Medical Marijuana – Weed 3 — Living with dignity and less pain

If you have anyone in your family who is sick with any severe condition, please, watch this video.

No matter what your views are on the recreational use of marijuana, the use of medical marijuana can no longer be ignored. People, including children, are being saved daily with the use of medical marijuana. This is happening all over the world and is finally being allowed in the US.

88,000 people die every year from alcohol alone (that doesn’t include the domestic abuse injuries and deaths alcohol causes), 16,007 people died from OPIOD overdoses in 2012 alone, yet, Marijuana, when used alone, killed ZERO people, EVER. Let’s stop lying to ourselves, we were duped into believing that marijuana was worse than alcohol, or even tobacco. 

There have been cases when children have accidently ingested their parents marijuana. What happened? Nothing. They went to the ER and had a bad trip. Was it a scary situation? You bet. They need an IV for dehydration, and some serious amounts of snacks after coming down, but, all in all, they were fine. What happened when children ingested too much alcohol? There have been cases when children have actually died from too much alcohol. This includes college students and teens who have died from alcohol poisoning. Yet, alcohol is everywhere and easily accessible, and marijuana, even medical marijuana is made to look like it comes from the devil himself.

I am not saying marijuana is safe. It is not. It is a drug. Just like all drugs, it should be respected, but, if we are going to allow something as dangerous as alcohol to be made in our father’s bathtubs, or to be kept on the kitchen counter, please don’t be a hypocrite and fight against something like medical marijuana, which could actually save lives.

The FDA and the US GOV is finally studying it, but, Israel has been studying medical marijuana, and using it for their patients, for many, many years.

Medical Marijuana does help with PTSD, Severe Pain, MS, RA, Fibromyalgia, Epilepsy, Depression, Wasting Diseases, Diabetes, Cancer, and Alzheimer’s, and many more issues can be helped with medical marijuana.

For my entire life (44 years) I was against all illegal drugs. There was nothing good about anything that was illegal. In some sense I was right. In all cases, there is no reason to let any drug, alcohol, marijuana, or any other drug, to ruin your life. I still believe that. If you allow anything to stop you from becoming a productive member of society or taking care of your family, then you need to readdress what you are doing, and find a new way. You can’t break the law just because you think it is unfair. If your job does not allow medical marijuana, or even cigarettes, you either need to stop doing those things, or make the decision to move states. You need to be a truly productive member of society and care for yourself and your family first. YOu can either move for medical help or work to change the laws where you live, but, I digress.

When I was younger I was strictly against all illegal substances, and I believed everything I saw on TV. There was no medical value in illegal drugs. Then in 2011, I got hurt in Iraq and about the same time, I also became very sick. The military opened my eyes to how much control medical professionals have over pain meds and your body. You become a slave to pain meds, which means you become a slave to the medical machine and the medical machine are slaves to politicians and the random laws. I am not even referring to something as serious as addiction. I am just referring to the relationship between a patient and a doctor. If a patient does or says anything that displeases the doctor, or if the doctor has a bad day, that patient’s entire medical case can be changed at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t even stop at the doctor. The politicians, the FDA, the ADA, even KOCH brothers have their hands in everything that deals with your medications and what is prescribed or approved at any one time. Once a patients becomes sick, the hard truth is, the prescriptions which are allowed or approved by the FDA are all controlled by money. Plain and simple money.

At any time, a politician can be bought or sold by the Koch brothers, or any other big super pac backer, and very quickly my pain medications can be changed and outlawed and I have zero control in how my medicine is handled at the federal and state level. Worse, if my medical provider decides for a personal reason, not a medical reason, to stop prescribing medications, then I have to find a new doctor, or suffer withdrawals and suffer excruciating pain, which is exactly what happened to me. No warning. No help. No titrating down. One day my medical provider decided he wasn’t going to provide narcotics anymore and that was that. His patients had to suffer or find new doctors, which is never an easy process.

As a chronic pain patient, which true severe pain conditions, my entire life is controlled at the politician and medical provider level. When my own medical provider decided to select his own life over mine, I knew then I had to fight for my own well being. That is when I started researching natural pain medications. I found that medical marijuana had been used for thousands of years for joint related pain diseases, such as RA and gout, or other pain disorders. Even now, the US owns a Patent on Medical Marijuana for their own researchers to do tests on the plants. They even have their own fields where they grow only the best plants to test on (which is shown in the video) . — This leads me to believe they know it will work for the listed medical issues (again shown in the video) . I do not like my life being controlled by politicians and big money. I don’t think a patient should be a slave to big pharmaceutical companies, to politicians, and then to the whims and personal agendas of medical providers. A patient has the right to live in dignity. Now, I am a huge supporter of medical marijuana and I fight everyday to change the laws so every patient, in every state, has the same rights to live in dignity and even die with dignity, and less pain.

Teen Kisses a snake, but, the snake didn’t want to kiss him back! — Or, Dumb shit some people do

TEEN Kisses a snake, but, the snake didn’t want to kiss him back!

This should be an honorable mention for a Darwin Award! I am still laughing at this!

Austin Hatfield holding what appeared to be the cottonmouth before the incident (left) and and in the hospital after the bite (right).

FUCK! Fuckaty, fuck, fuck, fuck! The fun of shopping in big box stores when you are highly sensitive to every damn thing!

There are days when I wish I could stand in the middle of one of the big box stores and just yell, “FUCK! Fuckaty, fuck, fuck, fuck!” like a million times. I mean seriously, those places were not meant for people who are over sensitive to anything!

Let’s start with entering the door. Bing, bong, bing, bang, ding, dong! I mean, geez!! Did I just walk into the worst bell concert ever?! There are bells going off everywhere!

If you actually make it through the swooshing doors and not get ran directly over by a thief (yes, that shit has happened to me no less than 3 times), then you are immediately greeted with the banging of carts being slammed together, or the screeching of the sounds of someone trying to pry those mother fuckers apart. I mean really! It seems like when the buggy boys gather all the carts together, those carts stick together like some damn bonding at the molecular level happens when no one is watching. Just minutes prior they were free ranging carts, who, with just a slight breeze, could travel the entire distance of the parking lot with the freedom of wild horses, but, the moment they touch another cart, you would think they were mating like the aforementioned horses and not letting go until they had made little baby carts.

When you finally spray cold water on those mating carts, and one finally lets go, besides completing your entire weekly workout trying to pick a cart, you now how the absolute fun of facing the inside of the actual store.

You enter the store, and the voice from above announces the special of the day, someone’s car is ready for pick up, or hey, shit head, there is a clean up in aisle 3. This is all being announced being the top 40 chart topping hits from, “hey, we have never heard of you” file. At times, your lovely shopping trip is interrupted, or should I say, shoved down your ear drum like a alien completly an anual probe on your anus, by a loud fuckign commericial about some product they are trying to get rid of this week, that no one wanted last week either. Finally, you have trained your brain to tune all that garbage out. You only want to get some damn milk, bread, and eggs. The three things most humans need in their kitchens on a weekly basis, but the damn stores have so nicely split these three things and strategically places them around the entire store (the size of three football fields) so you must pass by chocolate, cake, ice cream, and of course, those little frosted cakes you like so much. There is no way around it. To get to these 3 items, you will be tested at every level you can imagine. Finally, you have reached the bread without killing another human being today. But, right behind you, someone decides they want to ram their cart into your backside. You look around, a fight in your heart, you are ready to throw down and rumble. Come on lady, let’s make history right here in the bread aisle. You glance around, and what do you see? A little old lady, sweety grinning at you, and very nicely apologizing for running into you while going through her coupons. You calm your heart, you open your eyes, and you smile, all the while thinking, “You got lucky this time lady. But, only this time. We will meet again.” You smile nicely, and try to make it through the group of squealing little girls picking out a cake for someone’s birthday party. Childhood. You contemplate screaming at them, “you better appreciate it now, because after 30, it’s all downhill little girls,” but, sigh, you don’t have time and you haven’t saved up for bail this month. Sigh. The little things in life that help me keep my mouth shut. The public should be very happy with the complete control I show everyday I leave the house. But, no. I have the super power of being polite and sweet to others, and just like Superman, I must keep my secret to myself. No awards for keeping the world a safer place for me. Oh wait. I would be keeping the world a safer place from myself… so yea. I guess you don’t get awards for that. Well, dammit, I should.

Shit, where am I? I have been staring at this chocolate ice cream for like 15 minutes. If I get the ice cream, I will just cover it in chips or cereal and eat the whole darn gallon in less than a day. Ughhh… NO. I will not get it. So, I want my gold star in life for not buying the ice cream. YEA! Why can’t we get gold stars in life for doing the right thing? It would be like the tooth fairy, but, much less pain, and more rewarding. You do really great things in life and you wake up in the morning to gold stars on your headboard for all the great things you accomplished. The Gold Star Fairy (GSF) would get very tired, but, I guess he or she could delegate some of the work. Those who were little shit heads all day, could be serviced by mean fairies who would leave piles of doggy poo on their favorite shoes. Oh crap. These are really some really good ideas. Except, I would need to be nicer to everyone, or my shoes would get some doggy poo sometimes too. Yuck. I will revisit the GSF when I figure out how to be nice to everyone.

Sigh…. where in the hell is the milk? Crying baby!! NO! NO! NO!! Not the crying baby. I turned down the wrong aisle. There is a crying baby, woman screaming on her cell phone, and some kid hitting his sibling. OH No. My nightmares have all converged on me in one aisle!! I must turn back. I must get out. No. Someone has turned in behind me. Which means I have to keep going forward! I need to use the tactics I learned in the military when faced with an assault. GO! GO! GO! Push through!! I am pushing!! As fast as possible. I am past the screaming baby. I am past the fighting siblings, and woo hoo!! I am passing screaming, cell phone, lady! I might make it out of the aisle without having a complete nervous breakdown!! I see the light at the end of the tunnel, pushing through, almost there! NOOOOOO!!!! Electronic buggy is turning into the end of the aisle. I have no where to go. I can’t go forward. I can’t push back. It is a traffic jam! I am stuck right beside screaming, cell phone, lady!!! My nerves are shot. My heart rate is up. I might just explode! I plaster my smile as wide on my face as I can, and the words which come out of my mouth are strangers in my head. Through clenched teeth and with all the energy I have left to give to the world I say to electronic buggy dude, “is there anything on this alies I can get you to make your way easier?” He politely points to a box on the sleeve, I hold back every fiber of rage I have in my heart, I pass him the box, and he continue on his way to the next ailes. I push my way to the end of the aisle, and breathe a sigh of relief!! MLK Jr starts shouting in my head, “Free at last, free at last, Thank God almighty I am free at last!” If anyone could actually see the reaction in my brain, they would see mexican jumping beans doing some serious happy dancing. OK! Dammit. Now the mexican jumping beans are singing MLK Jr’s words, but with a very thick hispanic accent, while they are dancing a jog. That is just wrong. Very freaking funny (it’s times like this when I wish I could paint). But, it is very wrong. I shake my head to stop the singing beans and keep pushing through the crowds to make it to my goal.

I pass by someone wearing perfume so strong two people could have shared it. I am able to push on past and push this to the back of my head without throwing up. The lights, sounds, and screaming are only made worse when one more stimulus tries to push it’s way into my brain. I can’t control all the senses at once, so at this point, I am really suffering. I am sweating, my hands are shaking, and really, I would love to run out of the store screaming and never purchase milk, bread, and eggs ever again.

FOCUS! FOCUS! Now, where is the milk and eggs? I finally find the milk and eggs, and very quickly push my way down the main aisle to get back up to the register. On the way to the registers, I pass the scented trash bags (thank you asshole who decided everything in the grocery aisles needed to be scented), I pass motion detection tv monitor that scream commercials as you walk past which turn you into a better ninja then compared to walking into a spider web. Please, dear God! I really want to witness someone ripping one of those damn things off the end caps so freaking bad! Please, give me the strength and not let it be me. I look terrible in orange, and I am too pretty and too damn mental to end up in jail, but, please, let me witness someone losing their shit at those automatic commercials, and tearing them off the wall, stomping on them, pouring milk and cola on them, and throwing them to the other side of the store. Oh goodness. If Karma is really good, I have earned the right to witness this.

I finally make it to the register, again without murdering anyone or damaging property, and ding, ding, ding, my items are rung up with ease. Debit or credit? Debit. Cash? NO! Car wash? NO! Would you like to donate to the local charity today? NO! GEEZ! I just want to get my groceries and go home! Finally. My sale is final and I push my cart to the front of the door.

As I look back on the circus that is big box stores, I happily see the manager running after a thief who is much younger and in much better shape than the older manager. Oh, that poor bastard. Hey dumb-ass! Stealing sucks. Deal with the hell of shopping and paying for your shit like the rest of us! Watching the thief run out the door and almost run over a lady walking into the store, reminds me how lucky it wasn’t me this time. In a small way, I am a little melancholy about the thief not running into me. That is how many of my shopping trips start and this trip felt like something was missing. Yep. My occasional encounter with a manic running out the door had become part of my shopping experiences that I had come to expect. Oh well. At least the other shopper got her nerves revved up for her shopping experience. She will need the extra adrenaline to survive her trip in big box hell.

I make it to my car, put my cart into the cart corral (no free ranging for you today), and immediately wish I was a smoker. Damn. My nerves are shot and I am exhausted. I have never smoked, but, it’s times like this I wish I did. As I pull away from the store, the thought runs through my head that I could grow my own wheat and buy a cow and I would not have to shop. Could I do it? Yes. The answer is yes. If only I didn’t have to shop for all the items to grow those things, I might consider it. But, more shopping is not on the top of my to-do list. So, no cow for me.

45 minutes of shopping for 3 items. It’s time for a nap….. and a drink.


Until next time…be safe, be kind, and always be happy.



NAT GEO DNA project & more DNA links – Find out where you are from

As I have mentioned many times before, I love history. I adore it so much. Part of history is knowing where we came from and the cool part about science is we have all these new inventions to show us exactly where we came from, by using DNA.

NAT GEO started this project 10 years ago and the results were outstanding. If you wish to get involved, it is not too late.

Very cool photos from history

I love historical photos, especially those which catch you by surprise. It is one of my favorite hobbies. I love not only looking at photos, but, also taking photos that might mean something to someone one day.

This page is not mine and I don’t know the company that made this page, but, I sure am going to share the heck out of it.

Love being single, even through moments of insanity

Everytime I think I may want to date again, all I have to do is remember how my cheating, low down, exes made me feel. Oh Yes. There it is. That feeling of loneliness, hate, and distrust. OH Yes. A dagger to the heart. 🙂 Sigh…. the moment of insanity has passed. I am all warm in my single life all over again. Let me cuddle up with the warmth of single life. SIGH OH YES! This is just right. 🙂

I am very happy with my cat and chickens. 🙂

Legal Cannabis in America — The sky is not falling and people are getting medical help

Imagine a country where patients have to beg politicians for the right to use a medication which will save their lives. Imagine a country where a family has to move from a very conservative regime, losing their homes and jobs, just to find medication for their child in another part of their own country. Imagine a country where a parent can be arrested, have their home, cars, personal belongings, and all their money seized for government use, just because they were trying to save the life of their sick child. Imagine a country where a person can spend more time in prison for trying to save their own life or the life of a loved one, compared to a pediphile who raped and abused young children. Imagine a country where you can be banned for life from receiving government funds to go to school, for a small infraction committed when you were 18, which is not even illegal in other states. Compare this punishment to a thief, a rapist, or someone who has a DUI, who are not questioned about their backgrounds when receiving federal funds for college, and the size of the punishment far outweighs the crime. Imagine a country where children are taken from their homes, put into foster care, and never allowed to see their parents, because one of their parents has cancer and has decided to save their own life, so they can be alive in 20 years to support their children.

We are not talking about a communist or 3rd world country. This is the United States. This is a country who claims to be number 1 in health. It is not. It is a country which claims to treat their sick to the best healthy care in the world. We do not.

The medical cannabis and the recreational cannabis fight is in the news almost on a daily basis. According to poll research, anywhere from 73% up to 85% of Americans positively support changes in cannabis laws.

The politicians need to see what they are doing to their people by keeping cannabis illegal. People are dying from their lack of action and their backwards thinking. The sad part is, most of the states, who refuse to pass new cannabis laws, are the exact states who claim they are pro-life. Pro-life doesn’t mean to kill your citizens with outdated and unillegent laws. If politicians were truly pro-life, they would be able to see the full lifespan of a person, and pass laws to make quality of life their first priority, not an agenda in making their citizens suffer in pain and death. Politicians need to remember, “PRO-LIFE DOES NOT END ON THE DAY OF BIRTH”

Diagnosed with mild depression. No Crap. Have you met me? — Chronic pain (and how we’re treated) changes people

I really wanted to title this entry, “Doctors use 15 minute appointments to say the most bizarre shit in the most bizarre ways”, but, just in case any medical professionals ever dare to read my blog, I kind of need to keep these folks as my friends. They are the ones who give me the drugs that keep me sane enough to write a blog, so I really shouldn’t piss them off. I really need them. Yes. I really do.

Hey Doc! I love you! Seriously, I love you! Y’all are just the best! I’m not kidding. OK. Stop looking at me that way, I’m being serious dammit.

On that note, real doctors and nurses should not be allowed to be so damn sexy. Sure, they are hot and sexy on TV, but in real life there shouldn’t be any hot doctors or nurses allowed to see you in the buff. It is just wrong on so many levels. Maybe it’s me. Maybe when I am laying on my back with my feet in the air (being a female is so much fun. That’s sarcasm), I should not think I am on a sunny beach with this really sexy, educated, nice medical person…. OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! Dammit! OK. OK. OK. I’m back! Ughhhh….  I’m back to reality. 

Going to the doctor really sucks so bad, but to control all the issues I have (and there are many), I get the wonderful opportunity to spend way too much time in different medical facilities. 

When you visit a hospital only a few times in your life (when a family member is sick or you’re giving birth) a big medical facility can become overwhelming. Not anymore. I walk right in the front door of these places like I own the place (after the bills my insurance has paid, someone should name a wing after me). If I don’t know where I am going, I know the janitor or the gift shop employee knows office locations much better than the doctors and nurses do. It gets to the point where people think I’m one of the staff. I see a stranger in the hallway, lost, and I know they will see I’m pretty confident about these places, they immediately ask me directions.

I’ve been in so many medical facilities, nine times out of ten, I can gauge where something is, even if it is my first time there. Huge hospitals, even smaller Doctor complexes, are built for ease of location and emergencies. Once you learn the pattern, it’s pretty easy to find your way around. 

Oh you need the lab? No problem, I say, “It’s down that hallway, turn left, 3rd door on your right. Are you looking for X-ray? Well, I did see MRI down the hall there, and they are normally pretty close to each other. Even if it isn’t in that area, you can stop there and ask them.”

At one point, my life boiled down to making medical appointments, planning the paperwork for those medical appointments, going to the medical appointments, leaving the medical appointments pissed off, coming home to pay the bills of the medical appointment, and picking up the phone to make more medical appointments. It was an ever-revolving door of medical crap. Thank goodness my life has evolved since that time.

But never forget, that time in my life did change me. Watching how those in the medical professions treat patients who depend on them can really change your perspective on people, for good and bad. 

No matter how often you dream of being somewhere else, being a full time patient is not fun at all. I am either being jabbed, stuck, poked, or examined in the most embarrassing ways known to humans. I’ve had every orifice on my body examined, and unfortunately, this isn’t as sexy as it sounds.

Yet, through everything, it seems most people expect you to be the sunshine, happy person you’ve always been. Well, you know what? I’m not. I stay as happy as I can be, and I make it a point to remember that it isn’t the doctor’s or the nurse’s fault I am sick, but, dammit, it isn’t my fault either. I’ve had the most ridiculous things said to me by those with over 12 years of higher education. You would think 12+ years of medical training would make people smart, nope. Not at all. Some of these people are some of the silliest people I’ve ever met. If you’re not going to help me, just write the damn prescription, tell me how much weight I need to lose, and let me go home to look up Grumpy Cat pictures and eat ice cream.

On the other hand, I’ve met some of the most caring, kind, generous people on Earth, who really care about their patients. To those people, I can’t thank them enough. They are the ones who make a patient happy they spent hours in pain getting dressed to drive hours, just to be told there really isn’t much that can be done, but we can laugh about it, and enjoy the 15-30 minutes we have together behind closed doors to say what we wish about the world and how being sick can be embarrassingly funny at times. It’s these people who are angels on Earth and they never get enough praise for what they do.

Here is the thing, I’m actually doing very well for the diagnoses I have been handed, especially since that list grows in length every time I go to an appointment. Just because I’ve changed, doesn’t mean I’m not doing OK. It just means I have learned many coping mechanisms to deal with the real bullshit of life.

Imagine, if you will, that you met me in my early 20s, and I was a real B*** with a grumpy attitude. If I stayed that way for 20 years people would look at me and assume I was doing good. She’s just a naturally grumpy person and that’s Okay. But I didn’t start off grumpy. This is where the trouble begins. Because I was the happy-go-lucky and the sunshine girl to every grey cloud, the medical world thinks I am “mildly depressed” because I’ve changed. Well, guess what assholes? (oh shit — I do love y’all! I really do) I was never as happy as I looked for all those years. That smile on my face and my sunshine attitude was for you, not me. I wore a mask everywhere I went because I knew people had a worse day than me and I did not want to share my pain with others.

Well, guess what? I’m tired of that shit now. I don’t have the energy to both control my pain and make your day fantastic at the same time. I use all my energy just to survive my own shit on a daily basis. I’m sorry I don’t have the energy to wear a fake smile, too.

Sure, I’m sure I have mild depression, but it’s probably not the reason you think it is. I have mild depression because I’ve seen behind the curtain. I’ve seen complete assholes, who didn’t care how much pain I was in. I’ve been let down by medical professionals when I needed them the most. I’ve seen the reality of United States health care and it’s nothing like I expected. It’s stalk, cruel, mean, direct, and sometimes, it’s evil incarnate. I’ve looked the devil in his eyes and I saw the truth of my future and it scares the hell out of me. So, if you think I’m mildly depressed, I probably am, but it’s not because I’m sick, it’s because how I’ve been treated since I became sick. The saddest part of all, my disease did not make me depressed, my negative experiences with the medical world made me depressed and that’s the honest truth. It’s a very sad truth affecting many patients and no one seems to care to fix it, so here I sit, with the diagnosis of being “mildly depressed” and the person given me the diagnosis refuses to accept that colleagues in the same field are the main reason for my depressed issues. Oh well. If you’re not going to fix it, congress isn’t going to fix it, and even the American public isn’t going to fix it, just write the damn prescription and let me get up out of here, so I can go back to living the best way I can (and watching cat videos).

Now, don’t get me wrong, just because I am not wearing a smile all the time, does not mean I’ll not be nice to you and say kind things to you. Just because I’m in pain, I have no right to treat others ugly or with malice, but as a medical professional you need to know that you don’t need to poke a grumpy bear, unless you are planning to get bit. For once, I want to go to a medical appointment and hear a medical professional say, “Hey! With all the crap you are dealing with, I think it is awesome you haven’t murdered anyone today! Way to go! HIGH FIVE!” That would be pretty awesome. Just surviving this world is hard enough, but surviving this world while living in chronic pain is almost impossible. It’s exhausting. I want medical professionals to recognize the effort I put into an appointment while not snapping at everyone. 

I really think those who live in chronic pain should receive get gold stars at every appointment just for showing up and pretending to be a normal human every day. We should receive gold stars for not biting the head off of every jerk who gets in our way or who looks at us twice when we park in the handicap parking place. Dammit,  I want my gold star for putting on a bra and getting out of the house.

Here is what I don’t understand, if a puppy gets hit by a car, they run off under a house and moan and cry from the pain. No one just goes up to that puppy and expects it to act the same. No. A crowd will form and very slowly someone will reach down and with great care they pick up the puppy, cooing the whole time. They cuddle it with warmth, love, and care until it is well. If someone pokes or scares an injured puppy, they expect to get bitten, and they actually blame themselves for being inconsiderate to the pain of the puppy. Why do so many medical professionals treat chronic pain patients with less consideration than a sweet puppy? They somehow can see the pain in a puppy, even playing commercial after commercial requesting money to stop the pain and abuse of animals. Many states even have a registry for those who abuse animals, but medical professionals are allowed to treat chronic pain patients with disdain, hate, and skepticism. We are treated as if our pain is less important than our pet’s pain. I love my pets but I’m important too. My pain is real too. Puppies can escape under a porch and later sleep in a dark warm kennel, being fed nice treats of magnificent proportions, chronic pain patients are forced into bright while hospitals, treated with heavy hands, and many times we are insulted by the people who took an oath to help us. 

Well guess what MFers, I’m a sweet, wonderful, kind, loving, injured puppy! I expect to have some damn love and kindness projected to me once in awhile, and I want my gold star for not biting you when you poke me or hurt me worse. 

Xena Warriar Princess


Honestly, in the end, we all want to be loved and cared for, but it really takes special people to care and love those who are in chronic pain for the rest of our lives. Sometimes, we bite, cuss, argue, cry, and lash out, for no other reason than we just have so much pain and this pain has made us completely 100% exhausted.

To those family members and medical folks who love us, care for us, and put up with us, you are the angels of the human race. You smile at us when we’re grumpy, you pat our arms when we’re sad, you give us gentle hugs when we wish to be alone, and somehow you know the exact time to bring us hot tea to settle our nerves. In return for your love and kindness, I promise I’ll give you as many smiles and gold stars as many times as possible to make your life easier during this painful journey called life. 

You’re the Pooh to our Eeyore, and we will be forever grateful for your love and kindness.




Until next time…be safe, be kind, and always be happy!