To hell and back.

In 2012, I started doing something that has proved to be incredibly valuable (and that I recommend everyone start doing immediately).  In my Paperless list app on my iPhone, I started keeping a list I called "Wonderful Things 2012".  On it, I put all the significant and insignificant things that made my life better, or made me happy in some way.  Things as little as a movie I loved, or as big as moving into a new home.  A heartfelt and very emotional conversation I had with my best friend, reaching a big career milestone, new friends I made, trips to the beach, anything that enriched my life in some way.  At the end of the year, I looked back on it, and felt profoundly grateful for all the blessings that had come into my life.  So rather than waiting til late in the year to start one this year, I started it at the beginning of the year., and then just sat back and waited for things to put on it.  Then something happened late January that would set the tone for what has arguably been one of the most challenging and difficult years of my life, that I thought would rob me of even one thing to put on my Wonderful Things 2013 list.  And after months of not knowing whether or not to share any of this, I've decided I will.  Not because I'm looking for sympathy or pity or anything else, but because I've come out the other side of it better than I had hoped was possible at many points.  There are lots of people in my life who have yet to know the whole story about this, and I definitely didn't want anyone else asking me how things were while I was still in the middle of it.  But I'm not anymore.  So here goes.

I was getting ready to leave the house to go to the Wonderful Wedding Show in late January with my oldest friend in the world (who got married last month!).  I bent over to pick up my coat, and felt this huge jolt of pain down my right leg that actually made me cry out.  I've had a questionable back for several years now, but I'd never felt anything like this before.  It was like electricity that occasionally got turned up with no rhyme or reason.  I told myself I'd walk it off over the course of the day.  But it got worse and worse, and by the end of the day, I was desperate to get home and get off my feet.  I don't remember sleeping that night, the pain was so foreign and strange.  I decided before sunrise to take a cab to the Urgent Care down the street from me (it's literally 2 blocks away, but I knew I couldn't drive safely in my pain-addled stupor, and I wasn't capable of walking more than a few feet.)  In situations like this, it's usually a curse to be a nurse because your brain automatically panics and goes to Worst Case Scenario.  In this case, my foot was cold, pale, pulseless, the sensation was off, and I was convinced I had a DVT and needed vascular surgery. Like immediately.  It turned out I didn't have a DVT, but the doctor there couldn't tell me exactly what was wrong, but she thought it might be my sciatic nerve, so she referred me for an MRI, and gave me a couple of prescriptions.  This turn of events sent me to a new chiropractor, an acupuncturist, and resulted in my being away from work a LOT.  In nursing, we use something called a Pain Assessment Scale.  We ask patients to rate their pain on a scale from 0-10, 0 obviously being no pain, 10 being the worst pain you could imagine.  My pain for the first 6 months of this year fluctuated between about a 5 or 6 at best, up to a 10+ at its worst (although it kept finding a way to top itself). It was never gone, not even for a minute.  It was like my shadow.

Critical mass occurred in June and would result in my sitting in the Emergency Room with my mother for 14 hours.  I had got my MRI results back, stating I had 2 extruded discs in my spine that had completely displaced a nerve (not my sciatic as it turned out) that runs all the way down my leg, and basically been told by 2 different doctors that it would "resolve itself". I was in so much pain this particular day I could barely dress myself, taking a shower was out of the question, and I couldn't sit up for more than a couple of minutes at a time.  I remember my mother bringing me lunch in bed and having to eat it laying on my stomach, saying "This has got to be the lowest point yet."  It got so bad that I couldn't mentally or physically cope with the pain any more, and I told my mom we had to go to the ER.  Things were clearly not resolving themselves.  The doctor I saw in ER was the first one I had seen this year (apart from my chiropractor) who I felt took it seriously and seemed to understand just what this was costing me.  He told me no acute intervention was required, and gave me different pain medications.  They actually worked, and I could say my pain was reduced to a 3 or 4.  I actually slept.  My mother went home.  I wasn't in the debilitating pain I was, but I wasn't really able to do much of anything either. My endurance was gone.  I tried going back to work at just 4 hours at a time to start, but it was exhausting. I'd come home and collapse into bed and sleep the rest of the day.  I had no idea how I'd ever get back to working 12 hour shifts again.  I felt stuck.  And I was still on a LOT of medication, which I was deeply uncomfortable with.  The longer I was on them, the more sure I felt that I was going to have to accept that this was my life.  Pills, and pain, and barely being able to make it through things.  I was starting to lose hope, and feel like....what was the point.  If I couldn't work and this was how I was going to feel all the time, what was the purpose of my life?  And because I was thinking this way, I started to deeply fear developing what is commonly known as a "Chronic Pain Personality", a medically ambiguous term that describes a patient who tends to be difficult to deal with because of the level of pain they experience on a daily basis, and our inability in the medical community to control it.  The Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory describes the most common personality characteristics of those with chronic pain as "neurotic, demanding, complaining, and exaggerative of body feelings."  Not pleasant. So I made a choice.  I wasn't going to let this defeat me entirely or take any more from me than it already had. Every day I started trying to find something to be grateful for, even if it was just a snuggle with the cat, or a nice text from a friend.  I was determined not to slide into insufferability.  I would not dig myself into a hole of isolation and misery.



Pill bottle graveyard.  This was what it took to get through this year.
Plus countless bottles of OTC ibuprofen, naproxen and Robaxacet.
 

The turning point then came in the form of my angel WCB worker, Anita, sending me for a physiotherapy assessment.  They recommended I be taken off work again for about 6 weeks to work on a reconditioning program 5 days per week.  I was relieved and excited, and almost kind of desperate too, because if this didn't work, then I'd be out of options.  Plus I knew I was hugely deconditioned and weak and that this was going to be a LOT of work.  But deep down I felt like it was going to work.  It was going to be worth it.  And it was.  I started working with a kinesiologist named Lindsay, for about an hour and a half, every single day.  It hurt, it exhausted me, but slowly it started to work.  My core got stronger and started to stabilize, and the pain was subsiding on less and less medication.  And when 6 weeks were up and it was time for me to go back to work, I could do it without passing out at the end of just 4 hours.  My hours advanced from 4 to 6 to 8 to 10, and as of about 10 days ago, I am back to work full for 12 hour shifts, and my life is essentially back to normal.  I still do my workouts 2-3 times a week, but mostly on my own, with occasional guidance from Lindsay. 

I have these moments of clarity every once in a while, when I'll do something that I'll realize was impossible 6 months ago.  Something as simple as picking up the laundry, or cooking a meal, or getting my socks on.  I had once such moment in the shower last week (the gravity of which I'm sure threw my partner who was shaving at the time for a total loop).  I recalled trying to shower before going to the ER and ending up on my hands and knees in tears after less than a minute of standing on the sloping floor of the tub.  And as I stood there last week, under the hot water, having a glorious time, I realized things have gotten so much better than I ever thought would be possible again.  And that made me realize how close I had come to giving up entirely.  Sure, the sensation in my foot will probably never be the same again (it's still pretty numb/pins & needlesy), but it's just my foot, not my whole leg, it doesn't affect my balance, and it's a small price to pay for getting my life back.  I've had some considerable support to get to this point obviously.  First and foremost from my mother, who listened to me cry and whine and yell and curse, as often as I needed to, whenever I needed to.  Who came and took such good care of me, with such immense patience and generosity.  My chiropractor Dr. Cooper, who listened to my unfiltered raging and despair up to 3 times a week, and never lost his patience or level headedness with me.  Anita from WCB, who never stopped trying to find ways to help me. And Lindsay, my determined and chin-up kinesiologist, who never allowed me to give up on myself or cheat myself out of a full recovery.  These are the kinds of people you need around you in times like those.  Who support you, and lift you, but ultimately get you to determine your own course and take responsibility for yourself.  And if you can find at least one thing every day to be grateful for, no matter how seemingly trivial, it makes all the difference in the world.  I promise.


"If you are going through hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill

Tragedy sure does bring out the worst in some people....

This past week, Winnipeg has been shaken to its core by a horrible event in Westwood.  The details of exactly what happened will likely never be known, but the inescapable facts are that 32 year old mother Lisa Gibson, and her 2 children, 3 months and 18 months, are dead.  Her children were found in the home in critical condition, but didn't survive the trip to hospital, and Lisa Gibson disappeared for the next 3 days, until sadly her body was pulled from a nearby river.  As tragic and awful and heartbreaking as these circumstances are, what is equally as unfortunate has been some of the public reaction.  Immediately, the assumption seemed to be made that Gibson was some kind of monster who had murdered her children and run off to escape the law. The only mention of her husband at ALL to this point has been to say he was "notified at work." It never seemed to be publicly considered that Gibson herself might also be a victim in this scenario, or in danger from someone apart from herself.  Following closely on the heels of the "heartless murderer" theory, the assumption came that Gibson was suffering from postpartum depression and/or psychosis.  Facebook and the Winnipeg Free Press website have been overrun with comments such as "hopefully they find this horrible woman so those little angels can rest in peace" until the Free Press shut down comments on the story entirely.  Facebook is not so easily censored.  I came across a Facebook comment this morning that absolutely incensed me (I will not be identifying the commenter, as they are a friend of a friend): "My heart aches for the children she murdered. I have little sympathy for their mother, regardless of her inner anguish and mental state. May God have mercy on her soul.  The depth of her illness must have been unfathomable to make her do what she did. Depression explains her actions but it does not excuse them."  Clearly this individual has no understanding of "inner anguish" or depression if they feel she was in control of her actions to the point of willingly harming her children. 

The public understanding of this awful condition is clearly quite poor.  It's precisely attitudes such as these that cause women suffering during the postpartum period to remain silent and not reach out for help.  The stigma of feeling like a "bad mother" can be overwhelming, and there exist few open and supportive resources for women going through this. (Note: A girl I attended university with has begun a program to address this need. Such important work.)  Being afflicted by postpartum depression/psychosis is no more the fault of the sufferer than someone being diagnosed with leukemia.  I haven't seen society shame people with leukemia into not seeking help for their illness lately. I haven't seen anyone angrily blaming a leukemia patient for the effects of their undiagnosed and untreated illness lately.  And people may say "Well it's their fault for not getting help", but depression can be far too hard to see out of to even recognize help is needed (as with mental illness in general),  never mind when you feel like you're failing as a parent, and psychosis is....well....psychotic.  Not exactly prescriptions for rational, help-seeking behaviours.

Yvette Nicole Brown said something very poignant in regards to the Trayvon Martin case, but that I feel is so perfectly applicable here: "If your fellow man is going through something, and you can't support, comprehend, sympathize, or empathize, respectful silence is your next best choice."  And this awful tragedy has certainly shown that support and empathy in particular seem to be in short supply.  Hopefully the people that loved Lisa Gibson and her children can find some peace, and a way to shut out all rhetoric they certainly don't need at a time like this.

For Dr. Henry Morgentaler.

The news is beginning to spread that Canadian abortion activist and pioneer Dr. Henry Morgentaler passed away this morning at the age of 90.  Unlike some of his American compatriots, he was afforded the luxury of a long life, and one that should be celebrated.  I would like to share a piece of writing I did in 2008 about Dr. Morgentaler as he was about to receive the Order of Canada. I don't currently possess words any better to express my feelings about him and the work he's done.

" Dr. Henry Morgentaler has changed what it means to be a woman in Canada, and in my opinion, for the better.   I have always been shocked to know that abortion in Canada has only been fully legal only TWENTY years.  Dr. Morgentaler was hugely instrumental in legalizing this procedure and giving women a safe, dignified choice when unwanted pregnancy occurred.  Prior to this, women had to go to unqualified, back alley quacks, and often died of massive infection or hemorrhage.  Dr. Morgentaler reasoned that since women were going to attempt abortion whether or not it was legal, it was morally and ethically responsible to provide it in a knowledgeable, sterile manner.  This past week there has been a huge amount of controversy as to whether or not this man deserves to receive the Order of Canada.  A small, but incredibly vocal minority seem to feel he is a murderer and that Canada is somehow condoning murder.  Clearly this is not the case.  According to the law, the fetus is just that.  A fetus.  Not a person.  Thus the termination of same constitutes a medical procedure, not murder.  An egg is not a chicken.  A blueprint is not a building.  This is a stipulation that has both positive and negative implications, but one that must be black and white to avoid setting a dangerous precedent.

 

The lives he has saved both literally and figuratively are immeasurable in number.  Dr. Morgentaler believes every child should be a wanted child, and that carrying through with unwanted pregnancies and raising unwanted children is contributing to the general downfall of society.  He says “Well-loved children grow into adults who do not build concentration camps, do not rape and do not murder” (He himself is a survivor of Auschwitz).  I have always felt that with the reproductive and adoption options available today, there is no reason for any child to be raised in a household where they are not wanted, valued and cherished.  When you are pregnant, and have made the decision to continue with it, in my mind, you are making the commitment to be the best parent you are capable of being, and if you are not able to make this commitment you shouldn’t even consider raising a child.

As a woman growing up in a different era from my mother, with different options available to me, I cannot fathom what life used to be like for women who found themselves "in trouble", annd I know it is as a result of this man that this is a reality I will never know.  I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge an incredible human being for his hard work, dedication, and substantial sacrifice to a cause that makes an invaluable difference to women in this country every single day.  I can think of no contribution that makes an individual more deserving of the Order of Canada."

 

Froth and frills. You know...nothing that matters :)

2 weekends ago, my bff and I headed out to see a movie. It's a bit of a slow time for movies, so we settled on Jack the Giant Slayer (which turned out to be in 3D!). Visually, it was amazing. Content wise....meh. It was a movie. Not great, not terrible.  The plot was a little thin, the characters fairly undeveloped.  We sat there as the credits rolled, and pondered what the cost of making this kind of movie must have been.  So we looked it up on Wikipedia.  The budget for Jack the Giant Slayer was $195 million.  3 weeks in, it's only made $92 million worldwide (I'm not saying $92 million isn't a lot of money, I'm saying it still represents a $103 million dollar loss).  We couldn't help but speculate, having seen the movie, who the target audience was supposed to be....It was far too scary to take small children to, and while I could be way off base on this, I don't think adults have been clamouring for a big screen interpretation of Jack & the Beanstalk.  It doesn't have the cult-type following of say, Alice in Wonderland or The Wizard of Oz (which, with a budget of $215 million, in 2 weeks has already made $292 million), where lots of adults would see it regardless.  It was just a little perplexing, I guess....

I don't know why more people haven't been talking about it/watching it, but Fox (of all things) has turned out one of the most amazing shows on network television in...a long, long time.  The Following comes on on Monday nights, stars Kevin Bacon (a man weasel-like in appearance, but with the most striking eyes ever), and is IN-CREDIBLE.  It's a serial, so you do need to watch from the beginning, but it's definitely worth getting into.  The characters are amazingly complex, and you're nearly always left not knowing how to feel.  There are periods of the show where EVERY episode has the tension and excitement of a season finale. I don't know how long a show like it can be sustained, but probably at least 2-3 seasons. I definitely recommend it.

I was re-watching Django Unchained the other day, and considering Christoph Waltz's Oscar win for same.  While his performance really is fantastic, it strikes me that his character is pretty much the same keel the whole way through the movie.  And in lots of ways, bears striking resemblance to his other Oscar winning role in Inglorious Basterds.  Amusing, composed, devious, tongue-in-cheek guy.  Leonardo diCaprio, on the other hand, gave what I thought was an incredibly moving, exciting and unpredictable performance, and wasn't even nominated.  I mean, you'll never see him in a movie and think his acting was weak.  But I thought this was one of the better performances I've ever seen him give....(just to mention, this clip has some language in it...depending on your definition of "language")

Several years ago, Scruples stopped making the spray I used to straighten my hair.  This was a bummer because I have preternaturally thick AND oily hair, so it takes me a solid hour to straighten it out, and it tends to get insufferably oily by the next day.  The Scruples was the only product I'd tried that didn't make the problem worse.  So I began a long and arduous search for a new product, and after frustrating the gals at Chatters to no end and making several returns, I settled on KMS Flatout Hot Pressed Spray.  And I've been using it ever since.  But at $17 for 7 oz, it's slightly pricey.  On a whim a couple of weeks ago, I picked up Tresemme Keratin Smooth Heat Protection Shine Spray at Walmart for like...$4-5 for 8 oz.  And honestly, it's amazing.  Like better than the KMS.  It leaves your hair crazy soft and shiny without making it greasy.  I rarely find recommendations for drugstore brands to "replace" salon or name brands to be very credible, but I completely stand behind this one (however, NEVER bother with Tresemme's dry shampoo. It's awful. Suave makes a superior one.)

By the by, I think Kate Middleton is having a boy.

My most recent obsession has become the British annual TV event Big Fat Quiz of the Year.  It's hosted by Jimmy Carr, and is basically a panel quiz show about the year's events.  As I have been laid up recently, I've had all kinds of time to just catch up on stuff I didn't know I was behind on!  Last year's was hilarious (Jack Whitehall and James Corden = fantastic), but any year that has Russell Brand and Noel Fielding is classic.  Jonathan Ross is nowhere near as funny as he thinks he is.

To finish out a very shallow posting, I will leave you with the new Fall Out Boy single, which is already a frontrunner for my favorite song of 2013.  I don't know where they've been but I'm glad they're back :)  The video's not great, the song is gold.

"Don't be afraid of missing opportunities.  Behind every failure is an opportunity somebody wishes they had missed." - Lily Tomlin

"Hippos" and emeralds and puppies, oh my!

Hello beautiful flowers.  I know it's been a long time since I've posted.

Last week, in reviewing Melissa McCarthy and Jason Bateman's new movie Identity Thief, Rex Reed of the New York Observer, managed to work in a number of personal attacks on McCarthy's appearance, that were swiftly rubuked as being cruel, unfair and unneccesary.  And they should have been. Calling an actress doing a job "hippo" and "tractor-sized", among other things, is totally unacceptable and disgusting.  When Jennifer Aniston or Katherine Heigl churn out another of their cringe-inducing romantic "comedies", is their physical appearance a focal point of the reviews?  No.  Nor should it be. Melissa McCarthy doesn't seem to have a problem playing her size for laughs.  That's her prerogative, but it's her call.  Now Rex Reed has the gall to attempt to defend his remarks, but basically comes off as a concern troll, purporting to point these "observations" out for the good of McCarthy's health and all of his very, very serious concerns regarding obesity.  He then has the audacity to pat himself on the back for the movie's decent opening weekend performance, saying his comments are what got butts in the seats, and that McCarthy remaining silent on his bullshit comments shows she's "completely classy."  Melissa McCarthy is aware she's a woman of size.  She's constantly being asked about it, and is constantly forced to publicly acknowledge it.  She doesn't need some small-minded asshole feigning concern about her health as an excuse to take potshots at her.  There are so few people of size successfully working in Hollywood as anything other than "jolly best friend" or "supporting character obsessed with food".  Can we not, as the media-consuming public, just let a few of them have their careers AND their dignity?? Does it have to be one or the other?  I don't think so.  This season on SNL, a comedian named Aidy Bryant joined the cast as a feature player, and while she's a larger woman, they don't play that for laughs, or even acknowledge it as being "different". She simply is given material as any other cast member.  And it doesn't even look difficult!

Last year I took exception to Pantone's declaration of tangerine as Color of the Year for 2012.  It was all for naught, as I never saw it anywhere.  This year's choice of emerald, in my opinion, is far superior.  Not JUST because I look ravishing in green, even if it's not my favorite.

As is my habit, I watched the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show again this year.  And I loved it like I do every year.  One of these days I really ought to get myself a small dog and a pantsuit and practice my slow run.  Anyways...this year's winner was a spunky little Affenpinscher named....wait for it... Banana Joe.  Jeebus.  If that isn't the best name ever, I don't know what is.  His handler was clearly thrilled and said some adorable things like "You don't train an Affenpinscher, you befriend him."  I adore photos that personify love, and this (in my opinion) is one of them :)

This was the first year Jack Russell terriers were shown, and oh my.  Cute city.

Anyways, that's about all right now...Hope you all have a wonderful week, thank you for reading :)


"Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself." - Leo Tolstoy