Costochondritis- The Emotional Journey

Today I found out a few things:

• I'm not allergic to the normal rap sheet: dairy, corn, meat etc. - yay.
• That the lab messed up my Celiac test and I'm having to do it all over again- booo.
• Some times I have a crappy pissed off attitude that needs serious adjusting.- Oops.

I woke up in a terrible mood when I became aware that I had other pains in addition to my chest pain. I. was. Perturbed. Then the lab calls me to share the glorious information that my Celiac test was jacked up, and I'll have to re-do it. And once I do the test, and it's back to the lab, I should receive the results in 7-10 business days. I don't know why, but I hate that answer. 7-10 business days is a crappy answer. giggle.

And then was ticked off that I was ticked off. lol. There's this judging of myself that I do when I'm angry. It's like I can't seem to rise above myself. Ugg. Do you do that? Judge how you're handling a certain situation? Or your pain? So today, I decided to just let myself feel it. I did my ticked off granny stroll extra granny style, and just let myself be. When I allow myself to feel my anger, it always goes back to the root of the anger, disappointment and/or fear.

TMI alert: What I call the fear-anger has been a life long battle with me. I was born with a birth defect called hypo-mid-facial-plasia. Now there's an awkward blog. It's a fancy word for the face not being fully developed. Yeah...eek is right So...I didn't have the equipment to breathe, and thus a slew of surgeries followed. I've had so many, I've lost count. Ummm...I feel weird sharing this, but here goes. My dad says there was one night during the months they told my parents I couldn't breathe and they didn't know if they could fix it....that he started praying. He told the Lord that he'd devote his life to teaching me about Him if I could live. He said that the next morning he was able to see me and instead of looking like I couldn't breathe, I just look pissed off. HAHA! Anyhoo, It was like God lit something in me that to this day, comes out. A lot. Anger was a survival tool at the time. But now, I'm trying to change my tune.

So over the years, I've had many surgeries...a tumor removed from my head, many surgeries on the structure of my face, I have no tear ducts, PTSD, and my eye lids don't work- yeah, that's awkward. I wear sunglasses as often as I can because I don't dig it when people stare at my eyes and the scars I try to cover up. I get so hacked. I'm kind of a mess. I like to think I'm a hot mess. -) And if you poor water in my nose like from a netty pot? The water does not drain out the other side, where does it go?!? HAHA! I know it's weird to laugh at this, but truly. it's funny.

My last head surgery was when I was 18....In some weird way, I thought I had served my time, ya know? Lived through it. Survived. In my head, I had a challenging start and was gunna be the girl who was on Broadway and sit on David Letterman's couch and say, "yeah, it was rough start, but here I am world!" And you know, that's okay that I feel this way. I'm not going to judge myself anymore. Because then I'm denying where I am. In this moment. It doesn't mean we can't move through the pain of disappointment, mourning, anger, or fear...but before we move on, maybe we can acknowledge these pieces of ourselves.. Give them a voice. Maybe some crevice of our soul just wants to be heard. And it has to tap into our raw emotions in the disguise of anger because we won't give it a voice.

I think I use to get so angry as a kid and teen because I had no words for the fear that captured my body. But today I'm an adult, fully capable of allowing a feeling to permeate, mature, exist, and then move on from it into hope and light.

Maybe the Lord is giving me a second chance at this gig. lol. Maybe it's another chance to tear down the walls, take off the sun glasses, be real, be truthful, put down the emotional gavel of judgement on myself, and just be the creation He made me, in all His glory, not mine.


If you met me today, you would barely see the scars from my past. Someone said to me last week that I needed short blond hair because it matched my personality. That made me laugh...and think. There is a piece of me that is very blond, bubbly, and fun. That's the little girl in me who is blond, and so crazy. She'll always be a part of me. But my adult self? She's a strong brunette who's not ashamed of where she's been and who's trying to acknowledge where she is. And who knows? If the ever present scars of 18 years of surgeries can look so minimal now, maybe the scars of this battle will be but a dim memory as well. That is my prayer, my heart, my plea, and my truth without the shades.

Costochondritis- Forgive the Cactus

Dear Friends,

It would appear I have offended and scared a few folks I love dearly and deeply when in a previous rant I talked about not wanting to be asked about my progress....and I wrote the word BONKERS a whole lot. I'm so sorry if I hurt anyone's feelings. Please forgive me. Did I mean it what I said? Yes. But if you and I are close, we talk often, are blog buddies...or related...or pretend we are related, you do not fall into the category of "leave me alone." lol. Especially if it's via text or e-mail. Cause it hurts to talk. So the odds of getting me phone chatting are slim to none. A friend did ask me, "if I want an update and you don't want to answer, what do i ask?" That was funny. We came up with, "anything new with the costo?" And I was like, "nope." Chuckle.

And most often, I'd love to listen about your life, because while mine is blessed, it's tedious, and slow moving. Not much on the news front. I'm like a catus. Slow growing, feel like I'm in the hot dessert, have thick skin due to survival needs, and I have prickles on my person to protect myself. From what, you ask? Well, that's another post all together. But, a Cactus is a tough little fighter, so forgive me if I jabbed you with my prickles. What the crap do you call those sharp things? I know it's not easy for those who love the cactus to deal with this either. So for that, I ask your forgiveness and extend my gratitude.

One day my little flowers will bloom. And the dern spikes will fall off. Promise.

I leave you with a little chuckle: It was the middle of the night. Suddenly there was a loud rapping on the doctor’s door, followed by a groan. The doctor angrily thrust his head out of the window. “WELL?” he shouted. “No,” moaned the man. “Sick.” hehe.

Ii's not that funny, but it made me smile. -)
Sincerely,
Lucy

Costochondritis- The Dream Play

Warning, I'm ranting and there are no exclamation marks in this post.

Curtain up:

Begin Monologue: So...the day after the liver flush, I was doing a little exercise. Well...I USE to exercise...now it's more like a ridiculous granny sway. Pathetic. Anyway, so there I am, doing my "exercise" and the tears start a coming. I was a little confused, but mostly overwhelmed by the emotions I felt. I use to cry all the time about costo., you see. But these days, I'm more in the mode of chugging along- pretending that one day this will all be over. And I just gotta do my part until it is. Some would call that denial. I call it, "walk in my shoes for ones day, and if you don't jump off a cliff, then come talk to me."

Soooo the emotions kept coming and coming. Sadness, Frustration, Anger, and mostly...disappointment. I came back home and my poor husband- he got an earful. Thankfully, it wasn't really directed at him. Which is a relief, cause when that happens at the organic market of Lucy with gigantor issues, there's a HUGE cleanup in aisle this really sucks for the marriage.

I went through the gamut of emotions. I think the major issue in my deepest of deeps is that I'm so utterly disappointed. Can't blame me. This is my monologue, let me have a moment of self pity please. .....okay, moving on. I had finally gotten my equity card, finally able to start auditioning for Broadway. I was so excited, it was all coming to fruition. Then everything I'd worked for came out from under me.

And I have spent 3 years thinking, "I just gotta get through this, then I'll be on the next plane to NYC and back to where I started." But what hit me was that I may not. There may be no plane. Some would call this reality. And although my vision of life may seem silly to others, it was my dream. Other girls wanted to grow up and be married, and all I ever would mutter is, "Broadway." Some people would say," well, you just want fame- you should get that out of your system." Really? Can you name 10 people on Broadway right now? Yup. No body knows them. But all they ever wanted to do was theater. It's like this burning flame inside of you that can't be snuffed out. Trust me, I've tried. Cause people don't get people who want to do theater. At all. They just don't. And that's fine, I don't get certain aspects of others people's lives. It's all good.

Why couldn't I have dreamed to be a beach bum, or a wonderful wife who is taken care of, or someone who wants to have a writing career? Or a software developer?! Now there is a perfect candidate for costo....no human contact, can work from home, not much laughter. Boring. Lol. My husband is a software developer. =) He'd be perfect for this. Oh come folks, I'm kidding. Gotta love him. Now, don't get me wrong,I have NOTHING against all those careers. They are awesome. Especially when the person doing them is fulfilling a dream. But my dream was to live in crappy Queens, New York, with no money, a waiting tables job, and audition my little heart out. Sounds glamorous, huh? Yup, that's me. Just call me glamor-lishous.

But to be able to sing, or carry groceries on your own, or walk your luggage up 5 flights of stairs (yes, that's right folks, I lived in a 5 story walk up with no elevator- lol), you cannot have constant chest pain when you merely breathe. And I REALLY struggle with this. Because I could at least be in pain and be fulfilled in what I'm doing if I dreamed of something I could do from home. Like make huge florescent bows or something. Buuuuuut I don't.

And there in lies my deepest disappointment that I am ashamed to admit, because it sounds so shallow: I cannot chase my dream.

In my head....I see your faces in the audience. The looks of confusion. Are they thinking -"this can't be that bad can it? Really, why all the self pity?"

And thus I continue in my strongest stage voice:

I. am. blessed. I don't argue that at all. I finally have a diagnoses, my husband can take care of us, and my family loves me. But I miss LIFE. I miss laughing, cutting up, my amazing friends, road trips, auditions, long hours of dance classes even though I sucked, talking on the phone, hugs, dreaming of the future....all of it. I just miss it. There's a hole in my heart and pain in my chest. Now there's a sad little country song for you.

And that's okay. There's no reason I should be omitted from the trials of life. But from time to time...I may not be happy about it. And you know what? I'm okay with that. God's okay with that. I wish other's could be okay with it. I wish people wouldn't want me to be better like yesterday cause it would them feel better about them. I'm making it. I don't want self pity, just from time to time...a "bummer, that SUCKS...I'm praying for you, wanna watch a chick flick in silence or can I lend an ear?" I don't want my progress monitered. That drive me BONKERS. Don't ask me how I am every time you see me. Again, BONKERS. I don't want to talk about it. Keeping people informed of my progress drives me just as nuts as this condition does. I'll let you know when I do. Trust me. And if I've offended you, I'm sorry. I only don't want to talk about it because I'm insecure about the outcome. Unsure. And for that, I'm sorry that I react this way. My foolish anger is always rooted in fear. And thus, the age old adage is true, it's me...not you.

Soooo...word to the wise, liver cleanses make you emotional. And the next time I do a liver cleanse in 2 weeks, I'll buy some heavy duty tissues as well.

Look at audience one more time. Feel insecure. Yet honest.

End scene.

Curtain down.

Costochondritis- Stupid Door

I don't do lunches or parties anymore. Sometimes I'm okay with that, trusting the bigger picture. And sometimes I act like a child and throw a fit in my head that I can't go. =) If you throw a real fit, you'll just be in more pain, so that is out of the question. lol.

Buuuuut today I went to lunch with an elderly woman that I love dearly and haven't seen in 2 1/2 months. We went to the olive garden. I pulled my car up, walked up to the door and stared.... at the heaviest door I've ever seen. Sigh. I began to sweat. Spears stabbed through my chest as I struggled with the door, praying one the hostesses would come help me open it. When I finally got it open, (much to my ticked-offness at Olive Garden's design department) standing there were 4 hostesses/waiters giggling b/c it took me so long to open it. They were just laughing at my expression, but I wanted to throw their buttered up bread sticks at their perfectly pain free ribbed selves..

So I walked to the table of my loved one, all a mess in my head. and she looked at me and proclaimed "well you don't look sick, you're suppose to look sick. You look good!" I stared in awe, feeling defeated. I thought getting here was a victory! If only she knew what energy it took for me to get dressed after my physical therapy, put on makeup, and open that freaking frapping elephant of a door.

I love this woman, it's not her fault or anyone else's. But if sacred energy is spent on convincing people that I feel like glass resides in my ribs, there won't be much left to focus on healing. I really struggle with this. Illnesses you can't see are just so weird. And I know they are just as weird for our loved ones as they are for us.

So if you happen to pass me on the street and you think "she looks good, wonder what all the fuss is about?" (Thanks for the complement, by the way. =) But let's take that thought, hog tie it, and toss it in the compost pile. (Julie, remember your compost pile!!? When we were kids, I loved eating a banana and running outside and tossing it! I have no clue why that was so fun to me) .

Anyhoo, when I feel better, I promise, I will be shouting it from the rooftops. You won't be able to get away from my "I FEEL GREAT" rants. =) In fact, I'm so gunna throw a party. For real. No kidding =). Until then, I'm doing the best I can. And part of that is having no desire to try and make myself look worse. Costo makes me feel like crap enough. I won't let it deprive me of my adorble necklaces, headbands, and smiley faces on emails. So if I'm dressed up...maybe, just maybe, I'm pretending that Bart doesn't live in my ribs. And honestly, sometimes I'm glad you can't see my Costo. Because occasionally I pretend it's not there. Love me some make believe. -)

Sigh, and maybe, just maybe, I should give people some slack and stop ranting. It's possible they have more going on in their lives than meets the eye as well. Don't we all?

Costochondritis- Admit you Have it

I'm going on three years with this pain. Some of you just got it-eek!...but many who read this blog have had it much longer than I have. And for that, I am deeply sorry.

I don't know everything. But I do know this: if we treat our bodies as though we DON'T have Costo- we will never heal.

It took me a long time to grasp that my life was going to have to change if I wanted a shot at healing. So I encourage all of us to not only turn to our doctors, but to respect our bodies. And my friends...if it hurts to lift it, put it down. If you push it, you'll pay for it. You know this deep down. And when we can admit this to ourselves...maybe, just maybe...our healing can begin.

If we keep doing what we're doing, we'll keep getting what we're getting.

Costochondritis- The New Me

When I wake up in the morning, my first thought is "YES!!! I'm still alive." Now, if that's funny to you, well, it should be. =) You see....I spent 2 years without a diagnoses, with terrible constant stabbing chest pain. I had no clue why I felt like I had glass in my ribs...I was terrified one day I wouldn't wake up.

Breathing has always been my tipping point. I hate that I can't breathe pain free. I get that Costo steals the joy I have from being able to pick up my nieces and nephews. I get that if I laugh at a joke, I will feel like some one punched me in the chest for each giggle. I get that. And you know what...sometimes I'm like "screw you Bart, punch away, I want to laugh" (that's what I call my Costo- I think Bart Simpson is SO annoying and defiant and never shuts his trap). Sorry if you love him. =) Just let me hate on the little ugly cartoon, kay?

And I dream about the new me. The "me" without pain. You see, I will be without pain one day. Either on this earth or in Heaven; I will be without pain. I know, I know, the drama! So... If I am pain free on Earth (as is the current plan =), I know there are so many things I'll do different. For instance, I won't get nervous at my musical theater auditions (that's right, folks, I was a personal trainer (day job) pursuing Broadway in NYC before Bart sucker punched me). I was actually on a national tour of Junie B. Jones when I knew I couldn't sing any more with the pain. Walking away from that tour was so tough for me, cried the whole plane ride....But my mom had gotten cancer, it was stress city with the physical and emotional pain...I love her so much, and I so I packed my bags...and headed home. By the way, she's in remission and had breast cancer....she's been through so much and she's doing beautifully. Praise God for that!!

I will not get angry easily. What's the point? You get stressed out and that is crappy for your body. Don't get stressed by stupid stuff. Really, some things just DON't matter. You know this. -)

When I'm well, I will have no issue stating that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the light. He's the only reason I'm not in a straight jacket from this experience. Yes, in my twisted mind, this is still an "experience." Leave me be...I'm coping. =) Jesus has been my rock, my peace, my strengh, and my hope. I don't know about you...but I'm not a people pleaser...but I do, however, want people's approval. They are a little different. -) But, as of the past few months, needing approval went down the drain along with pride and my skinny jeans. When I'm better, I will never take talking and laughing for granted again. I won't keep my joy and peace to myself.

Again, I have a dream. And it involves Bart falling off a cliff and croaking. That's right, I said it, I want the annoying cartoon that feels like glass in my ribs to die. And I want to live. I desperately want to live my life to the fullest. And so each day, I wake up, thankful I'm alive, followed by a punch in the ribs. And then I tell myself for the first time of the day, "crap, that hurt...breathe slowly...don't move, OUCH....okay, that hurts, deep breathe....okay... I'm alive to feel it, that's a good sign. " And then I smile... and get on with it...hopeful, tentative, and in pain.

Costochondritis- Obsessed

I broke my foot 2 years ago. It was really painful. Not to mention that it took 4 doctors to get a diagnoses that my foot was broken. Really? (Insert exasperation) REALLY??!?! Okay, back to kind, slightly irritated again by the memory, Lucy. In hindsight, I'm very blessed by the whole situation and that my foot is all healed up. And I know that the pain pales in comparison to the pain some people go through in their lives. So after my surgery and one removed foot bone later, I worked my butt off with PT, balancing working the foot and resting the foot, going from a wheel chair to crunches, to limping, to walking....and those first few steps across the floor were glorious. Just glorious. It took 18 months to walk pain free....

I think about that moment often. The moment when I took my first step. It motivates me when I think about why in the world am I shutting everyone out and doing this modified bed rest...and is it doing any good?

Okay, I don't think about that moment, I obsess about it. I'm obsessed about the first day when I will breathe pain free all day. I obsess about opening a door without pain. I obsess about picking up my yummy Sonic drink pain free. I obsess about hugging someone as tight as I want to without pain. I am obsessed. I admit it. My latest obsession is about laughing with out the stabbing pain. I am obsessed. And I've turned that obsession into this blog. =)

Costochondritis- The Spoon Theory

We all know that sharing with someone about Costochondritis is a challenge. Or learning about an illness that someone esle has isn't easy either.

So when you share with others about your condition, give them the grace that you would want in return....and send them The Spoon Theory. =)

So whether you need help sharing about your life with Costo, or want to understand someone with Costo or another disease...check out this beautiful piece of writing by Christine Miserandino....made me cry.

The Spoon Theory

Costochondritis- My Aha Moment

Everyone has them...the moment when you know that if you keep doing what you're doing, you'll keep getting what you're getting.

I was on vacation with my family...in pain with every laugh, every hug, but loving being with them. The 15 hour drive was rough on the ribs...but I wouldn't have traded it for anything. I have 4 nieces and 2 nephews and I LOVE them. It's so much fun to always have an adorable little person to cuddle. =)

We were at my parents campsite...enjoying a peaceful evening. My niece Kaylee, came up to me and we were talking. I was like "Kaylee, sit in my lap and let's roast marsh mellows!" She looked at me and said "LaLa...i can't...Daddy says if I sit in your lap, I'll get in trouble." With that, she trodded off to her cousins.

I sat there as the tears welled up. My brother was only protecting me. He knew that a kid in my lap meant using those chest muscles under the ribs- always causing more pain. I went back to my cabin and let the tears fall. Kaylee was 4 when I first got Costo. She's 7 now. I haven't picked her up in 3 years.

I have never rested. Not really. I have always hoped that the Costo would resolve on it's own. Not so much. =) Soooo I've gone about my life, barreling through the pain, determined not to let it stop me...just crying a lot from the pain. Well...I surrender. I give up. I prayed a lot and know with all my heart that it's time to let my body heal. So I'm resting...really resting....it sucks. It's hard. I'm missing out. But I can't look at it that way.

I have to keep looking forward...trusting that when I heal...one day I will pick up my niece and belly laugh as hard as I want to...and will feel no pain. Sounds a little dramatic. That's okay, I'm really for some good ol', "I'm healed", drama. =)

Costochondritis- My Story

I'm a theater actress and love my profession with all my heart. We all know that actresses are poor =).....so I got my personal training cert. to make money between shows. I began working out a ton- and hard. I had it set in my warped, never give up or show pain, mind that if my body looked good, I'd attract clients...sounds logical...but how much can a body take? I quickly found out 7 months later.

Halloween night, 3 years ago, I was driving fast to the gym, stressed and then BAM....I felt like I was having a heart attack. I quickly pulled the car over, overcome by the pain that was crushing my chest combined with nails stabbing through my heart. That was my first "attack."

My first doctor told me this constant pain was in my head...along with the 2nd and the 3rd. I was desperate, alone, and terrified. After not being able to breathe one night, I ended up at the emergency room with my, now, husband. They too, found nothing wrong, but sent me to a cardiologist anyway. The cardiologist shooed me out so fast...saying nothing was wrong with me, I should try anti-depressants. I was heart broken and mortified. Where was this pain coming from?

I continued working...plagued every minute by this pain- when people talked to me, I didn't hear them, I just heard the pain screaming at me. I found a chiropractor who said he could help me...I ended up back in the emergency room.

Then my back and shoulder started hurting...so I ended up in 12 different doctor office's who are back surgeons. After MANY Epidural shots later....I was still in crushing pain. 75 doctors later, no one knew why my chest, shoulders and ribs were still in crushing pain. I felt like I was drowning.

This past Christmas, I walked determined into the office of a pysiatrist. He diagnosed me right there on the spot....2 years after my first attack. I started crying. No more fear, tension headaches, night sweats, nightmares, and thinking some terrible disease had taken over my body. I had a very severe case of Costochondritis....I was like...I have what!? Who? =) I finally had a name for the face of pain.

Which brings me to present day: it's time to move onward and upward with healing in the distance as my bright and beautiful goal, and God as my ultimate physician. No more running around like a chicken with my head cut off to a million doctors who are never able to help me. Now, I pray, listen, and am traveling the road that I believe was meant for me all along. Am I scared I won't be healed? Sure, absolutely! But I can't let my fear snuff out my faith. I just can't. Because my faith is all tied up in my hope. And my hope is tall, strong, and beautiful. I call my hope Jesus Christ.