Big And Quick

No, this is most certainly NOT about my long ago wedding night! Nor is it a new country duo.

I recently heard someone say that big things in life tend to happen quickly. It gave me pause and without much thought I tended to agree. Thinking about it further, not so much.

They say the three most stressful things you go through in life are marriage, buying a house and having a baby. All of those things -- all unequivocally big -- happen over time and usually with at least a moderate amount of planning. Even if the pregnancy is a surprise, there are still nine months to prepare.

Is it just the big bad things than happen fast? In my experience, serious illness and parents' deaths happened both overnight and in an instant.

But big good things have come out of nowhere too. I found Piper, our bird, online at a bird rescue and sanctuary with one click of the mouse. Even people who consistently play the lottery win it with one ticket purchased a day or two before the drawing.

Life is made up of quick, slow, big, small, good, bad, planned, surprise moments, in any number of combinations. So I don't think we can be so quick to make such a big statement.

Keep Your Monster Close Blut Yourself Closer

When I was a kid, I never worried about what may be hiding in the closet or under the bed.

Now, however, the monster lurks. The demon lays dormant as I fall asleep at the beginning of the night, but if I wake up hours before dawn, it is there. I can feel it before I open my eyes. I'm careful to plant my feet as far away from the bed as possible when I get up to use the bathroom; I don't want it to reach from under the bed and grab me. I do a leap/fall back into bed upon my return. I flip the pillow to the cool side and pull up the covers, and it is already grabbing at me.

I feel its claw on my arm. My mom is dead.
Its grip tightens. The last two months of her life. When she was dying and we all knew it.
It swipes at my leg. My mom's final hours. Her last breath as I hold her hand.
It grabs my leg and squeezes. I wake up and can't see out of my right eye. 
It climbs on the bed, increasing its hold on my arm and my leg. The next day my left eye is blind.
I try to shake it off me. You've got to get yourself out of this, Sister Rain. Think happy thoughts. 
The more I try to pull away, the stronger its grasp. A week in the hospital in Philadelphia.
I miss driving. 
I miss traveling. 
I miss my career. 
I miss my salary. 
It won't let go of me and I can't move.

I've got to stop these thoughts. When I do, the monster will go away.

For me the key to defeat is a total shut down of all memories, good and bad. Looking back even on happy times in the middle of the night can be an invitation for the monster to come on up, take hold of an arm or a leg and stay awhile. I get my headphones and iPhone and listen to talk radio. I make myself focus on the conversation coming from SiriusXM. The monster loosens its grip. It slips away. So do I. I sleep.

In the morning, the events of 2 a.m. are nothing more than a small irritant in the back of my mind.

As kids, the monster under the bed is scary; it's ugly and it means to hurt us physically. We've never seen it, but we know it's there. Waiting.

As adults, physical danger is not at risk. There is no parent to call out to for help and our beloved teddy bear has been replaced by a snoring husband who has no idea the battle we are waging right next to him. As adults, we know our monster for it is our own self. And what could be scarier than that?

Incredibly Profound Emails

Amid the emails from stores promoting their sales, two messages conveying the most opposite ends of life's spectrum.

The first, an update on a family friend with terminal cancer. He is at home and in his final hours. A request for prayers that his grown children make it home in time.

The second, a note from a former co-worker; the seven-year-old boy he and his wife have been fostering for two and a half years is officially their son. Included is a beautiful photo of all four of their sons.

Incredible sadness. Profound joy.

And they say email is impersonal.

An ABSolute Revelation

I am pretty sure that people who are in shape
don't burp chocolate while doing sit-ups.

Advertisement Ailments

The amount of crap daytime television programs is only outmatched by the awful commercials. Today I saw the following, all during one break, in this order:

• Clinical Trial for Schizophrenia Medication 
• California Walnuts
• Psoriasis Medication
• Ulcerative Colitis Medication 
• Democrats @ South Carolina Town Hall Meeting Tonight 
• Oscars 

I have empathy for anyone with any condition. If a medication can help them, how fantastic is that? I mean, come on Optic Nerve Restoration Elixir! But this back-to-back representation of people living with these three afflictions was enough to make me itch and burn and start naming my personalities. With the Triple Threat I witnessed, I'm suggesting a tonic for hypochondria be slotted in between the politicians and the entertainment industry's "biggest night". The only more fitting product placement? Hemorrhoid cream. 

Monday's Worth

 A friend texted me this morning that she was about to begin painting one of the rooms in her house, an undertaking no one I know looks forward to. She said she keeps telling herself it will be worth it when it's done.

I replied:

That's how I feel about everything in my life.

Of course I was trying to be funny but it does hold some truth. We often must tell ourselves this to accomplish the things we'd rather not, which I find to be increasingly more prevalent with each passing day. If you're Type A like me, crossing an item off my To Do list can be reward enough.

Monday, 2/22/16

Workout
File
Laundry
Amazon return
Blog

Aaaahhhh. Definitely worth it.

Mammogram Service Announcement

In Tuesday's post, Fear In 3D, I wrote about the trepidation I felt in regard to my next day's mammogram, my first in five years. The actual test was easy and painless.

I was going to document the events that followed the day after, but wanted this post to be more informative rather than a record of the pure, unadulterated fear and panic my husband and I experienced. I had been told by the technician that a radiologist would review my images the next day and I could expect a letter in the mail in a few weeks and a call from my family doctor. If they needed me to come back for further testing, they would let me know. And that they did.

I had some irregular tissue in my right breast and I needed an ultrasound. They had an opening for that afternoon and I took it. What they saw turned out to be a lymph node that showed as a tiny speck on my last, long ago mammogram. The new 3D technology made this previous dot stand out, as if it was holding a giant red flag.

But here's what I want you to know in case you don't. As I didn't. But now I do. And now you know too.

The need for an ultrasound after a mammogram is very, very common. The ultrasound is a way to get another look at something found during a mammogram. Think if it as due diligence.

The American Cancer Society says that "less than 10% of women called back (after a mammogram) for more tests are found to have breast cancer". Click here for the full article.

I will go back in six months for a follow-up mammogram of just this breast. There will be no more putting it off. And there will be no more panic should I get a call for further testing. OK, I can't promise no panic, but it definitely will be reduced.

Go get a mammogram. Even if you're scared. Take it one step at a time should additional testing be required. Take a friend with you, someone who has had to have more testing. It won't be hard to find that person, it happens all the time. You can do it. You must do it. Don't let it fo Luke I did. That only exacerbates any fear you may have. Don't I know it.

And now you know too.

I Have The Fitness Goals Of A Celebrity

"I have to work out just to look fat. That's the problem."

- Will Ferrell 

on Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee

Click here to watch the episode

Fear In 3D

So, tomorrow I have my first mammogram in over five years. I know, I know.

I have been so focused on what is going on with my optic nerves that my lady parts have taken a back seat. That's the truth. And it's also an excuse. New year, new excuses, right?

I'm just kidding. New year, new attitude. Tomorrow I go for my first 3D breast photo shoot. Here's the thing: I am really, really scared. Not of the squishing or the flattening, although there always is a few seconds where I worry they won't plump back up again, but of the results.

I understand the extreme importance of early detection. My closest friends all go yearly and they have all encouraged me to get it done. Some got downright tough with me. Never have I had such a throng of offers to drive me anywhere. And I love them for it.

I went through some things in my childhood that were horrible. My father was an alcoholic and put my mom and me through hell. And somewhere in my subconscious I thought I had had my troubles young and had gotten them out of the way. That would be hysterical if it wasn't so damn sad. But I think a lot of people think this way. My friends tell me I have had more than my share and that I've already had "my thing". If only they were the ones handing out the shares and the things.

When I woke up blind I wasn't really worried. I suppose shock played a big factor but at no time did I thunk I had a brain tumor or that my life was in danger. I never thought my sight would not be fully restored. I suppose that's the tiny silver lining inside the big fat horror of a sudden illness. But really, no matter when you find out you are in a medical crisis, it's sudden. It may have been there for awhile but you didn't know. And then you do. That's the very definition of sudden.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm a pessimist now after the four tragedies in three years but I will say, ironically, that my eyes are more open now to what can happen in the blink of an eye, whether its nerves are working or not. It's as if I know at 50 what most people won't learn until they are 80. And that's why I'm so rattled.

Day-to-day I must be brave to live my life with limited vision. But when it comes to the possibility of more health issues, I am the opposite of courageous and of who I was before I knew you could wake up blind with no warning.

I'm a nervous wreck but 3D mammogram here I come. I'm putting on my big girl panties and taking off my big girl bra. What's that? I don't take my bra off until I'm in the little room with the gowns? Oops. Sorry about that folks. My bra. I mean, my bad. I told you I'm a worried mess!

The Sweetest Place On Earth

My Christmas Gift
From My Best Friend:

Overnight Trip

Hershey, Pennsylvania

Happy Hour 

Winter Mule (left) and Sparkling Winter Fizz (right)

Delicious Dinner and Dessert

All at The Mill

Beautiful and Historuc Building

Great Atmosphere

Outstanding Service

Kathy Griffin 

Hershey Theater

She Was On Fire From Her First Word 

And Didn't Stop For Over Two Hours

Walking To The Theater, A Few Blocks From Where We Parked, 

In The Snow, On A Crowded Sidewalk, 

She Held My Hand, She Encouraged Me,

She Understood The Pressure I Felt 

She Gets It

What Is Sweeter Than That?

Clothes Encounters Of The Husband Kind

I have never been a fan of clothes shopping but when my mom was alive we made it fun. A store dressing room is one of the places I miss her the most.

Even though it's never been my favorite thing to do, I have a great professional wardrobe lying in wait for a chance to get back out there. I spend my days at home in yoga pants or sweats and if I go out, I may get crazy and put on jeans.

I've needed some new things and my husband has been a real trooper this past week. He's helped me find some new tops and he now knows what leggings and jeggings are and can even tell the difference. He has been pointing them out to me when he sees someone wearing either.

Last night we went to Kohl's and after showing me the clearance racks in my size, he left me to take my time and see what I could find on my own. He then helped me find some sizes I needed and even suggested some tops I hadn't seen. While I went back and forth to the dressing room, he waited patiently on a bench, working his phone.

When I was finally done I showed him what I was going to buy. As he looked at the last shirt in the stack I was holding, he said, with some apparent trepidation, "You know there's a Christmas tree on there, right?"

I did know. In December I had looked everywhere for a new holiday shirt and had not found one. I would have thought he would remember this because once again he was involved, but I think his sole concern was that I hadn't been able to see that there was a tree on the shirt. It was really sweet the way he asked, obviously trying to be sensitive to an already trying situation, since he knows how difficult shopping is for me now. Gone are the days of jumping in my car alone, browsing the racks for colors and styles that catch my eye, as my eyes don't catch much these days.

My husband has stepped to the plate in so many ways since my vision loss. In ways neither of us could have imagined back in 1992 when we got married. We knew the "sickness" part of our vows would come, but 20 years in we thought it was still a long way off.

We expected that our joints would wear out, our hearing would diminish and our eyesight would decline with age. There was a chance one of us would not be able to drive in our senior years due to any number of maladies. But never did we think this would happen in our 40s. And never did we think my sports-loving husband would become my stylist. That most definitely was not in the vows.


#fashionweekherewecome

Blood Work And A Cocktail

No, this is not the title of the 2030 Sex & The City movie, but my plans for today. I need to get blood drawn for an upcoming doctor's appointment and my friend is taking me. After, we will go have adult beverages with a side of lunch. 

The drink of the day? Why, a Bloody Mary, of course!



************
Carrie Bradshaw would be appalled, but there was absolutely no way this blog entry wasn't going to end as it has. No bloody way. 

Hair Traffic Control

Whenever I miss my career as a corporate meeting planner, all I have to do is try to get rides to a hair appointment. The logistics of a 500-person meeting, with attendees traveling from all over the world, were less stressful and less challenging than finding someone to take me to my appointment and then someone to pick me up when I'm done.

I honestly do try not to dwell on the things I can no longer do but sometimes there is mo way to avoid it. My car is in the garage. My keys are in the basket by the front door. But for me, visibility is poor. Every day. And, therefore, I am grounded.

And so I must rely on the kindness and transportation of others and, of course, I must coordinate with their schedules. The texts have been flying all morning in preparation for an upcoming hair appointment. Snow is coming so that is making ride orchestration even more difficult than usual. The harder it is to lock down a way to and from, the madder I am that I can no longer take myself.

But there really is no time for anger and self-pity. Where there is a will, there is a way. I will map out the who, the what and the where. I will get to my destination, the land of cut hair, covered grays and waxed brows. Poor visibility be damned!

The Very Best Part Of My Day

Good morning, Piper!

Love Thy Neighbor

I live in a 100-year-old house that we call a twin. I know in some areas of the country this means something different, but here it means we share a wall with one other house. Our neighbors were here when we moved in over 20 years ago and we love them and are very close to them. They are a husband and a wife and their cats and they are like an older brother and sister to us. (The man and woman, not the cats.) They are quiet, faithful people and that's why when I saw this on their porch flag bracket:

and with my poor vision saw this instead:

it threw me for a loop! 

After closer inspection I realized it was indeed a flag but during those few seconds when I thought my "big brother's" boxers were on display, I had one thought:

WE HAVE TO MOVE

I Write, Therefore I Am

Earlier this week I struggled to write my blog and as I went about my everyday chores, "writer's block" kept coming to mind. When it did, I actually said to myself, in my head, You're not a writer! You just have a blog. Real writers are offended and insulted by bloggers who think they can write. 

That was super helpful in getting my creative juices flowing. 

Writing comes very easy to me and so does the reelection that comes with it. Whether I'm any good at either is not for me to decide, but when I put keyboard to iPad it flows naturally and I love it. I wonder sometimes how I went two and a half years without writing before I figured out how technology and what little vision I do have would allow me to return to it. 

As with most of us, even though we know we aren't supposed to, my identity was wrapped up in my job, they were one and the same. The loss of my career has been one of the most difficult and painful parts of my diminished eyesight. Truth be told, three years later, I still lay in bed at night and think about my old life - the hotels, the people, the places - and passing the airport still makes my heart ache. But I now throw my creative energies into my blog and treat it as seriously as I did my professional life pre-vision loss. And since I write about my life and all its parts, my occupation has never been more my identity. I am my blog, my blog is me. And I am a writer. 

Sincerely,

Sister Rain
Writer
www.sisterrain.net

Blog Blocks

For the last two days I have been struggling to write blog entries. In all the tine I have been blogging,I have never experienced this before.

With nothing new to build on, I went to my cache of ideas that I always keep adding to and developing. I found that they all required introspection and for no identifiable reason, I just didn't have it in me. Normally I can dig deep and put it all out there, but so far this week my blog quarry was boarded up and locked tight. After several attempts to scale the fence, it was time for another source of material.

Since going deep wasn't an option I decided to go light and easy. I had nothing short and sweet in reserve and attempted to get something going. My head began to feel like one of those money booths, with thoughts flying around and a mini version of me was in there trying to grab a something I  could work with. I'd catch one and look at it, turn it over, shake it a bit, realize it was nothing and release it. Sometimes I would grab it again and repeat the process, only to discover I was right the first time, there was nothing there, and let it go once more.  I finally came out of the booth, empty-handed and frustrated, my hair looking like Medusa.

This morning things are getting back to normal. A stink bug landed on my neck last night when we turned the lights out after we got into bed. I flung if off me not knowing yet what it was and found out they really do stink. The hand typing this has been scrubbed raw and still I smell it. If that's not a blog idea, I don't know what us.

I also hear the quarry of my mind, it's back open for business. I'm ready again to get down deep in there and bring you something back. I just have to figure out how to get this hard hat on my head. You see, my hair still looks a fright. Minus the snakes of course. And the stink bug.