Thanks For Your Friendship

We are going full on into the Holiday Season. Of course everything is in a rush, no matter what your religious beliefs are. So much of this season has turned into rush rush buy buy buy.

Here in the United States the next big holiday on the calendar is Thanksgiving. I had this full on gluttony rant bouncing around in my head, but I think I'll take another tack.

Thanksgiving, beautiful dinner, eat till you puke and eat again, ugh. Makes me think of the Roman empire not to long before it fell. OK I know I said I wasn't doing a gluttony rant, I didn't it was ... shall we say a brief comment.

Truly what is Thanksgiving actually about. When it first started; it was about being thankful for having enough food to eat through the winter. Because someone helped you. Someone who owed you nothing, reached out a hand and helped you. It was actually about their survival through the winter.

There is much I am thankful for. I am thankful for my health. I know we hear people say that all the time. If you have your health you have everything. Up until recently I had no idea what that actually meant. I found out what it means. No the meaning didn't just pop into my head.

I still wouldn't have any real idea what it meant if I hadn't lost my health.

Adhesions bowel blockage (frankly throwing up feces is just nasty-that and the unreal pain changes your perspective on things) surgery, more adhesions, West Nile Virus, (pain that would make me puke uncontrollably, muscle spasms, partial paralysis, blackouts,) cancer (on my face happily the doc got it all before it spread), depression, more surgery-a total clean up job in my abdominal and pelvic cavity. enlarged ovary (size of a large cantaloupe) split and was draining some sort of crud that was crystallizing, enlarged uterus, the other ovary was trying to catch up to the first one in that it was the size of a grapefruit. More cancer scare, the docs were concerned that the mess in me was cancer related. So they did the cancer talk several times before surgery trying to prepare me. From what I understand if you cut into a cancerous mass it tends to spread the cancer very rapidly. They were concerned at what they would find when they cut me open. (side note: the mess inside of me was benign-yay!)

At that point I already had one leg in a body bag, so it was just do the surgery before my body is a corpse and I can no longer be here. (Believe me there are worse things than death-some of you know what I mean. Those of you that don't know what I mean by that, be glad that you don't.)

After 6 hours of surgery, an incision from my navel to below my bikini line, the docs cleaned up everything inside of me that they could. Removing the malfunctioning parts, cleaning up the adhesions, cleaning out the crystallized gunk, detaching and reattaching my bladder, putting my intestines back inside after working on them... they sewed me up, sent me to recovery then the post op floor in the hospital and it was all over. NOT!

The surgeons did a good job, don't misunderstand me. Without their skilled work I would have been dead. No question about it; dead.

After surgery I had some kind of infection, more than likely from the crud that had been draining into me. Stink, ugh, a very strong course of antibiotics got rid of that nastiness. I smelled like a rotting corpse that had been out in the sun for about a week. That will make your eyes water.

When I came home from the hospital (yes to the ranch and kennel) I couldn't even pick up my coffee pot. I couldn't get out of bed. Forget rolling over in bed, that was nearly impossible. So forget the bed for a couple of months. I slept in a lift chair.

In order to remove the mass inside of me they had cut my abdominal muscles, the ones they hadn't cut they had used a spreader on and pulled and strained them beyond use. My abdominal girdle could no longer support my back, or anything else for that matter. I knew that abdominals supported everything, but I had no idea what not having any strength there would do. Oh my, hello back pain. The strain on my muscles that weren't compromised caused even more muscle spasms. (side note: if you are having back pain-strengthen your abdominal muscles, weak abdominals equals back strain and pain)

Before surgery I had been on pain killers and muscle relaxants. Even stacking the Vicodin , Skelaxin, and Codeine didn't block the pain and spasms before surgery.

While I was in the hospital it was morphine, on a pump. Got rid of the pump then went to pills.

I was up and walking in the hospital, of course I was using morphine too, lol. It is a must to get up and move. If you don't move you won't regain your strength and you won't be able to move. It's your choice. Pain or no pain, move, rebuild your muscle structure.

Your digestive system needs movement to work right as well. Yes I know, ha ha ha a movement. That's not what I'm talking about, well it is sort of. Get up and walk (unless you are wheelchair ridden-if you are in a wheelchair do as much exercise as you can), or your digestive system will not work right. Even with walking, after that surgery I bloated something awful. It was pretty scary I had steri strips over the incision as well as staples and I still thought is was going to rip open from the bloating. Wow, walking helps to get rid of the gas.

I wasn't prepared for the swelling either. Wow, I swelled up all over. From my face through my feet. Sometimes I woke up looking like a puffer fish, sometimes my body would swell up during the course of the day. I felt like a big balloon that was being overinflated. I couldn't get my shoes on if my feet swelled up, or oh my if I had them on when they did...ouch. So wore athletic sandals with Velcro straps.

Forget wearing regular clothes. Same thing happened, so I used over sized sweat pants with drawstrings. Yes drawstrings, I couldn't keep them on when the swelling went down with out cinching up the waist with the drawstrings. I did get some over sized elastic waist pants and use suspenders with them. Bras were a nightmare, I am not flat chested, and that was not a good scene. That's all I'm going to say about that.


I'm not swelling up so much now. I still have some swelling but nothing like it was. There were a lot of toxins in my body. I think the swelling has something to do with that. They even worked their way out through the skin on my face. A thick red, cracking, painful, crust developed in/on my face.

I went to the doctors, they didn't know. My dermatologist suggested burning it off with a laser. That idea did not appeal to me, maybe as a last resort. I heard an advertisement for proactiv I tried it, it worked. The stuff on my face wasn't acne. I think it was demodex taking advantage of my compromised immune system. Frankly I'm not sure what it was, I just know that I can keep it off my face with the proactiv. I do know that I never had anything like it before all this. proactiv was not the first thing I tried, but it is what worked. I've tried not using it and within a few days the crust starts coming back, usually just between my eyebrows. So I'm just going to continue with the proactiv.


The bloating is gone for the most part. Every once in a while it will flare up but not very often.


Within the last 6 months or so the fatigue has gotten remarkably better. I still crash, but not as much. It's not as extreme either. The crashes started before surgery, they were wicked during the West Nile, I would just black out. If I didn't black out I could barely walk, couldn't talk. Try to think and there was nothing there but static or a deafening silence where my thoughts should be. When I am at full speed I am a multitasking freak with a relatively high IQ.

Clients would call to ask about Pomeranians, or affiliate marketing and I couldn't speak. I remember trying to get my mouth around the words to speak and it coming out like a stroke victim or someone completely drunk. With huge gaps between words in my mind. A word then nothing then another word.


In contrast, usually I think much faster than I speak; and I naturally speak at a very rapid rate. By the way, if we are chatting, and I am speaking too fast, tell me to slow down. You will not insult me. If it sounds like I left something out, say so. I'll go back over it again at a slower rate. No I'm not being condescending, people have different rates of speech and comprehension. We all function a bit differently. Not to mention the wide variety of languages, slang, speech patterns, dialects and accents. So, just keep at it, keep adjusting until communication is successful. That pretty much sums up communication around the world...lol.

This has been a learning experience, especially the fatigue. So you learn, you take care of what is most pressing, you do as much as you can. Then you stop. That's it, you stop and let your body rest. When it has had it's required rest you can function again. If you don't rest it, take care of it, nourish it, it will fail, Crash-die.


Abuse it and lose it. Don't use it and you will lose it. Pay attention to what you body is telling you. Moderation. You know there is a reason you hear "moderation in all things in the scriptures" That you will find no matter what holy book you read.

It's been a long recovery, my surgery was September 9th, 2005. I was ill for years before that. The West Nile virus compounded things. I contracted it late spring/early summer 2003. There is a difference in my immune system since that nasty bug moved in.

I've dealt with the depression, I've dealt with the suicidal drive for years and years. On and off since I was a small child. Dealt with years of abuse, compulsive behavior, date rape, miscarriage, self destructive behavior, addictive behavior, co dependent behavior... and on and on. So tied up emotionally that I couldn't function. Over and over some abusive behavior, sometimes even an event, (holidays for instance) could/would trigger a Fugue state, spiral into a black depression, on into a suicidal/homicidal drive then work through to stabilize.

It was like walking through a mine field where you couldn't see where the mines were, maybe they weren't there then step on one and boom. Life is shattered, with shards of pain once again.

Some of you know what I'm talking about, some of you don't- if you don't be glad that you don't.

You know the saying? Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I'm not talking about your body, I am talking about you. I am at peace within myself for the first time in over 40 years.

I live a proactive life rather than a reactive one now. I am free. I am at peace with me. I actually like who I am. It's amazing what course life development takes. It's so different in each of us, yet the same.

Physically, my body is healing. I can feel the muscles in my back, my arms, legs, glutes, abdominals. The scar on my stomach is healing flat, not puckered and thick like they thought it would. I've listened to my body and managed to build strength without any ruptures or hernias. That was a concern.

I no longer take Vicodin, Codeine, Skelaxin, or Morphine.

Side note: be careful of Skelaxin. It is a very effective muscle relaxant. But, it has a rebound effect actually making the painful muscle spasms more frequent and intense. It also causes muscle degeneration and vision loss over time. Yes I experienced those side effects. Happily my vision has improved, and stabilized since I no longer take it. There has been an increase in my muscle development since stopping the skelaxin as well. It has taken 4 or 5 months to stabilize after stopping the drug.

I am still here. That means I still have something left to do in this life. When my time has come I will go home in peace.

When I started this blog post today I had no intention of writing this. I've never written it before. Perhaps it is just cathartic for me. Perhaps it will be a blessing to someone else. There must be some reason for it, since it poured out of my fingertips.


I wish you peace and wholeness. Happy Thanksgiving ...throughout your life. An attitude of gratitude.


Below is what I had originally planned to post... an email from a wonderful friend, Opal Louise.


Life is a journey... sometimes there twists in the road leading to new discoveries...
Mary E. Robbins & the Hairballs




What would you do if for every moment you were truly happy there would
be 10 moments of sadness?

What would you do if your best friend died tomorrow and you never got to tell them how you felt?

So, I just wanted to say, even if I never talk to you again in my life,
you are special to me and you have made a difference in my life.

I look up to you, respect you, and truly cherish you.

Let old friends know you haven't forgotten them,
and tell new friends
you never will.
Remember, everyone needs a friend, someday you might feel like you have
NO FRIENDS at all, just remember this e-mail and take comfort in knowing somebody out there cares about you and always will.

In times of trouble,
In times of need,
If you are feeling SAD,
You can count on me.
I will give you a wink,
Until you smile,

give you a hug,

And stand by your side.

I'll be there for you till the end, I'll always and forever, be your friend!
It's true, sometimes we forget to tell our special people that we love them.

To All the Kids Who Survived the 1930's 40's, 50's, 60's & 70's!

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets; and when we
rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking.

As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, booster seats, seat belts or air bags.

Riding in the back of a pick-up on a warm day was always a special treat.


We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends from one bottle, and NO ONE actually died from this.
We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter, and drank Koolade made with sugar, but we weren't overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING !


We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day.
And we were O.K.


We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we'd forgotten the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, or X-boxes. We had no video games at all, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or chat rooms.......
WE HAD FRIENDS, and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls, and, although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.


We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't just had

to learn to deal with disappointment.

Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of.

They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned ..........

HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!

If YOU are one of them, CONGRATULATIONS!


You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good.

And while you are at it, forward it to your kids, so they will know how brave (and lucky) their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!

The quote of the month is by Jay Leno:

"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance? "

For those who prefer to think that God is not watching over us.......go ahead and delete this.

For the rest of us.....please pass this on.

______________________________________
My dear friend Colleen emailed the above post to me today. I'm not sure who wrote it originally but it struck a chord with me.

I remember playing outside as a child. Inside too at times, I road a small horse as a child and young person. Princess (a biting kicking, crowhoping, fence jumping, explosion-and my best friend), anyway Princess was dishfaced like an arabian, and a bit smaller than a morgan. black mane and tale, star on her forehead, deep bay color, fine legs, and ran like the wind.

One summer day I was riding princess, I was under 9 years old at the time. Can't quite remember just what age I was, somewhere between 4 and 9. Mom must have called me from the kitchen and I didn't want to get off my horse. I knew I had to come when she called me, so I came in with the horse under me.

Here is this little red headed girl, bareback on this spirited horse, coming up the front walk, up the step, I remember leaning forward and opening the screen door.... and into the kitchen we went.

I have no idea what my mom wanted, but I do remember her exact words. Get that horse out of this house! 40 years later the thought of it still makes me laugh.

What can I say, made perfect sense to me at the time. The horse was my friend, I didn't want to leave her behind so she came into the house with me...

Princess was my piggy bank horse. The day we went to pick out a horse for me to ride, we went to the horse dealer. There were so many beautiful horses in that corral. All different colors, there was this one paint that was so flashy and beautiful. Then I saw Princess. She was so skinny, and rough coated, her head hung down and her main and tail were all matted.

When it came to people I was a very shy little girl. But there was something about that horse. I remember talking to the horse man, saying I'll give you everything in my piggy bank for that horse. My mother was not thrilled. I wasn't in school yet so I must have been 4 years old. The horse man looked at me and said deal.

Princess was mine. My $10.00 piggy bank horse. We took her home, she was covered with lice. and so skinny it hurt to sit on her back. We, mostly mom I would imagine, cleaned her up, got ride of the mats in her main and tail and those nasty lice. She put on weight and instead of hanging her head and dragging her tail, her head came up with this wonderful arch in her neck, and her tail was up.

I grew up with Princess. She was absolutely beautiful, ran like the wind, and jumped over anything I asked her too. Sometimes when I didn't ask her. She loved to run, nose stretched forward, neck out, ears back, with her tail whipping out straight behind her....with this little red headed girl stuck to her back, no saddle just flying mane and a bridle ...

Life is a journey... enjoy the trip ... Mary E. Robbins & the Hairballs