Nevertheless, there was a health journey.

 

    This blog began as a way to document the ways I continued to have adventures in spite of my chronic health issues. For quite a few years after my primary diagnosis I really was wrapped up in the identity it gave me. I needed a shorthand to explain why my career dreams had totally eclipsed over a number of years, why I am not always available, and how I might be different from those around me.

    However being quite determined to continue living as big as I can has really allowed me to shift that perspective. My health is effecting me every single day,  but I am not my illness.

    My body has always been the broken one. I remember being 5 or 6 and having the absolute worst pains in my legs. I would lay crying for hours. I remember seeing the Dr, who said they were growing pains, and had me take calcium daily. That didn't help.

    I had a younger (half) brother who was the opposite of me. He was never sick. He would take a tumble and get right back up. He would totally ignore pain, and just keep going. As an adult he was in an accident on a scooter and broke his leg. They put in a metal rod, and sent him home to recover. He was walking, and working construction, within 4 days. He always said he wished he could give some of his strength to me.  (In the end he needed some of my strength. I will tell his story some day.)

    When I was 12 I first experienced a migraine headache. It came out of the blue, and was so intense I was hospitalized for a week while they tried to find the cause of my agony. I was vomiting constantly, and miserable. That initial headache stayed almost constant for 2 years. I saw so many doctors, struggled to complete schoolwork, took so many medications. My healthcare team at year 2 wanted to send me out to get a better diagnosis. There was talk of the Mayo clinic or a migraine exclusive clinic somewhere I don't remember. I would be pulled out of school and tutored at the hospital. I said no. I was in 8th grade at the time, and desperate to be normal. 

    So began my adolescence, trying to be normal but dashing from migraine to migraine. I studied biofeedback to help manage my pain, and kept trucking between demerol shots when the pain was at its worst. Sleeping for a good deep chunk of time was the only thing to turn down that dial. (I will report that with each pregnancy my headaches got SO MUCH BETTER! After my youngest was born I had to have a hysterectomy and then oopherectomy, and those hormone changes have almost completely alleviated migraines for me.)

    I had terribly painful menstrual pain. I remember being unable to stand up in class when the bell rang because of the pain. I remember being curled up and vomiting because of the waves of cramps. As an adult I learded that this pain was caused by endometriosis. However as a teen, I was just told to push through that agony, the pain was a normal part of being a woman, and largely dismissed. 

    I had my appendix out at 16. My galbladder out at 21. (Every time you are put under general anesthesia takes a toll on your body.)

    Around that time (age 21) I started to have teeth abcess for seemingly no reason. Healthy teeth with an abcessed root would swell up my face overnight. Through this era of repeated emergency root canals we learned that most of my upper teeth had something called a pulp stone. That is a calcium deposit in the pulp of your tooth. The tooth is unable to be fully numbed until that stone is pried out. So I endured repeated root canals without adequate numbing. I cannot really convey how traumatic that was. As an adult I can barely manage an exam shaking and crying, and have to have sedation for any dental work. I was fully awake, feeling every prod with the tool into my tooth. It was torture, literally. We didn't realize that the problem was probably really my sinuses, and there began a constant struggle between sinsus infections and abcessed teeth.

    After becoming a mother they finally began looking into my menstral pain. I had multiple laparoscopies to remove adhesions and endometrial tissue.

    My last pregnancy lead to a post partum uterine infection, re-hospitalization for treatment, 2 D&C's, the second of which perforated my fragile infected uterus. That perferation continued to cause terrible pain for 4 months, leading to a hysterectomy. (more anesthesia)

    Goodness, reading that all is overwhelming. Yet that is really where things got more difficult.

    I began struggling with chronic sinus infections. I had a single infection last over a year, with an endless stream of antibiotics and steroids trying to knock down the infection that never ended. We finally got health insurance, and I was able to see a specialist who immediately validated how sick I was, and scheduled surgery for asap.

    I hoped to be better. I was training as a midwife, attending births. but really struggling with my sinuses still. Then I went to Louisiana as a voluteer after Hurricane Katrina. I actually was on another course of antibiotics as we drove down. I had no plan to be in the damanged area, as I was based in Baton Rouge. However I did end up driving into New Orleans a few days before the city was opened again to some residents. We used our Red Cross credentials to get in, with a very pregnant woman who I still call my soul sister, and hoped to find out the condition of her home and that of family members. I was in frail health, and exposed to an awful lot of mold spores and fungus that my body was not accustomed to, in a really stressful circumstance. So I returned home very ill.

    I stayed sick. I was constantly doing sinus rinses, trying natural things between antibiotic courses. I saw a new sinus Dr who explained that my first surgery had been done with older, less precise and more invasive techniques. I was left with a pocket where infection was just constantly brewing because it did not drain. Another surgery. 

    I kept trying to guess what was taking down my health. I was also diagnosed with PTSD from my experiences after Katrina. Nobody is really prepared for that. However I recognize that it was impossible to expect myself to gracefully process all that happened while also struggling to just live through illness.

    I finally was able to get into an alterantive health practice, where they did rapid labs and found that I had systemic candida. All of the antibiotics and steroids had caused an overgrowth of yeast. Though my sinuses had been swabbed for candida and that was negative, it had worked its way through my gut, and into my blood stream.They had never seen that level of candida in the blood outside of the ICU. I was immediately put on antifungal medication, and began an intensive 6 month candida diet under the supervision of a nutritionist. I was on 2 different Rx antifungals for a total of 12 weeks, and then we shifted to herbal antifungals and started rebuilding my gut. I worked so very hard.

    But I never really got better. I was knocked down, and eventually diagnosed with the least validating chronic condition ever: Fibromyalgia.There was still room for some alterantive diagnosis (Lyme, Lupis, MS), but I was cleared of those, and was left to make sense of where to go from there.

    What really caused the the full body oversensitivity of my nervous system and overwhelming fatigue? Was it the candida, or the surgeries, the years of illness, or was it just genetics? I will never really know, but it doesn't totally matter either. The outcome is the same.

    I stopped attending births and thought that becoming a Medical Assistant would be easier on me than late nights helping babies arrive. I managed to get through that degree, and worked only a few years full time. I was the OB coordinator at a community health center, and LOVED IT. However it became more and more challenging for me to be dependable, for my brain fog to not impact my work, and I had to reduce my hours and leave that position. I tried a non-profit with fewer hours, and then that became too much.

    It feels like since that point, my "career" has goals have just eclipsed. I was eventually determined to be fully disabled. I really enjoy working, having a purpose. I have been lucky to find a variety of small part time jobs that help me feel productive and of value. I often serve as a one on one caregiver with seniors or developmentally disabled adults. Short shifts, and just a handful of hours each week, help me manage to do more than just exist in my pain, and keep my chronic illness from negatively impacting my clients.However at times I don't work at all. Often the work of living in this body is full time.

    I really thought that my pain was going to be as intense as it was forever. My fibromyalgia is like the ocean, with tides and waves. However there was other pain we dismissed for way too long, assuming it was just my bodies erroneous messaged coursing through my body. It was not until a move forced me to find a new Dr, who wanted to start from the beginning and evaluate my pain, that I found out that I have osteoarthritis in my spine. Top to bottom. I also have some bulging disks and nerves being aggravated by bone spurs. I was so stunned, and hopeful, that an aspect of my pain was TREATABLE in new ways. 

    Now I see that Dr every other week, and have an injection, nerve block, nerve ablation, or other procedure to reduce an area of pain on my back. Yes, every 2 weeks. When one area is calmed down there is always something else acting up. I consider a game of Whack-A-Mole every 2 weeks. Will we hit the right nerve to reduce enough pain, and what new area of pain will be revealed as we untangle the chaos of inflammation and screaming nerves in my spine? Some weeks I get some great relief, and suddenly have the luxury of being able to sit in any chair in the world! (We know which coffee shops, restaraunts and venues around town that have chairs I can't sit in usually. Chairs matter people!) Others not so much. 

    I still have that darn fibromyalgia pain though.

    THAT, my friends, is the story of my body. I share this because I hope that others might be inspired by my persistence in seeking out adventures big and small, in spite of the meat suit I was issued this lifetime. If you are not living in a body that makes adventures difficult, then hopefully I have given you a better understanding of what others could be going through. 

Chronic pain sucks. It steals light, it steals hope. It steals joy. It steals dreams. I resist.

    

    

From now to then, what once was Mound City.

    St. Louis in the present day is a strange blending of two realities. Amazing historic architecture can be found just blocks away from some of the worst urban blight in the United States. Stick with me through this next bit, as I set the scene. Please know that I am not an expert on any of these issues, and am trying to include plenty of links to clarify anything I may have gotten wrong, and offer more information if you want it.

    Racial issues following the end of slavery, moving into the Jim Crow Era (1916) and racial segregation ordinances that further served to marginalize the black population are a grim reflection of the continued "colonial" mindset that elevated those with lighter skin in every way. (**This will be a theme I come back to.)  This included limiting where people lived or where they could buy property. When the Supreme Court ruled this practice illegal 32 years later, many of the "solutions" put in place further served to create what is known today as the Delmar Divide.  (It also lead to the horrible failed experiement of Pruitt-Igoe . If you have never heard of this public housing development, then you also don't know that the military conducted extensive expreiments on the residents of PI and the surrounding neighborhoods, without their knowledge or consent in the 50's and 60's. Pruitt-Igo Cold War Testing )

    We live in a peaceful neighborhood of St. Louis known as DeBaliviere Place. Anchored by the 1,300 acre Forest Park (A bit larger than Central Park in NYC) , we are a lovely shaded walk away from the zoo, art and history museums and more attractions.  Or miles and miles of walking trails, through curated and wild feeling areas, masking the reality that you are in the middle of the city. 

    Our neighborhood is made up of 100 year old brick condo buildings, large gated neighborhoods with sprawling historic mansions, and a few modern condo buildings with more amenities. To the East side of the park is the large medical campus of Washington University and the many associated hospitals and practices, and luxury high rise buildings. The South side of the park is framed partially by my beloved St Louis Science Center. To the West is the stately and sweeping Washington University Danforth campus. A convenient Light Rail train runs from downtown St Louis, through the edge of the park and then out to the suburbs, East to West. 

    The park, our neighborhood and the surrounding ones are idyllic feeling. Carefully nurtured old growth trees provide much needed respite from the intense heat of our region. We have extra police patrols, making it quite safe to enjoy those wonderful sidewalks in the evening while the fireflies are buzzing in the landscaping. 

    A comittee of residents recently added a new stop sign and additional street lights to increase safety. We pay to have trash cans on every corner, which are miraculously emptied regularly, and pet waste bag stations always stocked by invisible hands.

    Just a short 3 block drive to the north will start to reveal the other sad truths of St. Louis. Delmar Avenue serves as an east-west demarcation between idyllic and impoverished. Closed businesses, graffiti, and empty houses. Driving anywhere north of Delmar slips you into a surreal alternate reality that would fit in any post-apocalyptic movie. Blocks of empty or burned out houses with only a handful of determined residents keeping up their homes and sticking it out. So many closed businesses. You will immediately notice that the trees are really rare here, and the sun is far more grueling. This is urban blite in a way I had never imagined seeing in the United States. It is poverty, which increases crime. Life is one way south of Delmar, and an absolute struggle north of it.

    The wisdom given to any tourist or newcomer to St Louis is to stay south of Delmar.

    Even more than that you notice that there are no grocery stores. NONE. There are a few small restaraunts eeking out a survival by providing carryout only from behind bars for safety. One or two aging fast food franchises close early. There are not medical resources, social services, or many job options  or opportunity nearby. They unshaded bus stops allow access to other parts of town, but there is no high speed option in the North. Getting anywhere takes time, and is dangerous. There is trash, graffiti, abandoned yards, and decaying infrastructure everywhere.

    When explorers first came to the St. Louis area, they found over 50 mounds remaining on the west side of the Mississippi river, and hundreds on the east side. This was but one precinct of the greater Cahokia region. More on this later.

    The earliest colonial explorations of the area that would become St. Louis took place in June 1673. After being claimed by France, and then Spain, real settlement began around a century later. Even in this early period of European contact with the region, Cahokia was abandoned. 

    The Mississippian culture that had established the largest urban establishment north of Mexico had eclipsed almost entirely by 1350. The practices were gone, the religion was abandoned, and the people who built the mounds were considered  unknown distant ancestors by the migrating tribal groups living in the region at the time. 

    

    The settlers found rich farmland, sometimes interrupted with mounds that they had to work around, or level. As cities were planned and developed along this vital river corridor, these relics of antiquity were often in the way of progress. On the St. Louis City side (west) that meant that these were especially problematic towards progress. So began the fairly rutheless and haphazard removal of mounds leveled without any oversite by archaeologists or anthropologists, or an opportunity for research. Countless artifacts holding parts of the story were just discarded with fill dirt.

    Mounds were flattened, dismantled, built over, and forgotten. There was such a systematic erasure of the whispers of that ancient history on this side of the river that it was almost completely forgotten. St. Louis quietly lost its title of "Mound City" by the end of the 1800's.

At this juncture I have to observe some really uncomfortable realities about the cutlure I grew up in. I learned history through a Post-Colonial filter, with a quick glossing over of many topics in order to keep it all palatable for the predominantly white culture I was in. I learned the most basic versions of history regarding slavery, segregation, and my entire education on Indigenous Americans was regarding their interactions with the settlers. I failed to become more educated as an adult. I focused my awareness on social justice issues in front of me: Immigrant rights, Womens rights, Unhoused Rights. I failed to really see, until now.

I am facing my white privilege in a way I should have decades ago. I am feeling curious to understand what has been erased, and feel an obligation to give voice to those who are calling out to me from centuries ago.

I want to leave you with this article, and invite you to join me on a journey of seeing and listening.

St. Louis was once Mound City. Its Native American residents still feel erased

The unknown has always intrigued me.

     From the time I had my earliest awareness that there were "strange" or unexplained things in this world, I wanted to know more. I lived in a very small Colorado mountain town in the late 70's. The summer between Kinder and first grade was the summer I started to realize the world was unlocked by my basic reading skills. I would walk my myself to the town library, roam the stacks unsupervised, and was allowed to check out anything. 

    That was the summer I realized that the library had adult books, collected together in useful categories. In particular I was transfixed by the fact that there were unexplained, mysterious things documented in books. That meant they were real. I spent a lot of time in the shelves finding books about metaphysics, philosophy, occult topics, ancient civilizations, UFO's, paranormal and cryptids. (Dewey Decimal Fans will know the section: 110's with metaphysics, up to the 130's with parapsychology and occultism and a bit beyond.)  I especially loved the books with as many pictures as possible, and captions I was able to sound out. There was no way I could actually read half of the books I lugged home that summer! I remember vividly the joy of feeling the world was unlocked for me that year. I checked out enough books to win the summer reading program for my age category! 

    I am still enchanted by and drawn into the unknown and unexplained. I have spent  the last 8 years with my primary focus being UFO's. have been a team lead for a paranormal investigation team, I have learned about ancient civilizations around the world. I have dreamed of going to places like Egypt, the deep jungles of Mexico to explore Mayan ruins, or the Turkish countryside to see Gobekle Tepe. I have listened to podcasts about ley lines and earth energies in England and Europe, followed travels to Antarctica, and imagined. I dreamed of being at Stonehenge for the solstice.

    It felt like so many of the incredible mysteries were far away. In other countries, hidden in other cultures. Far away, hard to access, and shrouded in mystery. 

    What I didn't realize, and you may not realize either, is what an incredible ancient civilization is beneath our very feet at this minute.

    Like every 80's child, I received a highly filtered version of the history of my country. In general, the history began with the entrance of Europeans to the story. I learned how brave  white settlers slowly conquered this land, after surviving and then controlling the native inhabitants. Those inhabitants were made up of the post-Columbian tribes that then blend into the stories of cowboys and Indians and Little House on the Prairie. Learned a bit more about the tribes in my state (Colorado) through school, but again that history was more in relation to how those tribes effected the settlers.

    As I grew to adulthood my understanding of that history has broadened. I am able to see that it was missing a huge part of the story. I am able to feel great sadness for what happened to the Indigenous people of this land, and feel outraged at the social issues plaguing Native Americans today. 

    However I neglected to go out and learn more of the story. I didn't know what I was missing, and I have a feeling you may not know either!

    Our move to St. Louis 2 years ago meant I had a new region of the country to explore. I was intrigued by Cahokia. 

    I remember the moment I first learned that there had been a CITY in the middle of the country, well before European explorers tried to claim the land. I was in bed reading, with my husband beside me. He set his book down to tell about this real ancient city he was reading about. It was in a book about Atlantis. Having grown up with a history of the Indians living in small bands, it seemed almost as crazy as the story of Atlantis.

    Now over a decade later, the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Cahokia is just a 20 minute drive away from my home. It took a few visits and some additional research to have my mind absolutely blown away by the secret ancient history of the land we call the United States! 

    Are you curious enough to follow along and see where my journey takes me?

    

Let the adventure resume!

 I started this blog 7 years ago. So many adventures have happend since I stopped writing. It is time to write again.

I am now living in St. Louis, MO with my husband Dan. We love the city, the new region of the country, the new experiences, but are still adjusting to the sticky humidity. I don't think I will ever fully adapt to that aspect of the climate.

Reflecting on early blog entries, I can see how perfect it is that my writing so carefully documented the early magic that has lead to the sweetness of my current life. My soul was so powerfully called to the desert. I thought it was because I was going to find my tribe. The common listeners of a radio show.

I did meet those people, many who are dear to me to this day. However even that first trip had hints of the powerful circle of women that was being pulled together. My favorite day of the conference was actually a day when many of us left the conference, and sat around a table in the shade and connected, as women. It filled my soul and I wanted more. So I nurtured relationships. 

I met Rita at that first conference. Our friendship has grown with the blessing of time, and many shared experiences. It also lead to rich friendships with Lisa and then Lucinda. They are two other amazing women Rita drew in. Today I consider these three women to be the sisters I always wanted. We have all loved each other through so much of life, unconditionally and honestly.  They are each amazing women in their own ways, and I am honored to have them as my council in life. They are the ones I can ugly cry with and be empowered by, sometimes in the very same garage conversation.

Today we are all about to roll deep into individual projects that can all connect in a fascinating Venn Diagram of interests. Rita recently returned to her homeland of Armenia, and is launching into some deep exploration and sharing of the ancient and present day magic of that land. Lisa is working far too many hours as she heads towards retirement, but dazzles us with her love, positivity and crystal wisdom whenever she can. Lucinda is everywhere, but most recently returned from a week on Pine Ridge, collecting oral accounts of Bigfoot encounters. More about what I am diving into in a later blog entry.

Just know that collectively, we are working on so many fascinating things that it only made sense to share those things together. Rita was the mastermind behind The Human Factor X , a digital media company through which we can collaborate and support each other on our important and fascinating projects, and work on future shared projects we have been dreaming up. Stay tuned, it is going to be AMAZING! 

I am proud to say that I am still adventuring despite my body really preferring a recliner! I have acquied really validating additional diagnosis of significant back problems, with multiple points of osteoarthritis, bulging disks and nerve impingement. I am currently undergoing nerve block injections every other week, and I am experiencing a significant reduction in some aspects of my pain, which feels miraculous. I continue to adventure through research from my recliner when I need to, but also have a lot more confidence in getting out by myself now. I have mastered the art of car-camping, and can comfortably do multi-day solo adventures with little concern now. Most of those adventures have really been back to Colorado to see family, but I am looking forward to more adventures in the Midwest to learn more about my latest deep dive.

Stay tuned here for more on THAT! I hope to make you question your understanding of history, and ponder what messages the ancient people might want us to hear them whispering to us today.

Landing is hard, NYC recovery.

My travel tales sort of fiddled out after our fun day at the Brooklyn Museum because Josh was really not feeling well, and I was exhausted myself.

Our last few days in NYC were spent mostly holed in in our borrowed Brooklyn apartment, loving on the cats, and trying to be healthy. Josh slept a lot, and watched Star Trek.

The friend we were catsitting for actually returned early, staying at a friends house, because she broke her leg while on her Utah adventure and kept it secret for well over a week, for fear that we would change our plans. (Plus she really was not ready to be in her apartment alone). I was really sad to hear she was so injured, but pretty glad to get to have takeout with her one evening and catch up! (and meet the other important family in her life)

Saturday we were sitting in the apartment and and I started hearing the sound of marching bands sneaking in through the open windows. It turns out that Brooklyn puts on a spectacular Ragamuffin Parade each year, which is a fantastic combination of costume parade mixed with school groups marching together. I am glad I left the apartment to follow the marching band sounds and behold this community fun!

The next day the fun continued with the annual 3rd Street Festival, which was just booth after booth of local businesses, food, organizations and vendors. I started with the intention of walking the entire length of the festival, until I asked NYPD how many blocks it spanned. He thought 31 blocks! I had a grand time walking, chatting, and soaking in the small community festival feel.

 One of the booths I paused at was Lularoe clothing,which I had admired on friends feeds, but not been sold on until I touched them. Clothing is difficult sometimes with fibromyalgia. Anything binding is agony,  seams can feel like thorns rubbing areas raw, and textures mean so much when your skin feels every sensation amplified. I have to say that feeling how soft the fabric was made my brain pop a little, and I came home with a Perfect T, Carly dress, and 2 pairs of fantastic butter soft leggings.

Monday was departure day. I had spent a lot of spoons trying to clean our friends apartment and leave her with a "Herrick Free" black clean slate to return home to recover in. We were pretty happy to get to the airport and to our gate. The last few days felt a bit too long, with his illness and my fibro. (Remember this was travel day 17/18!)

We flew off into the sunset, literally, and headed home to Colorado.

Landing was hard. Not in the airplane, but in life. I had been going  and going for 17/18 days. Though I had down days, rest days, paced myself really well and didn't kick myself into a flair while traveling by overdoing it, I was beyond exhausted when we got home. It took me 2 days to unpack my dirty clothes. I ached, I was so very fatigued, but I was also quite satisfied. It was a good journey, with fantastic memories!

2 weeks after getting home I am on antibiotics with a terrible respiratory illness that has settled in my chest. I wonder if I was exposed to a strong virus on my travels, if I wore myself out to the point that I just couldn't fight off a standard bug well, or if it was the first inevitable autumnal virus. I just know that I am struggling to get off the couch right now. The idea that 3 weeks ago I was exploring Ellis Island with my youngest child seems so foreign. 

That is what is so very difficult to convey about living with fibromyalgia. We can carry on like a whole healthy person for a short time. However you probably only see us on those good days, because the hard days are so very hard that we hole up, are fairly isolated. I can't even imagine that the same body I am coughing painfully in, sleeping 12 or more hours a day in, was walking on the Brooklyn bridge with a small window of time where it felt strong, whole, and pain free.

Really, I am still relishing that feeling of such freedom that I had that day. I really felt like I could have walked forever, for about 2 hours, and then I could barely walk anywhere. But walking on that bridge, with the wind blowing, my son smiling, and the city in front of us was worth everything!

So now to recover for the next adventure. 

New York Playdate!

Friday in NYC was a really exciting day for me, because I was getting to meet up with one of my Fadernaut friends! (The Fadernauts are listeners of the Fade to Black podcast I enjoy, and my trip to Joshua Tree was really to go meet some of them. I had met Cary in Joshua Tree, but did not spend a lot of time with her there.)

We were originally going to meet at the MET, but she suggested the Brooklyn Museum as they have a large Ancient Egypt collection as well. It ended up being the best idea, because there were no crowds, and the museum is exquisite.

I always love finding breastfeeding in art

Another maternal figure, carrying infant.

After filling our brains we walked to a lovely Mexican restaurant and ate and chatted. In the time we had been eating, the streets outside changed dramatically!

We had gone part of a block and I started to pay attention to the equipment being pushed on carts up the street, and then noticed large lights with gels on them, and realized that we were walking through what would be a filming set. After stopping to quiz a young man we found out that it is filming for a Netflix show called Tr. 

The fun thing was that this young man was not entirely sure, because it was his first day. He would be working on special effects, and explained how you just come and do what you are told to do, and the goal is to work until you can join the union. He had to ask around to find out what network the show would be on, and I can't find anything online about it yet, so keep your eyes open! Because I love knowing how things work behind the scenes, if I had been alone I would have totally figured out a way to just hang out and watch how things unfolded in front of me. I don't care about seeing the actors or stars. It was about watching a show being filmed, watching the orchestration behind the camera, the people working the lights, the whole thing. THAT would have been quite fun!

Today, I don't know what is on the books. Josh just ran out for coffee and bagels (his first solo excursion) while I finish this up and get dressed. No matter what, it is going to be a good day!

New York, needles, heartache and walking.

 Yesterday we headed straight for China Town, because we both had acupuncture appointments. On my first visit here, my friend introduced me to this Acupuncturist, and I was eager to see him again. Josh was having a lot of unusual pain in his back, and this would be his first time getting acupuncture. (I have seen quite a few acupuncturists myself, however I realized that it is quite different being treated by someone with just an Eastern Medicine paradigm.

I went back with Josh to help him be as comfortable as possible with such a new thing. He actually loved it. What really surprised me was how difficult it was to watch needles, (large needles, this was deep work) pushed into my son's back. I have no struggle with needles(have drawn a lot of blood and given a lot of injections). However watching the large needles go in, and then adjusted 10 minutes later to go even further in, made me a bit dizzy!

I was relieved when it was my turn to go lay down in another room and be treated. However the entire time I was wondering how Josh was doing.

Actually before acupuncture we found ourselves purchasing a Louis Vuitton belt through a series of whispers on a corner, a woman walking with us to an ATM and back where we waited for someone else to bring the belt Josh chose off of a phone. It was a bit crazy, and they kept offering purses for me. Josh was really excited to get his super fly belt, but that was a crazy experience!

So treated, feeling energetic, we started walking towards the 9/11 Memorial. However the route lead us to by the Brooklyn Bridge, and the urge to walk it was irresistible.

I remember clearly walking up the bridge with a running conversation in my head. "I feel fantastic at this moment. There is zero pain in my body anywhere. I feel like I could walk for days. Is this what normal people feel like? I almost never feel like this. If I felt like this all the time I could do anything!". It is really profound when with fibromyalgia, you catch those moments of what feel like silence in your body. It is such a contrast to the constant hum of ache and sensation. I am not sure why I felt so great then. Acupuncture? Synergy? Altitude? (Lower altitudes always afford me a bit more oomph). I just know it was a spectacular way to feel, with a spectacular view. The magic of not having to think about every step ahead of me, to ration them carefully and not end up in a pain pickled was beyond words. Every day I have to determine if I have enough oomph in me for an activity. Most days I would have to seriously evaluate whether walking half a block out of my way is even possible. On that day, I felt like I could meander forever, letting my curiosity lead me. For a while that is. The pain did return... will get to that.

Our walk from the bridge to the memorial lead us past this spectacular scene in front of the Supreme Court building. (That is a NYC firetruck being towed)

Then, the memorial. I was drawn to it on my last visit, and was not surprised when Josh voiced a desire to go after we had been in NYC for a few days. Walking down the ramp into the memorial was surprisingly emotional for me, when doing it with Josh. So much of my personal 9/11 experience is wrapped up in memories of sitting on the couch watching all of the coverage, nursing my tiny premature baby Josh(who was 12 days old), who was struggling with jaundice and felt so fragile. My postpartum hormones and the tangle of my own continued problems after the birth, infections and being rehospitalized is all enmeshed with the horror of 9/11 and the long recovery.

Halfway through the memorial my pain returned. I did not welcome it at all, it was not an old friend, and I resented that the silence inside my body was gone. I have had other windows of relief that were this profound, but there is no consistency about what seems to lead to it. Maybe it was the acupuncture, though none of my other periods free of symptoms were related to acupuncture. It is easy to try to chase those silences, but after years of chasing I accept them as validations. Sometimes when my pain goes on and on, I start to second guess myself and ask if my brain is just twisting it so I think it is pain. Having contrasting periods, whether they are minutes or hours, really do validate that "holy cow, I am in a lot of pain ALL THE TIME!".