The Ghosts of Christmas Present & Past

We began Christmas day at home, which was really nice. Midday we went to my brother-in-law's, which turned out to be really nice. We ended the evening at my mom's, which also turned out to be really nice.

My mom has been surviving stage four lung cancer for about a year and a half. From what I understand from my sister-in-law, who is an oncology nurse, six months is a long time to survive this cancer type and stage.

My mom's sister, my aunt Gini was there, too. After caring for my Grandma who passed on my birthday in spring of 2012, she aged rapidly. Her mobility declined nearly overnight. The summer before last when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, my aunt was diagnosed with Parkinson's. I guess I can add my Lyme disease to the family pot of clinical ailments.

Anyway, my mom was so pleased to host family for the holiday. My brother, who despite being able-bodied, can barely take care of himself was there. We barely interact. He took me on a street walk down memory lane, reminding me of a trip our family took long ago to the Big Easy. I was maybe 17. We went clubbing one night and met a couple gals we hung out and danced with. Apparently they were very under age. Their dad tried to retrieve them from the club we were in, pissing off the doorman in the process. An altercation erupted followed by a couple of New Orleans' finest hauling the dad away in handcuffs. The girls were beside themselves.

Despite my brother wanting to just bail and leave the scene, I urged we accompany them until everything turned out. So we got in the bed of someone's old pickup truck and were shuttled down to police HQ. There we waited for quite some time. Apparently the family knew a city council person, who ordered the father's release.

In the end us being there for the family disarmed any sense of wrong doing. I was completely in the closet at the time, and lord knows I had no illustrious intention with these gals. I was just having a great night out. My brother on the other hand, given the opportunity, I'm certain he would have taken advantage of the situation. No harm, no fowl, and I believe we were able to go home with a clear conscious.

Toward the end of the evening, my cousin Robin and I began piecing together a Star Wars puzzle my mom gave me for Christmas. Despite it being small and 300 pieces, the illustration was really intricate and it was a challenge to solve. We didn't get too far before my husband needed to call it a night for health reasons.

Before we left, my mom brought to my attention a coat I once purchased many years ago as a birthday gift for my Grandma. She always had a warm, camel colored wool coat. The one she had from a time before she lost everything had gotten really old and worn out. So I went to Nordstrom and bought her a new one. She loved it, and wore it regularly during the cold months.

After my Grandma passed, my aunt hung onto this coat. She now regularly wears it during the cold months, and wore it that night. As we were all preparing to leave, someone draped the coat over a chair so my aunt would remember it. Seeing this coat again in this manner, for mere moments, I felt as though my Grandma was there with us. That maybe she just got up to get a refresher for her vodka tonic. I felt a wave of emotion wash over me. I looked to my husband with my lips drawn in tight, holding back tears. How my Grandma always loved the holidays and having her family together under one roof. Maybe she was there with us after all ...

Last night I met an alien

In my dream I met an extraterrestrial being, which took a human female form. She was beautiful, inside and out. This is the first time ever I've had such a dream. It's almost as if the dream were less a dream and more a memory, a faint, distant one. Aspects of the dream were clear. The being was peaceful in nature and fascinated by human beings. I asked her to help me decipher some glyphs, which looked like small boomerangs facing in various directions scribed in columns.

Telepathically she asked me to share with her what she needed to know about humanity. With gut-wrenching emotion I expressed how compassionate and clever humanity can be and the most important thing to know is as much as humans can lift you way up to an exalted state, they can let you down twice as hard, that humanity is under siege by itself, on a path to annihilation. I remember breaking down and weeping upon expressing this. The being offered her hand and telepathically gave me the sense all is as it should be and everything will be OK.

An article from Waking Times purports sleep as an altered state of consciousness. That's certainly clear, I think to most of us humans anyway. Sleep's altered state of consciousness (the theta and delta brainwave states) that opens us up to the frequencies of the astral or even mental planes while simultaneously eliminating data/noise from the physical senses.

Undoubtedly, much "paranormal phenomena" (including poltergeist phenomena, PK and telepathy) can be linked to strong emotional content. There are indications that what we experience as presentiment or precognition may be, in some sense, the strong emotional content of a probable "future" event (which is actually occurring in a parallel universe in present time, along with all our "past" and "future" lives) then filtering "back" through time into our subconscious or even conscious awareness. Yeah, that's a pretty big thought. Who really can say for sure?

This morning bestie gave me a tarot reading. I asked about my health course. Here's how the cards laid out:

In a nutshell, I've made much progress in my journey. At present I've found the two practitioners who are making the biggest difference in my wellness; my new NP and my acupuncturist. I'm approaching my treatment course with an ideal mindset and determination. The outcome looks to be one of the most favorable, eventual and complete healing. Of course there were many more details involved.

Random post, I know.

Feliz Dia de los Muertos Navidad

Oh, this is my Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos) coloring book my husband put in my Christmas stocking. What's Day of the Dead? I'm so glad you asked. It's a special celebration in Mexican culture. Somewhat related to how many Americans celebrate the birth of Christ on December 25. Mexicans celebrate their loved ones' passing from this world.

Death is much different to Mexican culture than it is to American culture. Americans view death as a tragic finality. In some ways it may be. In Mexican culture death is celebrated much like a birth, the beginning of the after life. Yes, of course Mexicans also mourn the loss of their loved ones. Each year they commemorate their passing and remember the importance their life meant. This is done at the beginning of November as it is believed this is when the two worlds of living and spirits intersect. They make shrines to the deceased with their picture, flowers (often Marigold), their favorite things in life and lots of glowing candles.

One ancient culture, the Egyptians, didn't even have a word for death. The closest word they had to death is "westing." Westing as in west, the direction of the setting sun. As we know, the sun also rises, and to the Egyptians their dearly departed loved ones entered a wondrous afterlife, a new cycle of existence. Cycles we know to be a very true way our world works. Old gives way to the new. New eventually becomes old and so on. Pacific Northwest natives didn't believe in "death" as we know it either. Instead they called it a "change of worlds."

I explained all this to my 12 year old niece while coloring with my husband and mother-in-law Christmas Day.

Second Anniversary

The eleventh day of the twelfth month of the thirteenth year of this new millennium my husband and I wed. We celebrated our two year anniversary Friday. Sometimes I wonder if he really knew what he was getting himself into with all my health challenges these past few years.

 

I wasn't sure what to get him as a gift to commemorate the occasion. I recalled quite some time ago he mentioned wanting me to paint him a Mondrian style piece. We've seen quite a bit of his work together over the past few years. New York's MOMA has several I was able to see in May 2014.

 

One piece in particular I liked for its simplicity, especially if I was going to make any feeble attempt to create a knock off. The following piece is an original Mondrian, which I photographed at MOMA on that visit a year and a half ago:

So yesterday I spent a good portion of the day in our utility room making a go of it. I had a flat 16" x 20" canvas in stock along with all the necessary brushes and colors (mostly in acrylic). I went to work, and made quite a few discoveries along the way.

 

Doing this work gave me much more of an appreciation for the artist’s skill. Mondrian’s works appear so simple to achieve. If all his paintings were done completely freehand, well that’s nothing short of a miracle. It’s a very exacting style to replicate. I had to use guides, and mine were fashioned out of electrical tape. Not only did the tape’s gauge and color give me inspiration, this was somewhat of a challenging material to work with.

The tape’s elasticity made it so I had to carefully lay the strips down so as not to create any tension. I didn’t use anything fancy to measure the gauge, just another piece of electrical tape. My lines may not be completely plum or level either.

Of course I made several mistakes along the way. My greatest overall mistake was not having ample patience. Funny how art imitates life, even when engaged in the practice of creating it. Allowing enough time for the paint to dry is much like allowing things in life to settle down. If we rush, we often end up off the mark. That happened to my brush hand repeatedly. That happens to me in life when I fail to keep an even, slower pace.

So here's how my piece turned out:

I added my own story to it. I see this piece as a very abstract family portrait. My husband is the blue field at the top. I’m the red field. Millie, our 12 year old Daschund, is the gold. Hers and my husband's brush strokes go up and down, they’re in harmony together. Mine go side to side. Even juxtaposed in some way, we’re all still drawn together. Blue, the color of the sky, the sea and his gorgeous eyes, can represent tranquility. My husband is such the peacekeeper. Red can represent passion, fire, blood, war. Together they are quite yin and yang. Yellow is the color of sunshine, and Ms. Millie is such a ray of light in both our lives. She compliments us both so joyfully.

 

The traditional gift for one's second anniversary is cotton, which canvas is made out of. So I really felt like this was the perfect gift. Not to mention I really got quite a lot out of creating it.



Today my friend Cleo reposted to Facebook the following photo of Picasso in his home studio in Paris:

The photo was accompanied by the following quote:
"Inspiration exists, but it has to find us working." - Pablo Picasso

Both the image and especially the quote really struck a chord with me. It couldn't be more true. My process was meditative and enlightening. I was able to be creative, focused and introspective. This all felt really nourishing to my body, mind and spirit.

My husband is getting some materials today to mount my work. We're going to hang it in our media room, in which he wants the décor a primary color theme. I think it might just work. :)

The night before last we had company. My long time high school friend Aron and his fiancé Michelle. They are wonderful people, we love them so much. They're so easy to be around, the conversation flows, taking on a life of its own. There's much laughter and cheer.

At dinner I had some challenges. Sometimes my brain swells from the inflammation. It feels like there's just not enough room in my head. Not sure whether it was this intense cranial crown pressure sensation, I also felt light headed and ever so slightly dizzy at times. As the conversation roared on I naturally tend to meet others' energy levels. As I did, my body continued to recoil on me. Waves of fatigue washed over me a few times. My right shoulder began to burn in a strange way, as if my nerves were just tired or the front side of my should just felt worn out.

From where I sit in our dining room, a large portrait of my most dearly departed grandma smiles back at me. She reminds me not only of unconditional love and joy, also of strength and perseverance. My grandma was an amazing woman, who despite living with a herniated disk in her lower back for the last few decades of her life, wouldn't allow that to dampen her incredibly bright spirits.

I pressed on with a smile. For one thing I was genuinely enjoying our company and great conversation. I continued to drink water, thinking perhaps my system was just weighted toward toxic and that would help me flush out the bad juju. As our evening progressed late into the night, my discomfort lessened and I really became present to all the joy in our beautiful home.

Michelle and Aron brought some silly holiday hats for us to wear. We put them on for the tail end of the evening. Before they left we took a group selfie. Is that a gelfie? Anyway, here it is:

When I shared with them about my recent, definitive Lyme diagnosis, Aron said how much sense this made. It's a strange brand of validation. There have been times I've thought some of my friends have thought this whole thing was in my head or I was being some kind of a hypochondriac.

Michelle told me she has a friend who healed from Lyme. It took her two years. Apparently that friend of hers called her twice this week, and she regards it as a synchronistic sign for her to connect the two of us. I would love to converse with someone who has been through this, and welcome Michelle's introduction.

We heal ourselves.

Day Five

I had counseling Wednesday afternoon. Slept alright the night before. Awoken intermittently between really stormy weather and our dog, who was freaking out about it. At one point she leapt over to me from my husband's side of the bed. I wasn't sure what she wanted. I put her down on the floor thinking she may have just wanted water. She wanted back up. Then she curled up under my chin as I was laying on my side. I think she just wanted to be with someone for protection. Super sweet and cute!

During the session I brought some new thinking into our conversation. I know my husband is coping with my crud as best he can. So I've moved myself into allowance. Allowing him to think and feel what he needs to. Allowing myself to be a source of his frustration and stress and disappointment. Not that I'm happy about that or want to be causing him any strife. It's just allowing what is to be, and finding a way to make peace with it.

Had a bit of a throat reaction on my drive from home to my counseling appointment. That's always unnerving. Being in the car, driving on the freeway, feeling like my swallowing and breathing are compromised. Having the thought, what if it worsens? What's my contingency plan?!

Talked through that one quite a bit with my counselor. They asked if there are some question I could ask of my practioner(s) that may help put my mind at ease.

After counseling I had one more lab to complete, a tick-borne co-infection panel. This had to be drawn at a hospital as it's a specialized lab that gets sent to Palo Alto to process.

The hospital failed to look at the back side of my lab order, said the order was unmarked. They called my ordering physician, who is off on Wednesdays. The hospital also accidentally sealed my postage prepaid Fed/Ex bag. The word "fuck" leapt out of my mouth in a most disappointed tone. This means I would have to return to the hospital, downtown, another day. They also made me register in the lobby, which I did on my way out.

Turns out they had me on file already. The gal at the front desk, who is physically disabled, was the most endearing person I've encountered in a while. She was so kind and compassionate. She read my address and phone number they had on file. Turns out their information was at least 23 years old.

As a kid I was a patient at the Issaquah Clinic in my hometown. The hospital bought the clinic before I finished high school, a time when I was briefly living with my beloved and now dearly departed grandma. They had her info. on file, I think even her as my guarantor for being a minor.

Then the sweet gal says, "Oh, I know it has been a number of years since you've last updated your patient information. I am really sorry if this person is no longer with us. As your emergency contact I show Sally Rosauer."

I made a huge grin and said, "Ha! True story. Sally was almost nearly not with us. She had a double lung transplant at the beginning of the year at UW Medical Center. Miraculously she's doing really well today."

Sally's one of my mom's BFFs. She was like a second mom to me growing up. Really funny lady. Love her.

So back out into the cold and rain I went from the lab. Traffic was snarled, gridlocked. It took me at least 20 minutes to drive less than 10 blocks to the freeway entrance. Even on my usually sparse state route 509 there was heavy, slow moving traffic all the way home.

Overall I'm doing alright. Part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop with my wellness, so to speak. Another part of me is optimistic I'm going to continue doing alright until I eventually fully recover. Only time will tell.

We heal ourselves.

Day Six

Had some really bizarre dreams last night/early this morning. The first had something to do with hosting some old college friends I worked on with on our newspaper. Apparently we had just completed a remodel (something that occurred in real life). We had this odd bath, almost like an RV bathroom. Small. The walls were covered with plastic shower surround. There was a drain in the center of the floor. And the vanity was apparently bought on ebay, which apparently we didn't pay for. So the seller filed some kind of a grievance or action against us. The whole time I'm saying, "Well why don't we just pay this person?" I also recall having offered some dinner leftovers, some chicken dish with a pastry crust top, for breakfast.

This dream was followed by one where my husband had a horse named Mason. He thought it would be fun to ride to friends' house for dinner. I had just sold these friends, one of them also from my college paper days, a home not far from ours (something that occurred in real life). So we rode the horse there. My husband just waltzed into the place. The wife had three roommates living upstairs, two females and a male. I went back out to check the horse, who came when I called accompanied by my friends' goat. The horse and the goat had made fast friends and were playing together. That's about where the dreams ended.

Got off to a rough start this morning with my husband when he was heading to work. We've been planning to host friends for dinner tonight. As I'm on this new, rigorous treatment regimen, I asked him to send me instructions for putting dinner on. He resisted, told me he would do it when he got home. Problem is we're expecting them at 7:00 and sometimes he's not even home until after 6:30. By the time all is prepped, and it takes at least an hour to cook, it'll be late and it's a school night and pushes my last round of meds really close to bedtime.

We went back and forth for a while. After he left I received a call from my doctor, who I wanted to check with about initial symptoms from this treatment course. She informed me I could get really sick even months from now. Far from reassuring. I am optimistic I'll continue status quo until eventually I feel 100 percent. That's me idealizing.

So I phone my husband to inform him of this. We quickly get back on the dinner subject. Then he tells me I need not be so inflexible and the whole world doesn't revolve around me. Um, no shit. I am so not that person. This put me on the defensive and of course upset me. I told him how incredibly lame that was for him to say, utterly ridiculous.

He made some mention about how I'll need to excuse myself to shower medicate when our friends are here. I'm fully aware of that. I will of course let them know what's what, get them up to speed. Like I've done with my family. Like I've done with his family. I also let me husband know he could certainly have given his family a head's up casually before they arrived last weekend. It's exhausting to have to explain myself and my health situation to so many people. I've assisted my mom with this through her first year or so of cancer. Do I get a break or someone who can help me in this way?

I then clarified for my husband I'm not being inflexible so much as I have developed a strong body/mind connection. I am quite aware my body appreciates consistency. I pointed out he has little if any awareness around his own health. Then I told him I'm being my own fucking advocate. I'd really want me by my side in this. If he can't do that, than at the very least I'd like him to not impede me. Is that too much to ask?!

I raised my voice at him and he hung up on me. I was angry, and I don't fault him for his frustrations. I've stated this before, no one can be more frustrated with my three years of chronic illness than me.

Things have calmed. We continue to go around in circles though about his occasional lack of support around my illness. Maybe he doesn't want me to be sick? Or is in denial? I want me to be well, too. It is what it is. We said for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. I sometimes wonder whether he meant it.

Tomorrow is our two year anniversary. Things have calmed. There's still a little lingering tension between us. I really want to nip this conversation soon. I can certainly allow his frustration, or recent disappointment around me bagging on our upcoming New Years trip to Mexico. At the same time, does he need to fully make me the target of his frustrations? I can tell you it's not aiding in my healing, quite the contrary. Could he, too, find a good counselor to work with? Or even a friend to share with. I'm not expecting this. Just wishful thinking ...

We heal ourselves.

Day Four

As soon as I got into bed I had really itchy and watery eyes. Not typical. Awoke at 2:00 a.m. as the skin on my legs was crawling. I'd broken a sweat and yet felt a chill. Earlier in the night I awoke as I either dreamed or was actually having difficulty breathing. I was having difficulty swallowing. The chill increased to the point of shivering.

I'm expected to have quite a bit of die off in my system. When these organisms are dying off, they release waste and increase my blood toxicity. I drink plenty of water, which is about all I drink, so that helps flush the toxins out.

I wondered whether I should have taken an Epsom salt bath. Of course I had awoken my husband, not on purpose. He wanted to know what was going on. So I explained my symptoms to him. He seemed to think it was reflux. Maybe.

After slowly nursing a glass of water and sucking on a vitamin C tablet, I was starting to feel better. I laid back down, and though it took quite a while, I was able to fall back to sleep.

My husband and I awoke around 7:45 a.m. I had fasted 12 hours for more lab work, which required a 20 or so minute drive across town to Valley Medical. Last week I had a draw and they used more than two dozen vials. Mind you they did not fill them all the way full. Even so, they really drained me, and on my way back home I felt really depleted. I felt uneasy about driving. So I asked my husband to take me, which he did.

We get to the lab and I'm told they no longer draw non-clinic patients at that location. Then they sent me into downtown Renton. On our way we crawled through side streets to avoid heavy freeway traffic and then noticed an overturned Honda on 405. Glad we didn't take the freeway and even more grateful we weren't having that kind of a morning.

The lab took forever for four vials. First they had me sign in and wait. They said they had someone back in the lab, but I don't think they did. They needed to register me, even though I've had draws from that lab co. before. In addition to completing paperwork, furnishing insurance card and placing a credit card on file, they couldn't figure out a couple of the lab test codes. So they phoned my doctor. Thankfully they got through and received clarifications successfully. Then they had to clarify their internal codes by calling someone else who works for the same lab co. The draw took about five minutes, but all the bureaucratic bullshit took a good 20 or so minutes. Meanwhile, my husband is now officially late for work.

The longer I'm fasting, the lower my energy falls prior to breakfast. The delay cost at least an hour. By the time we got home I felt depleted, not as much as the other day when the lab took a ridiculous number of vials of blood.

Today has mostly been OK overall. Except for being lower energy than normal, and having oddly timed bowel movements (2:00 a.m., 8:00 a.m. and 10:00 a.m.), things seem to be going alright. My breathing seems better. When I'm unaware of it, I consider that to be really good.

I took on cleaning out our refrigerator. It was disgusting. Really. A pretty big job. There was black mold growing in it. I've had section eight tenants who left refrigerators in better condition. Ours is a pretty nice one, too. My project took on a life of its own. I am pleased to say I was successful. The interior now looks brand-spanking-new. After I finished this project, I was pretty tired. So I listened to some energy work teachings on the sofa, and eventually took a bit of a cat nap with our dog Millie.

I had also done some general cleaning in the kitchen after the refrigerator project. Counters, floors, etc. I took out compost. Got the mail, brought the yard waste and garbage bins back in from the curb. I also returned a pair of shears to the shed and locked it. Each time I did a chore I had to sit and rest for a short spell.

My husband is concerned about my tiredness. I'm more concerned about fatigue, which I experienced yesterday morning. I'm imagining with all the substances going to work on my body, I would be expected to be tired at this point. I agreed to check in with my prescribing doctor in the morning to check in on whether what I'm experiencing is to be expected. I'm imagining so.

We heal ourselves ...

Day Three

From left to right: A portrait of our beloved Daschund Millie and yours truly today from my living room sofa.

My in-laws departed after dinner last night. It's good to have them here. My husband really loves them, and I do, too. Have been grateful to have people around while I'm managing this very rigorous new treatment course. At the same time, I'm not feeling my best. Grateful to be far from my worst, too. Long story short, I don't know that I was as pleasant to be around. Kind of got the sense the folks don't fully get what I'm grappling with, and that's OK. Brighter days are on the horizon.

It's raining again this morning, fairly heavily, like it did on Saturday. My husband left for work early as he had a big day ahead of him at the shop. I've been feeling rather fatigued this morning, more so than usual. It kind of suddenly washed over me like a wave when I was in the middle of breakfast and chatting up a most dear friend on the phone. As such, I'm feeling a little uneasy about being home alone to manage today.

Then again, I'm not totally alone. I have our trusty dog nurse Millie to look after me. She's most therapeutic. My neighbor across the street is home today, and has let me know to call if I need anything. Also my mom is about 10 min. away. I sent her a text this morning to see how she's doing and let her know how I'm doing as well as the possibility of needing her help.

The sound of the steadily falling rain outside and its pitter-patting on the roof is soothing, as is the dimmer daylight from a solid medium gray sky. The weather feels as though I have full permission to stay in my PJs, which I've been in since Sat. night, and just mostly rest. Except for the rain and the sloshing of the occasional passing car, and even less occasional plane overhead, it's otherwise quiet. I like that. I enjoy the silence. It's peaceful. Tranquil.

The past few nights I have to urinate sometime around 2:00-3:00 a.m. It feels like a release of toxins, and it's a little unpleasant. After returning to bed it takes me a little while to get back to sleep. I awaken feeling pretty tired in the mornings, then a while after getting up to take my thyroid meds I begin to feel more awake and energetic. After breakfast I'm feeling pretty good, typically. Today is a bit different.

This whole showering twice daily for 10 min. is odd. First off it's wasteful. I'm to do this before each round of antibiotics so my blood vessels are as dilated as possible. This apparently allows more flow of the antibiotics in my blood so they can be much more effective. The morning shower is much better than the evening. In the morning I wash myself. This process has drawn my attention to how long I normally take in the shower, anywhere from three to five minutes. So the evening shower, while it feels great, also seems a bit overindulgent. Yet I do understand this is for a specific purpose. Add to the overindulgent piece we just completed adding a master bath to our home, which is quite luxurious feeling, with this incredible (I'm sure it's not eco friendly) rain shower head ... It's dreamy and feels spa like as well as therapeutic. OK, I am grateful for this. I'm just not accustomed to using so much water. Typically I shower about every other day. My husband thinks I'm party hippie.

My body is undergoing many changes internally. I am optimistic this is putting me on track to wellness. I look so forward to the day I am beyond this and can live my daily life with ease and vitality.

Small Awakening

Some months ago I had stumbled upon the notion the same patterns show up in our lives until we learn the lessons we need to from them. Only then can we truly change and get beyond those patterns. This may have been during a session with my energist Erika.

For me it has been this three years of chronic illness. I've already written so much about it I'm sick of it figuratively and literally.

More recently, one of my most dear friends shared this:

"Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know." - Pema Chodron

Something simple and internally profound came into my awareness as I was cooking just a little while ago regarding this very principle.

I've already realized the blessings my illness has given me:

• Focus
• Youthful appearance (totally superficial and appreciated nonetheless as I continue to age)
• Discovering who is meant to evolve with me
• Likely a better second half of my life than I would have had otherwise
• Avoidance, ideally, of more serious illness or disease
• Enhanced spirituality and a path via Buddhism

The list could go on, and it does ...

A very simple notion occurred to me in my kitchen. My body influencing my knowing around gratitude. I once took for granted my physical capabilities, my enjoyment of food and drink, etc. Those things seem simple and expected. Yet they are quite huge gifts. I didn't used to see them in this light. Suddenly I do.

Even though I haven't been running on all cylinders the past few years, and this new treatment has presented me with a new set of challenges, I'm so incredibly grateful for all I am still able to be and do.

Birthday Wishes

From left to right: Yours truly, my husband, Kelly - December 12, 2011 - at a holiday party. This was just shy of a year before my health took a nosedive.

This evening my long time friend Kelly is having a dinner gathering at her place. Upon receiving the invite I immediately pledged my intent to at least make an appearance. My in-laws are with us this weekend.

Well, thankfully this new medical treatment is not kicking my ass. Even so, it's definitely throwing my system for a bit of a loop.

I had last week prepared a little speech for the occasion, and to support my health I'm continuing to lay low at home. Thought it would be fun to share:

Picture it, Bellevue, late spring in the year 2000. You walked into an otherwise almost empty conference room in a stylish, modern downtown office along with a woman who looked old enough to be your great aunt and butch enough to be wearing a tool belt. You exemplified poise (and I do mean that literally) and utmost professionalism. I’m pretty sure you were wearing a light weight black trench coat. I can say with absolute certainty your lips were the most fabulous shade of crimson, perfectly applied. Your smile illuminated the room. Here you are this striking beauty with flawless skin who presented herself elegantly and spoke so eloquently. You just always do, well when you’re not clownin’ around. We’ll get to that later … I thought to myself, “Wow, now there’s someone who really has their shit together.” Your elder colleague didn’t stand a chance next to you, though her flamboyant personality more than made up for her dowdy appearance.

Our very first conversation was you and Sam interviewing me. I can only deduct I met with yours and your (are you sure she’s not lesbian, and it’s so totally cool if she is) manager’s approval as we soon worked together in the same, small and yet stylishly modern Belltown office.

On my first day working with you, you commandeered our office sound system and played “Golden Ticket” from the original 1971 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory soundtrack. You dedicated the song to me. I don’t think it was the music that drew out your incredible inner child that day. Either way you transformed from this perfect professional to a fun-loving, let-your-hair-down kind of gal. I was more than intrigued.

It was on our first walk home from work together via Pike Place that really cemented our bond. Most specifically it was when you said to me, “Hey, Brad, guess what.” You suddenly stopped mid-sidewalk, lifted a cheek in my general direction and all out broke wind. You had me at “bbbbbllllrrrrpppfffffftttt.”

You know you’re going to get along famously with someone when you’re so almost instantaneously that comfortable in one another’s presence to be fully self-expressed. Like family. I would be remiss to not acknowledge from that moment you opened a door, and in that now obscure First Avenue storefront doorway, moments after your biological declaration, I know I returned fire. And we laughed some more …

Over the following 15 years we have been co-workers, co-commuters, pals, talent/rep., dear friends, confidants, even neighbors and all around otherwise connected on many planes. We have had many adventures together, seen each other evolve from our twenties into fortysomething (who’s counting anymore). We’ve laughed ourselves into virtual hyperventilation fits, been there for each other at our best and our worst, and it has all been for the best. Best. Most inspiring is having witnessed how you’ve developed as an artist, as an individual and as a truly wonderful mother. You’re one of a kind, Ms. Jackson. Our relationships are all a part of our collective consciousness, and your friendship is like having a golden ticket.

As is the natural order, all our connections ebb and flow over time. No, not that flow. We may not see each other every day like we used to during those first few fun-filled years, and we may even go for weeks without contact. Even so, we seem to be able to quickly pick right back up where we left off as if no time has passed us by. I am so grateful for that, for you and for how we continue to enhance each other’s lives. No matter how the hours stroll by, I think of you fondly. To this and many more joyous birthdays with much love, Kelly, thank you for being a true friend.

Day Two

Yesterday overall went well. The exception was some digestive discomfort/lump in throat/difficulty swallowing a couple hours following after the second half of my first course of treatment. I had also just eaten. About an hour after that my stomach knotted up a bit. It was tolerable.

Today I awoke feeling a bit more fatigued than yesterday, a bit anxious and irritable. The fatigue is not unusual. My blood pressure is good. My pulse is concerning as my resting rate has been above 100 BPM. I'm feeling a little flu like. I've been told to expect this as a possibility with all the die off occurring in my system. This increases the levels of blood toxicity.

My body is telling me to rest today. We have family visiting, and they are the kind of family you can be however around. So that is good. I had intended to be to a friend's birthday gathering this evening. At this point I think it best to continue laying low. I hope they will understand. A good friend once told me I need never apologize for taking care of my health. I know this to be true.

Even so, here I am recently posting about faded friendships, I'm sure some of which have been a direct result of not having the bandwidth I once had to maintain socially. My choice is to push my body when it's already taxed and suffer the consequences. Or support my wellness so I can heal. I consciously choose the latter and I have to be OK with it. We heal ourselves, and typically not without being cause in the matter.

Day One

Today is the day for this new, aggressive treatment regimen. Here's how it goes:

1st a 10 min. hot shower immediately followed by dosing 20 mg of Omeprazole, 250 mg of Biaxin and 875 mg of Amoxicillin. Then eat.

Two hours later I am to dose:
Nystatin 3 caps
Caprillic Acid 2 caps
Orthobiotics 2 caps
Saccro B 2 caps
Plantadophillus 2 caps
Pro Flora Immune 2 caps
Microbiome Fertilizer 2 caps
Herbal Cox II Inhibitor 2 caps
Saloxicih 2 caps
Quercitin 1,000 mg

I'm to do the aforementioned twice daily. Along with this I'm to avoid wheat, dairy and sugar.

It has been nearly two hours since my first set of doses. About ready to take the others ...

Lost Friendship & The Struggle for Wellness

Awoke today with a heavy chest. Perhaps a lingering sensation from last night. As my husband and I watched NBC's live broadcast of The Wiz, I received some notifications on my phone. One in particular, a long time friend declining our invite for a holiday drop by in late Dec. They posted, "Will be out of town. Thank you for the invite and all the best in 2016!"

The last time I saw this friend was at a small gathering last May, more than a half year ago. This friend gave every body language indication they would rather have been anywhere else than where they were. It was quite obvious, and not just to me. I gave him a disc of various songs I put together for him as a birthday token, and he later sent an appreciative text. That was nice. That's the last I've heard from him until his invitation decline, which I read as dismissive. At the very least it sounds as if they're planning to be out of town quite a long time. Hope they have a wonderful trip. Yes in reality their message is clearly dismissive. Noted. Filed.

Are we the same people we were an hour ago? No. Not me. Not them. If I'm holding onto a story that a past version of me did to a past version of someone else, or vice versa, neither of which are valid anymore. Not to mention, through what lens are we viewing the events that allegedly transpired? There's no point in holding onto such baggage. People tend to pull that fight and resistance into the present, even though it's not actually happening now. Whatever the story is, this is what this person did to me, this is what I've been through. As long as we're focused on that, we're not here, present in the here and now. How can we be?

We individually create our own realities based on our world view and also our relationship with self. We create stories about other people, categorize them and eventually people in our lives end up in the boxes we place them in. When a person's consciousness shifts, those boxes disappear and people show up differently for them. What if people aren't who we think they are or understand them to be? What if the stories I'm creating about others, even myself, what if they're false? The part of us that doesn't want to let go of our stories is the part of us that needs to be right. It's much easier to be fooled than for people to acknowledge they've been fooled, most especially when fooled by themselves.

The people we have come to know and love in our lives, they are part of our collective consciousness. When friendships fade to black, some certainly can and do, it's like a death. The first place I go in my mind's eye is a montage of all the great, fun times that bonded us in the first place. No regrets. Yet my heart hurts all the same, and an empty space will remain until time has mended it or it is filled with something or someone else I cherish. And that will eventually come to be.

Consciousness is ever expanding. No one has the power to impede it. The truth always prevails. As does an awareness of the error of our ways. This is how we learn and grow. We move beyond fear and ignorance to gain true wisdom.

I often say and abide by not cursing one's bad luck until one is certain it's not good luck. Over the past three years of chronic illness, many of my friendships which once flourished have faded. A person only has so much time and energy. All relationships require some degree of effort from both parties. Having diminished capacity to function in my daily life has forced me to focus on mission critical; home/husband and career. I have little time for anything else, which is quite unbalanced, especially for someone who once indulged a broad array of interests. Still, I look at this most recent loss as a potential gain, an opportunity to have more bandwidth for those who I appreciate and vice versa. So I will make peace with this and gracefully move on from that which isn't meant to be.

Even so, I awoke with labored breathing this morning and my lungs kind of hurt. If you've ever done any intense degree of running, it's like that - an achy burn - also a heaviness in my chest. Yet all I had done was sleep all night. I hacked up some yellow phlegm, which is a sign my body is fighting something. That's certainly not news. It's just that I'm about to start a very involved regimen of drugs, herbs and supplements to attack a couple of bacteria infections (h-pylori and Lyme). I understand there are some risks involved in the aggressive treatment I'm pursuing. I'm nervous, scared even.

My body has definitely been "off" today. Part of my knowing believes having Dr. Marra earlier this week tell me all the ways in which my body is entangled may have actually put me more in touch with it. Not sure whether that's a good thing, it may not be a bad thing. We shall see.

We're between storms today, the sun came out and it was gloriously beautiful outside. I got to have a great conversation with my bestie for over an hour this afternoon. My husband's dad and step mom arrive this evening, and I love them. Right now I'm writing in bed with my dog. For all its challenges, perceived or otherwise, life is good. We heal ourselves.

All Muslims Are Terrorists?

An acquaintance of mine recently posted the following video to Facebook:

To see someone so enraged, stating all Muslims are terrorists ... Is that really the truth? Of course not. Extremely far from. The very brand of extremism this big bald guy is condemning is the very same poison he's infecting others with.

It's easy for the more rational person to dismiss such people as ignorant and move on. I think it's important to understand where people like this are coming from. Clearly this big bald guy is scared and his fear has led him to anger, outrage. Where will that lead him next?

In response to this post, I commented: "The easiest way to control people; fear. Make them think their way of life is being threatened. Those who perceive imminent threat will say and do all kinds of crazy things. Hate speech enjoys no constitutional protections, yet it's not enforced as illegal, even if it incites violence. It's irrational and unjust. How do we combat this? Love and understanding. Beautiful concepts against an enormously large scale uphill battle. Scale it down and just practice acts of kindness."

What would happen if we turned off our TVs, our radios, web broadcasts and social media? How differently would we perceive our world through our own observations of life in the here and now of our direct spheres? What would change?

Next Stop: Lyme Junction

I had an initial health consultation with a new natural doctor this afternoon, one with a specialty in Lyme disease. She is very well versed on the subject, explained things to me in a way I actually feel like someone understands what I've been struggling with these past three years and has herself healed from a Lyme infection. That validation is really meaningful.

Basically going to cut and paste the email I typed to my mom and husband:

Thought I would put this in writing so you can refer back to it as I have a lot of detailed information to relay. It's a complex issue.

Foremost, in addition to having Lyme disease, Dr. Marra also is concerned about the presence of an h-pylori infection. Let me back up for a moment.

Lyme is one of the oldest known bacteria in existence and has about two billion years of evolutionary history. So it's very smart. Once it enters the system, it can wreak all kinds of havoc. It's really hard to get rid of.

Imagine your body as a well tended garden. Lyme is a noxious weed. Once it begins to flourish, it can throw other systems into chaos. Soon what was once a beautiful garden is covered in weeds, which can allow other similar weeds to invade, such as h-pylori in my case.

Lyme is quite serious. Dr. Marra is of the medical opinion if it goes for too long untreated, Lyme can lead to more debilitating and potentially fatal diseases such as Parkinson's, ALS or MS.

She explained my previous faintness spells, which she acknowledged as not only scary but also dangerous; damage to my vasovagal nerve/receptors. Because of my symptom profile, Dr. Marra believes I have a multi-organ infection with this harmful bacteria spread to my heart (palpitations, BP fluctuations), lungs (breath shortness), brain (headaches/congestion, ear aches and ringing) and stomach (digestive issues). The good news is, based on my physical exam, my good balance, reflexes and cognition lead her to believe the disease has not progressed too far at this point. My knowing makes me feel as though it is more progressed than a year ago. The rate of progression in general is unknown and varies widely by individual. I think all the other supportive work I have done (acupuncture, chiropractic, etc.) has greatly helped keep me as healthy as I can possibly be.

The other good news is all the work I've done with dietary changes and balancing my thyroid have created a great foundation for going after those pesky, noxious agents. To better explain my diet to you, my internal tissue has a great deal of inflammation. Inflamed tissue is a poor channel for autoimmune receptors. It's like trying to talk to an angry person, they cannot hear you. Foods such as wheat, dairy and sugar are all inflammatory. These foods I have mostly avoided to help support calming/supressing inflammation. Other foods such as nuts and shellfish/seafood I have avoided as a matter of testing positive to being allergic to them. Interestingly enough, Dr. Marra said it’s highly likely I picked up h-pylori from sushi, which I used to love and eat on a somewhat regular basis.

To better explain my symptom profile, Lyme and h-pylori are anaerobic. They do not use oxygen to survive. When I am asleep at night, these bacteria are most active. So I awaken feeling mostly unrefreshed by sleep, and it takes me a while to get going in the mornings. Also, plane travel is particularly disruptive due to the various levels of oxygen stress, the bacteria become increasingly active. So after and during air travel I feel wiped out, sometimes distressed, and then add the stress involved with traveling. It’s a poor combination and explains better why I have grown to dread it.

Next steps are Dr. Mara also wants to look at co-infections and explore other tick-borne agents I may be carrying. She suspects I may have a mild pneumonia bug tampering with my breathing, hence my periodic shortness of breath. Ordinarily my autoimmune system would have resolved this long ago. At present and for the better part of the last few years my autoimmune system has been working overtime and thus hasn't been as effective at any of its many jobs.

Dr. Marra also prescribed two antibiotics, antifungal and probiotics. It’s a very specific and rigorous treatment course. I’m nervous about it. The big picture is I could be on a complex course of scripts and supplements for a year or two. That's OK because I have already been quite regimented for the past three years.

Bottom line is I have not been close to running on all cylinders for the past three years. More than that I am feeling very grateful for all I have been able to do despite my circumstances. I'm also grateful I may have a real chance at recovering my health. If we're successful, there is a good chance my thyroid issue will resolve itself. I have several more lab tests this coming week and then a follow up with Dr. Marra in late January. I'll know more in the next several weeks and will keep you posted.

My Own Origins

No sooner had I posted about my recent research into the origins of Western Washington State, a letter arrived today from my biological aunt Steph.

Along with Steph's letter she sent me a copy of her cousin Tanya's book of poems entitled The Tide Clock.

 

The parents who raised me adopted me at 10 weeks, or at least that's when they first brought me home. I was the third child and second son of my biological mother Nicola or Nicky as she was called. Nicky was very bright, I am told she was an IQ genius. She died unexpectedly, tragically young at age 27. I was two years old.

 

My parents who raised me, my mom Patty in particular, always used to tell me God gave me to her. Even so, I looked quite different from my adoptive parents and adopted sibling. For starters the three of them are white and I'm, well, some may kindly describe me as swarthy; definitely olive complexion. It's not just by appearance I felt a little like the black sheep. I was at times a very awkward kid. My sense of identity was skewed. Growing up knowing I had been adopted, I had often wondered about my origins.

 

Steph has been one of the most helpful of all the blood relatives I have connected with. For one I feel we have a genuine kinship. She has been supportive and kept in touch. One of my favorite of her correspondences to me is from December 1, 2013. She wrote:

 

"Hi there, and Happy Post Thanksgiving! I hope it was a great one. Ours was - had Dan and Ann (my half brother and sister-in-law) and the kids, Ericka and her baby with Jeremy, Jenna and Madi, and Frank's Mom and husband. Aside from wishing you the best during this holiday time, Dan's recent post on a writing from Nikos Kazantzakis's, who was a fav of my mom's, got me thinking about you. She handed all her books down to him as he shared her passion in reading. What flashed through my mind is that she lost much in not knowing you; and you in not knowing her. I know you have your family and life you lived. But I have to tell you, I believe you share that same thirst and passion of literary knowledge. I could be completely wrong, but I don't think so. Her intelligence and wit were above most. I'm going all sentimental here, because I know Nicky missed out as well. Brad, she'd have loved your passion in life and the code you live by. That being said, even though I have not gotten out your way in forever, never think for a moment I don't think of you with love and pride. Whew. I'm on a roll! But ya, I think of you often, and will make my way out there! It's a fricking must! Happy Thanksgiving!"

 

I was moved to tears by my aunt's words of sentiment.

 

You know, my life has these funny paradoxes. I don't quite fit into the mold of the family I grew up with. I've been far removed from the family I share blood with. So having someone I've now somewhat known about a third of my life, who lives thousands of miles away in the Lone Star State, let me know they think on me with love and pride ... That speaks to the very core of my heart.

 

I'm mostly a humble, modest person with occasional bursts of outrageousness. As a mostly optimistic idealist, I envision eventually forging closer ties to my biological family if for nothing more than cementing my ambiguous sense of identity. Such a story is ever so gradually in the works. Though forging those initial ties, discovering the traits and characteristics of my blood relatives, this has been profoundly confirming. So many near lifelong mysteries solved. Where do I get my eyes? My big hook nose? My sense of humor? My zeal? My passion for writing? I see it in photographs of Nicky, hear it in stories from Steph, experience it in expressions from my brother Dan. Connecting these (what may seem trivial to most) dots gives me a greater sense of belonging and knowing more about who I am. For me this is powerful and sacred and deeply appreciated. This is truly one of my life's most generous gifts, which I am entirely grateful for.

 

So the poetry book my aunt Steph sent me was written by her cousin Tanya. It's called The Tide Clock, pictured as follows.

Tanya's given name was Barbara. Apparently she always hated that name. During her time in Oxford (I'm assuming for study), she formed a tight friendship with a Russian Orthodox family. They inspired her new name, which she legally changed to Tanya.

 

Tanya speaks five languages and has written in several of them. Her son graduated from Yale and lives in New York. Apparently there are some other brainy folks in our lineage. These blood relatives are from my biological mother's maternal side, the Contos'. From what I understand the Contos' are an aristocratic Greek family.

 

Apparently Tanya's poems are derived from her life experiences. That's certainly something I can identify with.

 

Steph is correct to some extent about my literary prowess. It's a more recent enjoyment, and not nearly as intellectual as my brother Dan's. Perhaps if I had had similar influences, I may have been swayed differently. Yet it's ineffective to wonder what if. I am who I am. I've experienced what I've experienced. I'm so inspired to know I have an accomplished relative who has a similar desire to relay and share wisdom.

Western WA Origins

Since childhood I recall a special kinship with my hometown of Issaquah and Seattle, its area of dominant influence. My family relocated to the Puget Sound Region when I was entering second grade, age seven and a half. A few things struck me as unique to my new home. An emphasis on nautical hobbies such as boat racing and waterskiing. An emphasis on aeronautics, the area dotted with small airports, gliders and skydivers. Windsocks were common sights as was native-inspired artwork. Today by comparison really only the nautical holds firmly true.

I fondly remember one of my first visits to Seattle's waterfront in the early 1980s. Waiting for a ferry to cross either to Bremerton or Winslow (I can't recall which), I stumbled into Ye Olde Curiosity Shop.

Founded in 1899, this house of 1,000 relics captivated me. If I had been allowed to, I could have spent countless hours there exploring and dreaming. Here one can find everything from native artwork, tourist swag, historic artifacts and quite bizarre creatures (like shrunken heads, two-headed animals, etc.). There's just something about this place and a couple other unique and historic spots like Seattle's Pioneer Square and Pike Place Market that are almost indescribable. It's more than the scent of ancient timbers and decades of managed dust. It's a feeling. A feeling of nostalgia. A feeling of optimism. A feeling of spirit, heart and soul, of what those before me dreamed would eventually become of this sacred place we know today as Seattle.

From a much broader perspective, I had always considered my town as my town, my county as my county, my state as my state and my country as my country. Perhaps one could consider this an entitlement for being born of a certain nativity at a certain time in history, in my case a late twentieth century American. Yet barely more than 160 years ago, claims to this land were much more ambiguously uncertain. Examining how this land for you and me came to be, admittedly I become increasingly less fond of my own native heritage.

Modern day scientists have evidence supporting the existence of indigenous people in my region dating back some 8,000 to 10,000 years before the first settlers of European descendants arrived to this once pristine realm. One certainly need only rely on historians, the local library or the internet to understand who was here before our predecessors began to call this place home and stake their claims to it.

I make somewhat frequent trips to West Seattle from it's burbs to the south. Often my route takes me along the western banks of the once mighty Duwamish River. One might as this river, once teeming with nature, is now a barren wasteland of industry. In fact it is today a federal superfund site; highly toxic. I guess we Americans call that progress?

At the north end of West Marginal Way sits proudly the Duwamish Tribal Longhouse, which looks out toward a park at the edge of the superfund. I've passed by this building on numerous occasions. I was drawn in for the first time several weeks ago by a jazz event, which was actually on a different day than the one I had seen advertised. No matter, the longhouse is open to the public and I was there during regular business hours. So I poked around. A very kind, pleasant woman greeted me. She didn't appear to be of native descent. Then again, I am of half Greek and half Hispanic descent, not exactly anyone's picture of your typical "guy next door all American."

After greeting me, the woman gave me a brief tour of the gallery and museum by pointing out from where we stood at the entrance what I would find where. I started with the splendid gallery featuring work by indigenous descendants. Much of the work was more contemporary, some even modern and most of it quite well done. I was more drawn to the artifacts, relics and historical points of interest. This is when I began my study of these once thriving, native people. The Duwamish Tribe in particular still struggles for federal recognition. They were the first "Seattleites," so how can this be?

My curiosity drew me to begin some initial research on the most celebrated, native tribal figure for whom the founders named this area of dominant influence after; Chief Seattle. Seattle is a variation of this great man's name. In their indigenous culture, the native people of this area customarily never spoke the name of the deceased for fear that spirit resting in peace would be disturbed.

Incidentally, before becoming a Washington resident, I learned to walk on a rocky beach in Poulsbo, a short distance from Chief Seattle's and his Suquamish Tribe's winter lodging grounds, known as Ole Man House.

Last week I ventured to the King County Public Library's Burien branch, which has a surprisingly rich collection of Northwest culture and history. I picked up three Chief Seattle biographies and just today completed reading the third. What a fascinating, rich history this area has! I wonder how many think about all that transpired to "settle" this area.

Between the three books I found some disparities in information, some holes in timelines and in the most detailed book possibly quite a bit of racism. I actually now find the word racism a little antiquated. Aren't we really talking about people who fancy themselves to be superior to another? Should we not refer to them as "elitists" or "supremacists"? If the Cole Haan fits ...

Not sure at this point where my intrigue around local history may lead me, I'm looking forward to finding out!

The Blessings of Being 36 Months Sick

From left to right: Friend Joe, husband Terry and yours truly (approx. 45 lbs. heavier) the evening of November 11, 2012 at La Patrona Polo Club in San Francisco, Nayarit, Mexico.

Ever randomly notice when the clock shows 11:11 and wondered whether this has any significance? I frequently see this time flash up, and never has it had more significance in my life since November 11, 2012, the day I fell ill and remained so to this day.

Had anyone told me at some point in my life I would be chronically ill for three years, I would never have believed it. I've been on this long, seemingly endless and often arduous health journey like a bad dream I can't wake up from. Even so, three years? Really?

My then fiancé Terry (we're married now) and I were enjoying a long weekend at my holiday home in Mexico with my long time high school friend Treasure and her then fiancé Joe (they're married now with kid). The second to last night of our stay, we enjoyed a cocktail on the beach for happy hour and watched our closest star seemingly melt into a calm, shimmery Pacific Ocean. This is truly one of my most favorite pass times, or at least it used to be.

We took a cab into Sayulita that night and had a beautiful dinner at a fancy restaurant right on the beach. Afterward we strolled around town, ducking in and out of boutiques, marveling at local artisan crafts and taking in the festive atmosphere that comes from a vibrant weekend night in this somewhat quaint Mexican surfer town and tourist trap.

Before long we were back in my cozy little village of San Pancho, having a nightcap or two at Panchitos. Formerly known as The Drunken Monkey, Panchitos is the favorite local, open-air-palapa-style watering hole in the village. Best of all that night, a regulation shuffleboard table! Treasure and I squared off against our fiances. We kicked their asses, royally. We ended the night with a luxurious soak in my dipping pool beneath a moon-lit, starry sky. I vividly recall how perfectly room temperature the water was, floating in complete bliss in wonderful company; an ethereal experience for sure.

The next morning, everyone was doing pretty well, except for Joe. He was feeling particularly unwell. Treasure asked if we had any headache meds, but we didn't. So I escorted her to the local farmacia on the other side of the village. The sun shined brightly, the air comfortably warm and tropical. We quite leisurely made our way there and back.

Upon our return, I enjoyed a few sips of coffee. Treasure and Terry were chatting away at the high table on the back patio by the pool. I walked out to join them. As I stepped across the threshold, my gaze suddenly affixed toward the sky, which had been clear blue and bright with full sun. Suddenly the sky darkened until I could see nothing but black and stars. I felt for a moment as though my legs and feet were giving out on me. Then it was as if I was losing complete consciousness, as in my soul departing my body. Then the light appeared again as I gasped for breath and took a seat.

Treasure and Terry asked if I was OK, and completely frightened, I explained what I had just experienced. At the same time, I was trying to get a handle on how I was feeling. Something was wrong, very wrong. I could no longer gauge whether I was hot or cold. I knew the temperature was getting warmer outside based on the time of day. I thought maybe I was dehydrated from our night out on the town and needed to cool down. So I took a dip in the pool. The water temperature had virtually no effect on me, and then I worried whether I was cooling off too quickly. The most alarming of all at the time was having no sense of internal body temperature.

I got back out of the pool, dried off, refilled my water glass and laid down in my cool bedroom. And that's where I remained, slowly and regularly sipping water until lunchtime. By afternoon Joe was up and stirring. We all walked down to La Playa to eat lunch. I just ordered a quesadilla, which I ended up only taking a couple bites of. I had no appetite and still felt rather "off." So I excused myself from the table. On my way out I ran into my ex's mom Pat, who I adore. I told her I wasn't feeling well. She smiled back at me and said something to the effect of how it sucks getting old. Mind you, I was 38 at the time.

When I got home I climbed back on the bed and rested until dinner. We had a special evening planned, our first time going to our local polo club, which is quite lovely. I would even venture to describe it as luxurious. They had a guest chef from Oaxaca that night. We had a delicious dinner and a marvelous evening. I decided it was best to lay off the booze, so I tea totaled all evening.

The next day we were heading home. This is when the more minor and periodic faintness spells started. I would suddenly out of nowhere get woosey and feel as though I were starting to lose consciousness. A wave of panic washed over me. Then it would all dissipate and I would return to normal. Frightening and completely puzzling.

One of the first things I did when we got back home was book an appointment with my primary care physician at the time, Dr. Michael Rosenfield, at Emerald City Medical Arts. I hadn't seen him in a while, and I wasn't a long time, established patient of his. So I was pawned off onto his cute physician's assistant and his more robust nurse. Mind you I was still having these peculiar faintness spells for several days between leaving Mexico and the day of my appointment.

The assistant checked my vitals and then suggested a series of blood labs. So off to the nurse for draws. The nurse first offered me a flu shot. I asked if she got them. She said no. So I declined.

When the results were in, the assistant said all my vitals check out just fine, so if things worsen I should go to the ER. Really?! Fuck you very much. And so began the next three years of health frustrations and scares, including a trip to the ER a few weeks later.

One early December 2012 morning I was at the office. I had been somewhat light headed since starting the day with a ringing in my ears. I was diligently drinking water. Even so, the faintness spells were coming on quite frequently. My colleagues were all in our weekly team meeting down the hall. As the spells began to intensify, I made a dash to my car and drove myself from my Wallingford office to the ER in neighboring Ballard. In hindsight this was not the best idea I had ever had, and really would have been better served enlisting someone from the office to take me. At the same time, the last thing I would ever want to do when I'm having such acute symptoms is cause alarm, worry or burden others.

Let me tell you, nothing is more frustrating than feeling as though you're just going to whither away from this world while someone is trying to collect your identifying information such that they may be entitled to collect payment from you and/or your insurer. Seriously.

The ER doctor, Brown as I recall, gave me the whopper of all health practitioner greetings I have received to date. After introducing himself, he asked me the following: "Has anyone in your family ever mysteriously and suddenly died?"

What the fuck kind of question is that?! Isn't an ER a place where they address trauma and not create it?! At the time not only was I not in any position to fully process a response to this question, I began to further wonder about what my body was trying to tell me. Was this its way of telling me its throwing in the towel, lights out, time to go to eternal sleep?

"No," I answered, "not to the best of my knowledge." Simply stated, that was the truth. Even so, in that moment a door had been thrust open in my psyche.

Dr. Brown ran a battery of tests; EKG, urine, stool, blood. The attending nurse put me on a saline IV to treat me for dehydration. At the end of the three ring circus, Dr. Brown told me they could make no determination as to my ailment(s), and referred me to a cardiac specialist.

The cardiac specialist ordered me to wear a holter monitor for three days to further investigate these faintness episodes. I felt a little like Darth Vader with this thing strapped to me 24/3, and was relieved to be able to turn it in.

I call this photo Darth Selfie. Yes, I do own a Darth Vader mask and large sombrero. This photo was taken around Cinco de Mayo, 2014 and only now posted for a little comic relief.

During my time married to a holter monitor, I didn't leave the house. I wasn't feeling up for being out and about anyway. Though the problem with that is being in business for myself. If I don't show up for work, there's really no one to "fill in" for me. If I don't work, I don't get paid. Even so, this was really the least of my worries at the time, and still a pretty weighty worry.

My follow up with the cardiologist included imaging of my heart. The findings from the monitor, EKG and ultra sound ... Despite having tachycardia, which I was diagnosed with as a teen, my heart is healthy and not causing any trouble. Well, I guess that's a big relief. After battery of ER labs and this latest information, I was left with a $7,500 bill and nothing conclusive to treat.

For the first time in my life I felt truly powerless and helpless. I didn't know what to do or who to turn to for help. Add to my health issues being surrounded by all the doomsday chatter for 12/21/12. If I didn't have anxiety before, I was certainly going to now.

By the end of December 2012 I had an initial visit with Dr. Sean Congdon at the Bastyr Center for Natural Health, who my wonderful acupuncturist referred me to. My first visit was nearly three hours in length. Talk about comprehensive. We covered a lot of ground, including what I see in my dreams. Dr. Congdon shared with me that when our bodies are in imbalance, it can take a month to recover for every year we are imbalanced. If that's the case, then my body has been inbalanced for 36 of my 41 years on Earth, and I'm still to this day feeling unwell.

Even if we weren't getting to the bottom of things immediately, I now finally felt as if I had someone on my side, an advocate who was going to support me through this as best they could. And he did, for quite a number of years.

By the holiday season of 2012 I was still feeling intermittently unwell, often with head fog, ear ringing and the occasional faintness spell. My husband and I were spending the Christmas holiday with my mom at her home in Coeur D'Alene, ID. It's a magical town on a lake surrounded by mountains. We had a beautiful white Christmas, and I would have loved being able to enjoy myself more than I did. Toward the end of our time there I did start feeling better. For the next month following I felt as though I was making a solid recovery.

Then came early February 2013. I was out to lunch one afternoon with my title rep. Jenny. We went to a more foodie joint in Fremont called Revel, Korean/Northwest fusion. About half way through our meal I began to feel a strange sensation in my throat I hadn't before experienced. It was like something was caught in my throat. I excused myself to the restroom. On my way there a chill washed over me and I became a bit lightheaded. The throat sensation wasn't clearing, it seemed to be intensifying. I asked the waitress if there was anything in our dishes that may cause an allergic reaction. She was calm and very helpful and of course asked me if I had allergies to anything specific. The big problem was I had never before in my life had any type of allergic reaction to food, not even a sensitivity. My palette was quite broad. One of my former favorite foods was Unagi (eel).

To be safe Jenny rushed me to ZoomCare, and stayed with me the whole time. The doctor there administered a Benedryl shot in my right rear cheek and then sent me home. The doctor told me I could have a flair up within 12-48 hours and cautioned about the risks of possible anaphylactic shock. I suppose for liability purposes they are required to tell patients such things. Still, these topics don't resonate well with one's psyche. Such concepts weren't only completely foreign to me, they were downright terrifying! I had no idea what was happening inside my body. Heck, I thought I was getting better. Now I might suddenly have fatal allergies?!

ND Dr. Congdon discovered my thyroid imbalance, completely overlooked by my previous primary care MD Dr. Rosenfield. Dr. Congdon gave me incredible dietary recommendations and supplements to support my body's natural functions. After six or so months of clean eating I had shed 45 lbs. or so of unwanted body fat. This substantial weight loss was yet another strange experience for me. For one thing it left me looking much leaner and more youthful. I often fielded compliments from people around the office, in my personal life. "Have you lost weight? You look great!"

Had the weight loss been intentional, I may have been delighted by this attention. Yet I felt like shit. Many days a challenge to get out of bed and do my life. If I look so damn great, how come I feel so fucking crappy? In hindsight, now that I've lived with this invisible specter of illness for three years, the type of attention I find helpful is that of compassion.

Then came the breath shortness, which was periodic and at times severe. Dr. Congdon referred me to a top MD allergist, Dr. Virant, who prescribed me a rescue inhaler and epi pens for the throat responses. While I suppose these are good tools to have around just in case, being prescribed meds to help prevent the sudden onset of death is more than a little unnerving if you really think about it. Again, the antithesis of aiding my psyche in healing.

When the allergist's nurse explained the rescue inhaler to me, she mentioned it could make me feel a little jittery. If that wasn't the biggest understatement of the year. The one time I had a concerning breath shortness spell where I used the inhaler, the drug exponentially amped my anxiety. I felt like the world was fucking ending! I still carry my inhaler. Even when my bouts of breath shortness are pronounced, I use a breathing technique to ease my suffering and calm my system. Other times I just lay in bed as it's easier for me to breathe when I'm laying down.

There were also times where I got out of bed only to have my body feel like a wet noodle I could barely move. In hindsight it was a sudden and complete loss of energy. At the time I had no idea what was going on and felt like perhaps my number was up or going to be soon. One Saturday I recall in particular just laying in bed with a candle going, listening to Tibetan Monks on Pandora. While the music made this experience tolerable, this is no way to live. Just existing does not in any way shape or form resemble life. For a time I felt so poorly for such a duration I contemplated alternatives to life. If this is how it was going to be from here on out, what really was the point?

I found my way to the best MD endocrinologist in the state, Dr. Murray, who put me on an RX of T3 and T4 supplements, my energy levels stabilized. Only now I'm diagnosed with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. On occasion I do have more energy than other times. Still, things were looking up.

Dr. Congdon had me take many tests, mostly blood and a couple digestive labs. Those were my least favorite, having to defecate into what looked like a paper to-go container for French fries, then scoop part of it into vials, package and mail it off in a biohazard bag. Most unpleasant; gross.

My digestive labs came back showing candida overgrowth and some parasites; two known and one unknown. We treated the candida. Dr. Congdon's opinion about the parasites is they are generally common in people and a path to chart if things get worse.

Before my body became imbalanced, I lived a very vibrant life. I had lots of friends who I spent time with on a regular basis. Today my daily life of friends has dwindled down to my most important people; my husband, our dog and my bestie. Keeping up on the bare minimum to make my life work is where I allocate about 90 percent of my energy, most of that is directed toward my occupation. Whereas I used to thrive on and found the company of others restorative. Now I find solitude restorative. Not having to talk or be clever or interesting or interested. Quite frankly I'm just no longer up to the task of being me. Quiet time where I can just be is what helps me recharge.

Having gone from being someone who was once gregarious, full of life and vitality to suddenly being in survival mode is quite a dramatic transformation. While in some ways I've been sad to see friendships fade, I know it's all for the best. I don't know for certain I'll get better or recover my health; I'm optimistic I will. When that day comes, I will have space for genuine friendships, people who will stick by me through thick and thin. I'm grateful for those people I have in my life who have been there for me through this whole journey, which has been an evolutionary and revealing experience, brushing aside the noise in my life.

Ironically I've had two of my most successful years in business these past three. One thing I attribute to this is focus. I don't have either the time or energy to mess around. So I have to quickly make sense of things and only perform work that's meaningful.

So here I am three years later in bed at my Normandy Park home, still sick and being cared for by Nurse Millie Monday, November 9, 2015.

Along the way of various rule outs, Dr. Congdon had me tested for Lyme. One of the three test results showed antibodies for Lyme, and I am positive for it based on the New York and Connecticut State standards. That was in June 2013.

As wonderful as Dr. Congdon has been from late December 2012 through spring of 2015, I feel I may need more aggressive support. His opinion has been that whatever infectious agent I may have, my body is dealing with it very well. As such, he is of the mind to not intervene unless things get worse.

Dealing with it well is all relative. This illness, whatever IT is, has been quite debilitating for me. Though I've read about cases of people having Lyme whereas they have such severe migraines they are admitted to the ER for morphine drips, and even that isn't completely effective. I've more recently had some head congestion, sometimes on the intense end of the scale, nowhere near hospitalization. Even more recently inner ear aches and on a couple occasions a severe loss of hearing.

For the past three late summer seasons, I go from feeling alright to feeling really unwell. This year was no exception and more intense than the past two warm to cool season changes. Today I was really out/short of breath. My husband is at his wit's end with my illness. That's a whole other story about his psychological issues with illness based upon his once abusive mom's hypochondria.

Two nights ago we got into a fight. He yelled at me because he thinks we need to aggressively treat my disease. Yet he has done little if any study of Lyme and I believe is mostly just frustrated that we've not been targeting this since my test results about a year ago. My husband also has several health issues of his own. So I yelled back about his reluctance to do anything about his own health and that maybe he ought to be doing something extreme to correct his issues.

As much as I understand my husband's frustrations, and he has every right to feel the way he feels, no one could feel more frustration about what I've endured than me. Yet I am taking it in stride; moment by moment. In the past year or so I've taken up a meditation practice, which I've found most helpful. I've studied Buddhism, which is really more a philosophy of life than it is a religion, and it's quite practical. I've done a shamanistic soul retrieval. I've been poked, prodded, adjusted, massaged. I took an eight week mindfulness based stress reduction workshop. I've completed a biofeedback program. I've rested, hydrated, eaten clean. I've supplemented, RXed and detoxed. I've been doing everything I can to support my own well being for the past three years. Despite my countless hours, high degree of discipline and thousands of dollars spent, I am still unwell. So if anyone is allowed to be frustrated, it's me. While I am, I still have hope and optimism I will heal, restore balance/homeostasis.

My husband has also been very patient, and at times in copious amounts. As much as I appreciate his patience, the one thing I need most of all from him more than anyone else is empathy. Based on his childhood-based wiring around illness, it's one of the most difficult things he can give to me.

Today I posed to my husband perhaps he would be happier with a healthy partner. I was serious. Yes, more often that not this imbalance has been a very lonely journey. Still, I would rather be in solitude than be the source of someone's constant frustration. That doesn't help either of us, I do love him and want him ultimately to be happy, even if it's with someone else. The practical me becomes quite strong when my body is weak, come to find out.

As of December 1, 2015 I have an initial consultation scheduled with a naturopath who specializes in Lyme Disease and co-infections. This doctor previously practiced in Connecticut, which is an area well known for Lyme. This doctor also has battled and healed from Lyme. I am even that much more encouraged. Perhaps this is the final phase of this three year journey. I truly wish for this saga to come to a positive resolution as soon as possible. Time will tell ...

I could have greatly elaborated on this post, and there's so much I have yet to share. For another time certainly. In the meantime, I leave you with this: