LUSH Against Animal Testing

“A young woman was restrained, force-fed and injected with cosmetics in a high street shop window as part of a hard-hitting protest against animal testing.
Jacqueline Traide was tortured in front of hundreds of horrified shoppers in a bid to raise awareness and end the practise.
The 24-year-old endured 10 hours of experiments, which included having her hair shaved and irritants squirted in her eyes, as part of a worldwide campaign by Lush Cosmetics and The Humane Society.
The disturbing stunt took place in Lush’s Regent Street store, one of the UK’s busiest shopping streets.
Jacqueline appeared genuinely terrified as she was pinned down on a bench and had her mouth stretched open with two metal hooks while a man in a white coat force-fed her until she choked and gagged.
The artist was also injected with numerous needles, had her skin braised and lotions and creams smeared across her face.
Passers-by were gobsmacked to see Jacqueline, a social sculpture student at Oxford Brookes University, forced to have a section of her head shaved.
The gruesome spectacle aimed to highlight the cruelty inflicted on animals during cosmetic laboratory tests and raise awareness that animal testing is still a common practise.
The Humane Society International and Lush Cosmetics have joined forces to launch the largest-ever global campaign to end animal testing for cosmetics.
The campaign, launched to coincide with World Week for Animals in Laboratories, is being rolled out simultaneously in over 700 Lush Ltd shops across forty-seven countries including the United States, Canada, India, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea and Russia.
Lush campaign manager Tamsin Omond said: “The ironic thing is that if it was a beagle in the window and we were doing all these things to it, we’d have the police and RSPCA here in minutes.
“But somewhere in the world, this kind of thing is happening to an animal every few seconds on average.
“The difference is, it’s normally hidden. We need to remind people it is still going on.”
For more information about the campaign, visit www.fightinganimaltesting.com”
I HOPE EVERYONE READS THIS AND REBLOGS IT!

Wrapping Up Duck Dynasty

I stared at the Duck Dynasty board game as it sat on the Christmas wrapping paper, not knowing whether or not to proceed.

I was blazing hot mad at what Phil Robertson, the patriarch of the family, had said. The Duck Dynasty Disaster crawled up and down my Facebook feed. So many friends went wild with their memes in support of Phil.

Now, before anyone gets mad at me - Understand that the part of me that reacted this way, was the part with a best friend who happens to be gay and married. He and his his husband are Guncles to our children, and we could not love a couple more if they where blood-related to our family. So, the first place I went, was anger. Anger at what he said, and how he said it.

The other part of me just purchased a Duck Dynasty board game for our kids for Christmas, and has 20 episodes of Duck Dynasty waiting to be devoured on our DVR.

I was completely conflicted.

I love the Robertsons because for all their gun-totin', Bible-thumping quirkiness, the bottom line was the love for family. It didn't matter what that family looked like, dressed like, suddenly our children were relating to their humor and at the end of every episode I had a lump in my throat.

So how did my vision of this imperfectly perfect family implode with an interview and one very unfortunate YouTube? It was as though I had fallen in love with a guy and he suddenly declared he was a mass-murderer.

Then I stopped to think about the way I was reacting. Yes, I may not agree with Phil's statements. Yes, I wish he had never said those things. But what is worse, living in a country with differences, or living in a country without the right to express our beliefs? In storming my aggression against Phil for voicing his opinion, wasn't I simply becoming just as hateful as I felt his own comments were? Wasn't I turning on a family with so many amazing qualities, just because they hold a belief I disagree with, when they have filled our lives with joy and a new perspective on acceptance of diversity?

A&E's firing of Phil makes me long for the days of the disclaimer, "The views expressed by the Robertson family are not necessarily those of A&E". And leave it at that.

I wish we all agreed on everything. I wish gays had equal rights on every level of society. But stripping away Phil's right to free speech is the precursor to out-lawing parades that celebrate gay rights. They are two sides of the same coin.

Thousands upon thousands of American troops have died to protect this freedom of expression, and to keep our country free from tyranny. To take away this right negates the very purpose of our men and women fighting for the very principals upon which our country was founded.

I pull the wrapping paper up and over the game, tying a red bow on top. This Christmas will not be about hate. I will not engage in a heated debate on Facebook. Instead I will explain to our children that although we don't agree with what he said, at least we live in a country where we can voice our own opinion in favor of gay rights. And how terrible it would be if we were silenced for what it is that we believe. The only one who lost in this, are the suits of A&E.

Raging Bull - Embracing A Larger Me

It happened so fast. I had no idea what was happening to my body. Between the ketamine infusions and various medications for my CRPS, a six week stint of intensive medical treatments turned into a sort of self-inflicted fat camp. Only not the kind you think. I gained weight hand over Cheeto infested fist. Toblerones grumbled from within my night stand, begging to be peeled. I could not comfort my discomfort enough. So I ate to quell the side effects of nausea or munchie induced cravings for anything sweet. I had fallen deep into an abyss I hadn't experienced since the Freshman Fifteen.

No woman ever feels good outside of our comfort zone. The only muffin top I wanted around was nonfat and blueberry. After four children, I gave up on washboard abs. I would never be the mom photographing herself in a bikini with my kids at my feet. Especially since one is in college. That would just be weird. I have accepted my widened hips as a badge of honor. But this was a whole new boxing ring. I had gained twenty pounds in six weeks. I had become the Raging Bull of estrogen. Only now, there was no Hollywood paycheck, role of a lifetime, or Oscar waiting for me at the end of my scale. Just a mirror with a stranger staring back at me.

When I was in the throws of surgeries, I had lost too much weight. So the other end of the weight struggle is familiar to me as well. The crack baby look did not do me any favors. Friends would visit and see a waif of who I used to be. Being underweight was no less healthy than being overweight.

The key with my weight gain, was making admitting there was a problem, and to not freak out about it. It was time to take a breath, and know this was not going to be a sprint. To get back to a healthy weight, a weight I was comfortable with, I had to adopt good eating habits, but also not look at the scale. I wanted to feel healthy and have it be about that, not numbers on a scale.

I was going to make the decision to eat healthy foods and be aware of how I felt each week. Gradually, my stomach slimmed a bit here and there. I started to simply feel better about my physical being. And one day I noticed that although my face was fuller, I kind of liked it that way. Friends began to compliment me on how healthy I looked. That there was a glow to my skin. But surely I was no where near my pre-Bull weight. I kept up my healthy eating habits. I ate three meals a day and just cut out breads, sweets, and snacks. I drank more water. I am still sedentary due to my condition except for physical therapy, so exercise is not a possibility for me. But after a month, I could no longer hold back from weighing myself.
I still felt thicker around the middle. Still much heavier than I have been in twenty years. I am forty-three.

I stepped on the scale. My heart stuck in my throat. I was still fifteen pounds heavier than I wanted to be. But then it hit me. I was happy. My body was fuller but so were my breasts. My face was fuller, but so was my heart. I had tried all of my life to fight the very weight that would bring a glow to my skin. A glow that only comes with age.

It's my hope by sharing this story, that women who have hit forty might be a bit kinder to their selves. Cindy Crawford said once you hit forty, you have to choose between your tush and your face. I fought her on this in my own little mind. We argued about it for hours. At last, she has won.

Forty is a whole new age. It means not needing to be a size four. Or having the pressures of who we were before. It's a time to be gentle with our self. Because it can truly be a time to embrace within a whole new part of you.

Should Couples Earn A Wedding

Tin or aluminum. The pliability of tin and aluminum is a symbol of how a successful marriage needs to be flexible and durable and how it can be bent without being broken. This is the traditional gift for the tenth year anniversary.

What if weddings were reserved for couples in a marriage that has lasted at least ten years? Anyone celebrating their ten-year anniversary would be eligible to apply for a wedding license. Said license would allow the couple to hold a wedding. Until this time, anyone who wishes to get married, may do so at The Justice of The Peace, or in their church or temple, with immediate family only, and their dog named Huck.

Seventy-two days of marriage. A Multi-million dollar ceremony. Kim Kardashian wins the maybe-I-should-have-waited award. She sold the TV and photo rights for an incredible $17.9 million dollars, meaning that they earned about $250k for each day they were married. Now she is readying to marry Kanye in yet another high profile wedding to be televised. I get it. If I don't want to watch, I don't have to. This is an extreme case. But even in reality, the rite of 'marriage' is getting lost in the grandeur of the 'wedding'. I do's have morphed into "Look what we can do!" Emphasis is often on details the squabbled over, that no one will notice or discuss on the way home, except to explain how they would have done it differently. Debates over color scheme bleed into fabrics never to be worn again, and parents' wallets are drained to a pale shade of grey. All for a marriage that could dissolve faster than the ice sculpture of Cupid mocked by Uncle Frank. If I sound cynical, I'm not. I believe weddings can be the most glorious experience in the world - when they truly celebrate a couple committed for life. Not a couple who ends up committed.

This may sound a bit extreme. It will certainly sound so to anyone working in the wedding industry, and I apologize for this. But as I have had two years of sick-leave from this industry that I, too, benefitted from, it has given me time to reflect upon the beast I fed, and that fed me for years.

I will be the first to admit, I am aware I am not writing this as the nicely-compensated wedding photographer I once was. But it wasn't until I stood back and viewed the industry from the outside, did I become aware of how large weddings have become detrimental not only to the couple, but to their families as well as the institution of marriage if conducted before their time.

Divorce rates for couples married longer than ten years have been left largely unchanged since the 1960's. Once you hit this mark, the odds are that you will make it as long as your grandparents did.

Divorce rates are at forty-two percent. These rates are independent of age, race or gender. But the one commonality in couples most likely to divorce, are marriages within the first ten years.

The only place you can ensure a lasting marriage are the Philippines and Vatican City where divorce does not exist. But can't we at least bring a weight to the enormity of the financial outlay by parents and young people by holding off on the large wedding in celebration of a marriage that has earned such a sacrifice?

With the recession came a wave of couples opting to use such funds as a down payment on a home instead of a wedding. The average cost of a wedding during my tenure as photographer was $35,000.

The point is, weddings are an expense. They can also be magical. They are so special, so meaningful, such an important aspect of our society, why don't we treat this ceremony with the reverence it deserves, by offering it to couples married ten years or more for whom the details will not be lost? For guests who can express nothing but awe and gratitude for including them in such a special event. And for the children of these couples to be included in a ceremony that will give them a reference point for the gravity of marriage.

Imagining a world where a wedding is revered and never jeered. That is my wish. That every vendor hired receives premium for doing so because this couple earned the right to have the wedding of their dreams. I want to build this industry up, not break it down. Even it means waving my arms from my sofa and voicing my dream from here. Until then, our daughters will be raised to expect a wedding on the beach, no shoes, and twelve friends. And when she and her love reach their tenth anniversary, and exchange their gifts of tin, we can celebrate with a wedding of a marriage without an end.

The Original "Taps"

Rites of passage, memorials, always mean so much to me. Perhaps it is the blending of worlds, the uniting of hearts. But little did I know, one of the most meaningful exercises in the history of memorials is not currently in its original form. "Taps".

"Taps" is a musical piece sounded at dusk, and at funerals, particularly by the U.S. military.

The tune is a variation of an earlier bugle call known as the Scott Tattoo which was used in the U.S. from 1835 until 1860, and was arranged in its present form by the Union Army.

Captain John C. Tidball, West Point Class of 1848, started the custom of playing taps at military funerals. In early July 1862 at Harrison’s Landing, a corporal of Tidball’s Battery A, 2nd Artillery, died. He was, Tidball recalled later, “a most excellent man.” Tidball wished to bury him with full military honors, but, for military reasons, he was refused permission to fire three guns over the grave. Tidball later wrote, “The thought suggested itself to me to sound taps instead, which I did. The idea was taken up by others, until in a short time it was adopted by the entire army and is now looked upon as the most appropriate and touching part of a military funeral.” As Tidball proudly proclaimed, “Battery A has the honor of having introduced this custom into the service, and it is worthy of historical note.”

It became a standard component to U.S. military funerals in 1891.

"Taps" is sounded during each of the 2,500 military wreath ceremonies conducted at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier every year, including the ones held on Memorial Day. The ceremonies are viewed by many people, including veterans, school groups, and foreign officials. "Taps" also is sounded nightly in military installations at non-deployed locations to indicate that it is "lights out", and often by Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts and Girl Guides to mark the end of an evening event such as a campfire.

Please sit back and listen to the original version of "Taps":

http://www.flixxy.com/trumpet-solo-melissa-venema.htm

Reference: Wikipedia

What is CRPS

The following is information accrued through various sites as an effort to inform and bring awareness to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. My CRPS (previously known as RSD) is rare as it originates in the spine.

CRPS Facts

1.) The mean age at diagnosis is 42 years. However, we are seeing more injuries among young girls, and children as young as 3 years old can get CRPS.(1)

2.) One of the symptoms of RSD/CRPS is Edema (Swelling.) Medical Professionals tend to tell Patients to use Ice. Ice is OFTEN mistaken as the best treatment, but in many cases it can actually cause further nerve damage. Moist heat has been shown as a better alternative with elevation and other means to control the edema.

Everyone is different but use caution any time ICE is suggested.

3.) There is no cure for RSD but the earlier you can get treatment the better, but never give up the hope of remission.

Some promising treatments include sympathetic nerve blocks, medication (such as calcitonin, IVIG, Ketamine, Calcium channel/Beta/Sodium/NDMA blockers, steroids, tricyclic anti-depressives, anti-convulsives, and NSAIDs), physical therapy (Aqua, Horse, and Typical Dry therapies), psychotherapy, Calmare, ultrasound and electrical stimulation. More invasive treatments include, spinal cord stimulators, dorsal column stimulators, ketamine infusions, morphine pumps, STS (Vecttor). There are more treatments available as the research progresses.

Any treatment you start should be well researched and discussed with your doctor before starting or ending a regimen of treatment.

4.) RSD pain is ranked 45 on the McGill pain index, which means it is rated as the most painful chronic pain disease that exists. It is above cancer(non-terminal), and both medicated and non-medicated pregnancy.

5.) Early and accurate diagnosis and appropriate treatment are key to recovery, yet many health care professionals and consumers are unaware of its signs and symptoms. Typically, people with CRPS report seeing an average of FIVE physicians before being accurately diagnosed.(1)

6.) It is not a rare disorder, and may affect millions of people. It is hard to pinpoint the number of people who have RSD/CRPS, though some estimates put the number of people afflicted with this syndrome at 6 million (2) and other estimates claim between 5% and 10% of the population.
That makes the RSD/CRPS population of the United States greater then that of the Combined Military, 2,221,502. (3)

7.)This is not a mental disorder. The development of psychological problems does occur in some patients. It is important to develop a good support system with your doctors, family and friends to alleviate additional stress. Find and utilize local or online support groups. YOU ARE NOT ALONE, YOUR PAIN IS REAL

8.)There are two types of RSD/CRPS

Type One (I) is what we would call classic RSD and now it is called CRPS. It involves soft tissue injuries such as burns, sprains, strains, tears, and most of the medical issues that end in “itis” ; bursitis, arthritis, and tendonitis to name a few. It can involve minor nerve damage.
Type Two (II) involves damage to a major nerve. It used to be called Causalgia. It also involves a clearly defined nerve injury that can be tested by an Electromyography (EMG).(4)

9.) 54% of returning war veterans with chronic pain, according to a 2006 survey taken by the American Pain Foundation, are diagnosed with Polytrauma or Causalgia (both military “code” for RSD). This is “Easing the way for vets and civilians, [as] more insurers are covering Ketamine infusions, says Dr. Getson. (8)

10.) A lot of studies now show it is rare in Chronic Pain Patients, who take Opioids and Pain Medicine daily, to become addicted to them, even in patients with histories of drug abuse and/or addiction. RSD/CRPS patients can develop a physical dependence on opioid drugs, but this is not the same thing as addiction, which is an aberrant psychological state. (5)

11.)We deserve to wake up each day and smile. We are more than just patients, we are mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, grandparents, and more greatly we are unique. We are what we allow ourselves to be and if we allow a big bully like RSD/CRPS define who we are, then that is wrong! You are worth it, and that's a FACT!

12.)Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy remains grossly under treated in most patients. The reasons for this are: lack of knowledge among both health professionals and consumers about pain management; exaggerated fears of opioid side effects and addiction; and health professionals' fear of medical board and DEA scrutiny, even when controlled substances are used appropriately for pain relief. (5)

13.) The symptoms of CRPS vary in severity and length. Some experts believe there are three stages associated with CRPS, marked by progressive changes in the skin, muscles, joints, ligaments, and bones of the affected area, although this progression has not yet been validated by clinical research studies.
(The Stages are no longer used for Clinical Use)

Stage one is thought to last from 1 to 3 months and is characterized by severe, burning pain, along with muscle spasm, joint stiffness, rapid hair growth, and alterations in the blood vessels that cause the skin to change color and temperature.
Stage two lasts from 3 to 6 months and is characterized by intensifying pain, swelling, decreased hair growth, cracked, brittle, grooved, or spotty nails, softened bones, stiff joints, and weak muscle tone.

In stage three the syndrome progresses to the point where changes in the skin and bone are no longer reversible. Pain becomes unyielding and may involve the entire limb or affected area. There may be marked muscle loss (atrophy), severely limited mobility, and involuntary contractions of the muscles and tendons that flex the joints. Limbs may become contorted. (6)

14.)Allodynia (Ancient Greek άλλος állos "other" and οδύνη odýni "pain") is a pain due to a stimulus which does not normally provoke pain.Temperature or physical stimuli can provoke allodynia, and it often occurs after injury to a site.

Allodynia is different from hyperalgesia, an extreme reaction to a stimulus which is normally painful.Those who experience allodynia can experience severe pain sensation simply from clothing, air movement (such as a breeze or wind), or a light touch on the arm.

15.)One of the common therapies in RSD is medication. Opioids and other pain medications often have negative reputations. Chronic pain and cancer patients can develop a tolerance to and/or a physical dependence on these medications. It is important to understand that this is VERY different from and NOT addiction. When taken as prescribed and only for pain, the risk for abuse is substantially less. Any time pain medications are changed, increased or decreased, it is important to do this under medical supervision in order to avoid any symptoms of physical withdrawal. It is also important to discuss a possible side effect known as Opioid Induced Hyperalgesia (OIH) as it could cause the symptoms to appear to be worsening or spreading of RSD/CRPS. Open communication is the key to safe and effective pain management!

16.)RSD/CRPS is often called the "Suicide Disease," because it causes so much pain that the patients are in greater risk of taking their own life. That is why it is so important to get support for yourself and fellow RSD Angels. Let not one flame of an RSD Angel burn out! We are here for you! If you ever need to talk emailrsdcrps@gmail.com or call the National Suicide Hotline 1-800-273-8255.

17.)Consult with a knowledgeable Anesthesia Doctor when considering surgery, as there are studies regarding different methods to decrease the risk for spread or worsening of symptoms.

18.)Immobilization is not recommended in many cases so be sure to discuss the need,
if it arises, with your RSD/CRPS doctor

19.) Pain is a vital sign! Do not allow it to be ignored. Your pain should be assessed before and after intervention, if it is not please advocate for yourself in this area.

20.)Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, Causalgia, Sudek's Atrophy,Sudek's Dystrophy,traumatic arthritis, minor causalgia, post traumatic osteoporosis, post traumatic pain syndrome, post traumatic edema, post traumatic angiospasm, shoulder/hand syndrome, and sympathetically maintained pain syndrome.

Sources:

1.) RSD/CRPS Facts:http://www.rsds.org/2/fact_fiction/index.html

2.)Estimated Amount of people with RSD/CRPS in the United States: http://www.rsds.org/pdf/recognizing_understanding_treatingCRPS_RSD.pdf

3.)Combined Military (Original Source Wikipedia): http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100502201811AAXnBAY

4.)CRPS/RSD Overview:http://www.rsdhope.org/crps-overview.html

5.) FACT SHEET ON CHRONIC NONMALIGNANT PAIN (CNP) http://www.druglibrary.org/schaffer/asap/factsheet.html

6.) Guide To Complex Regional Pain Syndromehttp://arthritis.about.com/od/rsd/a/guidetocrps.htm

7.) Allodyniahttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allodynia

8.) Power of Pain Foundation: Did You Know?;http://powerofpain.org/resources/do-you

A Stimulating Time

Fifty Shades of Disability is when your spine stimulator needs a safe word.

Life is different when one finds themselves disabled. Especially when your bible is The Joy of Nooking.

A lot changed when I got hit on the head. And unfortunately for my husband, that was the first to go.

So what does a girl do when missionary no longer means kneeling in prayer? When her whole world as he knew it has come crashing down on her?

I've learned to simplify. The kids really didn't need to see a swing set in our room anyway. And who needs a mirror on the ceiling when you can just take a selfie?

Along with simplification comes pain management in the form of an electro spine stimulation implant. The device is implanted in my flank, with leads that go up my spine and block pain signals from going to my brain. Looks great in a thong.

Now that things are different, it usually goes like this. He kisses me. That way. You know, when it's not just a kiss. A request I love to hear, but with my limitations often falls on deaf ears. There may be a hundred ways to skin a cat, but this kitty's got a brand new bag. A bag with training wheels as I try learn all over again how to be a wife to my man.

We start the snuggle. I lay on my back. Oh dear. Wait a minute. My spine stimulator. It increases stimulation when I'm prone. Which could be good. If it were stimulating somewhere else. But it's not. Unless that spot is in the spine. Which it's not. At least not as far as I can tell. And finding out if there is one there could be weird. And require additional surgery. Which I'm about to have. But not for this.

So back to the stimulator. As I've said before, imagine the vibrating chair from your local nail salon implanted in your spine. Then turn it on high. That is what it feels like. But when you lay down, it spikes. Which results in "Honey just a minute, hold that thought..."

I reach over to my night stand and feel for the drawer. Also known as the hoarding bin. I search for my spine's remote control. Not the one for the TV, or the fan, or my laptop. My spine. But I can't find it.

He's still holding that thought.

I cannot find my remote. Now the stimulation has shifted to my leg. So now just one leg is vibrating, which is a bit distracting. But he's distracted too. I need to hurry.

My purse. It must be in my purse.

Hold on honey. Oh yes, he's already doing that. I make my way to my purse. My back is naked. Scars. My scars. I look like a game of Battleship from the back. Battleship over the Panama Canal. Gotta turn the lights off.

Limp, drag, limp, drag. God I'm hot. I make my way to the light switch. Light's off. Good. Dang. Where's my purse. With the remote. I'll turn on the bathroom light. It's softer.

Light's on. His silhouette is beginning to flatten out on the bed. I'll be there in just a minute.

Ok. Light is soft. Scars are dimmed.

Limp, drag, limp, drag. I make my way to my purse. Remote. Check.

Beep. Can't get a signal on the remote. Gotta point it more towards my buttox. I can get it, I just need to roll onto my right side. Honey, can you move over? Reception is bad. Just a minute. Beep. Beep. Beeeeep. Ok. I think I got it. I choose a program level that should work. *#/&@! I left that program on too high last time! Hold on honey. Let me bring the levels back down. Forget it, I'm just going to turn it off. Beeeeeeeeep. Ok. It's off.

Ok! My stimulator is off now.

Wait. You want me to do what?

Um, hold on.

Ok.

I just need to - turn my stimulator back on...

The Christmas Storm

The fireplace illuminated the stockings with a flickered haze like an old-time movie. Christmas music trickled through the television speakers. Crumpled balls of newspaper scattered like tumble weeds as the children unearthed each ornament for the tree. White globs of flocking clung to their sweaters, swiped off by tiny hands only to fall into the fur of our passing pups.

There is a clarity that comes with simplicity. My life used to consist of traveling the world for work and chasing a dream I already had. The world was my oyster, with a pearl that was thousands of miles away - at home.

There are many reasons why we join the race. But whether it's for money or notoriety, experience or insecurity, it is inevitable we lose perspective of the real why. Why do we run ourselves into a storm that blurs the world as it should really be, leaving us blind to the reality that all we are doing is running from simplicity.

But how do we get to simple, when used to a momentum instilled by an insatiable yearning for purpose and meaning? By understanding that purpose and meaning are not found by racing the storm. It is found by defying the urge to run from life in a simpler form.

There is a beauty in this.

Our family was used to living off of two incomes. But after two years of surgeries, procedures and medical bills as well as all of the expenses that come with running a household of six from my bed, we have learned to live without the things we once ran so hard to achieve.

I accomplished much in my career. But what did it all really mean, if it took away from the very essence of what life was supposed to be?

Life is now about living for moments that breathe. When my child weaves her fingers into my own without a word. When my husband holds me into his chest and his chin rests on my head. It is for saying no to things that keep us apart and yes to folding within. It is about doing without all the things that used to be the reason why we lived. We eat in more often and share stories we hear. The kids understand this is a different year. But nothing about what has changed makes them sad. Because having less than we did means we have more that will last.

The tree is done. I rise to place a red bow on the top. We retreat to our room after tucking the littlest one snugly in her bed.

The fan spins the air above our heads. His lips place a peace above my eyes. The world slips into a void beneath the bed where things are lost with time.
I roll over into a darkness so sweet, I wonder how I could have ever enjoyed a different taste. The lights on the tree are wrapped this year, with winds of a storm that have changed.

How I Fell In Love With Football

I am a forty-three year old mother of four and my children think I'm crazy. The television roars with the white noise of an incomplete pass. It's Oklahoma vs Oklahoma State, 3rd quarter 10-17 and Saunders is proving to be quite the personality, still prancing after his 81 yard touch down. And I can't contain my glee. Random bursts of shock and awe erupt from a guttural place so deep within that my throat cracks. They wonder, who is this woman, and what alien has inhabited their mother.

It all started this past spring with the Tour de France. In the midst of the worst pain of my life, between surgical procedures and bed-ridden immobility, all I could do was channel surf - a sport in and of itself. One day, my search landed on the Tour. I landed in France. And I could not get enough. The beauty of the countryside, the photography through the most magnificent mountains and ancient villages untouched by time, and the back-stories of the cyclists had me hooked. To watch it live meant ordering the Sports Package. So I did. It also meant setting the DVR for 3am for twenty-one days. I followed every stage with eyes and heart glued to the screen and could not get enough. On the final stage, the riders circling the Champs-Élysées, the sun setting and the lights of Paris illuminating the end of dreams, I cried.

Sports does something to the soul when you give it a chance. For me, the Tour was the gateway drug to a world I never knew existed. A world of men and women with life goals amidst trial and challenges both personal and team-oriented. It was the personal challenges I began relating to, and suddenly I was swept into a world of hope.

The excitement of watching Cycling has now morphed into my new passion - football. I didn't even see it coming. But isn't that how love happens? When you aren't looking? I have been side-swiped by athletics during a time in my life when mobility is my greatest challenge. As pain still controls my daily life. It is when I watch sports, when others are pursuing their greatest passion, that I am finding a peace I never thought possible.

I used to hear sports in the background. Now I see each play and live every move as an escape into a noise so white it cleanses my soul.

Maybe it was the miraculous play of Auburn's one-second 108 yard touchdown win over Alabama. Maybe it was the way The Seahawks played against the Saints. The comeback of the Jaguars after losing eight in a row only to turn around under Coach Gus to become of the more feared winning teams with a streak of four wins and still going strong. Maybe it was the drama of a coach Tomlin tripping a play, or Martin suing the Dolphins. Or maybe it's just that I have finally found the ultimate reality show. Better than Real Housewives. Better than The Amazing Race. Football has stolen the ball, intercepted the play, and left me holding on to the hope that next fall cannot come soon enough. College football or the NFL - I am a babe in the woods who cannot get enough.

Oklahoma closes out the game to win with a last minute touchdown, just edging out Oklahoma State for the Big Twelve championship. I squeal, forgetting the body I am in, my children hang their heads and know - a whole new reality is setting in.

The Journey of Change

Something has happened to me. A shift in my DNA perhaps, a tangling of my genetic markers. What happens to you when a new normal is not anywhere close to who you used to be? When you find yourself on a journey of change?

It's been a few weeks since I returned home. When my legs came back to life. I am still in-treatment each week and have a way to go. Perhaps this is normal after a big event. A kind of post-partum after the birth of a child. When the newness of the miracle has not worn off, but the reality of your life-change becomes all too real and the daunting sets in.

Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled with my progress. Just months ago I was on my way to becoming a paraplegic with a quadroplaysia diagnosis. My doctors' goal was always to get me mobile around my home, and only having to use the chair upon venturing out. This is exactly where I am. I can now sit at a dinner table or through a movie. I can be more independent and am no longer bed-ridden. I have everything I wished could realistically occur, even though the mobility was a long-shot goal.

But along with all of the progress, the CRPS still rears its head. Being mobile and not being able to lift my left leg yet, with the pressure on my lumbar spine causing my leads to shift, and the Rhizotomies in my neck wearing off, my battle continues. I awake each day not knowing what energy will reign. Each day brings levels of pain that allow me to do one thing a day. Clean out one drawer. Or drive to one store. Any more than that, and my body begins shutting down.

So I rest, a lot. But in order to heal and get stronger it is mandatory I do physical therapy exercises every single day. I have mastered the art of pelvic tilts that would make Beyoncé proud. The most important exercise of all, however, is reminding myself of the blessings I have every single day; How incredible it is that I have come so far. Yet I wonder how much further I can go? And maybe that is the key to my concerns - That the buck will stop here. That my life will forever be in a limbo of who I was and who I hope to be.

This is the balance now. The balance of gratitude and hope, peppered with the question of when and where will acceptance fit in?

May I be so bold as to say, I hope I never have to accept my health the way it is. Even in the celebration of my ketamine infusions and return of my mobility, it would be dishonest of me to say it is all ok. Because CRPS never goes away, and my fellow patients know this all too well.

My goal now is to accept each day for the beauty within the beast. To embrace the fact I have come so far because of the support of so many, that I have an obligation to never give in. I have work to do, and lives I hope to help. So I live for the moments in which others live. For the moment my children come through the door from school. For the kiss my husband will bring to my lips, reminding me I am still here. I am, for the first time in my life, living for moments that are not my own. I live for the life I can now be present for. For the dinners I can share with our friends. And for the fact that because of my condition I now spend time in person with friends - rather than on the phone. With chronic pain, talking on the phone feels devoid of meaning and strips me of energy that's fleeting. Visits are short and sweet but filled with so much more meaning than ever before. So these are the moments I am living for.

As I look at the possibilities of more surgeries, to repair my slipped leads and insert a stimulator to reach my neck, it is my goal to release 'the daunting'. To let my ego slip into the winds around my life. And to embrace my new normal as an ever-evolving process of change. A journey so different than I had before, but it is a most precious journey all the same.