Category: Life

  • On the nature of living with a (mostly) invisible disability.

    If you watch me walk down the street, you probably wouldn’t know that I had Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Mostly because I try not to get into positions that end up with me walking down the street – which strikes shopping off my list.

    If you notice me walking, I probably look okay, to you. You don’t see the slight hitch in my step as my hips sublux over and over again and you (hopefully) don’t see the intense concentration on my face that shows I’m placing each foot consciously, making sure they don’t turn in/fall apart/trip me over.

    Most of the time, I don’t even notice these things either. The conscious foot placing has become second nature, like making sure everything is in it’s place before I stand up. Falling isn’t as fun as it sounds. I’ve put up with them for so long, ignored them for so long that they pass me by. I don’t notice how hard walking is, or how my hips slide around in the joint.

    Until I have a major crash and I discover that I’ve burned so much energy being okay, that I can’t be okay anymore.

    When I dislocated my knee at the beginning of the month, I was crashing and crashing hard. I don’t pay much attention to my daily dislocations, mostly because they’ve happened so often that they’re nothing special anymore. I do however say fuck a lot as I busily try and relocate things and I have been known to kick Nathan in the shins for huffing when asked to reduce my many many dislocated ribs.

    My knee however was different. It was dislocated badly for almost 3 hours, leaving me unable to move. By the end of the 3 hours, I’d gone from being mostly okay with just some minor pain (when the fibula was totally dislocated) to openly sobbing as it slowly slowly relocated over whatever tendon was holding it out of position.

    That was the straw on the camels back. The next few days I spent curled up in the recliner, braced and taped to within an inch of my life, not really able to do much of anything except issue orders and dole out cuddles.

    I’m still not recovered from the big crash. It’s probably the hardest I’ve pushed myself and the farthest I’ve fallen since I was in High School and determined to be like all the other teenagers competing in our Rock Eisteddfod. Yes, I did it. I also spent a month in bed after it.

    It hits me hard after a big crash, just how bad my EDS has gotten. My left shoulder slides around in it’s joint and my pelvis feels like it’s a wobble board. My ribs fall out of place and my collarbones forget how to hold together, along with many many other things.

    And it’s stupid little things that drive me insane. Not being able to hold my arms up long enough to brush my hair, without running out of energy and needing to sit down where ever I am. Being exhausted, but at the same time, being completely unable to sleep. And if I do sleep, waking up with more dislocations than I fell asleep with and hurting oh so badly.

    People don’t see that when I’m out and about though. Hell, people don’t see it full stop. Even Nathan doesn’t see the bulk of what dislocates and how bad it is, day to day. If I told him about every dislocation I’d never get anything else done.

    Ehlers Danlos is an invisible disability and you can’t see it on me. Not unless you’re bendy too and can spot the symptoms across a waiting room. Unless I’m wearing a bright pink wrist brace (which I’m totally going to start campaigning for, the beige colour is shit) you can’t tell.

    Unless I’m exceptionally grumpy, no one knows that I’m feeling crappy. On days when I simply cannot brush my hair without needing to sit in the middle of the bathroom floor exhausted, I don’t leave the house. Easy as that.

    May is Ehlers Danlos Syndrome awareness month, so this is me, making you aware. Because this month, I don’t think we’re seeing any doctors and I’m getting a little tired of having to go over the same thing over and over again with our doctors. EDS affects everything. My collagen works like sun soaked chewing gum, unlike most people’s, whose collagen works like snappy rubber bands. Things hurt. My pain is bad, my joints are bad and I’m tired.

    And people can’t see it.

    Which is a curse and a blessing in the same breath.

    Thumb Hypermobility

    Wrist and thumb hypermobility

    Little Finger Hypermobility

    Ankle Subluxation

    More photos here

  • Bridgewater Farm Fete

    I went to the Farm Fete today, after last year when we missed it.

    I had a great time and more to the point, so did Amy. There were all kind of animals to look at and she raced around, smiling. She wasn’t too sure about the Emu’s however. Neither was Isaac.

    We came home with 6 new gum trees (we paid $10 for all 6) and lots of photos. I had a BALL taking photos of the event, although, it would have been easier if Isaac wasn’t playing koala and clinging to my front at every possible chance.

    Calf in the Nursery

    Succulents $2

    Showbags!

    Selection

    Pens

    Isaac was a tired little man, at one point he fell asleep in my arms, but only for a few minutes.

    Isaac had had enough.

    I’d forgotten how much fun rural shows/fetes are. More of them in my future I suspect.

    More from me soon, I’ve been tired and sick lately and the writing is suffering. Sorry.

    More photos here.

  • In love

    I bought myself a 100mm Macro lens and oh, I am in love.

    So I’m sharing that love, right here.

    Spiky

    Baby Squash

    Pretty in pink.

    Miscellaneous Voices
    Miscellaneous Voices: Australian Blog Writing #1 can be purchased at Miscpress, from Editor/Publisher Karen Andrews.

    Grasshopper

    Moth

    Moth

    Praying Mantis

    Grasshopper

  • It’s all a bit surreal.

    My period was due over a month ago – and it didn’t arrive.

    I vomited, I swung wildly between happy and angry and my sense of smell, well, wow. I felt pregnant.

    And then subtly, I didn’t anymore.

    Pregnancy tests, that I’d waited to take, said negative, backed up by a blood test from the doctor, which was mostly inconclusive, but still negative.

    I got an almost, barely there positive test in the beginning. We couldn’t tell properly if there was a second line, it was so faint, and I figured that another test in a few days would show a proper result. Only it didn’t.

    My doctors opinion, most likely a blighted ovum and something went wrong, early on, leaving me with barely any HCG by the time I had blood drawn. Let’s just wait until you bleed naturally. Or in another few weeks, we can put you on the pill and try and stimulate a period that way.

    He didn’t want to investigate further and actually, I’m glad he didn’t. I knew I was pregnant, just like I know that something didn’t go right and I am not having a baby.

    I continued to vomit, while still not being pregnant.

    So I put myself on the pill, tablets I had left from the 6 weeks of bleeding prior to conceiving Isaac.

    Monday night (while still on the pill) I started to bleed.

    So it’s finishing and even as I’m cramping and in pain, I am glad to be getting it over and done with.

    In my mind, I am losing a pregnancy, not a baby. Something went wrong when cell A tried to join to cell B and they didn’t equal a baby.

    And that’s okay, it truly is.

    And I’m okay. There were tears when I got the blood results and I’m missing my grandmother more and more,

    but I am okay.

    I’m phillisophical about the whole thing.

    Except the cramping. That just kind of sucks.

    ***

    I truly am okay, so please don’t feel sad for me. If you want, you can share your stories of loss here and we’ll all hold hands and smile wryly at each other. Plus, the lovely people at The Online Circle, sent me some Cadbury Fairtrade chocolate to try and that arrived today, which was lovely.

    Mmmmm, tastes guilt-free.

    (Actually, it tastes delicious. The ingredients are slightly different to the other block of Cadbury chocolate I had in the cupboard and the Fairtrade seems to be more … pure? somehow? Delicious anyway.)

    ***

    In other news, I bought myself a Canon 100mm Macro lens for my camera and I am in love.

    LOVE.

    Love.

    Praying Mantis

  • Pillows

    You don’t know this, but I have a thing about pillows.

    I like them.

    A lot.

    So much in fact that when we were cleaning out Nan’s house, I ended up with all of the pillows. Seems Nan liked having lots of spare pillows about too.

    We used her spare pillows to pack the furniture as we moved it, shoving them into glass cabinets and between things to prevent breakages. They did their job and nothing broke.

    Today, I found 4 pillows on the floor of my bedroom, all sans pillow cases – it seems Amy likes naked pillows as much as she likes her naked self. I picked them up and went hunting for pillow cases.

    Thinking about it, I remembered that out in the shed, there were more pillows, packed still into the glass cabinet that’s in storage here. It’s coming up to winter now, the weather is cold and the cats have a plethora of mice that they can’t kill fast enough.

    Side note: It’s probably not going to be that long until you start seeing posts like this. and this. and this and this and this.Wow, seems I wrote a lot about mice last year.

    I went out into the shed and unpacked all of the pillows, not wanting the mice to start nesting in them.

    One, two, three, four, five, six pillows, packed into the cabinet.

    6 pillows.

    I rummaged around in the shed and brought inside anything else that I thought mice might find interesting, then I came inside to put pillow covers on all of the pillows.

    You know, almost 9 months on, those pillows, they still smell like my grandmother.

    And that kinda sucks.

    ***

    I have Nan’s overcoat sitting in the back of my closet. Despite hanging around with my clothes, it still smells like her perfume. Every now and again, I’ll lean in and breathe in her smell.

    Then, I’ll take a deep breath and walk away; back to my daily chores, back to the blogosphere; back to life.

    I’m not sure what I’ll do when it doesn’t smell like her anymore.

    ***

    A few months ago, maybe month 6, maybe month 7, I stopped talking about Nan. It hurt too much, there were too many tears unshed and so I just stopped.

    I dragged my brain away from thoughts of her and refused to think about it.

    At all.

    Mostly, this works for me.

    I don’t have to think about her, or speak about her, or cry anymore.

    But, it’s funny. Still, most days, fuck, every day – something will happen and it will run through my head like a litany.

    I miss my Nan. I miss my Nan. I miss my Nan.

    In time to my heartbeat; in time to my breathing.

    Because I do. I miss her so badly it hurts.

    I just don’t talk about it anymore.

    It’s been almost nine months.