Where is bottom?

Some days I really am just not sure.  I can't stop thinking I have hit it only to feel like I fall a little lower.  My children and husband, family and friends are a buffer I suppose.  This has nothing to do with them.  It has everything to do with my spirit and it being broken.  And I am not sure I can fix it.

Sigh, tomorrow will be a new day.  It can get worse so I won't dare utter those words.  It will just be a new day.

Asleep

It is so odd to realize that in hours I will be asleep.  My body dependent completely on others.  My children about their day, aware of where I am but oblivious to the risks.  I trust my surgeon completely.  I offer them complete honesty of my current health knowing well that truth will guide them.  My body will be at complete rest.  My mind asleep.  Hours of my life to never be recalled.

I have had surgery before.  But never with nerve block and induced paralysis.  Waking up in pain is normal and healthy.   I fear waking up to nothing..I fear the unknown. 

All going well is the only outcome I will consider.   MUA with arthroscopy.   Beyond that I leave to my written pre-op orders, risks and fate.

Please pray for Sydney.  My Child's solace is in my body and soul being beside her.  She will worry,  fear and feel anxiety over our distance..  Our routine is each other. Please prepay for Justin and her to find a stride. 

For Luke to be kind and for his family that needs a big brother who is as kind as he is intelligent.

For Emily, that our family appreciates her amazing wisdom, hugs and nuggles.  She brings these things more than we appreciate.

Tomorrow I wake up and regain my right leg.  There is no other option.

Salad from a pizza joint

He orders pizza and surprises me with salad.  Reason number I lost count of why I love him.

Water on a floor

I think for the most part people walk around oblivious to the smallest thing that may lie on the floor.  You see rocks.  You notice trash.  You loathe the rare sight of tagging or puke.  I noticed all these things up until two months ago.  Now though I notice so much more.  I notice a restaurant with carpeting covering its entry way.  I notice slick and smooth concrete and its counterpart porous and course concrete.  I notice a small pool of fluid against black concrete.  I notice frosting on carpet.  Anything on the floor that isn't identical to the floor itself.

There are some people who doubt the validity of post traumatic stress.  I do not know much about the scientific and emotional background behind it.  I am certain I have it.

On a rainy day every step is a memory I live over and over.    In public bathrooms near sinks I see spots I carefully step to avoid.  I caution my children at every random moment of the day I can.  Fall and you could break your knee.

I have always been a ticky person.  I have always had OCD issues.  They were always focused on germs.  Germs now are the least of my issues.  I am focused on every single step I make.  At home and out and about.  I take every single grounded foot plant that I am blessed with.  I always take the time to tell employees of my overly sensitive issues when it comes to the surfaces your feel touch.  I hope I am the reason someday that no one lives through what I am living through.  It has become my mission.  My purpose.

Please watch as you walk.  One small trip and your fall will be a jaded memory of post traumatic stress.

Life moves on when you fear each step there is no doubt to that.  But many times it moves on n very slow motion.  A motion I wish I could have slowed down before it changed our lives for ever.

My husband

Every love is like a leaf.  Some are wrinkled.  Some fall with the seasons.  Some remain green and others turn black and mildew against damp ground in the winter.  No matter the way they change the person who holds the relationship close considers it love.  Love is ever changing, beautiful and a challenge.  You work at it, you care for it and you nurture it.

My love for my husband has been much of all of those I mentioned above.  Not perfection, ever changing, worthy of nurturing.  It has evolved.  It has changed color and shape.  It has grown and shriveled and it is in its current form everything I could have ever dreamed of.

My love lay 20 inches away as I type.  Snoring.  His jammy pants falling just above his cute butt crack.  Sorry Justin, I won't go further.  He snores and his back moves up and down.  He always sleeps with pillows over his head.  Odd to some, perfect to me.  His toes lie still.  Mine constantly move.  He never needs blankets.  I steal them all.   We are a work in progress but we are right now the easiest work I have ever undertaken.

A few years ago and perhaps a few years from now maybe it will not be so easy but I welcome that.  I accept my husband for who he is.  He accepts me for who I am.  It isn't always perfect.  We aren't always on the same page.  But we love each other and we give and take.  And for the last 10.5 years it has worked.  I highly recommend it.  Think of changing nothing.  Accept everything - work together on meeting in the middle of things you do not agree with.  Don't give up easily.  Don't give in too long.  Compromise is everything.  Love is worth it.

Phase Two

My knee cap is this solid mass of tightness.  Youth may say "that shit's tight" but until you have touched my newly designed knee cap you do not know what tight is.  My tight knee cap should be bending at about 120 degrees.  I am barely at maybe 50 degrees- on a good day.  Tomorrow I see my orthopedic surgeon.  He is going to rip into me.

I have thought out in my head justification for why I am not nearly where he (the surgeon) wants me to be.  Some of those justifications include: I am paying you so aren't you happy I need more appointments?  Or I got the bladder infection from hell and nearly died! or my favorite It really hurts!  And of all the excused sadly the last is the truth.  It hurts like hell.  Phase two of my therapy is very physical.  It involves a therapist holding my knee and pressing it into a bending position until I scream Fuck loud enough.  Yes, I say Fuck.  I say it a lot while at therapy.  I am sorry for that truth.

My muscle have been extremely tight which is likely due to swelling and traumatic bending of my knee.  I would like to believe there is something wrong.  Yes I just said that.  I have not had much failure in my life and I feel like I am failing at my therapy.   Failing to heal in the goal time I set for myself.  If I am failing it has to be a blame on something other then me.  But for the first time since this all happened I am not disappointed or depressed.  It is just another hurdle, another jump.  I will make it.  Not as timely as I wanted but I am not perfect.  That has never been more OK with me.  I am human, damaged and mending.

The kids ask often how many more weeks until we do what we used to do.  My friends ask the same.  Sadly we are not talking weeks.  I am two months and a few days into a 6 month minimum but most likely closer to 8 months or 12 months process.  I can not lie to them.  I tell them honestly that a few weeks from now they will not see much change.  And for the first time I am ok with that honesty as well.

Since my bladder infection I am finally tolerating all foods and drinking more than water and herbal tea.  It took a while to not need Zofran.  

Originally I had a goal of taking the kids Trick Or Treating.  That probably will not happen.  That does not mean I will not enjoy it.  It for sure does not mean my children will not enjoy it!  I probably will not be driving by November 1st.  That is OK too.  As claustrophobic as immobility can make you it becomes tolerable.  I will most likely do all my Christmas shopping online.  At this time last year I was done shopping.  That is ok as well.  All good things in time.

As for tomorrow, I will wake up and put on my shorts - one leg at a time.  Brace up into my 4.8 lb leg brace.  I will ride to Pomona and walk into my surgeons office with my head held high.  I will expect failure but I will appreciate my progress.  Anything on top of that will be cake in a very positive way.  I will come home with Justin and Emily.  Pick up Sydney from school.  We will try to make a trip to the pumpkin patch as a family after we pick up Luke.  We will eat dinner.  Life will go on.  Our family will survive and dare I say thrive.  And as we fall asleep I will dream about Friday and repeating it all over again - with no expectations, only dreams of success.

Wishing

I am not a romantic.  Not a poet.  A believer but not in wishes.  But this morning when I laid in bed next to my sweet little six year old son and felt his warm forehead I made a wish.  He woke up with a nasty little stomach bug.  Nothing serious but he had been vomiting off and on all morning.  On my other side lay my sweet little three year old suffering the same ill fate as her older brother.  Her arm rested on my shoulder.  But I focused on him.  At six he doesn't often want my over bearing affection.  He doesn't ask for snuggling anymore.  He is content to sit independent and focus on his own activities.   But today for just a brief moment he snuggled up with me and I made a wish.  I wished that I could take his sickness from him.  A mother never wants their child to feel bad.  I knew it was not a wish that would come true but I wished it anyways.  We drifted off to sleep and napped.  The three of us together.

A couple hours later during dinner he glanced over at me and said he was feeling so much better and that the snuggles took his puke away.

My wish came true, just not in the way I had envisioned it.

Facials

Up until one week ago my idea of a facial was opening the dish washer during the dry cycle.  Maybe even sticking my head a little further into the dryer then I should when hanging mostly damp clothes one by one.  Ahh the steam.  Sometimes I even get really fancy and let the girls rub my husbands lotion all over my face while I close my eyes tight to prevent my eyeballs from getting slathered up. 

Well last week I actually had my first real facial courtesy of a very good friend.  Man, what I have been missing!  I felt so relaxed afterwards and my skin still feel softer then normal.  My friend just launched her own personal business so if you are local and interested in a facial or other services offered by a Licensed Esthetician I can give you her info.  She also offers pamper party packages for a minimum of 5 guests or more.

Doctors joke that if it wasn't for Cystitis, they'd go broke.

So this is the post to explain my hospital trip and recent vague posts.  A bladder infection.   Yes, I really went to the hospital for a bladder infection.  It beat the crap out of me, took my name and number and then came back over the next two days and beat me into submission.

So I will start by saying that apparently I have lived under this most beautiful rock of a place where I NEVER have gotten a Bladder Infection before.  Man, what a blessed life I have had.  Second I will say that for those of you who typically range between 1 and 3 bladder infections per year - I am sorry that you live through that.  That's serious shit.  I want to retro date many waves of empathy, hugs and respect to you.  And third PEE.  PEE all the damn time.  Don't freak out about stopping as a gas station or using a public park bathroom Just GO PEE.  Trust me, I thought those other germs were going to kill me and you may agree and if you agree you have never had a Bladder Infection.

Here are some very important things to know about Bladder Infections - specifically my bladder infection experience.

1) Hands down BEST cleanse/diet EVER.  We are talking 8.5 lbs in 4 days!!  You will never know what hit you!
2) You will have some killer dreams - seriously.  I dreamt for three straight days about killing things.  I never in my life have ever had such horrible dreams.  But in the last 5 days I slayed more things, grew more things out of my skin and ventured into more terrible places then I have ever done my whole life
3) You think a broken knee cap hurts?  Yeah it does.  But you know what also hurts?  Feeling like someone was picking you up off the ground by your hair, kicking you in the stomach....just in one spot.  OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER.
4) Need a nap?  Get a bladder infection, sleep for days!

So now, Yes, I didn't just have a minor bladder infection.  Because, have you known me long?  GO big or GO home.  Right?  Hindsight is always 20/20 and yes, looking back there were some signs and I did over look them for maybe one or two days.  But by day three - last Friday here is a run down of what day three looked like for me.

7am - wake up with kids, get them off to school and complain I may have a bug
8am - confess it may be an Ovarian Cyst
9am - take a norco and say you are going to sleep it off
1pm- cry in the mirror. realize I had a fever
1:05- cry its not a cyst its worse
1:15pm consider an ambulance, settle on a ride to the ER
1:30 - throw up, lots
1:45 - get to the hospital
1:46 - throw up more, check in
1:49 - throw up more, give a urine sample
1:56 - Get called back to a bed after they took one look at said urine sample but, after you throw up again
2:00 - Get morphine, Zofran and IV fluids (which takes more then one try because I had no fluid left in my body)
2:15 - get examined - probably appendicitis
2:16 - My second panic attack of my life.  Spend the next 35 minutes with my fingers seizing up and worrying my broken knee and right leg muscles may soon follow.  Breath, in through the nose out through the mouth.  Have the left side of your face seize up- refuse to answer anymore questions.
2:36 - Get Ativan via IV

Mix after that a blur between Ultrasound, Xray, CT scans with Dye, Tylenol 500 * 2, breaking of my fever and a very clear case of a Bladder Infection.

It took me three days to keep my eyes open longer then 20 minutes.  It look three days of near constant vomiting to swear off all processed foods and never eat "dirty" again.  It took three days of  moving only from the toilet to the bed.   My face is visibly trimmer.  My stomach flat.  My leg and all my progress is pretty much gone.  Any muscles I had started to build is atrophied again.

I thought I was at my low.  Boy was I wrong.  Now I am going to stand loud and scream that I can not get any lower then a Bladder Infection or Monday.  Yesterday, with no improvement I went back to the Dr.  It took two shots in my butt cheek - one Antibiotic and one Zofran and my body came back to life.  I stayed up last night for two hours.  Today I not only got out of bed, but I stayed out of bed. ALL DAY LONG.  I still am breathless with little movement, my leg stiffer then normal but God, I am ready to finish all that and this crap.  I hit rock bottom.  Got it?  No more pity.  I am not getting my ass kicked anymore.  I am not moving backwards.  I don't have time or energy for it.  It took that one shot of Zofran yesterday to resume eating and I have been puke free since.   I am still on a bland diet, water/cranberry juice only.  But its a diet.

So bottom line.  PEE or else be warned.  Gotta post now so I can go pee.

Charity, crickets and confusion

I have been struggling for two days about my next blog post.  There are some serious issues I need to get out - all featured in my title.  Charity, crickets and confusion.  I am not sure what comes next or which becomes more or less important first.  And then there is Enrique.  Perhaps the answer is none of the above.  Perhaps the answer is music.

Radio silence until my soul or my voice speak.

Hate

I loathe the word hate.  I loathe anyone who uses it and I forbid it out of my children's mouth.  I always tell them life is what you make it - of course in kid terms.  You can choose to remember the kid at the park that threw sand in your hair or you can choose to remember the kid who you played on the slide with for 40 minutes and you can't stop talking about.  It is their choice.  It is all about choices and what you want to remember and focus on.

I hate my situation.  I really hate this.  It has been a little over six weeks since I haven't hated my situation.  I feel frustrated and traumatized.  On Tuesday I took Emily to her class at the library.  She had to use the potty.  Water had been spilled on the ground just inside the door and I nearly slipped.  I pulled my interior leg muscles which is resulting in a minor set back but my brace protected my knee and prevented my leg from using muscles which could have easily torn apart my newly mended knee cap.  I wanted to find an employee to report the water because my soul would ache to know that anyone goes through this because of water on a floor I didnt report.  But the near fall hurt me and I couldn't muster the strength to find an employee.

One of our favorite people who worked at the place I was injured at hasn't been seen since then - and this is a person we saw weekly before.  I hate to think that something may have happened to him because of me.  I feel hate that he potentially was affected. 

I hate that rather than doing exercises at home I am so exhausted at the start and end of each day that instead I lay in bed and feel pity.

I hate that my sweet and extremely sensitive child is realizing that I won't be going as a volunteer on her first field trip to the pumpkin patch and that I can't bring myself to even admit it to myself.

I hate therapy because I lay there and have positive conversations when in reality I know I will feel like puking 2 hours later.

Mostly though I hate that I can not just stop all this drama and accept what is happening and accept that I need to reconsider my outlook.  I need to focus on the positive.  I need to focus on the amazing breakfast that I had with a friend.  I need to focus on the really cool guy who told me about his sister who had knee replacements.  I need to focus on my husband who is eager to do what needs to be done.  On our family who has kindheartedly not just lined up behind us but is standing at our side. 

I broke my knee and the next year is going to suck.  It will suck horribly bad.  Dear soul, suck it up.  Tonight I will push my will to kick hate to the curb.  I may fail, but damn I will try.

Henry

I met a man at therapy on Monday and saw him again today.  He is rehabbing prior to (hopefully) having duel Knee Replacement surgery.  He is 66 and just got on medicare.  He said he could have done it at 65 but he wanted to wait until he was at full retirement age.  He is knock knee'd (SP?) and possibly flat footed.  He was a truck driver and in '93 had surgery on his meniscus and instead of heading the doctors warnings returned to work after just three weeks vs the recommended six weeks.  He has 4 steps in his house and 3 to get in his front door.  He walks with a cane and judging from his hat loves the Dodgers.  He gave up his chair for me today, even though it pains him just as much to get up and down as it does me.  He is a Veteran.

I never met a Henry that wasn't a great person.    And Henry at therapy is no different.  He is also the second Veteran I have met waiting for knee replacement surgery.

Now I mentioned that Henry needs duel Knee Replacements.  His knees wobble, are boney and bend inward.  They appear swollen but its just the distortion of the bone and the lack of cartilage he has.  Henry didn't get bad knees in the last year...and I was intrigued as to why he was just now starting the process for a replacement and the answer was sad to say the least.  He had started the process many years ago but this brings us back to the Veteran part.  He tried getting appointments and had to drive very far only to be given cortizone shots and told to come back three months later.  Then he was referred to specialist, waited months for appointments only to e given another cortizone shot and sent home.  He said about the age of 63 is began very evident that he wasn't going to get his knees repaired and gave up and idle's for Medicare to kick in.  The minute he got Medicare he got a new dcotor  and starting rehabbing.  He goes three times a week for therapy, the same as I do. 

He admitted today that seeing me scared him and he was starting to worry about the pain after surgery.  I lied and told him it was really only bad for the first few days.  I told him I am sure since he gets to build up his muscles before surgery that his rehab post surgery would likely be much easier.  The therapist doing my magnetic therapy smiled at me.  His smile said "I know you are telling a lie".

The point of this post about Henry is that I am free because of people like him.  Because of the piece he played for our countries safety and freedom.  I fell down, got hurt and got fixed.  He fought for our country, is dealing with the consequences and has been forced to live with it because Veterans have shitty, horrible less than mediocre health care.

I am thankful to Henry.  Too everyone else who signed up to do their part.  I can't do anything to make it better for him, individually.  I can write a letter to the President about Henry, to our Congressional delegates.  You can too.  It won't help Henry, but who knows...its something small.  What else can be done?  I am sincerely asking. 

Confessions

So what is a blog without some confessions.

1)  My children watch TV pretty much all day long.  Yeah, I know.  Don't feel bad, its a period of time that will be a distant memory in a few months.  Or, you do what you have to do.  But any of you who are parents know that while I will say "I know it shouldn't bug me" that it does and will continue to bug me.  It is not what I want but I get that it is not solvable at this time.

2) I had to ask my six year old to sit outside my bathroom door tonight because I stunk and needed a bath.  He didn't even bat an eye and sat dutifully outside the door doing his homework.

3) I peed in the bathtub.  My kids do it all the time....and really the idea of limping over to the toilet and propping myself down after a bath was exhausting.

4) I walked today without crutches for the width of my kitchen and living room.

5) I yelled at my son, the same one who didn't bat an eye when his 33 year old mother asked him to listen out for her.  Talk about way more guilt then number 1.   That in addition to not allowing him to turn in a book order because he has taken to fibbing on the truth.

Back to number four.  I walked.  It resulted in two naps - both two hours long but I walked.  No crutches, only me and my braced leg.  I was able to not only bear all my weight on my leg but was able to use what little muscle I have to move it forward.  The doctor told me this could be possible and was a goal.  Now this does not mean I am healed.   I still can not bend my leg more than 40 degrees nor can I walk without my brace.   Tomorrow I go for an x-ray and with all luck my knee cap will be in perfect position held by its screws and wires.  And perhaps I can move forward with more physical physical therapy.

And onto number 5.  With all phases of parenthood there are challenges.  And with each phase it seems the challenge is increased.  You do not get off with learning from the oldest child and breeze through similar phases with younger children because no child is alike. No two children respond to punishments, encouragements or situations alike.  And its frustrating for any parent.  We all want to check out, take a trip or just step out and take a breath.  I can't wait for the day I can step out again and take a breath.  I know my son can't wait either.

Thirty five days since injury.   Twenty five since surgery which means I am nearly one month into a six to eight month recovery.  Filled with dread, anticipation, and a little fear but hope and a few more smiles. 

I love you...even though you have a broken knee

Mommy, how do you spell "when your broken knee is better can we play outside together"? Sydney said.

The words that spoiled my fragile happy mood.  The day was great yesterday.  There is one special little girl that all my kids love.  A little girl in school with Luke that magically became the first and only friend they all share and love.  Her mom the sweetest person in the world, so easy to speak to and be with.  I confessed to my friend that I had invited her over because she was just so easy going and I knew she wouldn't mind helping serve our kids and watch over mine when I couldn't.  Having a little bit of my life before one month ago in my home was refreshing.  Sadly, not enough of a spirit lift.   

I have this internal debate raging inside me.  Suck it up, move on.  Stop dwelling you are going to drive yourself nuts.  Nothing is going to change this situation so just stop focusing on it.  Live for tomorrow not today or yesterday.  All things I did easily 4 weeks and 1 day ago.  Now bed times come and go and my mood remains sour and pitiful.  The day begins and the minute my achy arms and blistered hand bear weight against my crutch the pity and frustration sets in.  I push through it, struggle to get clothes off hangers and get dressed.  I crutch to the top of the stairs, heave and blink and make my way down.  Crutch down, crutch down, bad leg down, good leg down, breath.  "Down with the bad, up with the good" the physical therapist speaks in my mind.  Like Heaven and Hell.  Down is hell it really is.

And all that aside I feel ready to just give in and just let myself be pitiful and sour.  Let myself cry.  What have I got to lose?  I actually looked on Pinterest for funny memes about shitty days.  There were no results.  There really is nothing funny.  Now, Pinterest results for memes about sadness are plenty.

A little positive for a sad rambling - Mrs. GD, I am doing my best.  One little guy in this world who is learning empathy.  Thank you for reminding me how important it is.

"If you fall down and break your leg don't come running to me!"

One month ago today I went with my husband and our two daughters to grab lunch.  My husband didn't want to go but I pushed him.  It would be fun to get out with just our girls since our son was in school all day.  The memories, the smells and the events are still burning in my memory.  After ordering we sat down at a table I am sure we have sat at many times before.  Sydney spilled her drink under the table we sat out and I groaned in frustration.  But, I got up and walked over and re-filled her drink and went over for a new straw and that is when I slipped and fell.  There was nothing grand about it.  I wasn't up a ladder.  I wasn't on my cell phone.  I wasn't distracted. I am certain that it took less than two seconds from the time I realized I was falling until I was on the floor but I remember praying in my mind and feeling dread and naturally embarrassment.  And then, I landed. 

I remember the face of the little boy sitting at the table closest to me.  He was eating a hotdog with his mom (or maybe grandma - some maternal figure).  I remember a man walking by with a cart full or water and toilet paper on his way for lunch I am sure.  I feel like I remember so much for such a short moment, blip even, of time.  And then I looked down and saw my knee.  I knew immediately that my life was shattered - figuratively and literally.  A lady screamed our Lords name as she looked at me.  I screamed - or maybe yelled for Justin to please come over multiple times and when he did I told him to call 911.  I covered myself with my dress because that boy was eating just right there.  The lady continued to scream the Lords name in prayer followed by calmer moments.

Justin called 911 as I instructed but had no clue what I had hid under my dress.  He said he thought there was a slip and fall and requested an ambulance.  I told him that it was bad, really bad and lifted my dress.  Emily ran over.  I never cried.  I asked the lady who was repeating Lord to please take my girls back to the table and when Emily was back over the table Justin rejoined them.

My lower leg was parallel to my upper leg.  I have since learned that the patella (knee cap) is connected to muscle.  If the bone breaks, the muscle jolts the bones attached to it into new positions.  I had a visible sunken hole in my knee.

Next I will describe to you what happens when the human body lacks oxygen.  I was essentially having  a panic attack.  No tears, but I was breathing quick, shallow and my fingers began to seize up.  I couldn't control my fingers.  They bent up into a witch like shape and were essentially frozen.  Enter distinct memory number three.  A nurse.  She knelt near me.  Urged me to take deep breaths and explained I was going to pass out.  She told me how strong I was and how any other person would be sobbing and screaming.  I told her I couldn't be upset because my girls were there and that boy was still sitting there with his mom.  I shifted my focus to his mom - please take him to another table.  She didn't look at me but she did point to something over in the other direction diverting his attention.  The nurse told me my girls were great and they were excited to see the fire trucks.  I knew she was lying but I didn't let myself even consider that it was a lie.

Finally the fire department arrived, followed by the paramedics and they finally moved that boy and his mom away.  Justin took the girls to the car and I let go.  My blood pressure was very low, my memory starts getting fuzzy.  I told them how painful it was but they told me I wasn't stable enough to give pain medication.  They gave me oxygen, fluids through IV and eventually morphine.  Next they had to get me onto a gurney.  I was in a sitting position, my leg literally snapped in half.  They would not even consider moving my leg so two got behind me, three in front of me and they lifted me up and onto the gurney, wheeled me to the ambulance and finally, I cried.

The gravity of this was immediately obvious to me.  I know nothing about broken legs or knees but I knew I had one or the other.  I knew I wouldn't be walking  out of that hospital in a few hours.  I knew for a fact I wouldn't be walking period for a long time.

The lady in the ambulance had a dog.  A pit-lab mix.  She took out her cell phone and showed me pictures of her baby.  The dog was beautiful.  She was just over a year old.  I wish I remembered her name.

It has been thirty days and I can recall so many details that occurred during a traumatic time.  I can small the food.  That boy, the pit-lab mix.  The man with the water and toilet paper.

I have nightmares about falling.  Slipping.  I dream about walking.  And my typical optimistic outlook is fractured by many thoughts of doubts.  I feel gratitude and blessings only to have those thoughts retreat minutes later to depression and fear and anger. 

So I will re-purpose this blog for my ultimate challenge.  Restoring what I am afraid I have lost - my positive outlook.