Wild Support

A long, long time ago, I was at my doctor’s office, and a wild woman walked in. She waved her crutches and said “I want to donate these.” The Office Manager said, “We can’t accept used equipment.”

The wild woman was very upset, and verily did she shake her crutches: “I want to donate my crutches! I don’t want anyone to make a profit off them! Who will take my crutches?”

Not one to keep my mouth shut, i said, “Why not take them to Goodwill?” And wild woman retorted, “But then they will be sold!”

After she ranted a bit and begged the doctor’s office to take her crutches, i intervened again: “I know of a hospice place that I can donate your crutches, may I take them for you?” She was relieved and wild woman became happy woman, and I had a pair of crutches.

In truth insidiously did I want to take them to Goodwill as the hospice place was far away from me. But I never did. For a year the crutches have been in the trunk of our car, much to the chagrin of my precious husband.

Here’s an odd little aside: the crutches were exactly my size, so I always wondered if maybe… maybe one day they could be quite handy.

The wild woman was my grace today.

Walking out of the bookstore, I managed to trip over the curb and fall and hurt myself very bad. I wrenched my left ankle, landed on my right knee, skinned my right palm, and banged the right side of my head. I screamed and howled and writhed on the ground while Matthew tried to do damage control. A kindly stranger even came to help.

I am stubborn when hurt, and all I want to do is get upright again because I swear it only feels worse to roll on the ground, despite your inability to move.

And what was in the trunk? Crutches.

Between my stubbornness, Matthew’s aid, and the “donated” crutches, I was up and into the car. Now I’m hobbling around awkwardly, and settled into the couch with ice.

Hey wild woman! Thanks.

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To Breathe or not to Breath, that Is the Question

Poll: I’ve had two sinus surgeries to help my poor schnozz not get a sinus infection every time i rode an airplane or drove past a doctor’s office, and the last one even helped me breath better! Problem: the last surgery revealed that my nostril valves, not the actual hole in your nose, but the thing on the inside that flexes wider and narrower when you breathe, that valve is so small in my nose i have a hard time breathing. Which I didn’t know until April of this year when the nose tacos were removed post-surgery… anyone wanna see the video of the nose tacos again?

Anyway, I was referred to a facial reconstruction plastic surgeon. she didn’t even have to look into my nose to tell me what was going on (but she did to be a good doctor). Apparently I have a “Classic Scandinavian Nose.” Which is weird cause growing up everyone told me it was a Roman nose so I didn’t need plastic surgery to fix my huge bump to fit in because I was regal. Whatever, grown-ups suck. Fast forward. I have learned to love my Scandinavian nose, and man it fuckin rocks. But it doesn’t breathe…

Here’s the catch I’m trying to get to if you’re still with me. If I get nostril reconstruction surgery, it significantly alters the shape of my nose. Seriously, my nose rules. I can’t go changing it now that I like it!

The poll: Am I being vain? Am I letting vanity cloud my judgement? Or should I surrender and breathe better? I’m stuck.

Why is there no in between sane and not sane?

My recent (brief) mental ward stay sparked this convo which sparked my friend’s essay on mental health care and stigmas. Since I wasn’t suicidal, there was no place for crying little girls. Or, as my therapist said, “You don’t have to be suicidal to be psychotic!”

Why is there no in between sane and not sane?.

 

My little activist in the making

This is my Soul Sister, Erin, and her daughter my adopted niece. I love them and wish we were snuggling. And eating carrots.

chronicallysickmanicmother

My daughter’s anxiety level has been rising. I knew she needed a good snuggle time. It is one of the parts of chronic pain that annoys me, the lack of snuggling I can do.  Last night I knew she needed it more than I needed less pain.

She came in to my room in the middle of a Law and Order SVU episode. This is not something I normally let her watch with me. This episode though dealt with some humanitarian issues.  I had made a promise to myself recently. I needed to stop sheltering her quite so much from reality.  I am not turning down NPR as often as I used to. My response now is not always , ” That is not something you need to worry about.”  So we discussed women being forced into marriage. We discussed how other governments are not run like ours. They do…

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Chocolate O’ Chocolate, whatchyou do to me

i ate a lot of cake yesterday. i had an emergency chocolate, chocolate-fudge calling. BUT i’m allergic to wheat, so i had to take a benedryl.

now. it’s 9:00pm, i’ve taken benedryl, and most peeps can prolly guess what the benny-d’s does to me: sleep like a stone.

i thought about going to bed early so i’d already be in bed when i checked out for the night, but damn that couch be lookin fine! couch wins. matthew couldn’t budge me to bed, i was out like Fraser v. Ali, so he gave up and went to bed without me.

3:00am my drugged ass wakes up and i’m just omg i hurt so bad need bed and millet pillow stat. i actually take the time to wash off my waterproof mascara, unbelievably, and then ooze my way into the bed buck nekkid cause who gives a shit about finding a damn nightgown at 3 am? a few hours later and matthew gets me up. i am in so. much. pain. from sleeping like a pretzel on the couch. ow.

next time, benedryl = bed drill. (cough, yeah right!)

possibly a chant by Maria Sabina?

Mazatec Chant

Says.. woman who thunders am I,
woman who sounds am I.
Spiderwoman am I, says
hummingbird woman am I says
Eagle woman am I, says
important eagle woman am I.
Whirling woman of the whirlwind am I, says
woman of a sacred, enchanted place am I, says
Woman of the shooting stars am I. …

I’m a birth woman, says
I’m a victorious woman, says
I’m a law woman, says
I’m a thought woman, says
I’m a life woman, says …

I am a spirit woman, says
I am a crying woman, says
I am Jesus Christ, says …
I’m the heart of the virgin Mary.

-Mushroom Ceremony – Smithsonian Institute

I copied this exactly from an ironically anti-drug website, “Use Your Voice.” When I searched the Internet for Maria Sabina chants, I retrieved this. When I searched for their credit “Mushroom Ceremony Smithsonian Institute,” I didn’t get this chant, but it does seem in the style of Maria Sabina.