More Than Just a Meal

In this photo, Ryan is 9 years old.

 

Readers, do you have a favorite food?

I don’t have a favorite food, but I do have favorite food-related memories.

  Being a junior high school student and making tostadas for a family dinner as part of an assignment for my seventh grade health class.  It was the first time I had cooked dinner, and I was proud of myself for coming up with a meal that included all the food groups.

– My husband and I eating our first meal in our first apartment:  a Burger King Whopper and fries.

– Celebrating my mom’s birthday with a special breakfast of hot chocolate and chocolate croissants, not knowing at the time I’d be giving birth to my son later that night.

For me, food isn’t just a matter of feeding my body; it’s about the who, the where, and the when.  Which is why I’m unwilling to drastically change my diet in hopes of decreasing the effects of my autoimmune disease.

Last week, The Mighty published my personal essay, “Why I’m Not Changing My Diet as Someone with Autoimmune Disease.” You can click here to read it.

My essay was also featured on Yahoo’s home page as well!

And if you do have a favorite food or food-related memory, I’d love to read about it in the comments section.

 

My Backbone

Last week, I wrote about my similarities to a frog and specifically this line:
“… and when the going gets tough, you show your backbone.”

So this week I’ll write about another Backbone.

I recently completed reading Karen Duffy’s memoir, Backbone – Living With Chronic Pain Without Turning Into One.  There aren’t many books out there by and about people living with chronic medical conditions (though I’m working on my own) so I was instantly intrigued to discover this one.

Generally, I read to learn, to gather information, or to be entertained.  With Backbone, I read to find comfort and solace that someone else out there “gets it.”

This week, I’d like to share with you some of the take-aways, the things that stood out for me while I read:

“I’ve learned a lot from my illness.  In some ways, it has been a gift.  It’s not a gift I would have picked out for myself, but when things were easy, I didn’t realize how tough I was.  When you live with a chronic illness, you get comfortable with being uncomfortable.”

“Millions of us, people with cancer, lupus, MS, Parkinson’s, sarcoidosis, fibromyalgia, Crohn’s, cystic fibrosis, and many other diseases will live for years with invisible but persistent illness.  Whether it’s the miracle of modern medicine or the luck of the draw, we are fated to have to find a way to live for decades with an incurable condition.”

“The ability to walk without pain is a gift that we don’t have anymore.  Being able to walk with pain and not give up is a superpower.”

“I would not wish a life with chronic pain on my worst enemy.  A painful life-altering event is one of the top fears for most of the population.  We who are chronically ill deal with what most people fear every single day.  We know our complaints are not moral weaknesses.  We find resilience, we adapt, and we figure out a new way to live.  We have guts.”

 

I’m a Frog

After answering the questions, it was determined that I am a frog.

Let me back up and explain that first sentence.

Last week, my dad, son, and I went to the Annenberg Space for Photography to see the National Geographic Photo Ark exhibition.  (If you are in the Los Angeles area, I highly recommend it.  The exhibit is on display until January 13th, 2019.  Joel Sartore’s photographs are astounding, and his mission is so inspiring!)

One part of the exhibit involved an interactive activity where visitors use a touch-screen to answer simple questions.  After making it known that I was an early riser and not a night owl, preferred a beach area to a snowy area, and would rather play with stuffed animals than video games, (there were other questions too), the determination was made that my Photo Ark animal was the Reinwardti’s Frog.

I’m not sure how I feel about being a frog.  (My son was also a frog; my dad was a toad).  

I think of frogs as slimy.  As bug-eating.  As noisy.  As the dead creature I had to dissect back in seventh grade biology class.

Though, when I read the paragraph explaining the “similarities” my animal and I shared, one line did stand out.  “… and when the going gets tough, you show your backbone.”

You don’t often think of frogs and their backbones.  And maybe people don’t always think of me as being tough either.  But if I’ve learned (and am still learning) anything during these years with a chronic medical condition, it’s that I am indeed tough.

 

Under Self-Attack

 

Time spent by the ocean is always good for my soul.

I have a question for you, dear readers.  How would you define “self-care?”  

For some, it means a bit of pampering, such as taking the time to get a pedicure or massage.  For others, it means doing something just for you, something that makes you feel good, whether it’s sitting down with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book or going for a walk.

But what about people like me?  People who struggle with invisible disabilities?  People for whom “self care” means something entirely different?

Click here to be redirected to The Mighty to read my recently published personal essay, “With Autoimmune Disease, There Are More ‘Self-’ Practices Than Just Self-Care.” 

 

 

Bartering for Health

Does it all come down to luck? My dad and my son breaking the wishbone. Thanksgiving 2017

 

We’ve had some scary health incidents in my family during the last couple of years.  During those times, I find myself praying, thinking good thoughts, looking for signs – even more than I usually do. 

And then I take it to the next level.  I start making “deals.”  I try “bartering for health.”

It’s a crazy kind of deal that implies I’ve got some sort of power and control, and that this higher power is just waiting, listening, and receptive to requests for such health-related barters.”

The paragraph above is taken from my personal essay, “Bartering for Health” which was published in the Fall issue of Breath and Shadow.  You can click here to read the rest of my essay.

 

 

 

Weird Wendy

I am Wendy.  Woman, wife, writer.

I am, in fact, a woman of many “W’s.”

Depending on who you ask and how they feel about me, I may be described (to varying degrees) as watchful, wise, wacky, warmhearted, witty, wonderful.

Ask my rheumatologist, though, and he’ll tell you I’m weird.

To get the full story, click here to read my personal essay, “The Hard Realities I’ve Faced After My Doctor Told Me, ‘You’re Just Weird’,” which was recently published at The Mighty.

 

 

The Words I Use to Describe My Autoimmune Disease

My son and I playing handball

 

I gained a reputation after teaching for a number of years.  I was kind.  Organized.  Structured.  Calm.  Patient.  Loving.

And even though I’m no longer teaching, those adjectives still apply. 

But there’s another side of me.  The side that is sometimes so frustrated, so beaten-down that I feel like channeling Bill Murray’s character in What About Bob? and letting out a long tirade of curse words.  And while I don’t let myself go to that extreme, it still isn’t easy to deal with daily pain and stay calm. 

Instead, I write about it.

Click here to be re-directed to The Mighty to read my latest personal essay, “The Words I Use to Describe Life With an Autoimmune Disease.”