Advocates, icons, influencers, and more. All about humanity.
I’ve always been a city girl. My nights were full of sirens and people, so many people, so many that you sometimes almost missed the skitter of rats across the subway tracks. Pigeons kept to the daylight mostly, squabbling in noisy clashes of feathers on my office windowsill, on the eaves of the subway stop, in the unfortunate architecture of the laundry room entryway. Before I moved I had taken to draping Teddy’s old towel across the clean laundry. Otherwise, the pigeons would sense opportunity and do their damndest to land a bullseye on my clothes.
First Rains by Ezra Enns The fire grabbed hold of the strips of birch bark that we had lined up against our fire pile and it strengthened its hold. Slowly the little bit of flame wrapped itself around the logs, and around the 15 stones that we had lain inside. The stones (the grandfathers) turned red-hot.
Today I went to a doctor for my routine checkup, and after our pleasantries he asked me if I wanted to be vaccinated for Covid-19. I didn't answer right away because I was surprised they even asked. I wasn't old or anything. So I asked the doctor his opinion. It was...
In September 2019 I woke up and my left hand was numb. I thought that I had just slept on it weird. But that wasn't the end of it. Over the course of two weeks my entire body went numb, part by part, limb by limb. My right hand was the last area to go numb. Each day a new finger went numb until, finally, my entire body was numb. I couldn't type, hold my phone, or wear any shoes with heels because my toes were too numb to support me.
The call came late Thursday afternoon. “Tomorrow 8am. You’re all on the list.” Words of relief. A culmination of ten months of anxiety, uncertainty, and fear, all waiting for this moment. Filled with high expectations. A sign of the end of worries, and a return to normal life.
I’d been in the hospital since before Halloween. I was on Percodan, a powerful morphine-related pain med, and in sterile condition—had to be completely nude in my private room for the first two weeks. Why did this make me think of sex, to have attractive young nurses coming into my room when I was in both a clothing and consciousness-related compromised condition?
It has come to my attention not to long ago that most people do NOT know anything about anemia and how difficult it can actually be to live with it on the daily basis. According to the Mayo Clinic definition anemia is a condition where the blood doesn't have enough red cells, dysfunctional red blood cells, which leads to the flow of oxygen to the organs to be reduced. You are probably thinking about how these people are even alive and functioning in society, right? Well, we are some what perfectly fine, just very tired. The truth is, if you don't get your blood tested chances are you won't even know you are anemic. The symptoms you get from this disease seem almost normal if you have a full time job, go to school, lack sleep, or simply don't always have scheduled meal times. Though there are different types of anemia, for the sake of my brain, we are simply going to stick to iron deficiency anemia, its symptoms and ways to combat it.
There's a concept I learned from Britain's leading therapist, Marisa Peer, that is slowly changing my life. You are what you believe you are. What you can and can't do is merely the reflection of what you're thinking inside.
From where I stand, “La Cordillera Central” and the Empire State stand side by side. I am the seed with the hope of greatness that struggles to be in when everyone saw me out.
As a young woman, I wanted to have BOOBs! As in larger breasts. Apparently, I wasn’t going to be satisfied with the body I had given me. I always want more. 💔
I last took the subway on Thursday, March 19, 2020, at noon. The TTC normally carries one million passengers a day. A single new subway train can hold over 1,000 people. Today I was one of seven people on the entire train.
My life has always been a bit different. At 8 I was diagnosed with type 1 Diabetes, although my only question to the doctor at the hospital was "Will I ever get to eat oreos again". Wish 8 year old me knew was how life changing this disease would be if I took it seriously from the beginning. Through my teens years I would take my insulin pump out while hanging with friends to feel more normal, more like them. With no care in the world of how those silly decisions may affect me so many years later. I thumbed my nose up at my Doctors who told me "You need to take this seriously" or "This could affect you later on". At 15 years old I started cutting myself, not knowing the deep down reason was I was tired of being different, of being the girl with diabetes, of being the girl that couldn't take part in any fun festivities because my diet wouldn't allow it. At 17 years old I was admitted to the hospital with a bloodsugar of 17 after leaving my insulin pump on while being sick and not eating. My doctor made the decision to remove me from my pump as I was not mature and responsible enough to have one. She put my on a long acting insulin which would cause me to have ketoacidosis 6 months later. After another 5 day stay in the hospital I was just over it. Over the diabetes, over the restrictions, over the shots, over the lectures. I just didn't want to care about any of it anymore. It was all so overwhelming. I luckily had great insurance until 21 when I decided to move across the country. I went 6 years without insurance so without the correct insulin, without a doctor to oversee my care, without enough supplies. I would buy the cheapest bottle of insulin I could get without a prescription ($74 bottle or NPH). This insulin was not what I needed and really had no idea where my bloodsugar was at at any given time. When I was 28 I got pregnant with my daughter. Immediately I was sent to the high risk doctor. The high risk doctor was quick to put me on an insulin pump, quick to get me on a continuous glucose monitor and even quicker to require me to send in my bloodsugar results everyday or risk losing her as my doctor. Under her I was able to get my bloodsugar to levels I have NEVER been at before. My last a1c test right after I gave birth was a 6.1, a prediabetic level. After having my daughter and wanting a healthier and longer life I tried to keep my bloodsugar under control but little did I know the damage from my teenage years had already been done. Fast forward 2 years. I go to the doctor with some shoulder pain. After 1 year it is detemined that my shoulder pain is from scar tissue that has stayed in my shoulder due to the diabetes. 3 weeks after the surgery I am hospitalized and diagnosed with MS. My know it all attitude about my diabetes changed immediately to feeling lost and confused. MS is scary but I can handle the diabetes. I was set up with a neurologist who would quickly put me in my place. I went to see him because I was having some eye issues, my vision was tinted red and I had the most annoying floaters. Absolutely convinced this was due to my new illness I went right in and he broke my heart telling me that this was not due to MS but a complication of years of diabetes. After a rush to the doctor I was scheduled for eye surgery. Now 30 years olf and have been through a c-section, shoulder surgery and double eye surgery. All 3 caused from the diabetes (not that I may not have needed a c-section if I was completely healthy but it was determined early on in my pregnancy that I run the risk of a heavier baby and c-section was the safest delivery method).