I cannot tell you how many times I have heard, “Boy does she have her hands full,” on the breeze as I walk around the village, to and from doctor appointments, bakeries, drives with hysterical babies in the backseat, sitting in waiting rooms, or while attempting to dissolve a tantrum from one (or all) of my kids while juggling a newborn who is crying in the sling because she hasn’t seen my nipple for at least 14 seconds and that is just too damn long to go without.
You think my hands are full now? Just wait until I whip out my cane! A reality that seems to be closing in on me yet again. I went without for the last few weeks, selfishly reveling in my opportunity to hide my disability again… but it’s catching up with me. Or something is changing. I don’t know. Over the last week and a half a very horrible muscle pain has struck my legs – completely out of nowhere – and I can’t make it stop. No amount of rest days, soaks, pain medication or anything else I try helps the pain let up. I’ve never experienced this kind of muscle pain before, and it is agony. Curtis wants me to see the doctor, but the idea is yet another nightmare because I have to try and pull that off with three kids, alone, in agonizing pain. Is it better to continue to sit at home crying over this without aid? Or is it better to attempt to get help knowing that there’s a possibility there’s nothing anyone can do about it, and the day I spend at it will make me have to set aside at least three in recovery?

Years of this bullshit have made me melancholy about the idea that going to the doctor – for any reason whatsoever – will result in relief. It’s just more stress, and most of the time it’s simply not worth it. I make my required appointments with my pain specialist and my rheumatologist, and that’s about all I’m up for. I don’t even bother with check-ups, and haven’t in about ten years.

Speaking of doctors – though not mine – I took Tempest for her first eye check yesterday. Fortunately the office is walking distance from my house, so we didn’t have to get in the car and have another one of the Hysterical Baby Adventures™ on top of it the stress of dragging all the kids out of the house to an office to hurry up and wait for 45 minutes.
The eye doctor is a pediatric specialist, and his office has an epic toy room that the kids were pretty thrilled about. With all this flu scare business, most offices and waiting rooms have done away with all their toys, books, and even magazine selections. It’s not uncommon nowadays to enter a waiting room and find absolutely fuck all to do to pass the time. I was very, very glad to see this guy didn’t subscribe to that paranoia. He’s also extremely patient and kind with kids, especially those with special needs, and he was very patient with Tempest when she abruptly stopped all verbal communication. He seemed to know exactly what was going on and how to address it without me having to say a word. I cannot even begin to describe how much easier it makes my life, and my little experiences, to run into people who simply “Get it”. I felt like hugging him.

After an uneventful appointment, the verdict was that she has astigmatism in both her eyes, but it’s very mild and doesn’t require fancy lenses yet. While glasses could definitely improve her squinting, he said that at this age, with a script that mild, he finds that kids tend to just “lose” or “misplace” their glasses more often than wearing them. It’s just not worth the hassle of forcing them into something that has such little value to them until they’re a touch older and/or their prescription is a touch stronger (ie. they actually notice a benefit from wearing the glasses every day because it improves their ability to read and write). He’s keeping the prescription on file for us in case anything changes, so everything is ready to get her a nice, shiny new pair on a whim if necessary and we left the office after a quick dip into the “treasure chest” of prizes for kids who behaved. Tempest picked out a Disney Princess card deck that said, “Crazy Eights!” on the front, hoping we could play a few games of War or Go Fish! when we got home. We found out later that although the cars were brand new and still in their original package, it was not a full deck: it didn’t contain any jacks, queens, kings or aces. Bizarre.

We’re supposed to bring her back every year to keep tabs on her eyes, and call him up if she ever seems to be having trouble (which she doesn’t, I only had a suspicion that she may be developing astigmatism due to her occasional squinting) and he’ll whip out the prescription he already has made up. I tried to convince Tempest that wearing glasses would be cool because she’d get to pick out her own frames, but she was pretty adamant that she wouldn’t wear them. Oh well. Eventually that will change; almost everyone in the family has astigmatism and Curtis is blind as fuck, so kids with glasses is sort of inevitable.

Xan was a huge snot throughout the entire appointment, and the travel to and from. Though this is no surprise as he makes a career out of being the best snotty turkey he can be. Four is a horrible, terrible age. It really is. I simply cannot justify its existence with pleasantries and special happy smiles. FUCKING FOURS.
One of the many, interesting varieties of fucking four we’re dealing with is his growling. He does it at everyone. All the time. Every single person who ever pays him the slightest bit of attention (ie. looking in his direction, god forbid they smile politely or say hello). Strangers, kids, parents, babies, us… it drives me crazy and it is insanely rude. He really does not seem to care that it drives people away in droves, and those that stay and laugh uncomfortably are not doing so because they think it’s cute. I just hate it.
On our way back from the appointment yesterday we entered the elevator alongside two middle-aged women whom Xan immediately jumped and growled at. He got right in their faces. Shocked and appalled at his brazen act of four-year-oldness, I grabbed him by his collar and pulled him back. “Xan we do not growl at people. That’s not nice,” I said firmly. I cringed as I looked between at the two women. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” one of the women replied, “I understand! I remember those days.”
“He’s very four right now,” I offered, giving Xan the side-eye. He growled at me. Ugh.
She nodded. “Ah, yes. Four. I remember that age. We called it…” she paused thoughtfully, looked between children and back at me, “Well, I won’t say what we called it.”
“It’s okay, we call it that too.”
Her friend laughed. “I think everyone does.”
As we left the elevator I stopped to admonish Xan for his behavior, and I heard the two women speak quietly to each other as they walked away, “Boy does she ever have her hands full!”.

So after it was over I went and got a delicious cup of iced (decaf) coffee to soothe my weary soul, because yes… yes I do have my hands full.

I feel like ass today. I woke up four times last night feeling like I was going to throw up, or pass out, the latter of which does not make a lick of sense. How can one wake up due to the sensation of being about to faint? Repeatedly, at that? I don’t know. Anyway. I made my way into the bathroom at around 6:45 and lay on the floor shivering until Curtis woke up at 8am for his morning shower and found me there. Thankfully Zephyra didn’t wake up until half-way through said shower, so I wasn’t away from her while she needed to nurse one of the 18’000 times she does so per day.
Which suddenly reminds me that I haven’t taken any of my fenugreek today. Fuckitall.
Curtis decided to call in “wife sick” and stay home to take care of the kids. I slept on and off while Zephyra did not sleep and instead nursed like a rabid wolverine. It occurs to me only now that she’s six weeks old today (SIX FUCKING WEEKS!) and is entering another growth spurt. It’s lovely timing when I’m feeling feverish, chilled, and my skin is crawling. Having someone hanging off your nipple during such a time is just adding insult to injury. I didn’t even leave bed until 5pm, and as soon as I got up I was having hot flashes and fainting spells. As I said: ASS. This is ass.

The kids are enjoying themselves, at least. Curtis designated it a ‘sick day’ which means they get twice as much screen time as they normally do. Plus it’s kind of miserable outside so they wouldn’t be able to go anywhere anyway. He played Labyrinth and Kirby’s Epic Yarn and Mario Kart Wii and Go Fish with them for hours while I lay in bed with a baby with two hollow legs. It’s days like this one that remind me just how many more kids I have now, with simply one addition.

While I was sleeping on and off I kept having violent and/or disturbing fever dreams. For me, fever dreams have always felt like your brain getting sick into your eyes while you sleep. It’s always yelling or killing or beating or some other desperately uncomfortable emotional turmoil. This time it was a lot about Curtis’ parents, which is probably in part due to recent drama surrounding them. There was a pretty epic phone call a few days ago that no one has followed up on because we’re all too pissy about it.
We’re supposed to go and visit them this December, and last year they graciously offered to pay for our route – however we choose to take it. We thanked them profusely, and frequently, and thought about it very carefully. For a million reasons, we decided to drive instead of fly. The major points for this is stress reduction: there are no direct flights available, all the options include 4am or 11pm flights and/or 4 hour layovers, and the grandparents want us to go to Disneyland the next day. We’ll be traveling into another country, to stay in an unfamiliar environment, with massive amounts of overstimulation, unfamiliar and unhealthy food, and unfamiliar routines with a five year old, a special needs 8 year old whose mental stability depends on routines and familiarity, a baby and someone with a physical disability and chronic pain. Flying is a thousand times more stressful than driving at our own pace with all that shit; being able to stop when we need to, eat when we need to, pull over for movement breaks and so on. We hadn’t planned a route yet but we have several friends who want to see us and have even offered a place to stay for the night, which was amazing for a number of reasons, and we’d wanted to make two small detours on the way down to see the redwood forest and drive across the Golden Gate Bridge because we think the kids would really enjoy that.
Ever since we brought up driving, even with all these reasons, we’ve heard nothing but passive aggressive whining from his parents. But that will take too long, you’ll take time away from us, we want you to stay for 2-3 weeks (FUCK. NO.), that might conflict with Curtis’ dad’s work schedule, what about OUR needs?
Each time Curtis has taken the phone conversation with patience and grace, gently explaining that with a large family full of small children – and several people with special travel needs, mental and physical – that being able to get down there in one piece is the main goal and this is the best and healthiest way for us to do that after many, MANY long nights of consideration and careful thought.

Curtis’ parents kind of have a history of being selfish, upper class, privileged fucks when they really want to put the effort into it, so it was no surprise when his dad called and started an all-out screamfest at Curtis a few nights ago over how selfish we are for not traveling down the way they want us to, and how they’re not going to pay for “our excursions”. Neither of us are entirely sure what the fuck they are even talking about, but that’s generally part of their attitude so it’s not like it ever has to make sense…
I was listening from the other room while Curtis slowly lost his patience, eventually told his dad to go fuck himself, and then hung up on him. So, we’re probably not going. At this point it’s just awkward no matter what. And to be honest, if it’s selfish to want to create a travel experience that doesn’t traumatize our children, then I’m happy to be a selfish family.
… but I really wish Curtis’ parents would take the time to know even the smallest thing about his family. I still don’t feel like a part of “their” family, and I’ve been in their lives in some form or another for nearly 15 years. We have their only grandchildren and though they talk to us infrequently and feign interest in our kids’ likes and activities, they have not bothered to absorb a single thing about them and regularly let us know that we’re oversensitive, stupid or otherwise not good enough for the amount of time and effort we put into trying to raise our kids in the healthiest way we can. They’ve criticized us from the day we got together, be it about HOW we got together, premarital sex, my “sexual history” (which was zero, by the way), my lack of religion, Curtis’ interest in Buddhism (which is my “fault”), our children’s names, their birthplaces, the fact that we don’t own a crib and declined their offer to buy us one (over, and over, and over), extended breastfeeding and not vaccinating, Curtis voting for Obama or the fact that our local museum had a large section on the effects of climate change when they visited and we MUST realize “that’s bullshit”… the list just goes on and on. Fucking christ, sometimes I just get really sick of putting up with classist, racist, ignorant, privileged bullshit every time we have any sort of exchange with them and I really wish that for once they would take the time to get to know us – or god forbid ASK us about ourselves if they don’t understand. At this point they don’t even care to know their own son, or grandchildren, simply because we don’t do things they way they want us to and that’s entirely my fault for some reason.

IN OTHER JUST AS WONDERFUL NEWS… Zephyra has entered a six week growth spurt and has not gone more than 12 minutes without breastfeeding or crying in days. I’m exhausted. Here are some pictures.


Smiles! I’m finally getting some on camera. She giggles now, too. Oh, it kills me!

(She is not red-headed, that’s just bad lighting coming from my desk lamp).

We have only one partially working CD drive in the entire house, and that’s on the XP machine in the livingroom. It’s a pain in the ass to get anything off a CD and onto this computer (my laptop) in order to upload it to my webspace and post it here on my blog, which is why I haven’t in months. Hence the following photos, which were all on CDs until two days ago. Behold, three sets of portraits of me and/or our family!

All of these are © Shealyn Jackson Photography.

I have no idea what is up with my gnarly looking hair in these images, but whatever.

And next was Zephyra’s newborn session, courtesy of Sarah Booth Photography, done when Z was five days old.

One of my favourites.

We tried so hard to fix her eye for this photo, to no avail. At least it looks cute.

And finally our brand new family portraits, taken when Zephyra was a week old.
© Nicole Brown and Shealyn Jackson Photography.

Xan and Curtis

Tempest and I

Tempest and Zephyra


Xan being a turkey.

Now that I have all of our photos from the last few months I’m going to make a brand new 20×20 mounted collage to hang in our livingroom/dining area, over the table. We seem to have begun a completely unintentional trend of displaying a new family portrait collage every two years or so. I love it… I’m just not sure what to do with the old ones when we’re done with them. I don’t really have the space to keep every 20×20 up on the wall (this will be number three), and I’d also like to reserve that space for an updated collage when we have one so it draws more attention to that image as opposed to splitting it between several large collages.
I have backup copies of every collage on my computer, so should I just recycle them or store them in the garage forever or what? First world problems, man. I’m telling you.

God do I ever need more sleep right now.

Tempestism of the Day:
On Zephyra, during her fussy growth spurting: “She is a galaxy-sized pot of fuss soup.”

And, to Curtis as he told her to stop slamming her doors when she was pissed at Xan.
“I am NEVER listening to you again until you tell Xan to come back here!”

Links of the Day:
Ask Men thinks you’re fat and wants your boyfriend to tell you so – I can’t believe shit like this exists. Don’t read if you’re having blood pressure problems.
Why “Caylee’s Law” is a bad idea – Just read it.
Space Girl – A fan made music video showing women’s progression in science fiction over the years. We’ve come a long way from serving coffee for the menfolk. Fabulous music, too.
Fun with Canadian Stereotypes – A comic by ‘Hark! A vagrant!’.
Black macaque takes self-portrait – A monkey borrows a photographer’s camera and says cheese.




  • twirlgrrl says:

    I love that picture just above the “Xan being a turkey” one, with Xan tenderly touching Z’s head. So sweet of all three kids.

    And if you DO make it down here, you probably already know people in San Francisco, but I have guest space in a family-friendly house and would love to host you guys. (I’ve been on your LJ a long time as neuraltube and recently switched over to this LJ for reading. Not a creeper.) πŸ™‚

  • My apologies for the off-topic post, but I thought these may be of interest: homemade Lara Bars.

    • admin says:

      That would be awesome if I liked Lara Bars. πŸ˜‰ However, I find them revolting!

      (I also have to splorfle at the author saying that 5.25/5 bars is expensive… we don’t have stores like she has, an our protein bars all cost 2.75 each… minimum).

  • gen_here says:

    Your pain stuff worries me – especially after getting somewhat “better” after Z was born, then having it come back so bad and so suddenly… just a different manifestation. Could the spinal fusions be fusing on/around a nerve?

    Oh my. I can SO relate with the 4 yo and newborn – your 4 is slightly older and newborn slightly younger, but goodness… AHHHHHHH!

    Your galaxy-sized pot of fuss soup sure is adorable! And the 6 week growth spurt is killer normally… I know how additionally frustrating they have been with the tongue issues Molly has. In some sense it’s good because it gave us lots of time to practice latching (and re-latching… and re-latching again). At the same time, it seemed to wear her out… so the growth spurts lasted longer, would go for a couple days, take a day off, go a couple more days. I go to a weekly knitting/crochet group every Monday night. Two weeks in a row she was doing the cluster nursing. As supportive as the women are about nursing, there were constant questions about why she was still nursing so much.

    And the Caylee’s Law thing… that’s so much of what I’ve been saying, too. I (blessedly) haven’t had to deal with the loss of a child (in this case, I’m speaking of death). But I know when I had the second miscarriage before Molly, I was shocked, I was in a lot of pain and bleeding a lot (but not enough to go to the hospital). I sat there on the toilet, staring at this tiny baby on my blood-soaked pad, and I cried and cried and cried. I must have been in there at least 45 minutes… then I told my husband that the suspected miscarriage was a real one. Then I emailed my midwife (since it was 1 AM) to let her know that it had completed. Then I IMed with my best friend (who is working in Ghana) for a good 30 minutes. At this point, I’m at *least* 30 minutes over the felony time period… just because I didn’t call some cops who don’t give a crap? Then I think of my friends who just lost their daughter (2 days older than Molly) on her 4th month birthday. She was in hospice after meningitis left her with a certain death sentence. When she died, she was there with mom and dad, aunt/uncle/cousins, grandparents. What should they have done? Call the police immediately so that their expected family moment – and the moment they know will be their last ever holding their child – is cut short and no one gets all the time they need? Or should they take their last moment ever with this sweet baby… and then 6 adults are felons and 4 children are left to be raised by the state (since all their relatives are now in prison)? It’s a reaction out of anger, like the author said. Be as pissed as you want about it, Caylee’s mom won’t be under it anyway.

    • admin says:

      My fusions already affect several nerve clusters, so that wouldn’t be surprising… though this doesn’t feel like my normal nerve pain, or nerve pain at all really… which is what had/has me confused.

      I totally am with you on the Caylee’s Law and the miscarriage thing. I had a miscarriage before Jericho that I didn’t even know about until it was over… I had the Mirena IUD put in and immediately started spotting that day. The doctor said it was normal. I continued bleeding for three months, every day, and the doctor STILL said it was normal so I was going on about my merry way having lots of unprotected sex. I had some symptoms of early pregnancy but was told it was all part of the Mirena so I ignored it.
      About three months later I took my Diva Cup out and found the IUD floating in the cup with a partially-developed fetal sac attached to it. I lost my shit and threw everything into the bathtub, ran the water, and then ran out.

      It wasn’t until at least an hour or two later that I recovered from the shock and called a nursing line to ask what I should do. I ended up going to the hospital for some pretty heavy bleeding and an exam confirmed I’d miscarried… then I was sent home. It was rather traumatizing – not for the sadness or anything but simply because it was so unexpected. I cannot imagine dealing with legal shit on top of all of that. It took me a while to mentally recover from that, and I’m still upset at myself for reacting that way, even though it was almost 7 years ago. What a way to make a challenging situation a hundred times worse…

      • gen_here says:

        To emphasize the absurdity of this law: So you unwittingly disposed of evidence, and I’m “hiding” the evidence in our freezer until we own land to “hide” it in the garden. These two grieving moms should be cell mates. But the crazed mob doesn’t see that – we’re the delusional ones… that wouldn’t ever happen here in the Land of the Free (ha ha ha).

  • (long time lurker/journal reader here)
    oh my dear god, you have a gorgeous family! like, Holt Renfrew catalogue family…holy crap, you guys are soooo cute!

    re: the ‘frightful fours’ , i hear ya.. althought Im not a parent myself, the little girl I take care of is going through this now. omg, when will it end…

  • devilgrrl says:

    First article sounds like ten ways to never get laid again. I remember the Fearsome Fours, as well. I don’t know what people are on about with twos. I’d take YEARS of twos over the fours. I wish I understood the growling thing; the baby’s been on that recently, too.

  • chem_nerd says:

    There are no words…

    Can I just say that the judicial system in my country scares the living fuck out of me? The article on Caylee’s Law is well and truly frightening, and some of the links in it are even scarier…

  • real_bethy says:

    Please go to the doctor. I know that it is a pain in the ass, but I am worried about you. I promise that if there is nothing wrong and he can’t do anything for you and it is a big old waste of time that you can call me every bad name in the book.

    You do have your hands full – full of beauty, full of love, full of hope, full of laughter…it is good to have your hands full!

    Your pictures are beautiful (of course). Your family is full of gorgeous yummyness!

  • tastyanagram says:

    Yup, that baby belongs to you guys! Love the pictures, particularly the newborn shots. GORGEOUS!

    Also, I just came across this article and was wondering if you find it to be accurate. I’d love to know anything I can do to help someone out who has to deal with pain: http://www.health.com/health/gallery/0,,20489189,00.html.

    • admin says:

      The article is pretty good, and I’m happy to see that none of the suggestions were condescending or othering (ie. “I can’t IMAGINE what that would be like! You’re SO STRONG!”).
      The only part I disagree with (and only mildly at that) is the yoga thing. I wouldn’t sign anyone with chronic pain up for an exercise class without knowing if that’s something they’re even physically capable of doing. For some, exercise can worsen the pain and their disability exponentially (myself included… regular work outs in my teens significantly increased the damage and speed of my disease. Attempting to start the couch-to-5k running routine 5 years ago did pretty major damage to my knees and hips as well – I can’t physically run anymore at all).

  • briannablade says:

    Those pictures, especially the family ones, made my heart fill with joy <3 <3 Gorgeous

  • fallingwthu says:

    the Princess Disney cards do not have any face cards, just up to 10. It’s so they can learn to count properly. My daughter’s teacher had them in her grade 1 class — and she said they work very well. It really helps the children to do simple math equations.

  • singhappy02 says:

    I was starting to get very concerned while watching the women in sci-fi video as it got to the more and more current stuff that they hadn’t even mentioned Scully. In my brain I even started to go as far as rationalizing “well I guess some people consider X Files more of a crime procedural than sci fi..but still, it’s SCULLY.” Then she showed up, and all was well.

    The second and third photos of all three kids are beautiful, despite the fact that I know they were probably both -very- aware of the camera, it just looks like they’re totally oblivious and enamored with baby sis. Also, in those first couple of Zephyra – Helloooo mini Curtis.

  • joleine says:

    Crazy 8’s is a game by itself, sort of like Uno.. However it would be a great game for her to learn to play, as it’s relatively educational!


    • admin says:

      I know what Crazy Eights is, we just always played it with face cards. Queens were pick up five, Jacks were miss a turn, Kings changed direction if you were playing with 3+ people.

  • genbean says:

    I hear the ‘wow she/he/they have hands full’ all.the.time. I get really sick of it. I kinda figure it’s what people say when they don’t know what to say. But yeah, even when we’re out with just the twins we get it. It’s cool when we run into other twin parents or other big families, though.
    Jane went through the growling thing, too.

  • jchammonds says:

    You DO have your hands full – full of good things! πŸ™‚ Maybe make that your response to the people who give you these comments.

  • Crazy Eights is a specific game that only goes up to eight, or sometimes up to ten, and doesn’t use face cards. It’s fun, though πŸ™‚

    I would second what Jen said about blood clots, just because it sounds serious and is worth checking out to be safe :\

    I love those little “putting newborns on/in stuff” photos, haha… I need to find someone around here to do newborn (and maternity) portraits for us!

  • jenrose1 says:

    I’m going to say this as calmly and reasonably as I can.

    Get the fuck to the doctor, and have them ultrasound your legs for clots. All of your new symptoms are suspicious as hell, and I’d much rather you grump at me later for sending you than have your kids go through the grief of losing you or the trauma of dealing with a mother with a pulmonary embolism.

    Do it as soon as whatever passes for urgent care is available, and if that doesn’t exist, go to the damn ER. You tell them you had a baby, you have leg pain that won’t quit, you tell them that you’re already on pain meds and this is breaking through those and you’re not asking for more pain meds, you want to know why you are having THIS pain, now, and you tell them that you’re not leaving until they check for clots, and you’ll be delighted if your crazy friend who insisted you go is wrong, but you’d feel stupid as hell if you died because you didn’t get it checked out.

    This is something you can wait a few hours to get looked at, but it can’t wait until the afternoon, and it can’t wait until Monday, and you CANNOT wait days. PERIOD. I am serious. Simply being postpartum is a risk for blood clots, even if you don’t have clotting disorders.

    And if it’s not that and the ER is exhausting, I will have tons and tons of sympathy for you but I won’t be sorry, because it still fucking needs to get checked now.

    And don’t tell me there’s no swelling or redness, my last DVT had neither, and the doc blew it off as muscle soreness without doing an ultrasound, and that will NEVER happen again. As much as 50% of the population has some variety of clotting genetics that make them tend to clot more under certain stimulus, and postpartum with a newborn and a disability that affects mobility is exactly the kind of stimulus that causes clots.

    • knottyrye says:

      i had no idea about this shit. holy crap.
      i like your bossy friend. get to the fucking doctor!

    • admin says:

      Alright so, it’s not that I don’t know that happens, but I’m pretty hesitant to take three children to a room with no toys, no books, no magazines and a lot of sick people and wait anywhere from 3-8 hours unless I have a really, really pressing reason… plus we’d have to walk there and back (45+ minutes each way when I’m with kids) because they don’t have adequate parking and Curtis has the car today anyway because he forgot to reset his alarm clock. The pain went away last night after a hot shower (our plumbing was finally fixed) and hasn’t come back, it just feels like my normal soreness now.

      • jenrose1 says:

        If it comes back, you go, don’t argue, and don’t fucking walk, take a cab or an ambulance if you have to.

        • jenrose1 says:

          Oh, and the fact that the pain went away with heat doesn’t actually reassure me that it wasn’t a clot. When I had superficial clots in my arm early in my pregnancy with Kailea due to an infection, the treatment? Heat.

        • admin says:

          I will go to the clinic if it comes back, don’t worry!

          • jenrose1 says:

            I’m serious about the not walking if you have a repeat of that pain, too, that’s the best way I know to break a clot loose.

            • admin says:

              I know; however I’ve been walking 45+ minutes on a daily basis with the exception of two days ago to five days ago (I was sick). Even today I walked to the village and back with the kids to return a pair of defunct tweezers I bought yesterday… I think if it was a clot, it would have come loose by now. Originally I thought the pain was from walking too much, as it seemed to start after three days in a row of walks that were 1-2 hours and way over my spoon limit. But then it didn’t act like my normal pain and just hung around forever, getting worse, and not responding to my regular coping skills (or meds).

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