Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Sick Humor: A Little LOLcat Humor

funny pictures - MEDS
see more Lolcats and funny pictures, and check out our Socially Awkward Penguin lolz!

Life's Little Irritations

Yes, I still hate my neighbor's dog.  In fact it woke me up several times today and then woke my husband up at 11:30pm.  They just don't get it but the dog isn't why I'm writing today.

This post is about an irritation that I didn't see coming.  And it irritated me way out of proportion to the actual act.  I'm mean I've been ruminating about it ALL day and has prompted me to write this post.

I got a call from a nurse working for my health insurance company.  Since I just got picked up again after winning my LTD case, I'm suddenly back on their radar again.  I think of her as my health care case manager.  She has called to help me manage my doctors, specialists, meds, self help, etc.  She started out by asking me what my diagnosis are.  My glib reply went something like "I have CFS and Fibromyalgia so unless someone comes up with a cure I'm kind of screwed."  Of course she had some polite mollifying answer, which would have made me feel like a heel if I said anything mean.  She then asked me about my docs.  Who I was seeing.  If I was happy with them.  Then on to meds and supplements.  She didn't understand what I was taking and why I was taking it.  Yes, CFS is a weird illness and I take meds for off label uses in strange doses.  Of course she asked if I could take Cymbalta for the fibro, which is a huge no.  Which got us onto my list of med allergies.  She then moved on to compliance.  Was I taking my meds?  Did I miss doses?  What can we do to help me take them more regularly?  At this point I was getting tired and a little pissed off.  

I mean look, I've been dealing with this on my own for going on 16 months now.  I've had to spend over $15,000 to prove to the insurance companies that I'm sick.  I've also had to apply to SSD on my own.  My husband wants nothing to do with the management of my illness so I have to deal with all appointments and meds on my own.  And now I even have to figure out how to get there by myself.  So forgive me lady if I'm a little miffed when you get all up in my business regarding my dosing schedule for the myriad of pills I have to take every day.  No I don't carry a cell phone  so I can use an app to remind me.  No I don't wear a watch with an alarm.  No I'm not putting post-it notes on my bathroom mirror.  No my pill reminder isn't big enough to hold all the meds I have to take every day.  What I have done is line the bottles up in three rows, morning, afternoon and evening.  I've written the dose on the cap so I don't have to read the directions every time.  This pretty much works for me except on bad neuro days where I'm lucky enough to get upright so I can go pee never mind remember when I took my last dose of hydrocortisone.  So forgive me if I'm a little snitty when you call me up out of the blue with your "helpful" suggestions.

This whole thing has really irked me.  I'm having to educate her about my illness and meds over the phone and she is trying to get me to manage my illness better.  What I really want to do is tell her off and hang up.  However, she is very nice and trying to be helpful.  I'm being snotty and really resentful of her trying to help.  I should be grateful but it is still bugging the crap out of me.  Where the hell was she last year when we were trying to figure this out and I had a crappy virologist?  Where was she this past spring when I finally got my diagnoses?  Now she is going to call me next week to go over something else on her corporate check list.  Just wait until we get to the exercise portion.  What are the odds I loose it and hang up on her?  I bet I go down in her notes as uncooperative, unruly and not open to suggestions.  Lady come to my house for a week or at least read up on CFS before telling me how I can improve the management of my illness.  Unless you are going to send an aide over here to actually help out, you can piss off.

Hopefully I'll calm down a bit before next week's call on pacing.  Haha.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Batten Down the Hatches

This is my first big storm since getting sick.  Prep work landed squarely in my husband's lap.  He decided that the storm was no big deal and he wasn't going to do anything about it.  Hence we have some food and supplies but not a lot.  We have a gas grill and lots of propane so we can cook if we loose power.  If I were mobile I would have purchased a few more items.  Nothing is packed.  An emergency bag is not put together.  We aren't in a flood area or even expect tons of rain.  We are getting high winds though.  The chance of large trees falling are high.  The chance of things becoming air borne are high.  Hubby did put the patio furniture away and picked up the loose wood lying around the yard but our neighbors haven't.  The back of my house is all windows and one of my skylights has been cracked for months.  This could get ugly.

Growing up on Cape Cod we have both lived through many of these warning only to have nothing develop.  I remember one storm when I was a kid when we were under voluntary evacuation and my dad refused to leave the house.  Of course he was drunk at the time.  Luckily nothing happened except a lot of rain.

I am hoping that it will again be nothing.  I am worried about my son.  He decided to visit a friend in NH and now he is stuck there.  He has never been through a hurricane before.  He thinks he can drive home tomorrow.  He has no idea.  I'm guessing he will be stuck there until Monday at the earliest.  The eye won't even be in MA until 5pm tomorrow and then it moves in to NH where he is.  He won't be able to drive at all.  I hope he isn't stupid enough to try.  So I'm crossing my fingers and watching lots of Netflix in the meantime.  Wish me and my son luck.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Trip to the CFS Doctor

I went to see my two CFS docs on Monday.  This is partly the cause of my week long crash.  I figured if I had to make a 45 minute car trip I might as well see both of them at once.

Doc #1
This is the diet/infusion doc at the Marino Center.  He is the one that sent me to the nutritionist for the elimination diet (see Diet From Hell) that made me crash for over a month.  This was my first visit back with him since then.  First we went over some lab tests I had done months ago (I have been avoiding him since spring).  Turns out I am free from any yeast or fungal infections.  Which kind of shocked me since I've had some sort of skin rash going for over a year now.  I figured I was full of yeast or fungal overgrowth or both.  But I have neither.  Yeah!!  Small but significant victory.  I won't have to go through hell to kill off the little beasties.

Second we discussed my horrible reaction to the diet.  We decided that my body isn't getting rid of toxins very well.  He needs to get my body functioning better before we try detoxing again.  So I am now supposed to schedule three glutathione infusions.  I will get one a week for three weeks at increasing dosages each week.  We'll see how I do with these and then decide where to go from there.  If they work and I feel better, then a very gentle and controlled detox will be done.

He tweaked my supplement regimen to increase my anti-inflammatories and we ran out of time.

Doc #2
This guy is my primary CFS doc until I see Dr. Komaroff in October.  We went over the same lab tests and also the blood work my regular primary doc ran on me the week prior.  We went over supplements again with some more tweaking.  Then discussed the steroids.  He upped the dose again.  I'm now at 20mg/day but we spent a lot of time figuring out the proper dosing schedule.  He hadn't realized that I was nocturnal and I was taking the pills at the wrong time of day.  He also put me on fish oil so that I could stop taking the Fenofibrate my regular doc put me on.  The stuff gave me horrible chest pain from heartburn so I wasn't taking it daily like I was supposed to anyway.

He did the usual weight and blood pressure check on me.  We talked about my mobility.  He was glad I had a walker so that I wasn't totally restricted to the wheelchair to get around.  More exercise.  Hah, he doesn't know I don't make it past the end of my driveway with the thing.

Then he sent me off for more blood work.  He is checking my magnesium level again.  Apparently my regular doc checked serum levels (blood level) and not cellular level.  Serum level only tells you how much of it got from my stomach into the blood not how much the cells are actually using.  He also checked my B12 again and something else that I've forgotten already.  I still haven't got my test results back.  It takes longer for these guys since the tests are out of the ordinary and have to be sent half way across the country.

Anyway, the action plan is for me to do the infusions, increase my steroid dosage and carefully watch for a reaction, and alter my supplement dosing.  On wards and hopefully upwards.  And I still hate fish burbs!!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Yet Another CFS Crash...

I over did it Saturday.  A trip to the farmer's market (I got my first raw milk swiss cheese lump and OMG it is wonderful!!!).  Lunch at the diner with hubby.  Took a shower.  Made dinner.  A road trip to an ice cream stand 45 minutes away in hubby's truck.

I was useless Sunday.  Hubby had a fit and was all grumpy and angry.  Kid had to make dinner.

Monday I was doing a bit better but an hour trip to the CFS doctor, two appointments and a blood draw later and I was toast again.

Slept ten hours last night.  Did almost nothing today just caught up on a bit of correspondence.  Nothing taxing.  Hubby drove me out to dinner and I used the chair so no walking.  Lots of Netflix.  I'm almost feeling normal again.

Why do I do this?  I'm trying to please my husband.  I know I'm going to crash but I push myself anyway.  For some reason I seem to be delusional and try to push my way through my good days.  I know this costs me.  I know I'l pay for it.  But I try to make him happy.  I over exert myself to keep peace in the household.  It doesn't work because I literally can't get up or walk the following day and then he gets really pissed.  But this isn't working for me.  I'm also scared I'm making myself sicker in the process.  I'm already feeling like I want a month off.  No appointments.  No trips.  No housework.  Nothing to do but sit in the sun and pet the cats.  Despite my total aversion to conflict I'm going to have to have a sit down with hubby and discuss this little problem.  I can't keep doing this.  He can't keep getting angry.  I do stuff I shouldn't to try and keep him calm.  This isn't working.  It has to stop. This is going to be a good topic for discussion with my shrink tomorrow.

Friday, August 19, 2011

The Meditation Challenge: Day One part two

The three questions:

  1. Who am I?
  2. What do I want?
  3. What is my dharma?
During meditation these answers came to me:
  1. A soul born into an imperfect body.
  2. Peace and happiness.
  3. .....

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Meditation Challenge: Day One

I signed up for an on line 21 day meditation challenge through the Chopra Center.  I'm already behind several days.  I'm supposed to be on day 4 and I've only done the pre-challenge exercise.  This post is part of the Day One challenge.  I want to write about it here since it is so interwoven with CFS.

Here is my assignment:
"Before we meditate today, let's begin by asking ourselves Who am I? How do I define myself? By my experiences, interactions, friends, lovers, or loved ones? By my past, accomplishments, or dreams? Do I define myself by my affiliations, behaviors, or habits? By my body, appearance, or physical abilities or limitations? By my mind, intellect, education, awards, or degrees?"

I've already written about this a little bit.  If you use the tag cloud, hit "who am I" for prior related posts.  Illness has cast me adrift with regards to who I am.  It is too early in the CFS cycle to know if I am going to be one of the lucky ones that recover in 5 years or if I am going to be stuck like this for decades.  I'm totally resisting labeling myself as chronically ill.  I think this is in large part due to my husband having one foot out the door and I'm worried that if anything hints that this is a forever thing he is going to take off on me.

But I digress, who am I.  I know who I used to be.  Going by the above list I used to be:

  • An accomplished adult figure skater that had passed three tests and won two medals in competition.  I was on track for the USFS Adult National Competition in a couple more years.
  • I was one of the few highly accomplished fiber optic splicer on the east coast.  I understood fiber and could splice together complicated optic circuits that no one at my work place could duplicate.
  • One of my scientific papers had been published and I gave a couple of successful talks.  One of which was later used as a training video.
  • I was a mother that put the brakes on my career so that my kid would be able to have a healthy happy childhood.
  • I am a graduate of Mount Holyoke College.  I'm smart even though my GPA wasn't spectacular.  While I am very good at calculus, I stink at foreign languages.
  • I was happily married for twenty years.  This last year has been a bit of a struggle though.
  • I was best friends with my husband for 25 years.  We are still working on getting back to that point.
  • I come from a dysfunctional alcoholic household.  It took me years to sort myself out.  I was saved by the love of my husband, a good therapist and converting to Buddhism.
  • I was born in England and grew up on Cape Cod.  I still have sand in my shoes and am most relaxed when I'm near water.  
  • I was just getting my career back in gear when I got sick.  My son was about to leave for college and some opportunities were starting to present themselves for me to move up in the work place.  Management was taking an active interest in my work and were giving me more challenging assignments.  I was looking forward to the new work and a possible promotion.
  • At the same time I was contemplating retiring in five years and possibly moving to Santa Fe.  That would depend upon multiple factors, chiefly how my new assignments went and how my husband's business was doing.
  • While I'm good at art and music, I'm not very creative.  I can mimic and copy but not dream up bizzare novel things.  I'm better at putting odd ideas together in new useful ways.
  • I'm fantastic at research.  I'm a true Renascence man: I'm a serial specialist.  I get interested in a subject and read everything I can on it until I understand it pretty well.  I then loose interest and move on to the next subject.  This cycle is typically two years to four years.
  • Some areas I've delved into over the years include: finance, gardening, gourmet and vegetarian cooking, nutrition, yoga, figure skating, weight lifting, landscape design and currently CFS.
  • I've been a member of Toastmasters, United States Figure Skating Association, Backyard Gardeners, W. Climate Action Project and a national association via work that I can't remember the name of right now.
  • I've been over weight since puberty.  I've only gotten near my ideal weight twice and that required me to be in the gym three hours a day six days a week.  Something that isn't attainable as a married working mother.
  • I eat pretty healthy organic wholesome food.  A far stretch from the SAD diet.  
So in summary: I was a smart, active, married, working mom that had a satisfying work and home life.

Now I'm not sure what I am.  Mostly I feel in limbo.  Like I said in my last post I live in the In Between.  I can't work.  I can't exercise.  I can't mom.  I can't wife.  Mostly I'm waiting.  Not sure for what.  A cure?  A miraculous recovery?  My old life back?  My old husband back?  (I miss him)  I'm waiting for something to get a bit better/easier.  I certainly can't do much.  I'm thinking of tinkering with my diet again but I'm limited with being unable to shop or some days even to cook.  I'm waiting to see my two CFS docs.  I'm waiting for a tip table test.  I'm waiting to recover from my Maine trip.  I'm waiting for someone to visit to break up the monotony.  I'm not happy with my days.  They are long and lonely.  Not that I could do anything.  Staving off boredom is the hardest thing with long term illness.  The days start to run together only broken up with visits to the doctor and crash days.  It all gets muddled together somehow and the boredom seems to overshadow everything.   I'm really not dealing very well with being sick.  Probably because I'm fighting it.  I can't move forward because I'm in denial.  I keep thinking I'll get better if I just behave.  If I just rest enough.  If I just eat the right foods.  If I see the right doctor.  If I take the right meds.

So I wait.  And I'm still fat.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

The In Between

I always seem to find myself stuck in the In Between.  It is the space between events where time slows to a stop and it seems like it will never move forward again.

I woke up this morning and it is In Between sun and rain.  I can feel it in my joints.  It is no longer going to be sunny for at least one day if not several.  My back aches and I'm lathargic and slightly depressed.  All I want to do is lie in bed but the pain finally forces me to get up.  I can no longer tolerate lying in my super squishy bed.

I'm at home by myself.  Waiting.  It is In Between my son living here and moving out.  He is off in his new used car loving his new found freedom.  He is supposed to move his things out tomorrow but he hasn't even packed yet.

I am also In Between my husband being home from work and going back to work.  He has gone to a car show in Connecticut and I find myself at home alone.  He is coming back early because of the rain.  Apparently it is already falling there.

My depression lifts slightly after breakfast.  Some of it must have been due to low blood sugar.  However some of it remains.  I am In Between lives.  I can no longer work and skate but I haven't... no, I can't admit I'm going to be sick for a long time.

I'm bored and don't know what to do with myself. I'm In Between projects.  For the last six months I've been trying to prove to the insurance company that I'm sick.  With that accomplished I haven't discovered my next project yet.  It should be trying to get well but I feel somewhat hopeless on that front.  I want to cook all of my own food from scratch from organically raised free range animals.  I can't even drive myself to a market let alone get out to a farm so that I can get super fresh food.  I am managing to cook a little bit more often so that is good news.

Apparently I still can't travel easily so I'm In Between visits.  I'm waiting until someone can find the time and inclination to visit.  My family has already been here this past June so they won't be back for a while.  My friends are all busy running around with their own lives.  So I'm going to be on my own for a while.  I'm really going to miss my kid.

Today is an In Between day: in between weather, in between visits, in between moving, in between projects.  I'm bored, in pain and a little bit cranky.  But, who could blame me?

Friday, August 12, 2011

Island Vignettes

Having the entire world swirl around me as I attempt to step into a small motor boat.  Clinging to my host for dear life waiting for my sense of balance to return.  Disbelief sets in as I recollect being able to skate on single steel blades across the ice with no problem.

Getting a very wet butt as I travel to a small island on Sabago Lake in Maine in the rain.  The phrase "time to pay the ferryman" pops into my head as I stare at my host's battered neon green Crocs resting on the bottom of the boat.

The very old boathouse with a new dock attached.  My friend had built the dock over the summer and it is an engineering marvel.  It is made from white cedar which glows even in the gray rainy dusk.  It has room for the two motor boats and two lovely wooden benches so you can sit and watch the sunrise over the water.

The hundred year old main house with a large gathering room, kitchen and dinning area.  The small sleeping cabins scattered around the outskirts of the property along the water's edge.

Book shelves lining the large living room.  Picking up a book at random and finding that it is in Italian and published in 1893.  I think I found the owner's parents' school books.

The hiss of propane copper sconces casting a soft yellow glow on the wood work.  Barely enough light to read by but great for lazy discussions and story telling.

Kamikaze bugs flying into the propane lights and their bodies gliding slowly downwards to land in my cup of tea.

The gorgeous huge field stone fireplace.  The Native American rug in front of it with rows of stylized corn woven into the pattern.  The scattering of cane rocking chairs ringing the fireplace.  Although it is inviting it is too warm for a fire.

The old wooden windows with hooks and eyes for latches.  One set for open and one set for closed.

The ting of an extended spring and then the warm slap of the wooden screen door closing against the frame instead of hiss of the pneumatic piston and metallic smack of a modern door.

Sitting wrapped in a blanket, watching the sunrise from my wheelchair.  I sat in it because it just happened to be parked next to the kitchen door the night before and it was the first outdoor seating I happened across.

Walking down to the new dock and watching it steam in the morning light as the evening rain evaporates.  The pungent scent of cedar fills my nostrils.

Walking barefoot all weekend and feeling the soft brown pine needles between my toes.

Lying on my belly hanging off the edge of the dock watching the snails in the lake head for cover to get out of the noon day sun.  This took quite a while.

Spending my morning energy reserves exploring the hundred year old buildings on the property: the boat house, the loft room above the boathouse, the carpentry shop, the sleeping cabins, the attic of the main house.  Finding really old sets of drawers, really old books, a hand crank sewing machine, a trunk full of dress up clothes from the 1930s, a very old Red Cross Trunk, white enameled brass beds, lots of maps, old postcards people have left behind, National Geographics dating back to 1919.

Paper tracings of fish caught in the lake hanging on three hooks on the wall.  The day, size, weight, type and fisherman's name all written on the paper outline.  Some made by adults colored in to properly represent the fish and others written in crayon in a young child's scrawl.  A history of fishing dating back to 1918.  They dance constantly in the breeze from the lake.

Boating supplies hung up neatly on wooden pegs on one side of the boathouse with racks of boats on the other.  Finding really old wooden water skis in the rafters.

Lying down on the daybed that our hosts had made for me.  They had dragged a mattress from one of the sleeping cabins and put it on the built in bench seat under the windows in the main house so that I would be close to the only working bathroom on the island.  I would open the window and the screen and lie propped up on pillows watching jet skis, water skiers, sailboats and lots and lots of birds with the breeze blowing in my face and the slap of water caressing my ears.  I felt like I was lying down outdoors.

Pouring over Sibley's bird book trying to decide if I had just seen an Olive-sided Flycatcher or an Eastern Wood-Pewee hovering about three feet away from my nose.

My son hitting another milestone on his path to manhood: learning to start, run and steer an Evinrude outboard motor.

Watching my husband fly his kite from the motor boat as my son drove.  There were too many trees for him to fly his kite on the island.  When the wind was just right it looked like the kite had the boat in tow.

Sneaking out of the cabin in the middle of the night so that I could look at the stars where there is little light pollution.  Not only did I see the Milky Way for the first time in several years but there were so many stars that I was hard pressed to find my familiar constellations.  I did finally manage to pick out the Northern Cross.  So many many stars.  It was glorious!  I snuck back to bed in the dark with dirty feet.

My husband snoring on a mattress on the floor.  He didn't want to leave me by myself in the main house.

Rules of the house:

  1.  Pack out what you pack in.
  2. Left overs will show up in the meals the next day.
  3. All dishes are washed in the morning after boiling a large kettle of water to sanitize them with.
  4. Be respectful of the island.
No running water.  No electricity.  No hot water.  There is a hand crank water pump at the sink that brings up very good tasting well water.  There is a cistern on the roof for the flush toilet and shower.  When they empty a generator has to be fired up so that enough water can be pumped out of the well to fill the cisterns back up.  The stove and lights were all propane.

Standing in the lake while my hostess pours water from a battered pewter jug over my head to rinse the shampoo out of my hair.

Sitting in the lake, naked from the waist up, slathering soap all over myself while the shampoo bottle bobs lazily in the waves next to me.

My husband helping me out of the lake.  Then fetching my comb from the house while I stood half naked in the middle of the island with only a towel keeping me modest.  My hair stayed soft for days afterwards.  I hated to wash it again.

Eating purple green beans and lettuce picked from our hosts' garden earlier that day.  Delicious.

"Bacon always tastes better on the island."

Finding fairy houses built by the little girls that had visited the island before us.

Being surrounded by a bevy of Robins playing chase.  They are much skinnier than the Robins on the main land.

Our host playing horseshoes with my son and my son winning.  Turns out he is very good at horseshoes.  Who knew?

Sitting with my hostess talking about family history while I watch her knit a very fancy scarf out of gorgeous blue mohair yarn.

It was a glorious weekend.

Thursday, August 11, 2011


I've had another exhausting week.  I had just started to recover from the trip to Maine and then I had to take my son shopping for his new apartment.  Yes, he is old enough to do this himself.  Fact is we are used to going shopping with each other and although he will never admit it I think he likes going with me sometimes.  Also I hold the checkbook.

So I spent Monday in my wheelchair getting pushed around Target and Best Buy.  We had a great time picking out kitchen items and computer gear.  Along the way hubby joined us and we had dinner out.  I was experiencing neuro symptoms by the time we hit Best Buy and hubby was starting to get cranky because of it.

We weathered it okay and came home with tons of bags.  A very successful day.  Of course I paid for this not only in money but in energy.  I spent most of yesterday in bed.  I would get up for about 30 minutes and then have to go lie down again.  I listened to a lot of NPR.

Today I'm up and about.  I did have to lie down for an hour after making eight phone calls (yes 8) to sort out my drug coverage that wasn't supposed to have ever been canceled.  My brain was spinning by the time it all got sorted out.  I can get reimbursed for all the meds I've bought since January which will be great.  Not sure I can find all the receipts and I'm probably going to have to eat the Celebrex scrip since I didn't get pre-approval.  But I couldn't tolerate not having it anymore.  Eh, $140 for some pain relief.  Totally worth it!

But I'm sitting here tonight with my usual CFS induced hot flashes and night sweats waiting for my son to come home.  Except he isn't.  He has signed the lease and is in the process of moving out.  I miss him already and he hasn't even officially moved out yet.  His bed is still here.  He will be here tomorrow to drive me to the chiropractor but he is staying over a friend's house tonight.  He is slowly but surely moving his stuff to Boston.  Despite knowing this I catch myself waiting for him to burst in the door, drop the keys on the table and tell me he still has to go out running even though it is 2am.

He is cantankerous for a 17 year old but we've become close because of the CFS.  If I hadn't been home for the last year we would never have talked so much.  He is so quiet.  He won't talk if you push him.  You have to wait him out and then be prepared to talk on his timetable.  When I wait I am rewarded with long thoughtful discussions on all sorts of topics both personal and worldly.  We argue a lot but not the emotional kind of arguing (well maybe sometimes).  Most of our arguing is verbal intellectual banter.  Gun control vs concealed carry.  Republican vs Democrat.  Manual transmission vs automatic.  The topics range all over the place and most of the time we have great fun bantering back and forth.  He has a rich intellectual life and I sometimes wonder if the kids his age challenge him enough.  I love talking with him.  I'm going to miss him tremendously.  I'm glad he is close and I hope he visits often even if he comes over to do his laundry.

I know this will be good for him.  I hope he loves college and he gets along with his new roommate.  But I'm going to miss him!

Saturday, August 6, 2011

An Amazing Day

What a strange and amazing day I've just had.  I got on the computer this morning breakfast in hand as per my usual daily routine.  Fifteen hours later I'm still glued to the screen.  My eyes are tired and my butt is numb.  I did get up briefly to eat dinner and sit on the deck at dusk but here I am 2am and I'm still on line.  What prompted this flurry of activity?  Serendipity.

I started chatting with my Mom via Facebook instant messaging.  A wonderful little invention that reminds me of the early days of networked computers.  Yes, I was a geek back then too.   Anyway, she told me that my bestest friend from high school was a member of a Facebook group called "If you grew up on Cape Cod you remember when..."  I was ecstatic!!  I have been looking for her for over five years now.  I even went to my high school reunion hoping she would be there.  She wasn't.  I kept searching for her on line but she changed her name just enough that I didn't find her.

So I have a nice long chat with my Mom and then I friend my bestest high school buddy.  She couldn't believe I found her.  We chatted for about an hour.  Turns out she has become a chronic chick herself.  She has a chronic pain condition called RSD which is a type of funky nerve pain syndrome.  Different bits hurt and go numb each day.  Ick!  She has had such a hard life.  We sign off and I return to the group where I found her on FB.

I spend the next four hours on this sight.  It is like a super magnet for anyone that grew up on the Cape.  People are posting about stores, bars, teachers, beaches, hang out spots, the Mall, TV shows, you name it.  The group grew by hundreds of people just today.  It is totally addictive.

Then at 9pm my friend showed up again and we spent another hour chatting away catching up on 15 years of news.  Neither of us can believe the weird twist of fate that brought us together again.  It is strange.  We seem to bump into each other every ten years or so and somehow always loose track of each other again in between.  This last hiatus was due to a computer crash that wiped out my address book and I lost her contact info.  Sucks.  But we've found each other again.  And in a weird way can relate to each other like no one else can cuz of the chronic illness.  Strange.

After an hour she logged off and I ended up back on the Cape Cod page again.  And there I stayed for three more hours.  OMG is that page addictive.  Others were finding it hard to leave as well.  I've never seen so many people writing to a FB page at the same time before.  The page kept jumping cuz of all of the update traffic.  When I finally tore myself away it was up to 1400 members already and it was only a couple of days old.  Tens of people were constantly on it posting to different threads.  It made it hard for my poor CFS brain to follow the discussions going on.  I kept having to refresh the page to try to keep up.  Truly amazing!

I feel so happy, invigorated and happy.  It is great reminiscing and finding my bestest friend.  What a treat!

Wednesday, August 3, 2011


I'm almost recovered enough from my fun weekend to write about it.  I have lots to say but I'm still resting.