I’m a huge believer in taking things as they come. But let’s be honest, sometimes the “blips” come a bit more regularly than we were built to withstand.
Take my last three weeks for example. The waterheater/sick old dog/non-Nashville weekend happened. In the midst of all that, I’ve been experiencing this weird/frustrating thing where my hands decide they are all set with working. One moment I think I’m fine and then I try to do something crazy like pull on some socks or open my contact lens case and bam. Big neon flashing “Out of Order” sign. The mobility and strength goes from “this kinda sucks” to “I’m twin two year olds in Target without a nap in the candy isle.”
Monday, blood draw for regular thyroid stuff (Hashimoto’s/Reynaud’s) Not great results.
Tuesday, blood draw for Lupus and RA. Inconclusive. Ortho appointment in a few weeks.
Wednesday, needed to be with my people. Gym time. The only Rx. I need!
Thursday, hands broken again. #tigerbalm
Then Friday Happens.
Friday… the morning started off great. I was in full on “Let’s fake it till we make it cause it’s Friday and it is the first night of the Crossfit Open.”
Black Coffee and Lemonade.
(Which when I posted it on Facebook, I actually meant for it to be a subtle explanation that I drank delicious pour over Three Ships Coffee and danced to Beyoncé through the entire morning and half of my work day – but according to my friend Allison and FIKA this is actually a drink – that we will now call Beyonce)
This day was going freaking Awesome. Despite the craziness at work and with my own health, what could go wrong when it’s Friday and you have Beyoncé YouTube streaming on your phone?
(Record screeches to a halt).
Remember when your eye doctor told you three years ago you may have signs of Glaucoma?
Nope me neither. I likely chose to single-ladies-traffic-dance that sh*t right out of my long-term memory.
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
And up until I got in the room with the doctor, I was still on my caffeine/Bey/18.1/TGIF high.
I likely don’t have to tell you how the rest of the appointment went. Or rather. I can’t. I have no recollection of what was said other than I kept making this awful joke about having very nice eyelashes from my new Glaucoma drops.
I just kept repeating that part over and over.
Doctor: (Something that was likely important)
Me: But my eyelashes… they are going to look flyyyy.
I have no memory of anything else that was said. I remember some words and letters then just filling up my water bottle and accidentally backing up into an entire family and then wandering behind the poor lady’s work area that was trying to schedule me for a follow-up. She was definitely confused. It’s cool we had that in common.
(For research sake, I did google “what are the signs of shock” and that is not what it was. But if there were a secondary type of shock [someone please look up what this is so I can replace this whole paragraph with something intelligent about what happens to people when they get sh*tty news… wait is this the grieving stages? No.]… I had that.)
I’ll spare you the awkward next few hours of my life, but let’s just say it wasn’t gorgeous.
So now what. WebMD the crap out of Glaucoma? Nope (still haven’t).
Here is what I did.
I texted the two people most likely to walk me off the cliff.
My Mum and my Husband.
My mother is legit the real-est person on the planet. She has taught me everything I know about what to do when people start throwing lemons at you.
That guy I married…yeah he is the best decision I’ve made in my 35 years of life. Cool, calm, collected, comforting and possibly the most rational person I’ve ever met.
Also, odd coincidence… this came up on my “Facebook On This Day” because it was the anniversary of the last episode of Parks and Recreation. Which, if you know me, you know Leslie Knope is my Hero and who I’ve modeled my career after.
It perfectly describes how I felt talking to him that evening.
Fast forward to the next day. I’m supposed to be coordinating a volunteer project for the members at my gym. They will be helping out families that were impacted by flooding that occurred back in 2016 (still rebuilding).
This is the LAST thing I want to do when I wake up.
I’m exhausted both physically and mentally. My face isn’t exactly flawless.
My one eye that I have to put drops in each night (something to do with testing to see how fast the one with the drops vs the one without the drops is progressing over time) looks like I have Pink-Eye. Ew.
I’m super self-conscious that someone is going to ask me if I’m ok. You ever ask someone if they are ok and then they start bawling? Yeah, that would be bad.
I want to be anywhere but here. But I committed to the non-profit organizing the long-term recovery effort and I committed to the gym. I could power through four hours with these people (who are like family) helping other people who have it way worse than I do.
So I did. I put a smile on my face, I mentally pumped myself up and I spent the next four hours with people who love me (or fake it really good).
My friends stepped up to help people they have never met because I asked them to. They gave up a beautiful day to paint baseboard and scrape mold, because I asked them to.
Half of these people live on the beach. THE BEACH. It is 78 degrees out and sunny in February and they chose to spend the afternoon covered in dirt and dust and kilts (whatever that is) and sweat with only goldfish and oranges to eat.
They did it because I asked them to.
Find your tribe.