IT COULD ALWAYS BE WORSE

It could.

Always be worse.

But every so often I have a 'moment'.

A moment where I sob.

I don't get mad at God.

I just feel sorry for myself.

But, only for a moment and then I move on!

I am so blessed.

No matter what physical challenges I face,

I. AM. SO. BLESSED.

And, this week has been challenging.

Let's start with January 13th - right knee replacement.

Because of Rheumatoid Arthritis.

As you age, RA changes.

It becomes degenerative in a horrid way.

On March 21st I had outpatient surgery

to clean up the area around my torn meniscus in my left knee.

RA again.

If you don't know, I've been going to a podiatrist, 

two different ones actually, for about 8 or 9 years

because I snapped the inside tendons on the inside of both feet.

I finally came to my senses after so, so many years of

the wrong treatments prescribed by my podiatrist(s).

I've come to the conclusion, and this is just my thought,

that podiatrists should only be allowed to work on the toe nails

of prisoners on death row. 

Just sayin'.

And, to save you from having to listen to me go on and on,

which I have no desire to do,

let me simply tell you that I made an appointment with

one of the top foot and ankle orthopedic surgeons in Texas.

I met with him this past Tuesday.

After Dr. Castillas looked at the x-rays, MRI and Cat Scan

of my left foot and ankle 

(it's in the biggest mess - right foot and ankle will be next)

A treatment decision was made.

I have surgery this Monday.

It was urgent to have the surgery as soon as possible. 

And, without going into all of the details,

Dr. C. said I would have lost my foot if things continued

the way they were..

Amputation.

So, surgery on my left foot and ankle is this Monday - one more day.

It's a major surgery says Dr. C., but one he's performed regularly.

The recuperation time??

This is the best part, of course!

EIGHT WEEKS - MY FOOT CANNOT TOUCH 

THE GROUND FOR EIGHT WEEKS.

 I have a trip I've very much looked forward to

with my sorority sisters that is not going to happen for me.

(hoping I can get my airline ticket $$ back)

I have wedding invitations to my son, Blake's, wedding to finish 

and get mailed. And, I have a honkin' reception hall to decorate.

The wedding is July 25th.

Oh, and then I leave for an art retreat (still a couple of seats open:)

in the South of France and then to Germany to see my

"little girl" and her family.

Let's get it done!! Time's wasting and I have things to do!

Please pray for the surgery and for the resulting pain and my recovery.

I do need those prayers.

And, if you want to come and visit I've got some fun

things to make for the wedding reception AND

a great art studio for playing!

 P.S. What would I do without my family? My boys and girls and little girls are great support. 

But, my sister, Joan, is my biggest support. 

 She is my heart.

 And, I couldn't get through this upcoming procedure or any in the past, without the Tank.

He takes amazing care of me.

 My cousin, Melinda, is so caring and loving. She is my rock.

I want to end with thanking you for putting up with me.

You read my sporadic blog posts.

Some of you lurk and some leave comments on Facebook

instead of my post, but you read me and I think you "get" me.

And, I love all of you dearly - lurkers, too. *wink*

Blessings.

HI. MY NAME IS JAN AND.....

I'm standing at a podium in the middle of a small room and I introduce myself,

"Hi. My name is Jan and I suffer from IBS."

Did I expect a response?

From an empty room?

IBS is Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

It's not something one talks about let alone announce from a podium.

The choir loft?

In the line at the grocery store?

From the rooftops?

Over the P.A. system at Wal-Mart 

at the risk of  joining the photos of Wal-Mart shoppers?

IBS. A curse.

If you have a flare-up (flare)

you are chained to your bathroom.

If a flare comes at the wrong time 

you could miss your child's wedding,

your mom's memorial service,

your child's graduation from college,

the grand opening of a Dollar Store.

I had my first flare about five years ago.

That's a totally unacceptable experience when you're not at home.

My doctor put me on a hefty dose of a steroids

to get my flare under control.

.......And he kept me on it for.........five..........years,

assuring me that it was often done that way....long term.

He's a doctor, I believed him.

Slowly the skin on my arms became very thin

and they were easily bruised - blood bruises

like the elderly get on their arms.

It continued to get worse.

Oh, I called the doctor's office several times over those

five years and was reassured each time that

I hadn't been on the steroids too long.

It finally came to the point that I talked to my GP, whom

I trust implicitly, about three months ago.

She had me change doctors.

My new lower GI doctor is wonderful.

He weaned me off of the steroids in three days.

My arms started clearing up and 

the skin on my arms toughened up.

Yea!

At this point you're no doubt wondering why 

in the world am I telling you all of this.

Slow day.

Seriously, there is such an important reason.

It seems that the steroids built up in my body and started

affecting my behavior.

I wasn't aware of it.

Obviously, it got worse as time went on.

.....I have found out that the last year, okay,

probably two, have not been my years to shine.

I owe you an apology if I have ever acted whacked

or talked to you with an unacceptable attitude.

Hey, it could be any of many behaviors - 

I don't remember them.

I think my lack of memory has been my saving grace

in some ways.

It certainly hasn't been in a couple of instances.

May I suggest to those of you that feel you need

to bring to the attention of someone

you love, their behavior or your thoughts

of their mental stability, to do it in a 

loving way so as not to 
make them feel you are on the attack.

Be Jesus when you talk to them.

Be gentle, careful with your words

and most of all, talk to them with the love

you feel for them in your heart.
And, don't wait. Please, don't wait if
you love them. That is only harmful.

What happened to me twice before I even

knew there was a problem was not handled in that way.

Both situations destroyed me.

One friendship ruined,

the other wobbly, to say the least, for 

many months now.

I found out specifics of my behavior 

over the last year or two

from my sister, Joan, in a loving and positive

way last week in Florida.

She was kind and, though made me cry

from extreme embarrassment when

she gave me examples of my behavior,

talked to me like only my sister could.

Lovingly.

She started by telling me that she was

so happy that I was back to my "self".

I thought she was talking about my

arms so showed them off. 

But, no, she was telling me that she was

so glad that I was back to her "Jan".

I was honestly confused.

She explained that for the longest time

I hadn't been "me".

She even gave me examples that made

me want to crawl under the truck

(we were in my brother's pick-up).

Verbal attacks based on nothing, mood swings,

becoming a hermit, unquestionably whacked.

I did ask her why she waited so long to 

bring all of this up and she just didn't know......

I was so embarrassed.

I was mostly concerned that my boys

had been thinking that their mom was crazy.

No one else mattered as much.

No one.

When I talked to my eldest, he said that,

no, I had been fine for the last two years.

I had been so physically challenged.......

that's where I stopped him and steered him back

to my concerns.

That sweet boy forgave me for "nothing".

I shared and apologized to my daughter-in-law, too.

The steroids explained so much about

 the start of our relationship.

So glad to have an answer and her forgiveness.

(two down, two to go)

Even the Tank noticed my new behavior

without me having said anything.

The steroids took about six weeks to

work their way out of my body and

allow me to become myself again - to a point.

And, I feel the difference.

I'm full of the joy, the positive thoughts,

the anxiousness to "do",

and I'm happy. So joyful and happy.

I don't long to be the hermit I have become 

(let's take that one slowly - I don't do drama).

I'm me again.

I had seriously forgotten what it felt like

though I didn't realize that.

Confusing?? That's the real me, too.
However, I realize that it takes months for them
to completely work their way out of my system, 
but have been assured that any future "experiences"
will not be as horrid as the ones I've been
told about.

Again, if I have ever done anything odd or whacked

to you, please accept my apology.

This is the most effective way to get

"the word out".

If you feel the want/need to pass this

on to someone(s), please do.

I seek forgiveness.

P.S. Any comments? All and any are welcome. Anyone think this post could be any longer??

MY SISTER, THE DORK

Hasn't it been fun, using different colored fonts for my posts? I'm loving this white background!

Okay, on to the subject at hand...a little behind in getting this posted, but it's so important that you know the REAL Joan that I'm posting late.

My sister, Joan.

Wow. An amazing cook.

We have so much fun when we're together!

We go junking, she cooks while I work in my studio, we ride the back roads with our cameras looking for those perfect pictures.

She's not only a LD teacher of 25+ years, but she's also a professional photographer.Soon hoping to be as good as me. heeheehee

She is all of these amazing things and we are very close...

Then she pulls stuff like this and I can only say..."YOU ARE SUCH A DORK!!!"

We took a road trip to east Texas in June while she was down here visiting - we were just looking for great junk shops, boutiques, photo-ops, just whatever. We planned on spending the night so we were in no hurry. It was just a laid back trip in my convertible *with the top down* and Joan at the wheel because **long story**.

Here I am showing you the chapstick in question.
The innocent, wee bitty tube of relief that became the tool that Joan abused even while driving a car...

We're flying along at a speed that could have killed me if Joan wasn't giving the road, the traffic, unseen traps, her full attention...
With the top down, I applied some, admittedly soft from the heat, chapstick and asked Joan if she wanted some.

She did, so I passed it to her without looking at her - I'm busy watching the road...

Finally, she passes it back to me.
I look down to put the cap back on and it looked like someone had chewed on the chapstick!!!

While looking down at the mess I asked her,

"WHAT DID YOU DO, CHEW ON IT???"...

I look over at her and there she is just waiting for me to look...
The chapstick was so soft that when she went to spread it on her lips, it came off in a clump.

Only Joan, okay, maybe me too, would sit there for what had to seem like forever, holding the wad on her lip, just waiting for me to look over at her!

I could not breathe...I was laughing so hard.

What a hoot!

The way it all played out was just perfect...what a dork!

But, oh, it gets worse...

Of course, I have to take the wad and dispose of it because the trash sack is on my side, but after it's on my finger I make the hard decision that that wet, slimy piece of chapstick is NOT going in my really cute trash sack.

So, I flick it out my side of the car and put my right arm back up on the door to get some more sun *remember the top is down*.

A couple of minutes later I look down and see this!!!........

THE CHAPSTICK THAT I HAD FLICKED OUT OF MY SIDE OF THE CAR
IS ON MY ARM!!

"JO-O-O-O-O-O-O-AN!!!!!"

My sister....BFF, amazing cook, professional photographer, teacher of young minds (that has become a scary thought, hasn't it?). . .DORK.

The End.

I want to thank all of my amazing readers for sticking around to meet my sister, Joan. She really is the best, but, I had to share one of the many dorky experiences we have when we're together! PIMP!!

XOXO, Jan