The Return To Innocence

Holy random acts of kindness, Batman.
After getting my flu vaccine, I went to look at the cane rack, because they have this beautiful blue and silver one that looks like dragon scales, and I have been waiting for discounts and coupons so I could get it. The price is under twenty dollars, but still.
A middle-aged man who looked so much like Idris Elba that I did a second take, also reached for the blue silver cane. Our eyes met, I smiled briefly. He said, "You know, I bet this would make an awesome magic staff for cosplay."
I grinned and said, "Good plan! I should at least join a game just so I can brag. Or just be my paganish elf self and cosplay every day." Which was blurted out because my filter is so thin.
The Idris Elba lookalike chuckled. "I adore that idea. I just pray to all mighty Atheismo that we aren't going too deep. Like that Tom Hanks movie."
My jaw dropped. "Duuude," I said. "Futurama reference plus obscure D&D rip-off movie nee book reference? Cripple high five!"
We high fived and missed on purpose, stumbling. "Mild cerebral palsy, spastic hemiplegia" I said. "Mild cerebral palsy, diplegia mixed," he said. "And knee arthritis."
"And sciatica," we said in union, surprising ourselves.
"Fibromyalgia and epilepsy and autism too," I added.
He said, "My twin nieces are autistics! Their world is so awesome. I think they prefer me to my brother when they're in meltdowns, they talk about what's going on in detail."
"Awesome!" I said.
At this point, we had been staring at the canes and I had been avoiding too much eye contact. I was about to ask the Idris Elba lookalike about advocacy. Then I saw a gleam in his eye and sensed a topic shift. "Hey, listen," he said. "I'm a proponent of the pay it forward thing. I know we're strangers, but I do know enough about you that you really want the dragon scale cane."
I tilted my head. "Yeeeaah?"
"So, okay." He pulled some pieces of paper from his pocket. "I've got a buy one get one half off for this brand of canes. I will buy you your cane. What do you think?"
I blinked a few times. I looked at him. He wasn't hitting on me. He wasn't being creepy. He was just a fellow cripple offering help.
"Okay," I said, "thank you! That's really kind."
"Hey, the community needs all the assistance we can get from each other. Cripples helping cripples, you know?"
I smiled. "Totally."
As we walked to a register, he said, "I want you to know that I had no intention of hitting on you. I see your rings, and for all I know they could mean something else. But while I think you're a gorgeous-looking person, I have no plans on being a That Guy. I punch Those Guys on a regular basis."
"Huh?"
"Physical trainer. Not so much punch as pinch in sensitive areas. Men can be scum."
I giggled. "Hashtag Not All Men!"
He laughed. "Anyway, let me pay for everything." He nodded at my basket, which had a few comfort items. I immediately said he shouldn't, since he was getting me the cane.
He then put my basket on the conveyor belt, looked at me until I noticed that his eyes had gold rings, and said, "Then pay it forward. Help another cripple." The corner of his mouth turned up. "Even if it's just donating to help someone get better access."
I nodded. I was going to cry any minute. He paid for everything, put his things in two totes and put my things in two more totes. He saved me almost forty dollars.
He said, "I would offer you a ride, but my friend's picking me up so we can go back to Philly. It's been a great road trip so far."
I nodded. "It's cool. I'm going to take the bus home anyway." I was feeling giddy. "Well, obviously we had this encounter for a reason. So. It was lovely meeting you, clone of Idris Elba."
He threw back his head and laughed. "I get that a lot. Same to you, clone of Mia Sara. Anyway, I'm Laurence."
"Joanna."
We fist-bumped and he helped adjust my cane for my height. We walked outside together, and he stood at the curb to wait for his friend while I walked across the parking lot. I turned and waved. He waved back and kept looking at me. I realized it was to make sure I was safe.
I got to the sidewalk crosswalk and peered back. I saw him get into a green SUV. I realized I would probably never see him again.
I am definitely going to Pay It Forward.

***

Also! Links! For future reference!
http://www.neurodiversity.com/main.html
http://cerebralpalsy.org/about-cerebral-palsy/associative-conditions/
http://www.disabilityscoop.com/2013/10/03/autism-common-cerebral-palsy/18775/

***

Also!
PMS is vicious. Although with oral contraceptives, it's technically withdrawal bleeding rather than menstruation. Besides, I haven't truly bled in over a year. Being on the highest dose of birth control for over fourteen years will do that to some women.
PMS is vicious. A veliciraptor chewing through my pelvis. There's a photo out there of a plastic female human skeleton, with a toy raptor stuck head-first through the pelvic bone.
And the bloating and bizarre fluctuations on the bathroom scale.
Having slid back to psychiatric anorexia after failing to control neurochemical anorexia, I know damn well I should not stand on that scale especially during this time. I know damn well that numbers don't mean as much as how my clothing fits. But paranoia bred from life-long anxiety over disordered eating patterns is paranoia. And then there was the entire food=growth=death connection when I was little. And then there was being under a hundred pounds until my mid-twenties. And then there was the anorexia voices insisting that I needed to get back to that, being under five feet tall. I was never overweight. I used to weigh something around the high "set point" - but I have no idea where I've constructed this memory of being convinced to lose twenty pounds. Unfortunately, my illness has burrowed deep enough into my subconscious that my thoughts have turned to the classic hallmarks of anorexia: "I absolutely must be below X number or I will never feel right". The unwillingness to stop. The belief that everything is wrong. I know where I am. I know what's happening. I've been able to compartmentalize and separate enough so that I smack myself when those thoughts occur, so that I at least eat an apple or two, or cheese, yogurt, celery, even cheesecake or dark chocolate. My friends are with me.
Sag Harbor will happen next week, with Thanksgiving. Part of me is in a total blind mute panic. That part doesn't want to eat anything. That part wants to Be Good, Be Perfect. It doesn't matter that I'm over thirty, says the panic. It only matters that I am extremely small and I must keep being extremely small.
To bring everything around again: PMS is not helping. PMS is several numbers upward on the scale because of fluid retention, bloating... losing that fight to not overeat. PMS is barely fitting into the purple dyed jeans yesterday and having them slightly loose today. It isn't helping anything.

But I look at that blue and silver dragon scale cane, bought for me by a total stranger with the same disability as me, and I think the best way I can Pay It Forward is to make sure someone I care for stays as mentally healthy as possible...

...the sudden thunderstorm is not helping this anxiety crap.
Somebody tell me stories?

So, anyway.
Fucking migraines. Fucking snow. Fucking weather.

Beyond that, things have been very well. I've been actively activisming and self advocating, for both autism and cerebral palsy. March 1 is a day to mourn for those autistics and other disabled people murdered by caregivers. I lit candles.

Disorder: abnormal condition affecting the body of an organism.
And I'm fine with that. I don't want any cures. I'm okay being abnormal. You can stop wanting to cure me. I've been mitigating the most disruptive symptoms for a while on my own. Thank you, but I don't need your remedy pushing. What I do need is your support, your love, your compassion, your understanding.
One more thing: I do see my autism as a disorder, with disruptive symptoms and wonderful benefits. It shows me the universe in ways that I don't think I could perceive any other way. And it certainly can be irritating, affecting my abilities of communication, concentration, conception, perception, perspicacity, pensiveness. It makes me twitch, it makes me unable to brain properly. But I also don't want to get rid of it. It is part of my brain. It is part of me. If you want to destroy it, you want to destroy me. I'm not okay with that at all. Treat me, ease me, soothe me. But don't wish to damage me.

Recently, I learned that Lindt/Lindor chocolate supports Autism Speaks, which saddens me deeply. I won't spend money on Lindt anymore, but if someone gifts some to me, I won't say no. I will not and cannot support Autism Speaks, who are indeed evil, abusive to autistics, and do not actually spend their funds on helping autistic people. Luckily, Ghiradelli is still awesome. And Green And Black's. And Dagoba. And Trader Joe's.

My pain management doctor and nurse have been "extremely impressed" that I am still on "the lowest doses of tramadol and codeine out of all the patients" in their treatment program. My mother is finally convinced that I'm not damaging my organs. The nurse was very surprised when I told her I didn't take codeine every day as prescribed. But since I do need the tramadol daily, see increased the dosage from 50 mg to 100 mg twice a day, since neither Medicare nor Aetna will cover a time-released 100 mg version of tramadol. This, along with 20 mg baclofen twice daily, has been ideal, with the codeine taken once weekly, plus more as needed when migraines become troublesome. Also, high doses of magnesium and pure omega-3 fatty acids. High therapeutic doses of EPA and DHA have been keeping the worst of the ADHD-Inattentive and OCD under control, as much as Strattera used to, which amazes me. Calamari and Krill oils have been really helping.
https://www.swansonvitamins.com/swanson-efas-maximum-strength-krill-oil-1000-mg-30-sgels
https://www.swansonvitamins.com/swanson-efas-super-dha-500-from-calamari-30-sgels
https://www.swansonvitamins.com/jarrow-formulas-inc-epa-dha-balance-odorless-240-sgels

Adam and I visited the official Mayorga Coffee warehouse in Rockville again now that we need more coffee. The warehouse sells coffee for cheap, and always have a sale: two 2-lb bags plus a free 12-oz bag for $50, which is a steal. We do this every few months, since five pounds of coffee for fifty dollars lasts us anywhere from three to six months. This time we got a bag of organic Peru, a bagof organic Honduras, and free organic black and tan. All with notes of chocolate. *nod*

The cats are well. Calliope has settled into the family beautifully, and has become fast friends with Jupiter. Even Luna has become friendly with her. I'm really pleased. She loves having her belly and chest scritched. She loves cuddling against me. She is gentle even in rough play. She is slowly learning to love being picked up and cuddled by Adam and others beyond me.
I'm still having nightmares about Rose dying slowly in my arms. I imagine they will fade eventually.

You guys, I amaze myself. I've been writing helter skelter all over the place: Novel, stories, novellas, blogs, facebook, notebooks with various pens, everywhere... in the middle of a postictal migraine and insanely horrific agonizing chronic pain flare-up following recovery from a panic attack. If I didn't have a computer or paper I might write on the walls. I hurt so badly I have no idea what I'm doing. I feel half fire and half water. Wild and raging, and all I want is a crackling bonfire and a rushing river.
I doctored up a photo of myself and it came out half gold light and half blue light. It looks inhuman. But part of me adores it so much. My face is two different parts. I am two entities in one. When I burn, I am cool. When I am cool, I burn. It is ying yang, dragon phoenix, up and down, left and right, I don't even know. I don't speak out loud except to my cats, I just speak through Story. So much Story inside me.
That rock. That rock that my husband gave me, the rock that he held while standing in Room 217 of the Stanley Hotel, in which Stephen King wrote "The Stand" and used as an inspiration for "The Shining". That rock is still next to my laptop. I am covered in words. I am filled up with Words. I may disappear into Story. I may not even see the world until I have to.
Is this what it is like to live in the land of the Fae and then come back to the land of humans?



Maybe it was the super moon. Maybe it is the heat from the sun now. Maybe it is anything.

So, it has been raining and being weather like stupid here in central Maryland. How about you guys?

I am starting to get a bit annoyed by the migraines, the sinus pressure on and off, the sciatica pains, the joint pains, etc etc. Tomorrow, it's supposed to be over 80 degrees F. I'm sure there will be rain or something like it tomorrow or the next day or so.

Eh. I'm just tired. I'm always tired. Most of the time. This is just... dumb.

I am eating cereal for lunch. Great Grains Protein Blend: Cinnamon Hazelnut. It is one of the most delicious cereals I have ever eaten. Note for future reference.

Carisoprodol and tramadol have fully relieved most of my deep pain and muscle tension for a few hours.

Yesterday, Charlotte came over and we spent a good two hours or more completely cleaning and reorganizing the main bathroom. The soreness was earned this time.

Outside, it is sunny and slightly warm, slightly cool at the same time, in the mid-sixties. Even though it will most likely not rain until Sunday, I am developing a migraine and joint pain.

Our heating/air conditioning unit is off, so the house is naturally in the sixties. I am wearing long sleeves, since my natural default seems to be "cold, usually" in temperatures under seventy degrees Fahrenheit - but I am also wearing short sleeves underneath for a quick change. I think my ideal temperature would be low seventies with a mild breeze.

I literally feel so fucked up that the only foods I've been able to eat are yogurt, cheese, red meat, lettuce, and potatoes. I suppose that it's from the postictal state. I'm trying so, so hard to eat as much as I can to at least get enough calories and nutrition. It is hard to think straight. The protein from the meat and yogurt is starting to help. So is the B-Complex vitamin from earlier.

I've turned off the thermostat, opened several windows, and turned on a couple of fans, for both exhaust and intake. The cats are enjoying various sunbeams. I had incredibly strange dreams, but that is what happens when I'm postictal.

Good idea: Taking a pleasant three mile walk (limp) (walk-limp?) along with a short bus ride, to get exercise and a workout.

Bad idea: Doing this with a pounding headache that eventually leads to vertigo, neck stiffness, sinus pain, Raynaud's flaring, fibromyalgia flaring, incredible spasticity, and hobbling while leaning heavily on a cheery rose cane.

So, perhaps yesterday's seizure with head collision, mild memory loss, and brain reset was slightly more interesting than I'd though. (My brain likes to reset a lot. My loved ones and I make jokes about this.)

Also? My life-long hypersensitivity caused by that three month premature birth and brain damage? That can fuck right off. I was so cold that by the time I got off the bus to my community, I was shivering and felt trapped in a freezer. That is just not fair.
I need to work on personal warming techniques, because nothing really helps if I get past a certain level of cold.

I am still terrified of storms.
But for now, there is no thunder. Just wild rain and wind.
I feel safe. Especially with my husband home, and with concerned friends a phone call away.
I always must remind myself: I am considered family by many people. I am so loved and cared for and worried about.
I always say I am fine, but everyone who loves me knows what "fine" means in my brain's language.

The storm will mostly likely pass thoroughly by Wednesday. A relief, since I have a fibromyalgia physical therapy appointment and Adam will most likely be on a job out of state. But for now, we are well. We have plenty of provisions. I do not expect any blackouts and our power lines are underground. But we have flashlights, lamps, candles, and a generator.
And each other. We have each other, and our cats.

Dear Migraine and Other Painful Things: Stop laughing at me. It's not funny anymore. Bah. No, wait, it is. It's Funny Ouch and also Funny Oh Crap and also Funny This Sucks.

The sky needs to rain already. The weather forecasters say it will rain already. I do hope they are right. If it's true, I hope the guys delivering the new couch tomorrow will cover the couch in plastic or something. It's microfiber suede, after all.

In the mail today, I got to see records from doctors and psychologists and neurologists that my lawyer had put together, and everything mentioned that I had Severe Problems With Just About Everything. Since we had been trying for a disability approval, that was... good, I guess? But as a general human thing, it is... very not good. I will most certainly be following up with doctors and such once we can really afford it. Also, according to the psychology records, it would appear that my "total intelligence" has dropped quite a lot while specific intelligence quotients like vocabulary and grammar and such are still awesome like supterstars. But I never liked IQ tests. I find them generally pointless. I even had a long fantastic discussion with friends over it.

My mother is very paranoid about my talking about this with "people online" and I said "You mean the people I'm very close to who are my friends? Because I wouldn't discuss this in any public forum and especially not in detail, and especially since right now even I don't have all the details, and even when I get all the details I'm not going to talk about it?" I'm not going to broadcast my financial specifications online, not even privately. I don't think people would care, and even if they did, I wouldn't toss around major details. My mother was still skeptical. I did call her out on her sounding paranoid, and she agreed, but she called it concern. It's very hard to explain the internet to someone who never goes on the internet. I get it, there is deep concern and skepticism because in a few months I will have more money than I have now, and maybe unfriendly people from the internet will decide to trick me and gain access to the money. Which is why, some time ago, I made sure that if I were to order anything online or put my financial information online, I would do my best to wipe out any trace, which can be highly difficult but workable. Mom is still skeptical, but that's okay. It's good to be skeptical and ask skeptical questions, even when the consistent answer involves the words "privacy" and "close friends" because on the internet sometimes those words mean absolutely nothing.

Anyway... how are you guys? I feel run over by a truck, which is normal, hah hah.