dealing (with the unwelcome return of what damn near killed me)

what can I say?

I was out to dinner with a friend recently and we were talking about some intense life stuff, you know, family, marriage, kids, war, politics. I got pretty emotional when I attempted to respond to her question of "how are you feeling these days?"--more emotional than I had anticipated, but hey, I'm the queen of shoving my deepest fears and pain into a box and taping it shut, only to be opened by some really talented therapist or my mother, who likes to get into my shit and throw it all over the place. I found myself crying in the restaurant, which is never fun, especially when you're drinking a yummy pint like a Stone Pale. ANYWAY, what struck me in those moments was just how RAW I still am when it comes to reflecting on this past year. Mind you, this time last year I was really sick. I wasn't walking well (let alone driving), wasn't working well (let alone meeting deadlines), and I was pretty despondent. I mostly sat immobile on the couch, or, if I was lucky and it wasn't too hot out, in a plastic adirondack chair in the backyard. Eventually I stopped going in the backyard because it depressed me so much to not be able to work in the garden. Ugh.

My point is this: I probably gained 10-15 lbs this past year. Sedentary life does not lend itself to weight loss, unless, of course, you're a meth addict or eating like a bird. As much as I tried to curtail my eating, there were definitely splurges, like the one time I bought three (!!) pints of ice cream (for the variety) and ate them all in one week. Thank goodness that was ONE time. Thank goodness I don't have a soft spot for ice cream. I didn't cook for months, which, if you know me, is like taking away a car from a NASCAR driver (rough approximation). Cooking is one of my primary outlets for relaxation, and I couldn't even stand at the stove long enough to poach an egg. S., my love, cooked for me when she wasn't so tired from trying to hold everything together that she could actually find the energy to boil water, but I'd say at least 2x a week we ate take out. Not good for the waist line. But when you're that sick, you don't care. I didn't care about food, I didn't care about weight, I just couldn't even think about it. If I beat myself up any more, there wasn't going to be anything left when I came out the other side of this horrendous condition.

And come out the other side I did, more than six months after the initial symptoms put me flat on my back, and though the recovery was slow, I was feeling pretty close to normal until about three weeks ago, when I felt nausea and dizziness and thought I might be getting the flu...but no, the feeling was oddly familiar (funny how the mind forgets) and soon I realized that it was the VN again. Since then, I've felt it a few times, and I can't turn my head fast or I'll fall over, and my balance isn't the greatest. If I get overtired or too hungry, the "living on a flotilla" feeling comes back, though not nearly as intensely as it once was. So right now, I'm trying to live with the fact that this condition is still with me, and might very well keep popping up like some long lost relatives that find you no matter how far you move away from them or how many times you change your phone number. The very essence of my being, my life force and all that drives it, is undermined by this condition. And on top of it all, like a huge stinkin' cherry, is the fact that VN limits my ability to be as active as I want to be, and it reminds me over and over just how fat I am and just how long it's going to take to lose this weight. Again.

So when I was with my friend in the restaurant, I intimated that if the VN comes back in full force, I'm gonna lose it. 15 more lbs on this frame and I'll be thanking Antonin Scalia for the first time in my life, because the Second Amendment is intact, and I can buy a gun! I will not live out my days as a fat person. I can't face that future, and I won't.

There's an I in Irony

One of my exes called to wish me luck this Friday, and in her message she expressed disbelief and sorrow over my hand, telling me that she's always thought my hands so beautiful. Being a Sadge, I needed the ego stroke, but I also needed a chance to let the sorrow in, to greet the grief I already feel at knowing part of me will be altered (note I didn't say marred-- not that I didn't think it).

I work in a profession that has required me to be ambidextrous for the sake of skill and survival. We all have to use our non-dominant hand with great regularity-- it often comes in for the assist on any given task. So taking the time to ponder everything I do, to see how I am using the left hand, has only heightened my sense of reliance on it. The thought of spending any amount of time without it is, well, scary to me. It's also a bit depressing.

I already have a large scar on my body. It's a source of sorrow, no matter how hard I've worked to love it. I live with it. I know it. It holds history, a story, a time I'd rather forget but can't. I don't want this new scar because I don't want this interlude. I thought I'd already learned the value of life, the value of my body, my physical abilities. I thought I'd done my painful growing and the tests were over.

But I hadn't. There's still more to learn

wherein Stiney throws herself down on the floor, weeps, gnashes teeth, and throws a tremendous tantrum

wah.

wah.

that's all. just a few fuhlippin'' wahs the Monday before the Wednesday hospital appointment before the Friday surgery appointment.

wah.

done for now. thanks.

Planning for the Unknown.

After reading the radiologist's report and seeing the words tumor and lesion, I have a pretty strong sense that I'm gonna hafta be off the bike at somepoint for sometime. Of course this is all really just conjecture until I speak with Dr. Hand, but I'm trying to prepare, mentally. So I've come up with an alternate plan. It involves walking a one hour loop through Golden Gardens and/or walking the 6+ miles home from work one day a week (assuming that I'll be at work). Having this contingency plan set up makes me feel less nervous about not riding. Granted, it's not riding, but I think it will be enough of a release to keep me even-keeled, stimulated, happy, even. It doesn't mean I won't daydream about riding.

And let's hope the hiatus will be brief.

catching my breath

The photo above was taken at the Missoula Farmer's Market a couple weeks ago...it was a gloriously beautiful day but I didn't have my sunglasses, so I look like a squinty McGinty. That's me wife in the white shirt with the killer smile. The woman on the far left is an old pal from Missoula who I worked for on and off...she owns (now co-owns) a very successful coffeeshop in town. We were at her place for dinner two nights before this pic was taken. Oh the adventures I had with her...some good, some not so good. But that was a decade ago...

It was great to see how the market had grown -- there are now three outdoor farmers markets in Missoula: one for produce and locally grown foodstuffs; one for gifts and crafts and the like; and one for meat and cheese. You walk up and down Higgins Ave. and can shop to your heart's content. The 'zou, as we like to call it, has become very hip indeed.

It's been a long time--too long--since I posted anything here. The past several weeks have been a blur, starting with my Uncle's passing and the time leading up to that, moments I wouldn't trade for anything. I feel much closer to several of my relatives now, and have a better sense of who they really are--not just Bible-totin', heterofocused bores, but much much more, and less. Less the bore part, less intractable, less conservative. We approach things differently, but Howes blood flows in all of our veins, and it shows.

Right after my uncle's funeral we headed north to Montana. The trip up was a little longer than usual in that we went through Glenwood Springs to see our dear friend Giles (I've mentioned him here before) and the house he built. Here is the perfect picture of Giles standing behind his house...the views are off the hook...



I love that man. He's a fucking genius. We left Glenwood and drove into Utah--our destination was Heber City and Jordanelle Resevoir, right on the backside of Deer Valley ski resort. We spent the night with an old high school friend of mine who has been a snowboard and ski king in Park City for well over a decade. What a wonderful home he shares with his wife and son! Amazingly beautiful and quite high end, but also comfortable and homey. We slept in the best bed EVER. I have to say one of my favorite things about their house was the front door...

Finally we made our way to Montana. S. and I spent most of the time in the Bitterroot but also took a day trip to the Moiese Valley, where our dear friends Mary and Leslie have a chicken farm. That morning, Mary took delivery of 150 chicks and drove them from Missoula to the farm. Here are a few shots from that visit...Leslie's the one in the blue visor...I'm in the black shirt. After we left the farm, we went birding at Ninepipe, so there's a couple pix from that, too. I'm going to end with the images, actually, as there is so much more to say, but not enough time in the day to say it...'cept for life is grand. And I love Montana.

my big ol' chronic ailment

I just received an email inviting me back to the farm this summer for a one week stint assisting with one of the classes. This means assisting the Chef in the kitchen (and with her son), feeding the chickens, cleaning, cooking and otherwise engaging in the whole process.

My initial response was, Oh, Damn, it's Summer. I'll have to work. But then I paused for a moment and thought about the instant defeat in that. The way that I automatically assumed that I couldn't do it (thanks to an outside source). And so I pondered. I thought about what it might mean for me to let myself want to do this, for me to say Yes, I want to do this, and Yes, I can take the time off.

If you read my other blog, you might have come across this post. It occurs to me that what I've come to resent in some people (and one of the things I can't stand in this person) is their ease of belief. They really do think they can do this or that regardless of whether or not they possess the skill or fortitude or whatever. And then they go off and do things-- even things they might not be so great at. And they do what they want. One of my chief ailments in life seems to be an overriding sense of But I Can't.

And so I don't.

I know that I've overcome some of it in the body/weight loss arena. And riding bikes has done a great deal to boost my sense of physical capability. Where I struggle is in having a sense that I can do what I want, that something bigger won't get in the way. And yes, it's a very old wound that once again is trying to swallow me whole.

Maybe it's all this medical shit that's reminding me just how short life is, and that I shouldn't be wasting time falling asleep on the job (don't worry-- it's only figurative), or not doing what I'm meant to do in the name of great security and playing it safe. There really does have to be more to life. I can feel changes coming again, and once I've made it through this little medical detour, I can explore it all in great depth.

In the meantime, I'm asking for time off smack-diddly-dab in the middle of the summer. So there.