I decided to dye my hair red. This is the second time I've ever dyed it and my first time was last year.
First blonde and now red...I think I like the red, but let's see who has more fun (blonde vs. red ;).
I am not the fashionable type, I never really had the flair for it, at least in my mind, but the older I get, the more I want to experiment and try new things. It is funny, because changing something little really does change your personality. I feel sassier, as if I needed help with that.
For now, since I am working freelance from home, I try to get myself out of the house for a couple hours every day. I walk my '136 Kam' steps to my car and then take a little drive. This helps me continue walking confidence and these days I am trying to hold on as much as I can for as long as I can.
I have to be honest, every day when I go for my little walk to the car, I have to take deep breaths and psyche myself out. I walk the path (my walking path on video-click here to watch) along the house and then I get to the gate, stop, take a deep breath and then walk the rest of the path. There is no rail or wall for me to hang onto so I have to walk this part without assistance. Same for when I arrive home. I get out of my car and sometimes stand near my car for a few minutes staring at the path to the gate (54 steps) just dreading it. I tend to internal monologue while I walk. I cheer myself on, um...anything to get myself through. Every step is always an adventure.
Last week I went on my usual daily walk but this time I fell on the sidewalk near my car. I think I twisted my foot slightly, but other than that nothing major was hurt except for skinned arms (Kam fact, I loved bruises, scars, skinned knees as a kid. Still do).
As of 2 years ago I absolutely can't get up off the ground by myself. Someone has to lift my lifeless body and if there is no one with me -- well, I have to depend on the kindness of strangers.
So, there I was. I was on the ground with my body hanging over the sloped angle of the driveway with my head laying flat on the ground. "Ughh, I hate this".
I lifted my head up and peaked around the neighborhood. Some landscape guys across the street looked at me in confusion and were teetering on their feet as if deciding to come or not.
Good thing I know Spanish and so I shouted, "Could you come help me?", in English.
One of the men darted to me. I tried to explain how to lift and we spent a few minutes dancing around the situation, but he couldn't speak english well. So I broke out my mime skills (it's ok. miming in defense, and not as a weapon, is within mime code. Kind of like Karate).
Normally the best way to lift me is from behind under the arm pits, and whomever is lifting needs to with all their might expecting no assistance from me.
He lifted, I fell. He lifted, I fell until we finally did it (Hooray! Just like Dora).
The way he lifted was funny, though. He in no way tried to avoid...well, the boobs. He definitely had a FIRM and good grip. Most people that lift do their best to avoid the chest. It wasn't too creepy or assault like, he just didn't avoid it as well. Well, good for him, I say. After he got me up, I dusted myself off, got into my car and texted Jason.
Kam: Just fell. Some landscape guy helped me up. Pretty much didn't avoid my boobs.
Jason: Sorry u fell. Was it inappropriate?
Kam: Who cares!! I'm up! ;)
As I have progressed I rely more and more on help and this means strangers to. With every person I meet, whether it is in passing or someone that ends up staying in my life, I have to be the teacher. I need to show them how best to do certain things, such as lifting me. I try to be comfortable about it so that they are comfortable, because I imagine it is awkward for them. It is not that they don't want to help, they just don't know how to. I also have to heavily rely on strangers. Some are not so great, as they ignore me and walk on by, but most I've found are eager about helping someone in need.
You also have to lose alot of your pride and modesty and go with the flow. With each new person that I come across, whether I want to or not, it is like I am quickly introducing myself and inviting them into a very private part of my life. Because of these very 'intimate', vulnerable moments it is like I am developing a relationship with each person that has helped me, and funny or meaningful moments occur uniquely with each of them --- whether it is a friend or a 'grabby' stranger, I remember all of them...
Now that it is routine to accept help, I am not bashful about asking for it. So, yea, the landscaper felt me up a little, but at least I am up ;).
When I got home the guy who had helped me was gone, but his landscaping partner, who had also seen me fell, was still working. I parked and was then anxiously greeted by his colleague who asked to help me back to the gate. I didn't fall this time, so ubfortunately for him he didn't get to accidenty graze my boobs;), but let's just say he is not the first to "accidentally" grab my chest. It happens, it is unavoidable.
I did a quick - more in depth comic this time (pic above). I want to show myself in situations where I have great difficulty, but then my super-human self gets right back up with grace and style She has all the physical capabilities and flashes a smile. Then the comic cuts back to the reality; the reality of clumsily trying to figure out how to get myself out of situations that require SIMPLE human strength.
The reality is, it is not that funny when I am experiencing it and at times I feel helpless and it is extremely lonely and testing.
I have to say it has been fun teaching myself how to draw characters as well as storytelling through series of images. Because I don't have much time to labor over a drawing generally, I like to keep them simple with little rendering. When I work I like to get an idea out quickly and then move on to the next idea, which is way I don't actually care for the rendering process as much.
When I am designing a product, for example, I like the sketchy development stage the best. This is where I 'throw up' all my ideas onto a piece of paper, and so envisioning the main idea is my favorite part of the process.
So, for these little comics, I'd rather do many simple sketches rather than a few that take forever to render. I am still searching for my illustration style which will be an ever-growing one. For this one, though, I added a little color and more panels. It actually didn't take that long and I kept it loose. I also included my "scribble" page.
I scribble a basic idea on paper then bring it into digital and complete there.
It is midnight. I fell asleep for about an hour and woke up feeling bored. This happens to me quite often...I get bored of sleeping. I thought I would share what I did to keep myself entertained through the night (from 12:17-5:25am), or rather what I watched. So, as I watch a movie I will post it here. It will be as if we watched it together...awwww, now isn't that sweet--just don't hog the blankets ;).
Update: I ended up watching 2 movies, 1 animated feature, and 1 really short film.
12:17 am. I started out with World Builder, created by Bruce Branit. Shot in a single day, but took 2 years in post production, World Builder is a short 9 min film about a gesture of love by a strange man who creates a holographic world for a woman in a coma. In the end the 'world' dematerializes lasting only moments and the program ends. The entire film (except for the actors) is computer graphics. I didn't see this before Inception, but perhaps Nolan was inspired from this?? Not quite sure. The CG was obviously amazing, but to be honest the beginning felt like a visual effects commercial showing off the capabilities of companies' computer graphics system. This may only be the case to me, because the way the film's main character builds the world is the way you would build it in a computer...more or less. Some of it may also be the camera angles. Nevertheless, very cool and sweet; creating a world for someone who is not 'there' - all in 9 minutes. More short films please. What I like most about these low budget films is hey, it shows one doesn't need to have this mucho over produced films with crazy amount of money being thrown around to communicate a message. I guess this film only cost $2000 plus Branit's love and time in the graphics editing room.
I posted this World Builder short film video in my "microblog" tab, so watch it---it will only be 9 minutes of your time. I haven't posted much in my microblog, but I should. I'll try. I wanted to use that tab as a place to put cool designs, ideas, videos...etc., but haven't yet. (continue reading)
12:31 am. Then I watched a Godard 60's film, Vivre sa vie (To Live her Life) starring the very pretty, Anne Karina - love her hair, a look that is very Pulp Fiction, or rather vice versa. It's a film about a Parisian woman who leaves her marriage and children to pursue an acting career, but finds herself in prostitution. She feels these series of decisions are of that of her own free will, but is it? Free will versus social predetermination. Like usual, he references pop culture, politics, philosophy; existentialism being his fav, etc, but it is 4 in the morning, so I'd probably have to watch it again to pick up on all the references, though not really posting here to be a movie critic. Cinematography is great and experimental much like his, À bout de souffle (Breathless). Honestly, I would have to watch both again to see which one I liked better of the two, but did like this one.
2:09 am. Then came Independent film, Children of Invention. To be honest I was doing some work during this one and didn't watch every bit, but it is good enough for me to revisit at another time. Pretty much an illegal immigrant mother whose part of the working poor of America. She is trying to keep things financially together for her 2 young children and gets involved in bad business ventures/Ponzi schemes which leads to her disappearance. Her two children are forced to make it on their own and the oldest sibling, Raymond, resorts to creative, inventions and gadgets to take care of his little sister . The harsh adult world on 2 young ones...I did love the nuances of their naivety and desperation--it is endearing and cute, but kinda tugs at your heart strings. There is this one scene where Raymond blows on the credit card so he can use the ATM-as if he is blowing a nintendo game cartridge. It's funny how the mom and son are one in the same. Both are naive in different ways and both reaching out for quick fixes/schemes in order to survive.
3:43 am. and lastly, Triplets of Bellville, an animation I go back to again and again. I truly love Triplets of Bellville and really respect traditional animation and the love that goes into such a craft. The story centers on Madam Souza and her grandson, Champion; a sad and lonely young boy with deceased parents. In efforts to cheer him up she gets him a puppy, Bruno and later a tricycle. As he grows up he becomes a professional cyclist, like his deceased parents were, with grandma Souza as his coach. He later enters the Tour de France, but then is kidnapped by Mafia Henchmen. Grandma Souza, Bruno, and the Triplets of Bellville- the 1930s singers that she recruits along the way, go on an epic rescue and find adventure. I would say the film is almost entirely silent animation which you would think would be a problem, but it is so not. It is a conscious design decision and an aged, almost retro, song and dance story telling. The characters are fun and so well designed that you can feel the character's weight and movement---like with Champion who has an aloof, long, gangly and slow feel to him. I think that is what is amazing about animation--.to be able to achieve such realism of an envisioned character's movement style, facial expressions and overall consistent demeanor is not an easy feat and requires much real-life observation on the designer's part. I love watching Champion's body when he rides a bicycle---you can just feel his every push and leg stroke when he rides the bicycle. Anyways, a great animation, I promise.
SO, we have a mob chasing after a gangly cyclist and the mob being chased by a stocky short grandma, bloodhound and 3 leggy, crazy 1930's hall singers...a mystery man creating an holographic world for a comatose loved one... a tragic case study of a mother/wife, with super cool 60's hair-mind you, and her descent into prostitution...and 2 cute adorable little chinese kids using invention to try and survive in an adult world...
What can we learn from all this? that it is time for bed. Good morning. :)
Oh, and Jason slept through it all. I could light a firecracker and he wouldn't wake up ;) Incidently, it is almost time for me to wake him up for work. Yes, I make sure he wakes up every morning.
I tried to approximately recollect when particular and significant loss of function has taken place over the course of my condition.
I jotted these major milestones into a simple graphic timeline to help visually tell the story.
After completing - it was even strange for me to see it all in one image. The progression happens so slow and so I am not always aware of it.
I was thinking of video games (and how cool 8BIT is ;) and in video games you collect things, make decisions, explore, discover, gain energy, lose energy and progress through levels, and so for this post I am represented as that 8 BIT stick person ;).
Some of these stages have been truly humbling and there are times when I have learnt to just let go of myself. Through each level I progressively debilitate; I lose my physical capabilities, but also gain, too. At each stage I have gained more and more understanding, perspective, empathy, courage and that is my "heart meter".
Sometimes this experience makes me want to draw inward and I don't want to share and be open. I don't want to spend all my spare time working with ARM or spreading awareness about HIBM. I want to worry about me and me alone and have less accountability.
But, I can't help it and I can't ignore it. It is too humbling and revealing to do that. Growth is not always easy and I feel it pulling at me even when I don't want to join. It is an emotional, sometimes painful, part of my life and the struggle seeps deep inside.
Because of that, because of the constant loss, it is that that compels me to want to share, to be open, feel empathy and to push myself. I can't help but put empathy and passion into EVERYTHING I do, because I REALLY DO care that much, because it REALLY DOES hurt that much. It is the purest emotion, besides love, that I can feel.
It is love and lessons learned that drive me forward and why I do the things that I do and part of why I am who I am.
Complete one level and then there is another.
"It is something that grows over time...A feeling in the heart that becomes stronger even stronger over time. The passion will soon blossom into a righteous power and through it, you will know which way to go"
--Zelda, N64 videogame
"Time passes, people move. Like a river's flow, it never ends. A childish mind will turn to a noble ambition. Young love will become deep affection. The clear water's surface reflects growth. Now listen to the Serenade of water to reflect upon yourself."
--Zelda, N64 videogame
Videogame, Legends of Zelda, was created by Shigeru Miyamoto. Much of his work like, Zelda, Mario, Star Fox, Animal Crossing, were inspired by his exploration bouts as a child.
As a young boy, I guess he loved to explore secluded lakes, caves and hillsides in his hometown, Kyoto Japan. Apparently he came across a cave and after much hesitation he went in, with a lantern as his guide, and this exploration is what inspired the Zelda concept.
See, you never know where your passions or life experiences can/will lead you. Happy hunting.
(I drew me in a different style. I'm trying to practice drawing different versions of me ;)
As a young child we perceived our parents as the authority figure. Though we didn’t always agree with them they were the ones who had it all together, knew the right thing to do and had the maturity of a wise one. But as we get older we see them more as people; with their own bag of problems and insecurities. Nothing really changed. It was always there, but we weren't equipped to observe them and we didn’t have the experience to see it.
We want to see things the way we wish they were, because it is far easier-- to see people as Super (emotionally) Human. We want these superhero archetypes of somebody who can do anything and doesn’t feel the feelings of insecurity that we all feel, but the reality is, is that doesn’t exist.
The evolution of understanding of what “strong” means from childhood to adulthood changes. When you are a kid you think being strong is always being steadfast and not feeling fear, but when you are an adult you realize being strong is having those feelings of fear/sadness/insecurity and yet still pursuing or moving ahead despite them. Physical strength is a continuous change for me and in its course the idea of actual strength becomes much clearer. I am learning and with every phase of uninvited progression - I am forced to rebuild who I am and then reevaluate the expectations I hold over my head. When you are weak, you are strong accepting help, and love, from others in what is the most arduous time, that at moments require herculean strength.
I just arrived home from the bookstore and walked the 136 steps from the car to my house door. This time Jason was with me and feeling particularly tired I held onto his extended arm as a guide. As we walked through the gate, and as the automatic house spotlight turned on, I was struggling and whispered to Jason, "I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep walking much longer...".
"Keep trying. You have to", he replied.
"I know."
It's California, but it seems chillier in the northern area, and so I took a bath because soaking my body helps a little when my joints start to hurt. My joint problem is not the result of the condition, yet I think it has developed as a result of all the physical compensating I must do just to achieve everyday things. I have to stylistically get out of bed, get into a bathtub, walking..etc. in unique and different ways and I think this adapting has lent to joint discomfort and pain. I digress.
I sat in the bath thinking about how weak I felt today and the next stage that is not too far around the corner. Yes, I know, "Don't worry", I say to myself. "When it comes you'll do it", but darn those corners of my eyes as they dampen again. I lay in the bathtub and my face starts scrunching up, my throat closes and the tears seem to come from my way down in my belly. It was hard to breathe and I silently sobbed trying to catch my caverned breath. Deep breaths..1...2...3...while tears flooded my eyes. It was a quiet cry, the kind that comes from disbelief...the kind that comes from a hard lesson learned...the kind that comes from acceptance and yet is still painful...the kind that comes from seeing all sides of the sphere...the kind that leaves me speechless and humble in my soppy skin. Deep Breaths.
Significant milestones of progression are always difficult to adjust to and often times it feels like the jump in weakness came from out of no where. Canes and braces was a significant milestone, not being able to ascend curbs, no longer being able to climb stairs, not being able get up curbs, ramps and now this sensitive stage between walking and a wheelchair. "Gosh, I'm not sure I can handle it", I quietly say to myself. My next significant milestone is a wheelchair. I am not being negative, just realistic. It is hard to explain what the weakness feels like. The legs beneath me feel like toothpicks; a house of cards that feel like they are ready to collapse with any slight passing wind. Some days are better than others. My body does not feel like it is a part of me. It feels disconnected and there is a point where the weakness becomes unrecognizable, because parts of my body literally lose capacity to do certain things. There is no 'willing' my legs to raise and bend--like a marcher in a marching band would do. There is no break.
Every stage prior to this one has been relatively easy for me to get through. I didn't cry much and just took it like a regular everyday life struggle as if it didn't interrupt my life at all. But this stage...this stage is the hardest. Not wanting to go into a chair is NOT a pride or vanity thing, yet it is knowing that I will one day completely lose my capacity to walk. Once I go into a chair I will walk less and my legs will eventually atrophy into nothing. Once I go into a chair it will be an automatic chair, because I don't have the arm/shoulder strength to manually propel a manual wheelchair. Once I go into a chair, new weaknesses will surface and my arms, hands, upper body are the next in line. I hate the feeling of the physical weakness. It is not a mental weakness for I know I am pretty strong there. I usually cut through struggle, but this is surreal at times. I am slowly disintegrating and it is almost a tease how it allows me to hold on to the very tippy top of the physical ability at hand ..."I can sort of still do this thing, but it takes all my might to do this simple task. I don't understand. I could do it or do it better last year." "Just one more second, let me keep this for a little longer. I promise, I really do appreciate you (physical ability of any given phase)."
When the image of a wheelchair comes to mind it does NOT have to do with pride or vanity. I mean, sure-I wish they were cooler looking ;), but as far as the image of BEING IN a chair--this is not what bothers me. As the years progress I have become more confident in my skin. I know WHO I am and don't care too much of what others think when they see me with a cane or in a chair. Sure, there are always remnants of insecurity or awkwardness; people who stare, people who are surprised that I, a "disabled person", is good at something, but try my best to not make it a limiting factor for me. What IS hard, though, is this feeling of weakness. It is not fleeting - it doesn't go on vacation and it takes my physical capacity little by little. So what do you do? You dig deep down to the super-human inside of you. We all have it and it waits there until it is tasked with a mission. You grieve in your moment, clean up, dig deep and then you proceed...step by step you get there. I know I will be ok, but I still cry at every loss.
I was digging through some past written journals and thought I'd post an old entry from two years ago.
Written entry from my journal, April 19, 2008
" Sometimes I imagine the pace and rhythm I would walk if I didn’t have this disease. I am used to how I walk…but. It. Is. so. slow. My mind is fast and thumping like a rabbit. This pace that I would walk, I can feel the rhythm in my heart. I'm walking down the sidewalk with my shoulder bag fling-ed over my back. Left foot. Right foot. feeling the wind on my face…hopping off the curb without a thought…without a missed beat.
I try not to miss these things, because bottom line is I am lucky. But, I can’t go through life dismissing my (difficult) experiences and the level at which they make me sad (or happy), because I am busy putting things into perspective with a comparison and contrast analysis chart. Truth is, I can’t control when these feelings of loss seep in. They change me. They are sometimes nagging…When they do seep in, I miss it. I miss everything. And as time climbs, however that is or means, the list of things I miss become longer with a growing concentration of the things that are minuscule to most, but aren't so minuscule to me. I feel like I am dreaming and my hands are out before me. All is can see is my hands and I am reaching out to those small things. Like slipping on a pair of shoes, picking up things on the floor, sitting without discomfort or pain.
In the earlier stages of this disease I missed running…then I started missing walking freely without a cane…then I missed slipping on a pair of shoes…missing holding this pen without weakness in my hands or the fact that hanging my head over this pad of paper didn’t hurt my neck so much…smaller yet-rolling over in bed, dialing buttons whithout having to consciously PUSH them, holding a hair dryer without feeling like I am holding a brick…
As my list of things expands I can’t help but cry. I’m positive and genuinely satisfied with my life, but I cry still. I learn so much every day. About myself and others. But this will never take away the fact that it is saddening at times. In my alone, quiet moments when it catches me off guard, at my purest state, I feel like I am losing parts of myself everyday with every loss. I believe there is a gain. I learn what I can do-What I am capable of and list of ‘cans’ and ‘cants’ are hard to put on a pros and cons list. My heart feels quiet and absorbent. Through more of this journey I feel more and more quiet…listening more internally…I feel like I am pack-rat absorbing the faces of those who walk by; their issues, problems and their lives…like a sponge. "
The other day I made Sole Meuniere Almondine w/Confit Byaldi (aka Ratatouilee).
Since moving to Northern Cali I don't really go to the grocery store by myself anymore. I should, but I guess I am afraid of falling. I mentioned before that new areas, which include new stores, take time for me to adjust to. I have to get used to the layout and every new place it's like my feet and legs need to be properly introduced so they can memorize every detail.
I have find a store, Berkeley Bowl, that I love because parking is right next to the door and there isn't curb for me to have to climb over.
Yay!!
I was cooking my Confit Byaldi and realized my eggplant was too big compared to the other veggies. Knowing that the dish took 2.5 hours just to bake, I couldn't wait for Jason to come home for him to pick up the Japanese Eggplant (more appropriately sized than regular eggplant) and so I went to Berkeley Bowl by myself.
Man, my legs were tired that day. I got out of my car and into the grocery store and thought, "Perhaps this was a bad idea to come alone."
I know I need to get out there more by myself. I think I lose confidence when I start depending on help. Currently I design from home and therefore don't walk around as much as I should. The store is approximately 250 Kam steps from one end to the other and I was pretty tired afterwards.
I came home and finished cooking a meal that was probably too time consuming for a weekday, but had fun! I also watched Ratatouilee while I cooked ;)
Had a bunch of veggies left from the Ratatouilee, so I made homemade vegetable soup the next day. I don't know why, but I have this deep infinity for soup. I love soup.
I LOVE to cook. I suppose I have been cooking since I was young, but it was moreso baking that I did alot of as a child. I started dabbing more in actual cooking in college and would cook for friends here and there.
But, I think I really started cooking when I came to Los Angeles 3 years ago. I am from Michigan and after College, on a whim, I decided to trek out to Cali to look for career opportunities. I was staying with friends and as a way to "pay" them back I cooked ALOT for them. That is really when I started cooking and through the years I have really fallen in love with it.
I soon realized that it was exactly like a design process. I'm an Industrial Designer by education and I always say how lucky I am to have a career that happens to be something I really love and am really passionate about. Design is all about proportion, balance, vision, problem solving, execution...etc. All the things I love about the design process is pretty much like cooking. Cooking is like a mini design project for me where I get to: envision, plan, budget, execute, create proportion, layers and balance and most importantly, just like design, cooking is centered around people.
I think that is what I love the most about it - the end result is about the people. While cooking I'm completely engrossed and it is probably the only activity where my BRAIN completely shuts off.
It is similar to when I draw/design and get into that zone. I don't think about a thing and my instincts kick in. It is not a chore to me, but a joy. I'm not trained in cooking, nor a foodie, but I think most things have a similar system applied to it and as long as you know those basic principles you can probably make the connection in learning how to do most things.
Food makes people happy; creating community and a shared experience and when I have the opportunity to cook for others it is really me extending love. I like my house filled with people, believe in open door policy and I like it when they treat my home as their own.
It is odd, because I would say I am the career oriented type, though when the right time approaches I can't wait to teach my future children all sorts of cool things but at the same time I have these old fashion qualities, like the way I view cooking. I may have gotten some of these characteristics from my grandma. As a child I remember that her house was always filled with people and how much she enjoyed that and now I too am the same way.
As the years go by cooking becomes more difficult. My sous chef is Jason, my husband and he is my teammate when I need him and even at times when I don't. When I am cooking for a big party he is my arms and legs and I would not be able to do all the heavy work and thus the cooking without him. I enjoy cooking and appreciate that I can still physically do it in this stage of the condition. It kills me to think that perhaps one day I won't be able to cook anymore, but for now - no worries - I will continue to love doing it and simply enjoy that I can.
So, happy cooking!! May you feel inspired!
I've been busy with projects so posts here may be sparse for the next week or so. I thought at least I'd share my mood.
Today, I feel like I can do anything and everything, and I just may ;). The weather is beautiful and like usual my mind is spinning with motivation, ideas and projects.
Whenever I think about life I'm excited to think of all the potential ways it could be filled. I want to do so much and wish I had more hands to achieve every single one of them. I hope the future is filled with unanticipated experience and adventure.
"Little by little one walks far"
On our last drive back from Los Angeles (from the ARM fundraising Gala), I recorded some silliness for fun and then, well, Jason thought I should post it here. We were very tired from the event and found it hard to stay awake on our 7 hour drive home. Some car karaoke, and random nothingness spilling from my mouth seemed to help us out. Didn't plan to post, but why not share?
The other day I was talking to a patient and she said now that she realizes that a cure could happen in our lifetime, she felt like she had her life back. Though I understand this feeling it also made me a little sad that they felt like their life was ever gone. I know sometimes it feels like it, but life is never gone.
Remember, every day your life has just begun. So cheesy...yea, but true. Sometimes I worry where my condition is going and as it progresses the reality hits more and more. However, I think my greatest fear of potentially being in a bedridden state is that I would lose my sense of humor, spirit, and motivation.
It is hard to imagine that if far in the future I were ever to become completely debilitated; not able to write, type, feed myself, that I could maintain a positive state of mind and a heart full of will. The body is one thing, but losing yourself is entirely different.
It is the losing myself, and not necessarily my physicality, that I fear the most. If I don't care about life then what good is my body?
It may seem like I am chasing after a cure, but that is not the entire picture. Because I know a cure is achievable, and in ten years when, and IF, I am further progressed or debilitated, I don't want to look back and say I didn't do anything to help myself or others. I am not a big fan of regret, which is why if I feel passionate or compelled about something, I do it. However, WITH that, cure or no cure I'm going to keep going...this is my hope. I don't want to forget to chase myself, remember to see the humor and get everything I can out of life... If that ever away that is when I would truly become debilitated.
I think I had recorded a few hours of my random stupid "jokes"and singing, if that is what you would call it, and managed to cut it down to 8 minutes. :D
*note, if it looks like I am being mean to Jason it is sarcasm and well, it is just OUR way. We like to poke fun at each other. It is mostly me doing the poking, though ;).
Walking with Kam: 136 steps
In March Jason and I moved to Northern Cali from Southern Cali. For me I love change, but my body can be a little more picky about these things.
With any little change in my routine I can physically go through alot.
It sounds strange, but something as simple as walking a new kind of path really changes how I have to do things. It is not that I can't do it, I just have to learn a new way to accomplish something as simple as walking to my car or adjust to longer walking distances.
In this video I share my 136 steps. I know every slight incline, decline, crack --everything about this path. I thought it would be helpful to use video to demonstrate something as simple as walking to my car.
When I was editing this it is actually was very hard for me to watch myself walk. To me I don't feel the progression, because it happens over a period of time, and I don't realize that my walking gait has got so bad. When I see how much I am struggling it is like I am seeing myself for the first time and that I'm not really walking, yet dragging my body from destination to destination...well, at least I'm doing it in style ;).
This video was taken at the end of May, so by now I have adjusted to the path pretty nicely.
This ramp actually came at the end of May, but just posting now. I was soooooo happy when I received this in the mail and it makes such a difference in how I can function on a day to day life. Prior to the ramp I literally couldn't get back into my place. My husband works from really early to late and I am in between jobs since we moved here, so I've been working from home for now. I've had to stay in my house, because though I could get out of the door (very carefully) when I would return home I couldn't lift my leg to get over that little 3" rise. If my upstairs neighbors were not there, I was pretty much stuck in my house.
Now for me, this is just about the worst thing ever. I love being on the go and I always need to be doing something to keep my active mind preoccupied. I wish I didn't, but I need constant stimulation and challenge and feeling confined in the house is just about the worst thing for me.
Feeling like you are trapped in a house, in a new city, where you barely know anyone is really difficult. So, yes, this ramp was awesome and since I am in and out of my house all the time :D. It is the little things that mean alot. Since having the ramp my quality of life improved and I feel like I have a little more independence.
**note, watch the video till the end.
I'm guessing my biggest reader is probably my husband. It is insightful to him, but overall he knows me and doesn't get to upset or alarmed about my posts. The previous post, "On This Sunny Day", he told me he read it, but then today he said after reading that post a few more times it made him a little sad.
I don't want my blog to be sad, but I guess I can't always avoid that because I do experience periods of sadness. My intention is I want to be honest and straightforward. I think that is the only way to be. It certainly is not intended for the reaction of pity, though. I've said it before and will probably say it many more times here, but pity is terrible. When someone pities something it means they don't understand it.
This is life. It is sometimes happy, sometimes sad, sometimes quiet, sometimes chaotic, sometimes easy, sometimes difficult, sometimes lonely and sometimes not, but always always a journey, and no matter how difficult - I think I would rather experience difficulties than live a life of complacency.
"Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home." ~Matsuo Basho, 17th century Japanese Poet
With that, I'm finishing up editing on a couple videos that I've been meaning to upload here. I'm trying to catch up on many things, so I try to post here when I can. As I'm working I'm listening to Best Coast, 'Make you mine' and 'Wish he was you'. They are an American Indie Rock duo in LA, Cali and I guess categorized as garage rock/surf pop. I like them, because they sound like nostalgic summer to me. :)
I spotted two young girls at a crosswalk waiting to cross the street. Their body language told me they were waiting for their opportunity to out-dash a car.
Their bodies were arched, their knees bent and their heads lowered. I slowed down so they could cross.
This main street I drive (in San Francisco) is pretty much 30mph throughout. In California, whether there is a light or not, white stripes, not necessarily at intersections, signify drivers are expected to stop for any pedestrians that choose to cross at any given time.
The two girls were around 18, smiling and holding hands. When I stopped they darted across the walkway and giggled as though they had some secret to life. I watched as they skipped across the street and the corners of my eyes began to dampen.
I sobbed. I miss it. So much. My eyes began to well up and my water covered eyes could only catch glimpses of the sun.
No matter how "ok" I may feel and know that my condition is not the "end of the world" or that it is not THE limiting factor of my life and/or what I can do, I think you never get over the loss of something as fundamental as running or walking, or if you are further progressed, function in your fingers or hands.
This is particularly so when this loss is constantly happening. At every stage of loss there is a new process of adapting and understanding. It is a constant journey and sometimes this lamenting of loss pops up without warning. I miss "you". At that crosswalk, for a second and for the first time, I suddenly didn't know who I was.
"How did this happen?"
I don't know this body and my outside doesn't feel like my inside. I don't remember you and I want "you" back so bad. As much as I/we are aware that we are more than this body I don't think anyone can help missing it and I don't think anything is wrong with missing what you've "lost" as long as it doesn't take over your life.
I am not tied to it or feel less than because of it, and I continue my life despite it, and sometimes because of it BUT with every part of myself, I still miss "you". So very much.
I came home from my afternoon drive and walked the very lengthy (136 steps) from my car to my door and peeped through the window. There she was wagging her tail patiently waiting for me to open the door. I smiled at my Pippi...and then I was fine.
I love her innocence and her view of the world. All she wants is to be loved. When Jason and I adopted Pippi from the shelter I don't think we necessarily thought it was for companionship or affection. We both grew up around dogs and we thought rescuing a little one would be a good thing.
I love seeing life through her eyes. She is one of the few constants in my life.
In an attempt to relax and not think about MANY things Jason and I took off for a little weekend getaway. I planned the trip out for us and it was a great weekend. I would say we pretty much achieved not thinking about life...at least for 2 days.
On Saturday we went to Napa/Calistoga and then Sunday we traveled further north into the mountains and we didn't really tie ourselves to a schedule - doing what we felt like at the moment.
A little wine, a little adventure, surrounded by beautiful environment, meeting new people...it was good.
Lots of fun mixed in with relaxation is something I haven't really been able to do this year. I also had my first professional massage, which is actually good for us patients to do. It is good to stretch and massage your muscles as much as you can. If only I had my own personal masseuse.
I just finished making dinner and my goodness, I am having such a hard time holding my head up this evening. I think I mentioned it before but this year the most noticeable weakness is my neck. It feels like it happened all of sudden. It is really strange for something as simple as holding your neck up to suddenly become a conscious effort. It is really hard to explain, because if anyone was looking at me they wouldn't notice, but I can literally feel the weakness in my neck. I have to concentrate just to hold it head up and I can feel the strain. While I was chopping, my fingers also felt really weak and I found myself feeling like I was in the homestretch of a relay race.
"Just a few more chops, you can do it".
Ughhh, it can be really frustrating, but you just have to keep going. Chopping is good exercise for my fingers and hands at least. Jason thinks I should record me cooking one day to demonstrate what it is like to cook.
I'm not sure a viewer could really observe the struggle, except for the obvious walking issues, but perhaps one day I will record me cooking.
Ok, well my fingers are pretty tired and my dinner is getting cold. Bon Appetit! :)
I'm purely exhausted.
The Gala went well and the trip was productive. We are now driving back to San Fran and will probably arrive at 1am.
Jason and my eyes are closing, so we stopped for one of those energy shots so we can do the drive. I'm typing on my iPhone, so this won't be a long post.
It's hard enough dealing with a condition that keeps progressing, but then going after your own cure, dealing with a small organization that receives little donations due to the disease not being popular enough, the struggle, the politics and all the frustrations. I give the Darvish family (founders of ARM) alot of credit for not giving up. There are very few that make up ARM and at times it becomes easy to lose faith, because of the lack of help or interest. We are not wealthy, of status or of name, just a few that can see what is and what can be achieved; a cure.
I'm a patient, but also a friend to the Darvishes and I observe their most intimate day to day life. Everything to them is ARM/HRG (non profit molecular lab), getting to the finish line of the cure at hand and there is NO break.
I see the pure physical and emotional exhaustion, their dedication and their sincere hope that one day people will follow their example, step in, give a hand, in whichever way they can, and be a part of it. It's not enough for me to give a pat on the back and say, "Good job, I appreciate all your hard work...", so that is why I try and help as much as I can, because all their hopes are my hopes.
This is not a hobby or me "giving back", but life. I believe that you can't wait for hope, but you have to make it happen and be an example before expecting others to care.
Nothing is free in life. It's not physically and emotionally easy for me to "care", but I know it's not easy for them, too.
Later, I'll post a gala album later and share how the event went. :)
Recently I bought a little camcorder, so I can do little recordings and share aspects that may not be as easy to understand in writing.
If I'm rambling in this video it is because I don't like being on camera. I think I've said it, but I truly hate being recorded. I always have.
I think when I was young I was self-conscious about my voice, but the recent reason is I don't particularly like seeing myself walk.
Since I live with my condition on a daily basis sometimes I don't realize how I've progressed I am and so I remember myself differently so at times it can be difficult to see the reality. I sometimes only realize the progression when an everyday activity that I used to be able to do, like climbing stairs, typing or rising from a seated position, suddenly becomes difficult to non-existent.
BUT, I think visuals will help to understand the condition more. Plus, the more years I live with this condition, the more I grow and become more secure in myself and care less about what others think...most of the time.
So, for my first video post I thought it would be fitting to introduce my "team". The team I need to help me get around on a daily basis. My cane, Clarice (Silence of the Pambs?), my orthotics, George and Charlie, and last but not least my shoes, Sandies are what I need to live my daily life.
Shoes are especially difficult. There are so many requirements and I detest searching for shoes, so I normally don't care and wear the same ones all the time.
Shoe requirements: need to be light in weight, supportive (specific arrangement of straps), wide enough to accommodate my orthotics and absolutely no heels.
Let's see how the video posts go. Hopefully they will get better as we go along ;)
I'm working on some last minute work for the ARM Gala and we are scrambling to get people to come to the event.
I guess history says that people buy their tickets at the last minute and that is what I am hoping for.
I am packing and getting some files together for the Gala power point. Jason gets home from work at 8pm and then we will head to LA, which means we will get into LA around 2/3am. I'm pretty tired, I must say and I am hoping to have some sort of a weekend vacation after this Gala is done.
This entire year I have not had any fun, breaks or vacation. In February we left Los Angeles, left my job, and moved to Northern Cali and since it has been about physically adjusting. We don't really have friends or family up here, except our upstairs neighbors, and accessibility has been difficult.
I haven't had a chance to put my portfolio together because of all the ARM stuff as well as other things, but after the Gala I need to finish that, so I can get back out in the world.
Perhaps I can squeeze in a weekend getaway soon...I sooooooo need it.
I'm also converting some video posts and I hope to upload them here before I head to LA tonight. I bought a little camcorder to record some of my everyday physical struggles.
Ok, well wish us luck at the Gala. I will post pictures when I get back. :)
Hmmm, it's 3am. I'm seeing a pattern here. I guess I will use this time to finish this post.
I’m reminded of a child playing a game of peek-a-boo; as they cover their faces with their hands they can't see you so, you must not be able to see them, right?
What is to be "seen"? I feel the more you try to hide something the more obvious it becomes, so you might as well be upfront about it. In my daily life, and through my interactions, I try and be as transparent as possible about my condition, after all I indeed have a disability and there is little I can do to hide it.
Whether I want to or not, on a daily basis I am forced to instantly share this most intimate, and sometimes painful, part of my life with those I cross paths with. There is no hiding it, no matter how I try to trick my mind that others can't see it.
My "weakness" is on the outside for all to see and in this moment I have two decisions.
Do I try and hide it or do I go along with it and share it?
What is disability anyways? We have attributed it to the lacking of physical, unable to perform, but the truth is we all have things that "disable" us in life, some are just more apparent than others. Some cripple themselves with fear, insecurity, lack of motivation, lack of scope or understanding, selfishness, pride, laziness, arrogance, regret...and the list goes on.
We all struggle and we limit ourselves…mine just happens to be more visible and my "limitation" was not a choice given to me.
Growing up I wouldn’t say I was the type to openly share all my feelings. In fact, I was more introverted, proudly independent and lived within myself.
Who wants to talk about their feelings, emotions and the things they struggle with? It requires vulnerability and open to judgment, and let’s face it most of us don’t do well with judgment.
From the beginning of my diagnosis, and finding ARM, I chose to "go along with it" and share it. I perceived that as being the most productive route. At my previous job I even organized presentations in an effort to spread awareness.
In textbook form I openly shared my condition, who ARM is and tried to make everyone comfortable with “it”. I have realized that most people don’t have the opportunity of being around a “disabled” person and in many cases I was their first.
Even I didn't really encounter disability before becoming disabled and thus never really understood it, or rather never took the time to recognize it and so, I consider myself an opportunity for others to be educated.
It was my hope that the more open I was, the more comfortable people would be to ask questions and thus less barriers. If I was open, they would be open and then the decision in how to react or perceive it would be up to them.
Do they open up or remain ignorant or closed? It is up to them. I did what I could.
For the most part I think people want to know they just don't know how to ask.
I've actually been keeping a written journal for a while and have had this blog account for the past year or so, but only recently made it public. One, because I've been too busy to get it up and running and two, I think some part of me was a little scared.
Admittedly, I’ve had trouble since I started this blog and it even has affected my sleep.
Hmmmm, that was unexpected.
Sometimes it even takes me awhile to get a post down. I start it and then walk away, because I either want to express it in a way that can easily be understood or it becomes too emotional and so I escape it.
My decision has been "to go with it" and with the people I cross paths. Make what is obvious, obvious. But there is a level that not everyone gets to experience with me. It is all the details, the feelings, frustrations, the physical struggle, the revelations, the sadness as well as the joy that is all wrapped up in it.
Making my thoughts public started triggering past memories of being active and everything I've experienced over the past 10 years. The progression of my condition, and even the past 31 years of my life has inundated me. More recently I've been lamenting over loss and sometimes even reading my own words brings me to tears.
I'm aware that some of my readers are people I know, but in some ways it would be easier to share if they were all strangers.
Being open isn’t always easy and the fear of judgment or recommendations on how to do it better lives there.
My words are here for people to judge, feel sorry for and worse, pity. Gosh, I hate pity. It means you don't understand. I'm not looking for pity, or a pat on the back, all I really want to do is build understanding.
Truth is, sometimes I get tired of sharing all the time and there are times I feel alone in this quest and I just want to crawl under a rock and never talk about HIBM again.
I don't want the accountability and I want to have a life outside of it so, I can be free of it on my own terms. I want to be able to take off on vacation, go to the beach, not have to face the struggles of a small organization and not come home from work to more work.
I already live with HIBM on a daily basis so, do I really need to pile more responsibility on something that is already difficult to handle?
But, it always goes back to 2 choices. I can look inward or outward and both in a sense are helping myself, but one is for the greater and not just about me, and so that is why I continue to share, because I truly do want people to “see”.
Everything is about perception. Do I perceive this as the most horrible thing that has happened to me or the greatest opportunity? We miss our opportunities all the time and thus don’t meet ourselves or take the challenge. And while it is difficult to be so transparent, I think it would be much more difficult to sit on the sidelines and let this experience go to waste...and so...I just want you to see.
Lately I've been busy working on my professional portfolio so I haven't been posting as much, but I do have a surplus of posts and I am going to try and do one post per day. Let's see if I can ;).
In the meantime, I thought I would share a little illustration I did.
It is my first caricature and it... is... of... me! I'm not exactly "trained" in illustration, but I'll keep practicing and hopefully I'll improve.
"She" (little Kam) may pop up here from time to time. I think she could be a good tool to explain the little scenarios I get myself into; whether it is related to my condition, thoughts or just life.
I guess I'll give a little background on myself...shall I start from the beginning?
Ahem, In a town far far away under a starry starry sky...
I was born in a little hospital in Daegu, South Korea. Shortly after my birth my biological mother abandoned me leaving no trace of her identity. The nurse named me Young-eun, which translates to something like, shining silver or silver bell. So there I was born into struggle from the start, an orphan, along with a list of medical problems. I was born with a cleft palate, at 5 months old had chicken pox and measles in the same week and even had a deadly liver virus.
How could someone so small make it through? A cleft palate is a condition in which the two plates of the skull that form the hard palate (roof of the mouth) are not completely joined. I was extremely fortunate as this was not accompanied by cleft lip or other parts of the face, which it usually does.
The deadly virus ended up going into dormit a couple years later and the chicken pox and measles? Well, I still have the scars :).
Growing up I was pretty sensitive to these scars because kids would make fun of the ones on my face. In addition, due to my cleft palate, I had a slight speech issue, so obviously that was an easy target to make fun of, too.
--- Coming to America ---
After getting better I was later transferred to a crowded orphanage in Daegu and then into foster care the last 6 months of my time in Korea. At 4 years of age I was adopted by an American family and traveled to the United States to finally live with them.
My mother, Australian, and father, American, already had 3 sons and now me.
I would say my childhood was pretty "normal". With 3 brothers I grew up a tom boy and played alot of sports. I was my dad's fishing partner and this included ice fishing.
Yes, ice fishing! I guess the other day some of the older guys we would see around the ice hole asked my dad about me.
I played Soccer for about 11 years or so, including high school soccer. During high school my condition starting expressing symptoms, but at the time I was completely unaware. I've had HIBM since birth, it's in my genes but it allowed me to have a good "run" for 18 years before demanding its voice to be heard.
I practiced Isshinryu Karate for some years until my condition got the best of me. My friend nicknamed me "Dragon Lady".
Not many know, but before I "bowed" out I was to go up for my next promotion; a black belt. When I felt the test was coming I bowed out because that's not how I wanted to get promoted; feeling all broken and frustrated from my non-functioning body.
I wasn't as concerned about the title and I guess in my mind I wanted to do my black belt test like everyone else with no special treatment.
My condition was starting to really take notice and I had difficulty achieving balance and doing simple kicks. Looking back I'm not sure not sticking around to get my black belt was the right decision. There was actually a well-known black belt in a wheelchair in the Southfield dojo.
But hey, I was new to this and my condition was taking me on a tailspin. At the time I didn't even know what was wrong with my body and I don't think anyone, including myself, imagined it would be like this.
--- What I do ---
I'm now an Industrial Designer and I truly LOVE what I do. How fortunate am I to be able to do what I love? I guess as a child I wanted to be all the typical things like paleontologist, doctor, lawyer. I did draw in high school, but never expected that it could be my profession.
Throughout school I was your typical good student and from early on I knew if I wanted to do anything in my life I would have to save to get myself there.
My family wasn't poor but they had four kids and wouldn't be able to support my collegiate endeavors. Since I was a kid I was a saver. If my grandma gave me easter money I would put it away and save it.
Was I a squirrel?
Many times I worked 2 jobs and at one point 3 to get myself through college, car bills, medical bills, apartment, etc. It's nice to be given everything but I am actually quite thankful to have had the opportunity to work for everything I have. Though I don't feel in anyway my path means every one else who struggles has no excuse.
--- How did I find out I wanted to do be a designer? ---
After high school I attended community college, so I could save more until I decided what I wanted to do with my life.
There was never just a moment of "what do I want to do with my life?" where I figured it out immediately.
I don't think it works like that and the answer doesn't remain the same throughout your life.
We constantly evolve and so do our passions. It is a continuous building upon prior experience and self, but I digress. At that time I wanted to be an architect. I was accepted into Lawrence Tech University, a Michigan based college specializing in architecture. I was even given a small scholarship.
In addition, I was also awarded a 4 year full ride to Wayne State University. Wayne State is most known for it's medical program and at one point I even considered entering the medical field.
During the search for my diagnosis I had met a chain of terrible doctors and thought, "They have all this book knowledge, but they have no life knowledge, no compassion, no passion..." and I thought perhaps that was something I could offer given my current experience.
I ended up turning down that Wayne State's scholarship. Why? If you asked me then I would say stupidity, but if you ask me now I would say it wasn't a bad decision except I did trade that full ride in for a high-priced Design college that could possibly leave me in debt forever ;).
I had heard about this private art and design college in Detroit called, College for Creative Studies.
I heard it was one of the best so on the fly I stuffed a bunch of art work into a portfolio and drove to the college admissions. I actually didn't expect I would be accepted since their reputation was known for letting only the best of the best in. But they accepted me on the spot.
Wow, how lucky was I!??
Right then and there they asked me what I wanted to major in and my face drew a blank...hmmm, I hadn't thought that far... photography? fine arts?
The admissions suggested Industrial Design. "Hmmmm, what is that?, I replied.
Blindly I went into the program and fortunately ended up loving it. I know, not exactly a planned out decision but I would say much of life is like that and you have to go with it.
Not everything should be planned but yea, risky when it costs that much and you don't have the luxury of someone else paying for your school.
I ended up majoring in Automotive Design, though I did product and graphic design projects on the side.
What is Industrial Design? It's all the "stuff" around us. Everything and anything. From shoes, cell phones, computers, coffee makers, tooth brush, furniture, cooking ware...
Like I said, I love what I do. I love design and all its potential. I love how it touches many facets and it is not just about the drawing rather the combination of processes: problem solving, business, creativity, communication, psychology, sociology, people and everything in between.
--- Then came marriage and a ...dog? ---
I'm married and have a little dog Pippi. I ended up marrying my friend Jason in September of 2009. We went to same college but didn't date until 6 years later.
When I was a freshman at CCS, he was a sophomore and by chance we met near the parking elevators. Apparently he had seen me around campus and I've never been sure if this "chance" meeting was staged ;).
At the elevators he asked me to go to Detroit Greek Town for dinner and I agreed. My mom always told me to be careful with strangers and I obviously did not listen but he looked harmless enough. I assessed the situation and knew I could take him down if needed ;).
We went to Greek Town that night and afterwards hung out from time to time throughout school. But I never was really interested in dating. It just wasn't the right time.
Years later, he moved to California for a job and after I graduated I ended up moving to California as well. I was having a hard time finding a job and Michigan winters were getting hard anyways, so I had been considering on moving to California. There were more design opportunities in west coast and I was itching to look for work.
One day out of the blue Jason had called me. We had not really kept in touch, but after that call we started talking on a regular basis. I told him my plans of moving to California and he strongly encouraged it...and well...that encouragement led to me moving to Cali and then of course dating.
Jason has been my very patient support through all of this and I'm so very grateful for him. I couldn't do much of what I do without him or at the very least it would be that much more difficult if I was doing it alone.
My move to Cali led to a job, a husband. California is also where I first found out about ARM and met my first HIBM patient; the very thing my Michigan doctors told me would never happen.
So, that is it, a little quick intro to my life.
I'm a designer, but not "designerly". I love to cook good food because it gathers people, but not a foodie. I'm a dreamer and seek for potential. I look forward to the future because in 10 years I hope I'm doing something totally unexpected. The older I get the more adventure I desire and internally I feel like I am constantly learning and growing. Sometimes it feels like it is too fast for me to keep up with.
I have a "disability" that challenges me every second of every day but I'm not without ability.
And like the quick little background I just gave on my life, my condition is just another chapter in my life.
Despite it and even because of it. I am still me. Kam.
Trying to stay true to my attempt at one post per day, I'll post what I am doing right now.
It won't be an earth shattering update but don't have the energy to do a big one.
I just finished some work for the ARM gala and now I am sitting in bed with my laptop, a position you will usually find me in. I am replying to a few patients that have emailed me. I would say I am in daily contact with at least one patient per day whether it's South Africa, Shanghai, Bologna, Japan, Canada, New Jersey. We are all over. I'm not always great at replying right away but I do my best.
I appreciate that so many patients email me and I've just begun skyping with a few which is cool. That was one of the reasons why I started a blog, so even though I may not reply to patients right away at least they can catch me here and get updates.
Since we moved to Northern California Jason, my husband, gets home pretty late and is usually tired. I'm the type that is usually working on something and these days most of the time it is ARM related.
Sometimes I feel bad that I am always doing ARM stuff, so there are times when I need to pull back and say, "Lets do something Jason wants to do". Fortunately, in this situation he understands "priorities" and the importance of helping out.
What did Jason want to do? Jason wanted to eat terrible food and watch a "nerd" flick and so I am fulfilling that request.
I'm sitting in bed Indian style watching Terminator 4: Salvation with a grease filled belly. Pippi is sitting on the floor with her sad doggy eyes asking for food without asking.
We have "wood" floors in our place. Pippi is funny because as she sits with that hopeful look in her eyes her legs slide beneath her until she is almost in a laying down position, haha. She cracks me up on a daily basis.
My legs, quads to be exact, are for some reason pretty sore today. And my neck is pretty weak but my glutes (butt muscles) are fine in case you were wondering ;).
Ok, gotta go. Jason is shouting that I am missing all the robots.
UPDATE: 4AM. So the movie was bad. I already heard it was. How could you top the first and second one?
You know that famous commercial featuring elderly crying, "I've fallen, and I can't get up"?
I never thought I would be reenacting this commercial several times over at 30 years old.
I'm currently seeing things from an ant's point of view. I JUST FELL.
I used to be able to get up by myself, but for the past couple years it is nearly impossible for me to do this. I now need assistance.
I am now blogging from my iphone on the floor. Thanks, technology.
No one is around to help. I fell in the kitchen and I'm strategizing if I can get up without straining myself. I think I can drag myself to the kitchen chair and try and lean on the chair and pull myself up.
It's 3:30pm I have alot of stuff to do and I don't feel like waiting until 8pm when Jason, my husband, gets home. I'm leaving for LA tomorrow and I have much to do.
So, I scooched my butt over (good thing I have lots of padding) and I'm now near the kitchen chair. My dog, Pippi, is cheering me on. She looks worried and confused.
Ok...so deep breaths and let's see if I can get myself up..
UPDATE: So, an hour later I think it is time to admit defeat.
I'm not in the editing mood, so this will be all babble.
If I go any longer I will strain my legs and not be able to walk afterwards. I got to the kitchen chair and thought I could throw my belly on the chair and push myself up. I'm not sure why I thought I could do this, because I haven't been able to for awhile. I tried to get on my knees for leverage and lay on the chair, but couldn't...hmmm, what else can I do?
I decided to scooch to the bathroom as there is a lower chair in there. It is one of those bathtub adjustable seats. I drag myself from the kitchen to the bathroom and I notice, man these floors are dirty.
I guess my butt is cleaning the floor?
I get into the bathroom and try to get up on the plastic shower seat that is sitting near the bathtub. This time I bend myself over the bathtub side and hold onto the seat and try to pull myself onto my knees and lay so my belly is on the side of the tub. This is hard because my arms are getting weaker, too. I rest my head on the corner so I have extra leverage...but it is not working.
Ughhh, it took me 20 minutes just to get on my knees.
That's ok...I'll keep trying. I can do this.
By this time, I start to cry and Pippi has gave up on me and went and hid under the bed.
I think she was worried and didn't know what to do for me. I say to myself, "I just want to get up...that's it...and go to the bathroom!"
I have to pee real bad. I sit back on my butt and I think if I take off one leg brace it will help, because I'm having trouble bending my legs.
It doesn't work, because my leg/foot is now to weak to push my body...plus the floor is slippery tile. I keep trying...I try to push my body onto the shower chair so my belly is on it, but I can't do anything from there and laying on my stomach just makes me want to pee more ;).
I lay belly down on the shower chair, hanging over the tub, but I'm not able to achieve much more than this.
I'm feeling a little upset and just cry...I hate these moments...I could do this a couple years ago, so why can't I now...? I can't even crawl or kneel. My legs just don't work like that anymore.
I feel alone and even my fighting spirit is not enough to get me up off the floor. I lay on my stomach for a few more minutes staring at the tile grout. I sat there for a little while.
I scooch myself to the bedroom and now I am just waiting.
I still have to pee...damn that coffee. I know I'm inserting some humor here and there...but it really is not that funny and it's hard.
I guess I wanted to try and describe what it is like to do the little things.
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