I’m feeling better, physically. I’d say 95% “normal” on a good day. Most days, now.
That’s progress.
I’m walking two 5k’s this spring, and possibly another in the fall. Two and a half miles a day three times a week on the dreadmill. A little faster each time. (Have I mentioned how weak and soft I am all over? It’s taken this long to get from doing nothing to doing the treadmill with any regularity. And a little stretching. Perhaps a little lifting. I even attempt the occasional plank. The only way to convince me of anything is in baby steps.)
I’ll be starting a small home business come spring -hopefully.
Spring is on it’s way, right?
Seriously, Midwestern weather this year? We haven’t seen the ground here since before Christmas and the snow in places is up to one’s yi-yi. (Or yee-yee. However you spell it, it’s our aforementioned family friend Marge’s word for the crotch area. Carrying on…)
I feel strange now, not visiting here that often anymore. I suppose that means I’m venturing into normalcy. At the same time, though, something’s been nagging on me.
I hadn’t realized to what degree neurological issues affect people until I had the tumor. I’m not sure most people do. I was certainly aware of things like senility, Alzheimer’s and similar diseases. I knew people had car accidents and falls. Cancers, tumors. I knew all of these things took their toll and people suffered.
But I never really ‘knew- knew’, you know?
Since I first started exhibiting symptoms of my tumor in May of 2011 (severe symptoms, anyway), I’ve accumulated quite the collection of friends and associates who have since been affected by neurological problems.
One friend was in a car accident the June after I got sick. She and I share my neuro’s clinic, but we met at our kid’s school. She had all sorts of damage to her nervous system. Her back. Her memory. Brain damage. Seizures. She recently had yet another surgery to implant a device in her back to inhibit pain. (I’d attempt to remember the name of it, but I’d probably mangle it.)
The mom of one of my daughter’s friends shared with me (the Friday before I had my own surgery) that she had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor.
My uncle died of brain cancer in 2012, just a year after my diagnosis and surgery. I have since found out that one of my distant cousins (not blood) also has a brain tumor. (Unknown whether it’s benign or not as of this point.)
Yesterday, while I was scrolling through my Facebook feed, I happened upon a picture of one of my Facebook friend’s pictures – with a line of staples in her head. She’s in her early 20’s and I hadn’t ‘seen’ her online in a while. I had just thought she had either gotten bored with Facebook or was busy with college or work or all of it. As it turns out, the picture was of a follow-up operation she had to have to readjust a screw in her plate following a car accident in 2012. Another friend with brain damage.
*deep breath*
I know there have been more, and I know once I remember I’ll regret not adding them….
All of this has just been since my symptoms started. The list doesn’t include my mom’s neighbor, who had a pituitary tumor removed about 4 years ago, or her other neighbor who has Alzheimer’s. It doesn’t include my husband’s grandma, who, over 20 years ago, succumbed to Alzheimer’s herself. Or all of our family friend’s who have suffered strokes over the years…
How much does it take people to care? For the average person to take steps to find different, natural (perhaps more effective and less toxic) cures, to remove manmade toxins from our environments and food (even if it’s just in your personal home)? To look outside of ‘what everyone else does’ and maybe step outside the conventional box to find answers? It took a tumor for me just to notice. And honestly, I’m not that good at paying attention myself or practicing what I preach. Even now.
Don’t mind me. Just on my soapbox.
Prism Balance: My Pile of Good Things 