Arthritis Part 2

*****Warning***** This might be construed by some as whining, so you might want to skip it! :P I am more just thinking out loud than anything.



I want to preface this with acknowledgment of the fact that arthritis is not cancer. It is not Lou Gehrig's Disease. Nothing that drastic. And I am duly thankful not to have any of the aforementioned diseases.

Arthritis is a common, treatable disease. There are a number of things that can be done for it, IF one is an otherwise healthy adult. However, if one is not an otherwise healthy adult, things get a little trickier. With my history of bleeding ulcers, NSAIDS are not recommended. A regular increase in my steroids can cause problems with blood sugar and osteoporosis. Pills need to be avoided so that my liver does not have to handle the stress of yet more medication. Some of the treatments can cause problems with my MG or asthma. Some things can't be used because they are related to foods that I am allergic to.

After brainstorming, we decided on a prescription topical gel that hopefully bypasses all the potential pitfalls and will help manage the symptoms.

It has taken me a day of tears to get used to the idea of managing one more thing. i will deal. I just have to get used to the idea.

And I will.

Arthritis

I haz it. Fortunately, I was thankful that it is not rheumatoid, but the more common, degenerative, osteoarthritis. It is in multiple joints in both hands.

I was kind of hoping for some fluke thing that would be temporary and would go totally away with some easy treatment. No such luck.

Not wanting to take any more pills than I already do, I was prescribed a topical cream that may help the pain some. But, the pain is not the main issue for me.

The issues for me are the loss of my ability to write legibly for any length of time. To be able to button my buttons. I have given up using brands of things which have caps too difficult to remove. I slide my money across the counter, rather than risk dropping it on the floor.

Of course, painting is where I feel the loss of function most keenly. My hands shake too much to stay inside a sketch (even if I could SEE said sketch, which is another story.) and I can no longer do detail work that requires exact placement of my brush. This has been a blessing in some ways, because the styles that have evolved from my disabilities are selling and getting me noticed.

I have to admit, I was hoping to be just a bit older before I had to deal with osteoarthritis on top of everything else. But, now that I have a name, I can set about finding the tools that will enable me to function the best I can with what I have.

But, I would like a break before anything else develops.

kthxbye

Hallelujah!

After 2 weeks of almost literal weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, our church website is back on line.

This process involved people in 3 states and two continents. We had to free ourselves from a company in Australia (I have no earthly idea WHY our previous website was hosted by an Aussie company) with lousy customer service (6 days to answer an email request for support???) before we could transfer over to a reliable US company with good customer service.

Being the most tech savvy (and I use that term loosely!) of the people dealing with the new website, it fell to me to sort things out and get us up and running again. I learned a lot in the process. I may not be the sharpest tool in the techie shed, but, by golly, I am the most tenacious!

Visit crawfordstreetumc.org and see what all the fuss is about!

"Cheap Joe"

I received a postcard from Cheap Joe today. Now I don't know Cheap Joe aka Joe Miller, personally, but he owns and operates the wonderful company where I am able to purchase many of my art supplies online.

I almost did not look closely at the postcard. I figured it was just an advertisement. But, I happened to turn the postcard over and take a closer look at it. And now I know what a class act Cheap Joe really is. This postcard mentioned the recent tornadoes in my area and offered to help replace any art supplies I may have lost that insurance would not cover.

I was stunned. I have never heard of a company doing this. But, as an artist, I guess Joe wanted to make sure his fellow artists had the supplies they needed to continue their artistic endeavors.

Fortunately, I was not in need of the help offered. But I did e-mail Joe thanking him for the thought.

With tears in my eyes.

Security

I was infuriated to read in the local paper today about another visitor to Vicksburg being mugged. An elderly retiree from another state suffered a broken arm and a facial cut requiring stitches. This is the second mugging of a tourist this year. Is that any way to treat our guests?

I know that this might not be unusual in many places, but this is a fairly new phenomenon in my small city. Mugging is something I used to think of as only occurring in places like New York City. Something I had only seen on TV.

But, now, mugging has come here, and it makes me mad. There was a time when you were almost 100% safe around town, as long as you stayed away from the few "historically" bad areas. Now, my church has had to hire a security guard to help keep our members safe when they are attending church functions at night.

I used to feel safe making a trip to the grocery at night as long as I parked in a well lit area and tried to enter and exit the store with other people. Now, since there have been a couple of strong arm robberies in the parking lot of my favorite store (in a good area of town!), I no longer feel free to do this. All because of a few punks wanting to steal a few bucks instead of working for them.

And the ironic thing is, many people around these parts would be happy to give someone a few dollars if they were asked politely.

But don't knock an elderly lady down and try to take her purse.

What goes around comes around. And you punks will get yours.

MG Days

Looks like this week is going to be mostly resting. My body is giving me some messages I know by now not to ignore. An MG flare-up for me usually starts with severe fatigue. Not the kind of fatigue people experience after being busy for days or generally overdoing it. I am talking about waking up as tired or more tired than when I went to bed. This kind of fatigue has me wanting to sleep 18-20 hours out of 24.

Next we have the choking. Loads of fun. No cornbread, rice, plain water, or crackers for me for a few days. I always find it ironic that I choke on plain water, but don't choke on carbonated beverages. Go figure. Thank goodness for Diet Coke!

My current fashion colors are black and blue. I am not falling exactly, more like just stumbling into things. And, of course, with the steroids I take and my naturally pale skin, I am sporting bruises literally from my shoulders to my ankles. I am a Spring. Black and blue are NOT in my palette!

My big activity of the day was one hour of church. Followed by two naps.

So, for the moment, I listen to my body.

Even if I am not crazy about the message. :P

A Little Guilty?

Myasthenia Gravis has taken a few things away from me. My ability to work on a steady basis, reliable vision (most 50 year olds don't have that anyway!), being able to sing as long as I want to, and the security of knowing that I can get from point A to point B without falling, among other things.

But, MG has given, as well. Retiring from my job has given me the time to do the "fun stuff." Singing for my great nephew's preschool class, teaching watercolor at the local Senior Center, working on my church's website, and helping an elderly friend learn to use her first computer brings me great joy.

Many of my 40 hour a week working friends would love to be able to do what I do. And sometimes, I have to admit, I miss the perks of full time work. Nice clothes, manicures, pedicures, massages, yearly vacations, and the fulfillment of being a professional are things of the past. But, I would not go back, even if it meant not having MG. Seriously. I feel like I am where I am supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to do. Life is pretty good.

And I feel just a little...guilty.

Another Doctor?

The good news is that the steroid epidurals I had helped me get strength back in my ring and pinky fingers. A brace, worn at night, is helping the carpal tunnel symptoms. I can control my brush to paint again and I am not dropping hot pans on my pretty Corian countertops and burning them anymore. This is all good.

The not so good news is that the joints in my hands are still swelling and aching whenever I do much of anything. Simple things like typing for too long, stirring dough, holding a book, etc. make my hands puff up like those gloves on old cartoon characters and just ache. There may not be anything that can be done, but I just need to KNOW that, so I can adapt. And, if there is a solution, that is even better.

So, I await a referral to a rheumatologist. I was down to 7 doctors, doggone it!

Oh well, make it 8 again.

Lost Dog/Found Dog

Last Saturday, my sweet stepmom's son, Eddie, lost his truck and his house trailer in the tornado that ripped through Eagle Lake. On Sunday, Eddie's old dog, a 13 year old Sharpei mix, nosed his way out of the fenced in backyard that was his temporary home.

Eddie accepted the loss of his home and truck. They could be replaced. But Kelo could not. Calls were made to local vets, radio stations, and shelters in hopes that Kelo would be found. I called neighbors with a description and asked them to call my number if he turned up at one of their houses. People were praying that he would be found. But, nobody had seen Kelo.

Bill and I were driving home from a fundraiser for the fire damaged Bovina Cafe when, about a mile from home, we spotted a brownish looking dog with a wrinkly face walking down our street. We stopped immediately, and Bill tentatively approached the dog, made friends, and took hold of the dog's collar.

The only family number I had was for Eddie's sister in law. I immediately called it and asked if she and Eddie's wife could come see if this was, indeed, Kelo. As they drove up to where we were, both of these ladies broke out in big grins and gave the thumbs-up sign. We had found Eddie's old dog. Although stinky and hungry from almost a week of adventuring, Kelo was alive and unhurt.

Now Kelo is clean, fed, and reunited with his "Dad."

Kinda sounds like a country song. But this one had a happy ending.

Exhausted

Had it not been for TV and internet yesterday, I would not have had a clue. The sun was shining here and the day could not have been more beautiful.

But just a few miles north of Vicksburg, it was another story. A tornado skipped over Vicksburg, only to touch down in Eagle Lake. Eagle Lake is a beautiful spot and a number of people have weekend homes there. However, for several more, it is year-round "home."

One of these residents is my stepmom's oldest son. He was driving his truck when the tornado hit. When a tree fell on his truck, he escaped with only minor injuries by flattening himself across the passenger seat. His truck is a total loss, but fortunately, he will be OK. His trailer sports trees on the roof and it no longer has windows, but hopefully can be salvaged.

A little piece down the road, his stepdaughter, her husband, and two small children under 5 were saved by a visiting relative who came in, got them down on the floor, and covered the children's bodies with his own. Little Reed and Tucker are OK, thanks to quick thinking and action on this man's part.

Few people around here are not touched by this in some way. Many of us have friends and relatives in Yazoo City. Some of us had people traveling when this tornado hit. I am thankful that my dad had the presence of mind to stop in Kosciusko and find safe shelter. Choctaw County, where they were headed, was hit and people (including two children) killed.

I am still waiting for word of friends in Yazoo City. Phone lines are down and cell towers destroyed. Someone started a Facebook group to help us get information from that area.

The tension of yesterday, concerned about friends and loved ones in the storm's path has left me exhausted. Even today, I feel like I have been beat with the proverbial "ugly stick."

But, you can bet I am counting my blessings!

Accepted!

Yesterday I took a chance. Already planning to go to Jackson to celebrate the 48th birthday of my younger sister, I decided to stop in with some of my artwork at a nearby art gallery.

The gallery manager, Caitlin, graciously allowed me to leave three pieces to be evaluated by the gallery owner, Richard Mckey. I received an email today that all three pieces were accepted and I was asked to come in and sign paperwork allowing the sale of my work.

I have to admit, I am beyond excited. My work may not sell. But to have the distinction of being chosen to be shown is an honor in itself.

Of course, having a customer come in, fall in love with my work and buy it on the spot would be awfully nice. :)

http://fondrenartgallery.com/

Via Dolorosa

Unable to sleep after the Maundy Thursday service at my church, I found myself playing with the iMovie program on my iMac. Inspired by a few online friends who expressed a desire to hear me sing the "Via Dolorosa", I decided to see if I could make some sort of slide show to go with the track I recorded in Nashville a few years ago.

So, I searched the web for relevant pictures in the public domain, added the track, and after some fiddling and fussing, put it on YouTube. I have never "broadcast myself", so this was a first.

The response has totally amazed me, with 396 views of this video in the past two weeks. Not sure if this is what is called "viral", but I am humbled by the number of people who have taken the time to listen to this touching song.

The Show

The Vicksburg Art Association Spring Show opens tomorrow night. For this, my second art show, I have taken the risk of entering a series of watercolor paintings. These have been well received by artists (some of them professional) on my Flickr site and by my friends. I don't know if they will appeal to the art buying public here.

As my husband retires this week, I would love to be able to make some extra money with my art. My disability benefit is a blessing and I am thankful for it. But, public mental health counseling was not exactly a high paying job and my benefit is based on that.

So wish me a customer who likes "my" colors, has good taste, and wants to spend some money.

Jim

Although Jim was a few years older than me, our paths crossed a pretty good bit over the years. I mostly knew him from his playing percussion for church cantatas and little theatre productions.

Jim was also my mothers' pest control man. But he was more than that. He was her friend. Mama was chronically ill for the last 11 years of her life, often in severe pain, and had difficulty breathing. Jim would come spray the house and then sit with mom, have a glass of tea, and dish about the goings on in town.

Jim wore yet another hat. He was an EMT with the local fire department. On Christmas morning, 1990, Jim was driving the ambulance that responded to my daddy's 911 call when my mom could not be awakened.

The next day, the first person on my doorstep was Jim with the arms open to give me a hug and express his condolences on the death of my mother.

Jim was not perfect. He liked his alcohol. His marriages were not successful. He leaves a legacy of two pretty awesome teenage sons and memories of his kindness and compassion.

The last time I talked to Jim was a couple of weeks ago. He had called the house to talk to my husband about a coin he had found. He had been having some health problems, but was hanging in there.

Jim is in Heaven now, probably catching up with my mama and laying down a beat for the angels to dance to.

Rest in peace.

Via Dolorosa

After a week of waiting and wondering, it was finally decided that I will once again be able to sing the Via Dolorosa at my church during this Lenten season.

The Via Dolorosa (or Way of Suffering) is said to be the path that Jesus walked bearing His cross on the way to His crucifixion. The song, popularized by Sandi Patti, strives to put the listener into that scene.

I have been singing the Via Dolorosa in my church for at least 21 years. It has survived the comings and goings of 4 ministers now. People in the congregation come up to me in the weeks before I sing to tell me how much they are looking forward to it. And I get cards and letters afterwards from church members who are moved by the words and mood of this touching piece.

I know the day will come when I am no longer able to do this song justice. And I hope that I will have the grace to know when it is time for me to stop singing it. But I don't think that time has come. And, for that, I am thankful.

Retirement

After much agonizing, my husband of 26 years has decided to retire. I am alternately happy for him and terrified at the same time.

The nuclear plant where he has worked since before we married has afforded us a nice, secure living. By living a fairly simple lifestyle, saving for a rainy day, and giving back to church and charity, we have done well. Our house is small, but paid for. We have tried to make improvements that will last our lifetime and keep it fairly maintenance free.

But, this job is for younger men than my husband. The physical demands of working 12 hour rotating shifts is getting more difficult with each year. His job is physical enough to remind him that he is not 30 anymore. And the stress of being in the nuclear industry is crushing in and of itself. There is no room for error in this field!

Barring a catastrophe, we should be fine until we can tap the 401K. We will need to tighten our belts some. Even if he needs to work, he will not have to do anything nearly as stressful or demanding as his current job. We joke about getting him a job as a greeter at Wal-Mart.

We are going to have to set some ground rules. I am not cooking 3 meals a day. And he is going to have to let me have my afternoon nap! We are NOT watching the History Channel and Andy Griffith 24/7.

It is going to be an adjustment. Stay tuned.

David

Last Friday, I met an old High School classmate for lunch. I had not seen him since graduation, almost 33 years ago. Before the age of internet, cellphones, and cheap long distance, it was not always easy to keep up with people who went to schools in other cities.

David and I reconnected on Facebook, of all things, and Adam Lambert, of all people. This would not be that unusual, but David is a Catholic priest who has been assigned to Hong Kong for the past several years.

One of my memories of David involves painting in 8th grade art. He got an A+ on his painting. I received an "F."

Though born in Vicksburg, David was conceived in his mothers' native city of Hong Kong. His father was from a nearby province. Like many children of immigrants, David had a terrific work ethic and graduated 3rd in our class of 350.

Ironically, David and I both ended up getting Master's degrees in Counseling Psychology and woking in public mental health fields for a while. He surrendered to the tug of the priesthood, that he acknowledged had been in his heart since college, and became a Dominican priest at the age of 40.

David is in the states to meet with his Bishop and await his next assignment. He anticipates a return to Hong Kong as the Catholic church endeavors to create a strong Christian presence there before Hong Kong is incorporated back into China.

I plan to become a "Skyper" so that I can keep in touch with David if he returns to Hong Kong. Although he is happy to serve where he can make the most difference, I get the feeling he would like a little taste of home every now and then.

I wonder who my next random comment on Facebook might reconnect me with. Stay tuned!

The Coat

Yesterday it snowed in Mississippi. I am not talking about the occasional light dustings that barely cover the ground. This was real, almost 6 inches on the ground (by official reports), snow.

And it immediately brought back memories of the last time I saw snow like this. It was 1966, in Russum Mississippi. I was 7 years old, a tiny thing, and this snow came almost to my bony little knees.

I had recently been given my first really beautiful coat. It was a bright blue, with white fake fur trim. We were not well-to-do, so items like this were rare in my life.

Well, I went outside on that snowy day in 1966 and played to my heart's content. I went indoors to warm myself at the Panel-Ray heater on the bedroom wall. I toasted my front, then turned around to warm my back.

Sufficiently warmed, I turned away from the heater and heard my mother gasp. Unaccustomed to "fur", I had been standing too close to the heater. My lovely coat was singed all the way down the back in the pattern of the heater's grill.

So, it was back to "hand me down" cloth coats from cousins and garage sales. The next time I was able to have a new coat, I was 17 years old.

But, I still remember that magical snow in 1966. Good thing, as the memory had to last 43 years! And now I have a new one. The magical snow of 2010.

Alone

I went to the funeral home for a visitation today. I hugged the lady I used to work with as she sobbed on my shoulder. A few years ago, she lost her parents a day apart. Then, her sister. Last year, her only child, who was in his forties. Today, she was preparing to bury her husband of 43 years.

J married her husband when she was 15. She jokes that she got married because her parents told her she was too young to date. She had her child at 16.

J has never been alone. She was a "we" before she ever really became a "me." She was physically and emotionally dependent on her husband. I am concerned about her and am hoping that she will be able to make a life for herself now. It is not going to be easy.

Torn

Tomorrow is the Super Bowl. Many years I am not that into it because I don't have a favorite team playing. But, tomorrow, for the first time, I have not one, but TWO of my favorite teams playing.

Like many Mississippians, I grew up watching the Saints. Archie Manning, Ole Miss football star from Drew, Mississippi, was the one good player on a dismal team. Having a Mississippi boy as quarterback of a pro team was a source of pride when we did not seem to have that much to be proud of. The Saints are kinda like the Cubs for me. I root for them, but never expected much out of them. I don't think I ever expected them to play in a Super Bowl.

And they are playing my favorite quarterback and his team, the Colts. I admit it. I love Peyton Manning. I love to watch him play. I love his commercials. I love that I won't open the newspaper and see where he has been arrested. Most of all, I love the charity work that he and his family do for Mississippi.

Needless to say, I am torn. On one hand, a Saints win would do wonderful things for a New Orleans still struggling after Katrina. On the other hand, I would love to see Peyton further cement his legacy as one of the all time greats.

I am just hoping for an exciting game. And may the best team win.