I was really sick...

 In 2015, doctors discovered that I had an ulcer that I had that caused a great deal of blood loss. That led to me feeling very sick and a dangerous drop in my hemoglobin and iron counts. Since then, I've taken iron pills and carefully monitor my bloodwork.

Starting in January of last year, I could tell that my hemoglobin/iron was dropping. I can tell because I get out of breath more easily. My heart pounds much harder when I mildly exert myself. My mood dips into depression. I immediately started the process of getting blood work done. I started eating meat after more than a decade of being a vegetarian. 

Sadly, my health continued to decline. I got a blood transfusion on April 10, when my hemoglobin had dropped into the 70s, which is a dangerously low count (or so I've been told). A few weeks later, I had a series of iron infusions. Those helped for about a month, though my count never got higher than 90. It quickly dipped back in the 70s.

From the start of the shelter-at-home until the middle of September, I could hardly move from one room to the next without being short of breath. Suicidal ideation returned with a vengeance. I cried all the time as I retreated further and further into myself.

I reached the nadir of my health woes in early September. I had just started teaching online. One night, I felt as though I was having a heart attack: anxiety, pain in my chest, pain down my left arm, and diarrhea. I told myself that it was the anemia and that if I lived through the night, I would go to the hospital the next day after school, if I still had symptoms. What a deal to make!

I lived and still had some symptoms, so I went to the emergency room. I had not had a heart attack. A series of tests after that would reveal that my heart is in pretty good shape. A week after the non-heart attack, I started a second round of iron infusions, which seemed to have worked this time.

I have energy. I'm able to exercise (at home, pandemic-style). I've just done yoga for the 15th day in a row. I'm doing simple dumbbell exercises for my arms. I've written a little bit everyday. I don't cry as often and I haven't really thought about suicide in a while. I'm reaching out to people and trying to have a conversation with another human (who's not my son or a student) at least once a week. I didn't do any of that from March until September. I feel like a human again.

As of a little before Christmas, my hemoglobin was a healthy 120. That's where is should be. We still have no idea why I experienced the extreme drop of hemoglobin and iron and I suppose that we will try to figure that out. I'm grateful to be past this crisis so I can pay attention to other parts of my health and partake in activities that feed my soul.

Teacher Evaluations

It's that time of year when I need to think about my official goals for my students so administration can determine if I am an effective teacher.

Never mind that we are in the middle of a pandemic that has caused trauma to everyone in its wake. Whatever. We must continue the corporate model of teaching to measure growth.

I'd like to increase the number of students who say hello on a daily basis. I'd like to increase the number of students who go beyond saying hello and engage in actual conversations. I'd like to increase the number of students who respond to at least one prompt a week.

I'm pretty sure those won't work. Whatever the goal it, I will have to be able to measure it with some sort of formal assessment, quantified by numbers. I have no idea what that is, yet. I still have two days to sort that out. Whatever it is, I won't set myself up for failure. It also won't fail by students. Many of my students have lower skills for their age, so whatever I choose, it will still help them improve skills that they need in life.

I'm not thrilled about this idea of evaluations in this emergency, online setting. It's a wonder that I, or the kids, even get up in the morning.

Same Old Song

Every year, I start off January thinking that I'm going to keep up this blog, and then I never do. I shall make no promises.

I don't have the energy to recap 2020, so I won't.

I just want to say that a man bought Christmas presents for me and I don't know what to make of it. Maybe I ought to stop thinking and just accept the kindness. Which is what I did.

I won't push or try to dig around at what he's thinking. I'll just let the gifts stand as material symbols of the seven year friendship we've built. We communicate everyday and I can't wait to be able to give him a hug. That might be several months from now. That's fine.

I might even end this year by FaceTiming with him, but I won't hold my breath. If you knew my friend, a text works just as well.

Anyway, good bye 2020. Don't let the door hit you in the backside on the way out.

Catching a break is a fallacy

I've written a few times about being out of work and the financial hardships that come with unemployment.

I have a job, but it's only part-time. I really and truly like the job, so I don't want to lose it. I've come to grips with some of the financial sacrifices I've made since losing a job in 2015. Like living with my ex because I can't afford to live on my own. I'm not thrilled, but I'm not homeless.

Alas, 18 months of unemployment are not easily overcome, especially on a part-time salary. Part one of the problem is that I'm a crappy capitalist who hasn't figured out how to properly market her mindfulness facilitation credentials. Part two is that I'm afraid to jump back into the classroom full-time. I'm afraid that I'll get sick again. I'm worried that the next time I get sick will be the last time I get sick.

This is all prompted by a car repair that is going to hurt. It won't quite empty me out, but it has knocked me for a bit of a loop. It does mean that there won't be anything extra for months and months and months. It does mean that I completely regret planning a little trip in August to see Squeeze.

After I got off the phone with the mechanic, I found myself lamenting that I just want to catch one lucky break. Now that I've stopped crying, I think that lucky breaks are a fallacy. I think that society is arranged to make sure that those with the fattest wallets get the breaks. They can easily absorb an $800 car repair. Those of us who fall on financial hard times or who suffer chronic illness are far too easily swept away in dangerous currents. Far too many of us never get out of trouble.

I'll survive. I'll double down on offering my services, if even for just a small fee. I'll live without frills and fun for a long while. I'll deepen my meditation practice to help bring inner peace. I'll brace myself for the next wave that could drown me.

If you're able, I'll put this here: paypal.me/ToniACoral

I used to be too embarrassed to ask for help, but I've gotten over that.

Ride or Die

The summer is almost here. As a teacher, I should be excited. I get a couple of months to recharge my batteries and make some plans for the following school year. My favorite band is touring, though not coming to my hometown. I've made plans to meet up with out of town friends to go to a couple of shows.

I'm thrilled by that. Sadly, I kind of dread the rest of the summer. I don't really have a ride or die friend to whom I can turn if I really, really want to do something.

I got a real lesson two summers ago when I turned 50. I hate parties, but I wanted to celebrate, so I tried to organize a day of fun roaming around town, ending at night, perhaps drunkenly singing karaoke. I started asking people two months in advance. One person said she would go out to eat and that was it. I was out of work at the time, so I decided to save my money and stayed home.

I need to figure out how to improve this situation, otherwise I will either stay home all summer or go to a bunch of events on my own. I don't mind, I guess. I've been doing things on my own for a long time. I also know that I need to fix this problem before I am a full-fledged old lady. Loneliness is deadly.

The U.K. has gone so far as to appoint a Minister of Loneliness. I'd like to see more countries do something like this. Hmm, maybe this is something I could advocate for and help, rather than bemoan my fate. That sounds like a better plan.

A Disability is not an Advantage

The one aspect of the that has disturbed me most about the college admissions scandal is the fact that several of the wealthy parents faked medical disabilities for their children.

It's bad enough that they bought spots in schools that their children didn't deserve or even want. As the parent of a child with real disabilities, it's furious that these rich morons think that having a disability is some sort of advantage.

My son has Asperger's, a general anxiety disorder, and ADHD. If I could wave a magic wand so he could be neurotypical, I would gladly give up the extra time he gets on tests and assignments. Extra time he doesn't even want to take because he worries that it makes him appear weak.

If I could wave a magic wand so he could be neurotypical, I would and he wouldn't have been mercilessly bullied in seventh and eighth grade.

If I could wave a magic wand so he could be neurotypical, I would and he would not have several small panic attacks everyday during which he freezes and tells himself that he's a bad person for making small mistakes.

If I could wave a magic wand so he could be neurotypical, I would and he would understand how to read faces and help ease social interactions.

Those rich vacuous parents have no clue how hard a person with a disability works to manage and function in a world that generally doesn't understand disabilities, especially the invisible ones. Their children are like little trophies that mommy and daddy proudly display at cocktail parties. They brag about lies and their privilege as if they earned whatever their children may actually accomplished. I'm not even sure that they love their children as much as they love their own ego and reputation.

I'm not a perfect parent, by any stretch of the imagination. I am willing to accept my child for his strengths, faults, and struggles. In a way, I guess I feel sorry for them, as they don't appear to understand unconditional love.

Maybe a little withdrawal

About a month ago, I deactivated my Facebook. I really felt like I was frittering away too much time on my phone. I'm still getting the urge to sign on, but so far I've successfully fought off that urge.

I have been exercising more. I have been reading more. Those are pluses. I still need to add in watching some movies and writing more.

I still feel as lonely as I felt when I was on Facebook. This shouldn't surprise me, as loneliness has been a lifelong struggle. Facebook gave me (and probably many of us) the allusion of connection. My current social life is exactly what is was when I was on Facebook - nothing. I stay home every evening. I'm awaiting summer concert announcements. I don't have email, text, or phone conversations with folks (this is as much my fault as anything. I could initiate, but fight the feeling that I have nothing to share).

I think I'm happy with my decision. Much like I'm happy with my decision to not eat fries. I might have a craving, but I don't have to give into something that ultimately isn't good for me. I'll figure out the real life social stuff, because as a human I need to do so for my survival.