land of living migraines

There is this one blue and white (with a bit of sickly yellow) multi-purpose store that can change the most beautiful day into a low-price living migraine for me.  I am rarely to be found at one of these stores for this reason, but once in a while it just has what I need and it kills me to admit it.  A half hour in the confines of this fluorescent pit and the nausea begins, the head pressure builds, the knots in my neck and shoulder begin to cramp, my eyes begin to lose focus and all decision making flies out the window.  I hit a wall.  Those walls double the time it takes me to finish my errand and everyone who was forced to go with me is miserable.  High-functioning mama becomes frantic, crabby, exasperated, low-functioning mama.

(I do, however, love my better-lit, nicely-staffed, more warmly decorated (think: red) multi-purpose store.  It is logical, higher quality, still kindly-priced and most importantly: migraine-free.)

hope for things not yet seen

I took Miss C to a new allergist today. . .

I love:
the time he took
the answers he gave
the questions he asked
the open-minded attitude he had
the appreciation for our holistic efforts he showed

We did the traditional allergy skin test.  And yes, she still has her allergies.  But I came away with a new understanding and insights of some recent changes in her reactions.  It's possible she is developing a tolerance to milk baked into products and some of her tree nut allergies didn't show up.  That said, there is at least one new nut, but he said those can cycle a bit, so we're just biding our time with it.  We have to avoid them all still anyway.  The milk one we can test further some day, but she didn't want to do that yet.  I decided that since it's her body and her blood we'd have to draw, she got to make the call.  She didn't want to be messed with any more than she had been - roughly 60 skin pricks on her arms.

We did discover a multitude of seasonal allergies, which the previous doctor never took the time to ask about or test for, passing them off as not bad enough to check.  Knowing this will help me to stay on top of her sniffly, red nose and the circles under her eyes.

Her saddest moment came when they told her she is allergic to horses.  On the way home she suddenly blurted out that she was so sad because she wanted to have horses when she grows up.  Then she promptly burst into tears.  I almost pulled off the highway to hug on her, but traffic was pretty heavy.  I made up for it later.

The most reassuring part of my visit is that I have been praying for a doctor who would dig deeper and help me find ways to help her - not just be passive.  This is that doctor.  He has been pursuing Integrative Medicine with Dr. Andrew Weil.  I am in awe.  We conversed for much longer than any doctor visit I've been to.  His staff and the other doctor in his practice do not yet know, so it's hush-hush for now.  I came away with armed with information on natural supplements to try for my migraines, detoxing my daughter's liver, my husband's chronic hives (as well as an anti-inflammatory diet for the same thing), and more.  I need to dig through the notes and remember which thing is for which family member.  We were cared for.  And given hope.

dreams

I'm feeling ready to stretch my wings and catch a few dreams - a personal stretch in who I am and where I want to go, with dreams of my own secret self, though nothing large or impressive.

I do not profess to have any kind of wonderful writing skills - but I enjoy it anyway.  And I aspire to be better at it.  I love writing more than speaking for a million and one reasons (if you know me in person, you will realize I am quite a babbler in spite of this statement).  Mostly, I love that I can tweak, adjust, change, erase, scratch through, delete, and rewrite until what I am truly thinking is almost correct on the paper (or computer) in front of me.  It gives me time to straighten out the jumble of words that fall over each other in spoken form.  I'm not convinced writing can be completely perfect either, but once in a while something I've written is satisfying enough that I derive a thrill from re-reading it a few more times (until I find that awful hidden typo. . . ), or knowing when I send an email or letter I've carefully worded each part of it to express exactly what I wanted to say.

I will make an effort to ramble here a bit more if for no other reason than a little writing practice in the coming weeks and months.  I have no idea what that might mean for my little bloggy world, but if it gives me an outlet to scritch-scratch, so be it.  I need to drop some inhibitions, push myself out of my comfort zone.

Here is a little secret: I have decided that instead of the running sneakers I have been thinking about, I will spend my hard saved dollars on a small writing class.  If I'm lucky, I'll save enough later for another one.
Just because I want to.
And I always have.
And now I can.
For me.