Michael J. Fox solved my chronic mom guilt

How Michael J. Fox solved my chronic mom guilt

So truth be told, I am married to a Back to the Future movie fan. We have a gigantic movie poster in our basement with Marty McFly, time machines in various corners of the house, pictures of us in front of replicas of time machines and yes, we have even been to the location of the back to the future house in L.A, and the Twin Pines Mall (fans will understand). Super exciting stuff. The reality is, I actually became a fan of Michael J. Fox when I watched the movie “Secret of my success” a million times when I was a kid. I know it sounds like a super random movie to grow up watching, but I was always rooting for the underdog I guess. So yah, he has been a part of my life for a while now, and it also doesn’t hurt that he is a fellow Canadian. So you may be asking, how in the world did Michael J. Fox, the one and only, manage to put my mom guilt into any sort of perspective for me, let alone create an Oprah moment in my brain. It all came down to two quotes.

You see, I picked up his newest book “No time like the future”, because I read that in the book, that he started to question his never-ending optimism. For years, he has been a huge role model for many in his battle against Parkinson’s disease, raising money and awareness to help those living with the battle. His ability to uphold his crazy amount of optimism, always made me shake my head in wonder. Who was this man, and how was he able to do this?

My inspiration, and solver of dealing with my Chronic Issues. Mr Michael J.Fox. Picture from his Instagram account.

I picked up his book on the day that my own health struggles started to get worse, and I could feel my own optimistic foundation starting to crumble. I guess I needed to hear some encouraging words that what I was feeling was a normal course of progression, as I filtered through this life with my illness. Now, I don’t live with Parkinson’s disease, but I can tell you that the way he described his daily feelings, pains, carefully planned medication dosing to prevent attacks, and even the way he had to skillfully plan every move he made with his body, sounded a lot like how my daily battle with POTS goes. I picked up his book, because I wanted to gain more of an understanding into how time will affect my own health physically and mentally. Instead, I walked away with wisdom that is helping cure my mom guilt. Something I wasn’t anticipating.

One thing that I have struggled with since having kids , is the feeling that I can’t keep up with them, and that I won’t be able to do things that they ask of me. This condition doesn’t allow me to run with them, or tackle the steepest toboggan hills with them. Many activities I manage better while sitting, which is not an easy thing to ask of a 3 and 5 year olds with Tasmanian level energy. My mind doesn’t want to sit though. My whole life was sports oriented. I was an athlete, and still am an athlete mentally, just not physically anymore. In my mind, I just want to go for long bike rides with them, take them to see the many waterfalls on the hiking trails close to where we live, play tag, and chase them around the house and hear them squeal with delight. I wan’t to take lots of vacations requiring stamina. I want to be who I was before they were born. But I can’t. As a result, I fear them thinking I am lazy, or not interested. Often, I end up overcompensating and staying too long on my feet, or standing outside longer than I should in the cold. Both of which, I end up paying for afterwards.

It is as simple as this. What my mind wants to do, and what my body can do, haven’t caught up with each other. I am having a hard time accepting what I have, and it has been over ten years. There is no cure. It isn’t going away. I didn’t ask for this condition, and I was angry. I didn’t know how to fix it, and then I saw it. The first quote. It simply said:

“The truth is, I don’t want to live like this, but I have found a way to accept the fact that I do”.

Michael J.Fox – No time like the future

I hovered on this line in the book. It was so simple. I didn’t want to live like this. Michael didn’t want to live like that. Who would ever want to live like this or that! But he had found a way to accept the fact that this was his life. So, I had to find a way to accept that this was part of my life now. Like it or not. That was the struggle though, because I didn’t know how to accept it with kids. The guilt I felt at them having a mom who had this chronic issue, was overwhelming on days. I worried about everything I couldn’t do for them, or with them. I worried about them having to care for me one day, or the stress I would put on them if they had to worry about me. Every time I could only walk a short distance, or needed to lay down, or I couldn’t play with them on the jungle gym, I worried about what they would think of me as a mom. I was fearing the look of disappointment on their faces that I one day imagined would happen. Hearing them whisper to their friend that their mom isn’t able to do stuff and how much it really sucks, while thinking I was out of ear shot. This is what I feared. But, then I saw the quote that changed me:

“The mistake I make at times is to assume that my kids are looking at what I can’t do, and not at what I can do. They see through the disease, and they see their dad”.

Michael J. Fox- No time like the future

I had been making all these assumptions before they had ever materialized. I wasn’t giving my kids credit, that they would see me for all that I am able to do, and all that I will always do for them. Even though I can’t climb those toboggan hills, I am always at the bottom waiting for them to come down and see their smiles. Even if I can’t chase them around the park, I am on the bench beside the slides watching them learn and grow. Even though I can’t stand and bake 400 home made muffins before the bake sale, I will make sure every time that those kids don’t walk in empty handed. Even if I have to lie down and teach them math or piano lessons, I am still right there beside them. Sitting, standing, lying down. Who cares. It’s being there that counts. I am there. Maybe they will have to do the big hiking trails with their dad, while I wait in the car. But, I always will be there, and I have to give my kids enough credit that they will see through my illness and see what I can do, and that I am their mom. That is all that matters. Thank you Mr Fox, for inspiring someone that you don’t know.

I am in no way affiliated with the sale of his book, or with Amazon. I do not know him at all, but I do think that it would be awesome to one day chat with this funny ass man! The reality is, I just want to encourage others to check out his book if you are in need of some inspiration, and especially if you are a parent living with a Disease/Chronic Illness. Sometimes all it takes is knowing that someone else is or has walked a few paces and places in your shoes. You can check out his book at:

https://www.amazon.ca/Time-Like-Future-Considers-Mortality/dp/1250265614/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3K0RJ3KU568WY&dchild=1&keywords=michael+j+fox+no+time+like+the+future&qid=1611541378&sprefix=michael+J+fox%2Caps%2C341&sr=8-1

How I started changing my thoughts to a glass-half-full kinda gal

How I started changing my thoughts to a glass-half-full kinda gal

Glass with literally nothing left

I don’t know about you, but when I first hear my alarm clock go off in the morning my first thought is usually not PG rated.   A certain charming word that begins with the letter ‘F’, usually becomes the first word of the day, followed in quick succession with the carefully crafted word ‘This’. A combination of age,  and chronic illness,  is then responsible for a long series of groans as I actually attempt to sit up and open my eyes. Then, I do the worst thing possible.   I reach for my phone, and my eyes are immediately assailed with completely horrible news stories and just bad vibes all around.  Putting my phone down exasperated, I then reach over and open the blinds, and recoil and shudder at the maddening possibility that the Canada would ever get snow in the middle of the winter!  Snow in January? How absurd!  After vowing not to leave the house today due to such absurdity, I spend time meticulously deciding between my grey jogging pants or my black ones, ( because why even attempt to see if my jeans still fit),  and I throw on my super sleek oversized hoody, (mainly so I don’ t have to wear a bra), and I make my way downstairs.  By the time I get down the first few steps, I am in a mood.  By the time I make it to the kitchen, I am certifiably irritated and not someone that will be fun to be around.  My husband and kids, exchange a quick look and head the other way. Good call family.

What if I pressed rewind and we did this all over with cheery ole spin instead?

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

Glass bubbling over

I don’t know about you, but when I first hear my alarm clock go off in the morning my first thought is usually totally PG 13!  A certain charming word beginning with the word ‘F’ followed by the carefully crafted letters U and N, usually becomes the first word of the day!  A combination of age and chronic illness is then responsible for my appreciating everything in this world that I am totally capable of doing today, when I find that I am lucky enough to sit up and open my eyes today!  Then, I do the best thing possible!  I reach for my phone and my eyes are immediately embraced with positive news and great vibes all around!  I put my phone down with a huge smile, and I open up the blinds and I beam with the incredulous possibility that it snowed again, and we get to run out and make snow angels today! I love snow!  After vowing that I will leave the house as much as possible today to enjoy the snow, I decide to put on a flattering pair of jeans, and a wonderfully cozy shirt, as I make my way downstairs. By the time I get down the first steps , I squeal with delight at how cute I look, and by the time I make it to the kitchen, my kids and husband run up to me with kisses and hugs abound.  Admiration abound, with how great of a day this is going to be.

Nope

So here’s thing.    The first example is probably how I am used to waking up a good 90% of the time.  Ok, maybe 98 % of the time.  The bottom one , never F#$king happens. Like ever. But that is what I am striving towards, albeit with a little less of the fluffy unicorn and rainbows feel too it.  I read an article a while back that talked about how those who look at their phones when they first wake up, are more likely to feel overwhelmed and stressed, then those that wake up with a different routine not looking at negative news.  So why not change up your morning routine to one with a little less negative energy and a little more positive light?  

Photo by Lachlan Ross on Pexels.com

5 ways that I changed up my mornings, which started changing up my thoughts

I Changed my alarm tone

One thing that I learned from my paramedic days, is that the first thing I am trying to do now is open my eyes and say thank you.  Thank you for another day.  Thank you for the privilege of opening my eyes.  Thank you for letting me face this day, good or bad. I am alive, breathing and living.  Amen to that! The next thing I did was changed my ring tune and alarm tone on my phone. I now wake up to the gentle crescendo of ocean waves. It starts out really quiet, and then gradually gets louder.    I have residual PTSD from the blaring tones that would happen when a call would come through at the EMS stations  The Shrill alarm would make me jump out of my skin. It created a heart pounding and debilitating reaction to all things loud.  To this day, waking up to anything resembling and alarm, isn’t allowed in our bedroom.  Ocean waves is soothing to my soul, and it lets me start my day in a much calmer fashion.  

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Set your alarm for some ‘me’ time

Set your alarm earlier and allow yourself to stretch, have coffee, meditate, or whatever it is that you need to do to keep yourself zen to start the day.  My sister-in-law taught me the art of this.  She gets up an hour before her family does, so that she can start her day with a coffee and a book and for some much needed alone time.   How you start your day, leaves a ripple effect in your mood that carries you through your day. So start it the way you dream of starting it.

Look good for yourself

The next one is something I think most people struggle with, especially during a pandemic.  It’s easy to throw on the baggy clothes and not care what they look like.  Maybe try and put on something that makes you feel good every day.  Clothes, make-up, jewellery , it doesn’t matter, just FEEL GOOD!  When you like the way you look, you’ll like the way you feel. 

Find the positive in the most negative of places

Finally, for all those who suffer from depression, anxiety, chronic illness, Monday blues and whatever else is going on in your life that brings you down; try and find ways to be positive.  If your first instinct is to be negative, stop the thought and find a way to look at it through a positive lens.  Children see snow as fun, why can’t we as adults feel the same?  Kids don’t start their life knowing how to be negative.  They learn that feeling.  Who is teaching them?  Try to be a positive reflection for your kids, so that they can grow up with the right tools.  Teach them that it is ok to have bad days, and negative feelings. But, also teach them how to overcome those feelings, and strive for a more positive life. Start catching yourself in the middle of a negative thought, and find one way to make it positive. Do this all day long. Eventually it will become a habit, and you will find all the positives in the most negative of places.

Make a list of 5 things you are thankful for every single night

Feeling pain and and down or crappy really sucks. But, take the time to embrace it, and know you are alive.  For those of us in pain, we feel very alive every day.  It is not easy to see it as a blessing, but it is.    Pain or not, you are here.  You are alive. You are needed. Hope for a cure.  Hope for better days. Every single night, make a list of 5 things that you are thankful for every single night . When you first start, this will seem impossible. The more positive you become, the easier this gets. So look forward to the day that it is easy, and remember this quote by Dennis Brown that defines it all:

You alone are responsible for the type of life you live.  You can change it, or you can accept it.   I’m choosing to change it for the better.

Watching my dog grow old

Watching my dog grow old

I struggled with writing this. You see, my dog is my first born child. No really, he is. I refer to him as my son. Seriously. This often confuses my actual human born babies when I tell them to let their brother outside for a pee. My brother they ask? Yes, Wylie. Chop chop! They usually laugh it off, and think I am weird, but he is my son. I see him that way. Now, if you are not a ‘dog lover’, you will probably roll your eyes at the notion of this. But for those of you weirdos out there that feel the same way, it is completely acceptable and normal to feel this way.

You see, I got Wylie during a bad time in my life, and he rescued me. He never left my side. He has been one of my steadfast constants in my life since he came into my life 11 years ago. He was my first BIG dog that I had ever had, and as I soon discovered, I was in way of my head. I was dating someone at the time that had suggested the breed Weimeraners to me. I went ‘a Weim a what now’? I went online and started to see what the heck this was even about. I fell in love. The grey ghosts as they are called. Blue eyed, bullet grey puppies, I was smitten. With this in mind, I had been raised with dogs and I knew enough to make sure you research the dog breed and make sure it is compatible with your lifestyle, and that you know what you are getting into. I read all the Pro’s and Con’s. I was intrigued. I saw more pro’s than con’s. So I dove in. I didn’t have a lot of money at the time so I went online and found an ad for Weimeraner Pups. I got the last one of the litter. He was the runt, with a huge belly and he came home with me right then and there.

Believe it or not, the girl that sold him too me, said he had eaten a huge bowl of spaghetti the night before. I remember looking at her going, what?????? Spaghetti? I shrugged it off, until I saw his first (warning graphic) poop, full of worms. I just about had a fit. Yup, that makes sense. She knew he had worms, and wanted me to think he was pooping out spaghetti. Like honestly. I called her right back, no answer. Yup, that sounds about right too. That’s what you get for getting a dog from a random ad online. I think I started to panic a bit right then. What did I do. I have a dog with worms. A dog that will get big. I don’t know what I am doing, I have only had little tiny dogs up until now. I remember he was sitting the car seat next to me, and he just looked up at me with his big blue eyes, and I remember at that moment I said “Welp, it is you and me against the world boy. You and me against the world. We will do it together.” I made a choice then to put my big girl pants on and become his mom.

Wylie Coyote became my big 100lb plus boy, with a big sucky heart. I learned really quick that with Weimeraners, you have to work with their personality. They can be very destructive, they have high energy, and come with a lot of separation anxiety. I found out that he wasn’t a dog you could put in a cage. Regular leashes, nope don’t work. They are way too strong. I took him to some high caliber dog trainers and we went through a lot of trial and error to find a a leash that would allow me to take this strong boy for a proper walk, safely , without having him in control of me. I found out fast that when you are pregnant, they become even more protective. Another round of training took place to make sure we could reign in this behaviour before the kids came. He is smart as a whip, well trained, and the best damn dog ever. But I had to stay in control, and adopt to his personality over the years. They are sensitive to change, and definitely a breed you have to be in tune with if you want to survive and keep them and yourself safe. I heard a lot of horror stories over the year with the breed, but I never experienced many of those. He was not a destructive dog, was not super high energy, and as long as he wasn’t locked up in cage, he didn’t have a lot of anxiety. He has always been relaxed, funny as hell, and the biggest cuddle bug in the entire world.

Over the years, he became my son. When I had my human babies I was determined not to let him fall off his little pedestal that he had grown up on. Of course, its impossible for him not to get a little less time when you have 2 little ones also running around, but we made it our priority to always make sure he got out for his walks, and had lots of dog cuddle time when the kids were napping or in bed. I don’t believe in dogs becoming pushed to the side just because you have kids.

The bottom line is, when you make the choice to adopt a dog, you and only you are responsible for giving that dog their whole life. You are responsible for the life they lead, the food they eat, the places they see, their socialization. Owners shape the dog. Owners give dogs their entire world. You have the choice to let your dog only ever see the back fo a cage, or you have the choice to let the dog explore beaches, and wind in their fur with car rids, forests, you name it. I chose the latter. His life began with walks in the woods, running in the fields, and swimming in the lake at the cottage. Boat rides, car rides and doggy play dates. He is a saint with my little kids, patient and kind. I also made sure to teach my kids to be the same with him.

We hire dog walkers on days we have to work late, we hire our family on trips we take without him, to provide and care for him as we would, and always always we make sure that he has a blanket around him when he’s sleeping in bed. You see, he’s my son. I treat him how I would my kids. I wish everyone would do this. However, there is a downside. I find myself getting sad, and scared. I see him aging. His blue eyes are now brown, and his grey face littered with white whiskers. He has age spots, and bumps and lumps and he has started to lose weight. He sometimes falls when his legs give out beneath him randomly, and he cries at the top and the bottom of the stairs when he’s scared to attempt the climb. I see the signs that he is getting old. His back legs are weaker. I hate it. I see the signs that I don’t have as much time with him as I once did. I hate that. For an 11 year old Weimeraner, he is still pretty spunky and loves going for walks, and can jump up and down on the bed and likes to play still. But, there are a lot of signs of old age creeping in. I hate that. I can’t stop it and I hate it. I hate that they have such a short lifespan. It’s not fair.

One thing that is fair is that I am privileged to have been able to watch him grow up. I am privileged to see him get old. I am priveleged to be there for him now, when he needs me most. I owe him for all the times he was there for me. For all the days I cried into his fur, for all the times he greeted me at the door when no one else did. For all the times he slept next to me when I was dealing with PTSD, or POTS, or the loss of loves and loved ones. For all the times he protected me, made me laugh, and made me proud. I know he has had a good life, but I hope beyond hopes that I still have a lot of years left with him. I hope that I can keep him as long as I can, without pain and sadness. I dread that day, but I have been the lucky one. I believe that we were meant for each other. From runt to a huge boy with a huge heart, he wormed his way into my life. We are both the lucky ones. We took a path through life together that can never be altered or taken away. Growing old should never be a negative thing. Only a privilege. I have seen this time and time again as a paramedic. Never regret getting old. You are the lucky one that got to be old. Wylie is the lucky one that got to be old. I will be there no matter what for him. He is and always will be my first born son.

Please don’t ever abandon your dog as he gets old. Yes he may have more issues, or change, but it is when they need you the most. They have no one else but you. Don’t yell at them. Understand them. Don’t give up on them. Help them. If your life gets harder, remember how much harder their life is. Do what they did for you when they were young. They were there for you. Give them the same love and respect back. The love of a dog is one of the greatest loves that you could ever and receive in your life. Cherish it, and cherish them. Forever.

I love you Wylie, I hope to keep you for a lot longer my boy,

When the toaster stresses you out

When the toaster stresses you out

Not today toaster. I am ready for you. I place the frozen rye bread into the toaster and push it down. I’m ready for you I mutter under my breath. You are not winning today. I stand there with my plate waiting for it to pop up. I feel like a kid winding up a jack-in-the-box. Waiting and trying to prove that I won’t be startled, and it inevitably pops up and scares the piss out of me each time. Stupid jack-in-the-box I think to myself too. Nope, I will win today. I will not end up with another damn piece of toast on the floor. See, what you need to understand, is that I have a toaster that launches my toast across the room. Ding…done…floor. Every damn time. In the morning, while I am tending to the toast, and the eggs, and milk and whatever else the kids are getting that morning for breakfast, I always forget about the toast until I hear it hit the floor. At that point, my stress meter climbs an inch.

This time it stayed on the counter…..this time

When it hits the floor, I spin around and I do a rough calculation. Did I make it over to the toast before 10 seconds. If yes, did it land on a freshly washed floor, or a floor that most likely has more grime on it than I care to discuss in this blog. If it landed on the washed floor, have the cleaners I used had enough time to not have made its way onto the toast? If yes, I scoop it up and inspect the crap out of it. Before deciding that it really didn’t matter if I calculated the worlds hardest math equation, my anxiety never allows me to save it from the bin anyways. In the bin it goes…and in goes more damn bread to be toasted. Once again, I stand there, muttering, not this time toast.

Toast, Coffee, and plungers.

It might not seem like a big deal, but when you add it into the chaos of a typical morning of rounding up kids, keeping them alive, and then getting your butt and theirs out the door to begin the day, having to re- toast perfectly good floor toast is annoying. It becomes just another notch on the stress meter that you have to keep in check throughout the day. Especially when you’re still picking up your floor toast and you look down and see your empty coffee mug in your hand, but the sound and smell of freshly brewed coffee is making its way out of your keurig machine into your senses. Confused, you whirl around just in time to watch your coffee cascading all over the counter. Yup, add another notch to the stress meter.

Some mornings my stress meter barely registers, and other mornings it has run out of room before 8am. You may be thinking, why don’t you just buy another toaster? Well, I will tell you why. I live with a man who doesn’t like to get rid of things “that work perfectly fine”. The same man will buy a dollar store plunger, that literally goes inside out when you attempt to plunge the toilet. Have you ever tried to fix an inside out toilet plunger that has been in the toilet working on a clog? That is NOT ok! NOPE NOPE NOPE. Stress meter, up another notch.

Get ready, I am about make a metaphor out of my floor toast

Sometimes in life, you just have to deal with things that don’t work. Like my body living with chronic illness. My illness is the toaster and I am the floor toast. Sometimes I pop up in the morning and I am A-OK! Other times, I pop up and I hit the floor, and no matter how hard I try, the floor is where I am destined to be that day. So appreciate the days the toast stays in the damn toaster, and find ways to cope when you hit the floor, ahem I mean the toast hits the floor. Let that stress meter explode if it needs to, because it always dials itself back down when you wake up the next morning. Recognize it. Own it. And try again the next day. If toast flying across the kitchen is all you have to worry about, I would say you are living a pretty fantastic life.