Words

There's a new 4 letter word...an F word...in my vocabulary now. One I don't like. I don't like to say it and I definitely don't like hearing it. Why? It has no meaning to me anymore. Hey, I'm trying to be happy, not smart, so I'm going to play around with words today. And maybe you'll come to the same conclusion I have...I'm smarter than y'all think!

God, Jesus, David, family, friends, covenant, promise, religion, Father, good, bad, Satan, evil, righteous, judgement, safety, peace, anger, violence, protection, dam, damn, hell, fine, ass, homosexual, transgender, pansexual (I knew one I read about last night), absolutes, male, female, choice, consequence, health, disease, consequences, fairy, gay, happy, fag, cigarette, sickness, sadness, death, son, daughter, heaven, questions, fear, normal, perfect.

Shall I go on? I'm learning that playing around with words can be quite...fun...scary...confusing. What in the world am I talking about? I know this is what you are thinking.

Words are words. They are meaningless unless they have meaning behind them. Unless they have action behind them. If you can't trust them then what good are they? If you don't know what they mean what good are they? (They asked me a bunch of them on IQ tests. When they got to pillattes...or something like that...I started making stuff up. Sounds like a fancy word for Pilates doesn't it? The tester laughed and told me it meant to stretch...I think. I laughed as I tried to talk him into giving me at least partial credit...what do ya'll think Pilates is all about? And later when I need to stretch I told him I needed a second for a pillattes. There you go, my sense of humor in a stressful situation.) Words have so many different meanings based on your life experiences, your education, your culture, your attitude, your religion, and yes, sometimes the words you use or don't show how much money you have.

More money often equals more words and more education. But guess what? This is the new age of technology. If you are reading this you have access to the internet. Google or research what big words mean. Use them if you want. Make people believe you are smart, educated, rich, or whatever it is that is most important to you. In the long run people don't care what you say if you don't have action to back it up.

What am I ranting about now? I'm not ranting. I'm trying to explain that my words have meaning to me when I say them. My new F word that I've told people to stop using around me is FINE. I've come to hate that word. Gasp! I'm being judgemental (sp and I don't care) of a word! I'm using harsh language because I said HATE. Guess what? You are stupid if you fall into that trap of absolutes. Gasp! I said another bad word to some people...STUPID. Guess what? That word doesn't have the same conotation (again with the spelling) to me and I don't care if it offends you. Get over it. Or not. Don't use it in your household. I really don't care.

Back to FINE. What does that mean? OK? Alright? So So? Don't ask me how I'm feeling. I've been taught to put a number to that. "What is your pain level?" remember? Don't ask me how I think when it comes to something you've done. Why? Because I probably won't use the easy 4 letter word of FINE. I can't use short words to save my life anymore since my treatment. FINE doesn't mean good or bad. I need more words attached to that to tell me what you really think. If I use FINE when I speak to you right now that means I've talked till I'm blue in the face and I'm fed up with you not listening. Or understanding. Or trying to. FINE. WHATEVER. LEAVE ME ALONE. I'M DONE DEALING WITH YOU. That is what FINE means to me any more. So stop using it when you talk tome, too. Please.

One more new bad word for me because it has no meaning. PERFECT. What does that mean? Heaven? Hell? Or lack thereof? Does that mean your kids are healthy? Beautiful? Does that mean you are healthy, beautiful, thin, you have plenty of money, you are happy, or what? There is no PERFECT anymore. Good night, folks, look around you! Who has a PERFECT life? Not me. Not you. Who has PERFECT kids? Mary. And she only had one PERFECT child. He wasn't like the rest of us. His name was/is Jesus. Or Jehovah. Those are words I've seen thrown around. You know there are tons more. Sorry if that is a bad word to you nowadays. I really don't care. It is a loving, happy, peaceful, judgmental, happy making word to me. And I'll say it over and over again...I feel sorry for you...I feel pity for you...I feel sad for you...I feel love for you...even if you do or don't believe in His name.

Stop talking to me about perfection. You'll never attain it. I'll never attain it. If you think my life is "perfect" because I can blog when I want you are a fool. If you think my life is perfect because I'm no longer taking 10 prescription medications but I now take almost that many pills everyday to stave off chronic pain you are a fool. If you think I'm perfect because I look like Barbie or use big words or because I try to be happy...well, thank you! You're my new best friend :)...but really, you are a fool.

Perfect doesn't mean anything on this earth because it is a myth. You won't find it. I won't find it. Perfect is a figment of your imagination. No one has a perfect life. They want more money. They want more education. They want a forever family. People to love them no matter what. People to take care of them when they need help. AC. Modern technology. Doctors. Safety. Unconditional love. And sure, who doesn't want to look beautiful? That is perfect to me. Oh, let us not forget PAIN FREE.

That isn't going to happen for me. That isn't going to happen to you. Stop thinking I have a perfect life. I know you don't. I'm not here to judge. I'm hear to talk.

The end of my early morning musings. Have a great Sunday, folks! To me it is a day of peace and rest where I can focus on religion. Hallelujah! I need me one of those days every week. Thank you, God, Father in Heaven, Jesus, America, or whatever/whomever...for letting me take this day every week!

My Morning in Pics

My morning in pictures: Being Happy is Better Than Being Smart…or strong. Whatever, I got it done ;)

I was going to help Dave by mowing the lawn. Now folks, we have ¾ an acre with only a push mower now. And no teenagers to help this morning. Dang, I’m really missing those teenage workers. Definitely not enough to make a new one but I sure miss them just the same. Our kids are good workers and no, we don’t pay them for helping around the house. That’s called “chores” and “part of being a member of our family” around our household. So since our oldest is married, my two boys are gone on missions, and our youngest teenager is busy with church and work all day long, Dave and I decide how to divide and conquer our yard.

Check out the first thing I saw! I decided to use dominion so I grabbed that baby with a stick and stomped it with my Keens. (Sandles that some think are ugly but they got the job done. I love them!)

Did I mention that years ago when I had all the testing some of that was allergy testing? Yeah, I’m highly allergic to grass. Too bad. The grass needs cutting and I want to help Dave. It’s gotta be as good as a teenage job. Right?!?

I thought for sure that answer would be yes. I was super excited to even get ‘er done with only one tank of gas. Well, I was kinda wrong.

First off, I ran over a sprinkler head and it went flying. Not good. David was out weeding that big patch in the back there. He’s throwing weeds and I’m running over them, too. Our lawn mower is no chipper but these are branches, either, so I figure it’s all good. That part is OK. Me trying to explain to Dave that I had hit a sprinkler head wasn’t as good. He shakes his head no. Uhhh, honey, I wasn’t asking permission to do it! I’m trying to tell you that I DID break it.

He quickly understands my limited sign language/ pantomime that sorry, Babe, the deed is done. So much for me helping his job be easier today. Oops.

And then guess what? I run out of gas. Can you see that tiny patch left? Grr. So it’s back to the shed to fill up the tank. Since when does the government have to get involved and tell you you have to buy crapy gas tanks that take two hands to use? Do you know how difficult it is to pour those things by yourself? They are heavy so why do you have to use two hands to pour the stuff? I personally make a bigger mess trying NOT to make a mess with that there gas can.

Whatever, I get it filled but then can’t start the thing. I try to pull and pull that thing but it won’t start. I push the button, the one you are supposed to push 3 times only. Nah, that doesn’t work, either.

So much for independence. Dave has to come start the stupid lawn mower for me. Oh well, I then finish mowing. Doesn’t it look nice now?

Except now the work begins for Dave…fixing the sprinkler head. So trying to be even MORE helpful I grab the limb loppers. Remember those things I used last weekend to half way chop down a tree from my rental property? I decide to use those things again now that I have some practice. We’ve got a LOT of trees in our yard. They are intertwining with the neighbors’ trees, hanging over the pool slide, hitting my head, etc so I decide to start clipping.

That is quite satisfying! You probably can’t tell a difference from the pics but check out the clean up job I did.

Those trash cans are only a small portion of the clean up. The rest I threw in a great big pile along the back fence. We’ll have to get to those later. I’ve never claimed a green thumb, right now I’m just hacking those branches to get more sun light in our back yard.

Look, over an hour later the lawn is mowed, the Keen feet and legs are dirty but hey, no blisters like the last time I mowed the yard!

 

And lucky me, I have a pool in my back yard that I can now wash/cool off my feet. And it’s still earlier than 10:30 am. Too bad there is no OHIO State football to watch later. Cuz my arms are sore. My nose is running. I’m pooped. And now my lucky husband is off to Lowe’s to buy the parts to fix the sprinkler head. Isn’t he the best?

I Know...And it makes me happy

I know. Without a doubt. I'm proud to share this and I feel sorry for you if you don't. You can know. This is more important than puppies, recipes, politics, quotes, memes, or anything else. I am more than happy to share with you how I know. Friend, family, or stranger alike.
https://video-dfw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hvideo-xpt1/v/t42.1790-2/11181154_387837958089733_1008218375_n.mp4?efg=eyJybHIiOjMyNywicmxhIjo2NzQsInZlbmNvZGVfdGFnIjoicmVzXzQyNl9jcmZfMjNfbWFpbl8zLjBfc2QifQ%3D%3D&oh=5ddd6fca7dc3c571cb3bb667ff156774&oe=55E11C50

Well, that didn't work well, I tried to upload a video from Facebook...yesterday...twice...and it never worked. If you want to know what I know and what makes me happy you'll have to find the link and hope for the best. Or find me on FB and check it out for yourself. Being happy is better than being smart. So I keep trying to tell myself.

After my rant on Sunday (many rants if you spoke with me personally or saw my FB page) I've decided I can not be happy in my current state. I need medication. I need my blog to help me look back and see just what medication I need and how much. And I'm also back to trying herbs to help deal with fibromyalgia. So instead of 10 prescription medications every day, every 4 hours, every day...I now take 1 prescription medication every day and I'm trying these herbs/vitamins.

Is it helping? You tell me.

I've called the psychoneurological doctor twice this week. Reminded the lady at the desk that the neurologist and chronic pain doctors can do nothing without his report. I must be a 3 weeker...as in it would take 2-3 weeks for the results. And I told her straight out, "You do realize I don't know if I'm mentally retarded, right? I also don't know if I'm a psychopath or narcissit or whatever but yet this Dr must think I'm not too bad since I'm still behind the wheel of a car, right? I understand kids going to school will be annoying if they are bouncing around because of ADHD or whatever but they aren't behind the wheel of a car like this housewife. Who takes drugs. And has paid all her bills, too." 

You can imagine how all that went. Today I got an envelope in the mail from them. It was the bill saying I don't owe them anything and they don't owe me anything. Amazing how that's always the first mail you get, huh? So the last I know is that I left a message yesterday on the answering machine saying it will be 3 weeks on Tuesday. I expect an email with the results by then. I'll probably call them Monday just because the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

I copied/pasted that from my bestie who I railed on so much the past week. The one who also tried to talk me down Sunday from my atypical raging at the world. Who I laid into in email after email since she is no longer my friend on FB. And guess what? She is STILL emailing me. Now aren't you jealous that you don't have a friend like that? (And I'm so so glad I didn't throw her under the bus and name names etc. She knows who she is. She knows I love her.)

And one more copy/paste. This time from me to my cop bro in law. It's about TFT training. Another thing you can ask me about if you'd like.

This stuff is awesome! I can't wait for you to come visit so we can practice. No joke...I'm getting ready to look at the groin now. The video...Of a complete stranger...after I'm done gouging his eyes and smashing his throat. 

Now how fun is this!?!

Now tell me folks you aren't going to google TFT right this very minute. I think I'm going to go learn about it right now. I feel safer knowing it and it really is fascinating. 

I'm happy now. Still don't know if I'm smart. Still don't care. Being Happy is Better Than Being Smart :)

Eloquent

Ha Ha! Thanks Darrel, I'm definitely using that new adjective to describe myself. Dave says that is iffy but I'll take it.

Kind of amazing what more prozac, quality rest, and phone calls, texts, comments, etc can do for me personally, huh? Thank goodness the fury of the past few days is over. Phew! That was not good. I'm feeling much better. The phrase, "If Momma ain't happy ain't nobody happy" sure does apply in my household. How about yours?

I'm going to go back and tell you about Day #2 of my first treatment. We'll see how long my happy feelings last. Those are not good memories but they sure are a good story...if you're into that kind of thing. So kick back and listen to my kind of story telling.

It was an early morning spring in Texas...for me that means getting a ride from a lady from church, taking a toll road, driving 45 minutes or so, just to get to the infusion clinic by 7:45 am. Now that woman is a true friend, wouldn't you say? She asked for nothing in return.

This time I came much more prepared. No laptop. No books or movies. Just my water bottle, my meds (because I DID have to take them every 4 hours as prescribed so sometime in there I'm supposed to take prescription pain killers too. If I want to follow all my different rules. No wonder I carry a big purse!), a snack, earplugs, and an eye mask. And of course my cell phone. Because I'm supposed to text or somehow contact my ride home, remember. I believe it was another lady from church. Someone else took over and arraigned all of those rides for me...or maybe I did that myself...I don't really remember.

This time I've learned my lesson! Before I even begin I make sure I use the bathroom. I've even shaved my legs (even though I'm wearing my long comfy fibro pants) and I'm ready to just lie down and trust that I'll come out of whatever it is I'm doing. Of course I get my first question, "What is your pain level?" Who knows what I answered but since I've never gone below a 3 in years I can bet it was somewhere between a 3-7. That was my typical range most days.

This time, though, I'm not led to the private bedroom. Uh oh. I'm led to one of the Easy Boy chairs. Have you ever been on a plane for a 4 hour flight in an Easy Boy chair? Me neither. Wouldn't that be nice? But you probably have been belted in to some other kind of chair/seat for at least 4 hours and I doubt anyone would call it fun. But for me I took one look at that Easy Boy chair and I wanted to cry. It was hard. I wouldn't recline all the way flat. It had hard armrests. All that hardness around me is torture to someone with fibromyalgia. Plus I'm around everyone else who might not be able to see my face, I'm sure going to do my best not to cry out in pain, but there is no way they can't hear me rustling around on the paper pillow covers and everything else. There is NO WAY I can sit still for 4 hours. NO WAY I can enjoy this treatment. So what do I do? Whatever I can to get as comfortable as possible.

I kick off my shoes, put my water bottle and cell phone and earplugs and eye mask all at the ready. And I ask for as many pillows as I can get to surround myself with softness. They give me warm blankets again, too, if I want them. Who knows what I want? I sure don't. So I get hooked up to the iv again, instantly start getting drowsy from the sedatives in that there cocktail that someone has concotted for me (I have no idea who has done that...I've never met him in person. I don't even know if my prescribing doctor/nurse practioner has ever met him.) and try to relax like they tell me to. This time I have a newer model of heart monitor so I only need 3 probes hooked to my body instead of 5. (I shaved my legs for nothing!) And the good ole oxygen reader on my finger.

Just visualize this. What would YOUR pain level be? You are totally drugged with who knows what by who knows whom and now you get to sit there for 4 hours. Wondering what is going to happen. While you are still in so much pain you can't sit still. And you don't want to interrupt any/everyone else around you because they are in pain, too. Duh, that's why they are there! Some people say getting high is fun. Or relaxing. Not me. I say, "Don't do drugs!"

I toss, I turn, I fight the effects of who knows what medication because deep down I am me and I don't want anyone or anything taking away my "me ness". I don't even know if that makes sense to y'all. Sorry, Darrel, I'm not doing to well with the eloquentness. (Y'all like how I make up words now, too?)

I feel like I'm in heaven at times. Other times I feel like I'm in hell. Ouch, my leg has been resting against this arm rest covered by pillow for too long. How in the world do I turn over with all these wires attached? And where do I turn TO? It's just another hard arm rest on the other side...and this one doesn't have crinkly paper wrapped pillows all around it. Why can't I think? Is this blanket falling off my feet? Why do they keep it so cold in here? Hey, who is that lucky lady who has the bed over there? Uh oh, that lucky lady didn't learn not to go to the bathroom first off because now I see her having to be guided to the bathroom, too. Poor thing. I hope she doesn't run into walls or fall down like I thought I would. Hey, what time is it? How much longer do I have to be hooked up to this thing? Is it 10:00 and time for my prescription meds? Uh oh, how am I going to get that out of my purse? Do I really need that pill? I sure don't want it because don't I have enough stuff swirling through my veins right at this minute? Shift, rustle, try not to groan.

And then I maybe sleep. Or not. But I feel Jesus' presence all around me. He is cradling me in his arms while I am crying. He is telling me He loves me and that I'll be alright. He won't give me more than I can handle. But Jesus, I think this is as much as I can handle. I don't want to go back to my body. It hurts. Everywhere. All the time. Please, can't I stay with You? It's so peaceful here and there is no pain. But Jesus says no, I can't stay. I feel him gently lifting me off his lap and I feel myself drifting down. Down, down, down, to something I know not what. Am I'm really really scared.

I cry out, "Jesus, don't leave me! Where am I going?" He tells me He'll always be with me and that as soon as I feel the pulling stop I'll wake up and be back in my body. So I say goodbye and prepare for the pulling to stop.

"Beep. Beep. Beep." My iv line is now beeping because the infusion is done. That is what I wake up to. And a nurse comes right over and turns off the beeping and asks, "What is your pain level?" I stare blankly at her as I try to comprehend where I am, who I am, what in the world she is talking about. And then...SLAM...migraine. Big time. I don't think I took my 10:00 meds.

Oh yeah, I forgot. An anti nausea medication is typical in the cocktail, too, and I think there is some of that in mine. Or I could get it in there if I want/need it. Instead I must look like I'm going to hurl because she asks if I'd like some. I say no but I have some hydrocodone in my purse and I need that RIGHT NOW! Instead she gives me an injection of narcotics. And then I'm supposed to text my ride, somehow figure out how to get up, untangled, get my shoes on, go to the bathroom, and WALK out to meet my ride. All in a matter of minutes.

Here's some eloquent writing right here...that didn't happen. How could it? I was all kinds of a hot mess. And that's where I'll end today's blog. It makes me frown and have a look of disgust on my face. I know it because I feel that on my face right now. And I don't want to feel it anymore. So maybe I'd better go think about what we are going to have for dinner. Or find something else to think/do. Because I want to be happy.

Don't we all? Be careful what you think about today...it really affects your mood. But don't worry or think too much about me...I choose to be happy today :)

Resignation

Guess what? I've figured it out. Now I know why I've been so grouchy, so tired, so foggy minded, so depressed, so angry at everyone and everything the past few days. It's not hormones. It's nothing you've done or said. It's nothing I've done or said, either, really. It's because it's returning...fibromyalgia.

What does that mean? That means I wake up from a good night's sleep and still feel exhausted. That means I can no longer sleep all night without having to roll over because my hips and arms ache. They feel bruised under the skin...though they aren't. They ache for no reason. They are beginning to feel like that picture I posted a few days ago. That isn't happy making, folks. That's grouchy making. Tired making. Foggy minded making. Depression making. Angry making.

That is fibromyalgia. That is what I hope to never have to face again but I do so I will.

Three months ago I was on at least 10 different prescription medications to deal with fibromyalgia and chronic pain. Today I am down to 1 medication...the lowest dose possible...and I only take it every other day. You wanna know what that medication is? Again, it's none of your business, but that medication is antidepressants. I was diagnosed with chemical depression 15 years ago. It runs in my family. Guess what? I'm not ashamed of that. I'll take prescription medication for the rest of my life if necessary because I've tried numerous times to go off of it and that does more harm than good. Isn't that depressing in and of itself? But you know what? If that can help me thru this I'm all over that. And I'd be thankful.

But I doubt it is. It never was before. Nor any of the other medications that treat the symptoms of fibromyalgia. I've tried them...all of them.

So it's back to the drawing board. Back to the beginning of when I was first diagnosed and had to go thru three options that were mandatory at the chronic pain clinic. But this time I'm not going to pay the clinic to do it. This time I can review my notes because I save everything. It's behavior modification, physical therapy, and prescription medications. Sigh.

This is why I'm not feeling happy right now. I ache. I'm in pain. I'm tired...so so tired...and I can't go long without having to rest. Because I know what will happen if I keep pushing myself. More tired. More confusion. More pain. And then it won't go away. It will invite migraines. And then I'm back to three months ago. Without ketamine treatments as an option anymore. Because really, I'm not wanting to fry my brain with that stuff again. Who knows how much is left unfried?

Being Happy is Better Than Being Smart. Being Pain Free is Better Than Being Smart. Being pain free is the best way for me, personally, to be happy.

So go somewhere else for happy thoughts for a while. I'm not happy. I'm very very sad. I'm resigned.

Verbal Vomit/Diarrhea

Verbal Vomit/Diarrhea

Eww, with a title like that how can you not be intriqued? I personally think verbal vomit would be easier to clean up so I like to think of that mind picture instead of what my husband said I made, verbal diarrhea. Huh? You are asking. Or maybe not, I’m really not sure.

I feel, I choose, in my opinion, sometimes vs always vs never…these are all words to hide what you really think. But hey, if I feel like I have a forced confession/apology to make, I’ll give it my best. “I’m sorry if I offended you by some of my posts and/or comments this past week or in the past. And while I’m at it, let me just throw out that I’m also sorry for any other comments/posts/pictures/ramblings that may offend you in the future.”

How was that? Now let me say what I really think. This is my blog. You are choosing to be here. Right now I need to focus on me and what I feel and what I think. Remember, I could be mentally retarded (sorry if you don’t like that word…disabled…damaged…whatever!) and or a raging psychopath for all I know. Professionals seem to think I’m allowed to still be behind the wheel of a car, though, because I’m still waiting for all those tests results. I guess I’m more of a 2 weeker or 3 weeker in my “your tests will take 2-3 weeks to be finished.” Why? I don’t know. I’ve already paid for the tests and results, my insurance has, too. But apparently right now as school is starting kids acting up in class are more important than a possible housewife who wonders what an experimental drug treatment did to her BRAIN. Maybe I should lie and I should have answered one of the 40 different ways they ask if you are suicidal to a yes. Then maybe I would make it to the top of the list??? Snarkiness and sarcasm is totally intended here.

Here’s more. I really don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I am having a very difficult time keeping my mouth shut. Since the treatment I CAN NOT not say whatever I am thinking. Do I need to repeat that? For crying out loud people, drugs just fried my brain and now I have to worry about how many times I have mentioned that to you?!?

But you are on MY page now. Not on Facebook. YOU choose to be here. Quit reading right now if you don’t want to read any more.

Are you still here? Then great, thanks for sticking with me. If not, I’ll be disappointed to know that yet again my ramblings have offended another cry baby. Because guess what? I still don’t care what you think. Get your own blog if you want to cry and whine and feel sorry for yourself. Now you are CHOOSING to read this and YOU are CHOOSING to get offended.

Are we clear?

Because yesterday was a not happy day in the Peart household. Dave and I both agree it was the worst day of our almost 25 year marriage. Why? Because I’ve been told I’ve lost all my social communication skills. Guess what? You aren’t my boss, I’m not your employee, you’re not my husband, you aren’t me so get over it all ready!

Let me say it one more time…I don’t care what you think about politics or religion or whatever. I don’t care what color your skin is. If you are gay, have homosexual tendencies, how old you are, how young you are, whether or not you like chocolate or have food allergies yada yada yada.

I AM NOT JUDGING YOU! I AM NOT SAYING I AM BETTER THAN YOU! YES, I AM SHOUTING AT YOU! I’m not God and neither are you. If you are offended because I said God, bye bye. Get off my page.

I believe in God. I believe in the miracle of life. I believe abortion is wrong. If you see red because I said that…GOOD! I see red, too. Blood. Rivers of blood. Rivers of innocent blood. I also see green. Envy, deceit, and oh yeah, baby…money. Lots and lots of money. You figure out for yourself why I see that. I’m really hoping you see those colors, too.

Why? Because if not then YOU are apathetic. You are the one who will probably bury your head in the sand and say it doesn’t matter. Am I hurting your feelings now? Sorry. That is not what I’m trying to do. I’m merely pointing out that you live in the land of the free. Get out and vote! Learn for yourself what is going on. Don’t take my word for it. Pull your head out of whatever it is in and do your own research.

And quit messing with me and telling me I’m wrong. I’m sick of hearing it. I’m sick of whining and complaining and focusing on the negative. It’s depressing. It’s very unhappy making. And I don’t ever want another day where I am raging out of control, willing to throw, bite, punch, or mortally wound anyone who dared disagree with me to my face.

(Are you feeling sorry for my husband right about now? Yeah, he was wise and gave me a time out…all day long…yesterday. Now that folks, is wisdom.) The Peart household is in for one heck of a ride when I hit menopause, aren’t we. Be glad you aren’t here. Or if you are nearby, you may want to stay away. This little lamb of a Lisa has the heart of a lion we are learning.

So hello and/or goodbye. Take your pick. I’m done trying to please you because this is my blog. Now how is that for the very worst apology ever? Put me in the Guiness Book of World Records. I’d be proud of that. Why? Because Being Happy is Better Than Being Smart.

God

Being Happy is over rated I guess. It all boils down to God. If you don't like what someone says out does you call them offensive, or annoying, or stupid, or ugly, our any matter of bullying names.
News flash, folks. No one likes to be called that or to even feel like people think that. Call me unsympathetic, call me unpc, call me unempathetic, call me whatever you want. I'm not judging you. I'm leaving that up to God because I believe in him.
Now go find uplifting Sabbath day cheer somewhere else today because you won't find it here.
I'm not happy and I'm not afraid to admit it. And yes, I HOPE the correct icon gets put on there today.  :(

Watch out, Lisa is grouchy!

FAQ's

Don't you love it when you see that...FAQ's...and you just hope that your question will be one of those answered? That might be one of your questions today because that is what I feel like blogging about.

I'll do my best to keep it happy but to be honest, that's pretty hard when a friend you consider to be your very best, has now unfriended you on Facebook because of articles you posted. Hey, I'm glad she was up front about it, but that is so NOT HAPPY feeling for me. I'm sure you can understand. Sooo, here are some answers (my long winded kind) to your frequently asked questions.

1. What is wrong with you?
Nothing. At least if you ask me. Not a single thing.
2. What was wrong with you?
Chronic pain that lasted years and years and years. That had me getting surgeries, taking long lists of drugs, seeing tons of doctors, costing myself and our insurance hundreds of thousands of dollars I'd bet.
3. What finally stopped the chronic pain?
The 4th session of an experimental drug cocktail infusion.
4. Is the chronic pain gone forever?
I wish! I hope! That would be a miracle, wouldn't it? I've never heard of anyone "getting rid" of fibromyalgia. I have heard of chronic migraines being treatable and I've finally experienced that for myself. So no, I doubt it.
5. What is in a cocktail infusion?
Drugs (the prescription kind) and mega doses of vitamins. It's different for every patient based on their doctor's orders and what their specific source of chronic pain is. What was the "secretive" ingredient in mine that I believe changed my world? Ketamine.
6. If my pain does return...as bad as it was before...would I go in for another infusion?
No. Not at this point in time anyway.
      Why not?
My doctors would never prescribe it. They've never seen the kind of reaction I had/am having.
     Would you push for it if YOU wanted it?
No. Not at this point in time anyway. I'm too scared of it. I've been puzzling this one over for a long time. David asked, "So you'd rather go back to how you were 6 months ago?" No way! But I'd rather never go back to how I was mid-May when I ended the treatment and asked, "Who is David? Who is Jesus?" When I then had to have yet another MRI, EEG, and now IQ and other mental health tests. I've had them all before by the way, except the IQ testing. I'm still waiting for those results.
     Would you suggest it as an alternative to someone else in your shoes?
And here is the sticking point for me because right now I'd have to say No. Not if they had/have to go through everything I have the past few months.
7. What is so bad that you'd rather have chronic pain again rather than another cocktail infusion? I kind of like hearing exactly what you think.
I know, right!?! It's so refreshing and I encourage EVERYONE to do more of this. Communication is key to solving problems. Why hide what you are feeling? I'm not always right (for heaven's sake folks, look at the title of my blog!) and I'm totally open to hearing what you think, too. BUT...and this is the biggest sticking point for me...since the treatment it is almost impossible for me to NOT say/write/type whatever I am thinking. That is the biggest difference. Before I could keep my mouth shut. Now I can't.
8.  Why is keeping your mouth shut bad?
I've no clue! How else are you supposed to get help for what ails you? If you need something, ask for it. If you want something, ask for it. That doesn't mean you'll get it and you might get it and then realize you didn't even want it to begin with. Yeah?!? Isn't that life? Isn't that learning? That's God's plan. I'm not a robot. I'm tired of feeling like a robot because I was so drugged up and/or in constant pain. Now it's your problem if you get offended by my ramblings, not mine. I'm not shutting up and sitting down anymore because I don't want to. And if you are offended by that right this minute...stop reading and go somewhere else! (Now I'm not feeling too happy. I'm pretty ticked off. Rightfully so in my mind. As if you can't tell :))
9.  What have you posted that was so offensive to your friend? 
This: I have so many blessings. SO SO MANY. I am happy, I am pain free, and yet I still can't keep my thoughts to myself. You know what? I NEVER WANT TO AND WON'T AGAIN. My friends, family members, or people who just stumble upon this post...does it matter if these testimonials are false? I really really REALLY doubt it. Just take a look and then ask yourself how in the world Planned Parenthood is good for you, your family, your friends, or the public in general. IT IS NOT!

www.silentnomoreawareness.org

SILENTNOMOREAWARENESS.ORG

10.  Why was that so offensive?
Apparently because I am now bombarding people with my opinions and I'm judging them and their decisions. She tries hard to respect where everyone is in their own hearts and not post divisive material on her FB page.
11.  Did I mean to be offensive? What did I do about it when I learned I'd offended my friend.
Oops, switching tenses and stuff again. Remember the IQ tests folks and just roll with me here.
Of course not, fool! I quickly posted this: t's been brought to my attention that some of my posts and/or comments are offensive. Have you seen the movie "Finding Nemo"? My family tells me I am Dory after my treatment this spring. Folks, I'm still shouting at everything and everyone. I might be happy, scared, confused, ignorant, or whatever else. Sorry if I'm not pc enough for you. But I'm happy & pain free & chugging along just like everyone else. My blog title is Being Happy is Better Than Being Smart. Being happy is better than being quiet, too. Trust me. You do what you feel is best and I will do what I feel is best. Neither one of us needs to apologize. The jot of being American. Enjoy it as long as you can! PS: Have a great day...I plan on it 
and then later that evening when I had some time I followed up with an email.
12. Now this is getting good! What did your email say?!?
Come on now! She is still my best friend and I'm not throwing her under the bus. Sheesh, what kind of friend do you think I am? If you really want to know my thoughts on abortion and Planned Parenthood ask me yourself! But beware, I won't be PC about it because I really don't care about that anymore. So don't ask and I won't tell. Or do, that's totally up to you. Moving on...
13.  So now what?
Sigh. I've got this dang smiley face icon I can not get rid of. That would be first on my list to do...get rid of that stupid thing! But now there are two! I can't seem to get ahead or behind them so they are staying where they are for now.
I know, that's not really what you mean. (Though I am getting pretty hungry because I've spend all morning helping at an Eagle Scout project. I'm gonna go get some lunch here REAL soon.) And I can't answer you. It's wait and see. Smile and enjoy the beautiful day. Count my many blessings. Keep on talking/posting/writing as long as it keeps me happy. Chug along every day just like y'all do. Because really, what else can you do?
14.  I choose to be happy.
So there you have it. Smart? Who knows. Beautiful? That's in the eye of the beholder. Crazy? Maybe. Experienced? For sure! Cautious, optomistic, pessimistic, frustrated because the spelling is harder and harder and harder? Ha ha, you can obviously tell because yet again I'm not going back to fix that typo. Well duh! Of course. Wouldn't you?

And now I'm heading for some lunch. Don't ask me what I'm having. That is another side effect of my last infusion. I have no appetite or desire for food. I scrounge whatever I have on hand. Could be prunes...could be chocolate...could be whatever is in the cupboard or fridge and that needs to be eaten before it spoils. Now THAT is a definite change. (Except for pickles. I still hate them much to my husband's dismay. Oh well, that just means more for him, right?)

In conclusion...being happy is better than being smart. Being happy is better than being sad/bedridden by pain. Being happy is so much much better than being quiet. You should try it sometime!
mile emoticonsI


14

Day 1 of Infusion # 1

I have to admit, I'm super confused myself about how I feel about these infusion cocktails. Why am I being so secretive about the ingredients? Why did I (do I) feel like it's so secretive coming from my doctor's office? People surely can't buy all the ingredients and make their own just by googling it, can they? Are they worried about lawsuits? Are they worried about government over sight? Or are they trapped by laws and rules and regulations to save their own skin and personal reputations and jobs? That is probably the best answer I guess.

But I don't care about all that, really. Why? Because after the first transfusion, I mean infusion, now (how's that for a big oops!) I felt surprisingly better. For about 3 weeks.

Let me back up. This is the funny, but not really, story behind that. It's supposed to take 4 hours and I can't drive. I'm just going to be laying there or sitting there or whatever so what do I do? I show up with my laptop, a movie, some emails to catch up on, etc. They have WIFI, I have headphones, so why not? This is supposed to be as pain free as possible, right? You should have seen the nurses' faces. Confused is one of many adjectives I could choose from.

They hook me up to heart monitors and an oxygen reader goes on my finger. Oops, they didn't mention that in the one and only "bedroom" the monitor is old so one of the probes has to go on your leg. I definitely would have shaved had I known that! Oh well, they are nurses...both a man and a woman...no biggie. I've got my most comfy fibro pants on and a t-shirt. (Fibro pants are very loose fitting work out pants so I don't have to feel any seams against my legs.) Needles don't bother me so I get all hooked up but I also didn't realize that I'd be getting a mega dose of sedative in the cocktail. Oh really? Why? Because ketamine tends to make people disoriented. Oh, OK. Can you plug in my laptop right there? I don't think I can last 4 hours on the battery alone.

Again, mass confusion and glances my way. You DID sign the paperwork, right? Yep. Well, I'd suggest you do any emails very first. Again, I was confused and wondering what in the world they were talking about. I'd had sedatives before and sure, they make you sleepy, but they don't stop the kind of pain I deal with and sitting here isn't helping, either, so let's go already.

They give me pillows to prop between my knees, very helpful, I've got warm blankets if I want them, I'm already starting to get a little drowsy, but then they put the rails up on the bed. Huh? I know it's a twin but I'm not that big and when you have fibro rolling over can be a big deal. Hooked up to all those wires it's an even bigger deal. But hey, my fingers are already starting to move slowly and the emails are sliding all over the laptop screen. I quickly realize they know what they are talking about so they take all my crap away and put it well without my reach so I don't knock it off or something. What kind of vitamins and "stuff" is in this cocktail?

Another honesty disclaimer...again none of your business but just to make you understand my thoughts a little better...I've never done drugs. Not for fun anyway so I had no idea what tripping or getting high was like. NO IDEA! All I do know is that it IS a good thing I had that bed rail up because this was going to be a lot more difficult than I ever imagined. I learned the hard way that first day to never have to go to the bathroom when you are hooked up to an iv cart. You can't walk by yourself. The nurse helped me but man was I holding on to that thing and very much in danger of running into walls and counters. To my horror I could not be left alone in the bathroom. Stage fright, folks, is all I've got to say about that.

I did notice, however, that the clinic only has one private room. Everyone else was sitting in lazy boy type chairs with ER type curtains that could be pulled around them. They all circle around one big open cubicle type thing with a nurses station. There were two nurses that first day for me. And it's a good thing because I know I was not their only patient. But I couldn't tell you much else about that first experience.

Frightening? Yep, for me since I like to be in control of my surroundings and what is put into my body. Embarrassing? Heck yes! I don't pee in front of strangers...ever! Confusing? Duh. But they gave me my privacy as much as they could, they offered me snacks and/or water if they thought I might need it, they checked in on me I guess because I know they helped me to the bathroom, and voila...the first treatment was finally over.

The first thing they ask you is, "What is your pain level?" That is the first question when you both start and stop a treatment. To this day I wouldn't know how to answer that question. Pain? You want me to get out of this bed and walk? Right now? Yeah right. I think my husband picked me up that first day. I can't remember. But I made it home (obviously) and slept or something for the rest of the day. So I could get up and do it the next day, too.

I WILL go into detail again about day #2 just to show you that not every treatment day is the same. It can get worse. Day # 2 was a LOT worse. :(

Cocktail Infusion

I'm really going to try and get to it today. Maybe even name "He Who Shall Not Be Named", the main ingredient of the cocktail infusion I was given. (That sounds really...hmm...Exotic? Fancy? Snobbish? I don't know but I kinda laughed when I heard it mentioned to me like that.)

So imagine you've been on narcotics for years. I don't mean every day I'm addicted I've gotta lie, cheat, and steal and shoot up kind of way. I mean the more you hear about on the news. The suburban housewife hooked on pain meds. But see, I wasn't hooked on pain meds. I did not crave them. I did not want them. I only took them as necessary but dude, they were necessary quite frequently!

Why? What was so bad to make this stay at home mom with so many blessings and so many things going for her who looks like Barbie (ha ha, thanks Brit for the compliment. I'm definitely stealing and mentioning THAT one because hey, who ever gets a compliment like that?!?) want choose to be home bound and bed ridden and drugged up to the gills?

Have you ever heard of chronic migraines? Probably. But have you ever heard of fibromyalgia? Probably not. You can google it. You can try to understand as I would type pages and pages of personal experiences but I once saw this picture pop up on Facebook and I cried. THIS. THIS is what fibromyalgia feels like many many many days. (Sorry folks, this is graphic but it is stage make up.)

Imagine being touched and crying out in pain. Imagine being hugged and crying out in pain. Imagine sitting or standing or lying in one position for very long and NOT crying out in pain. Imagine wearing jeans or other clothes that the seams hurt too bad because they were touching you.

Now add in migraines. I'm not talking a headache. I'm talking splitting pain where you can not stand the sun, the sound of laughter or music or sometimes even your pulse beating in your veins, or the smell of foods (yes, even bacon!) making you want to vomit.

Now add in not being able to sleep, being depressed, getting so dizzy you can hardly stand up so you have absolutely no balance, you get so confused you can't even think sometimes (but hey, thinking is overrated when you are concentrating on not MOVING because you hurt so bad), and people wonder why you look you are about ready to cry. They say, "Wow, Lisa! You are losing weight. You look great!" Or they say, "Mom, can you take me to band practice? Mom! I need a ride to band practice. What about church? What about birthday parties?" Or, "What's for dinner? When are you going to do laundry?"

Now you tell me...do prescription drugs seem the answer after you've tried EVERYTHING else you can think of? Even priesthood blessings? For me that answer was a definite YES. GIMMIE GIMMIE GIMMIE. But please, doctor, what are the interactions for this? Am I taking too much? Should I be worried? I don't like the way these meds are making me feel.

Sigh. Years of this folks. Years. So yeah, I jumped at the chance for an experimental cocktail infusion. But strangely enough I don't remember getting any (and I save everything so I'm pretty sure I wasn't given it) specific ingredients of this cocktail...though I do remember briefly being shown it for a quick minute at one appointment but I wasn't offered a copy of it. I didn't ask, though, either.

It was legal. It was covered. I could be seen soon. Sign me up!

But at the chronic pain clinic where I go it was not offered in my regular doctor's office. No, I had to go 45 minutes south to the infusion clinic. It would take 4 hours and this was to be done every day for 3 days in a row. I would be hooked up to an IV because you had to get it slowly and I could not drive afterwards. I was told to expect to be unable to function those three days but the "sedative" type effects should wear off within 24-48 hours. OK. The hope was that it would essentially shock my central nervous system so it would quit over reacting to all incoming stimuli and calm down already. Sure thing. Whatever. Just get me started!

So right before Thanksgiving I started my first infusion therapy.

What DID happen this spring?

I know I've been jumping around a lot so let me get back to this spring. Let me preface by saying that I DO NOT RECOMMEND THIS TREATMENT. Do I need to say that again? I think not.

So I'll go back and forth and explain as best I can from whatever comments and/or questions I get but here's the deal. For the past 10 years or so I've been on a medical roller coaster. I can't even list to you all the vitamins, herbs, diets, prescriptions, doctors, nurses, ideas, hints, theories, shots, what have you that I have tried to feel better. That has led to surgeries. Braces. More surgeries. More medicines. More doctors. More EVERYTHING. And through all of this I'd bet most of you had absolutely no idea, did you?

I look fine. I act fine. Ask me and I'd tell you I was fine. Why? Because I was doing the best I could with what I had. Just like you do. Just like everyone does. At least so I assume. What else CAN you do?

I'm not one to curl up and die, literally or figuratively. I've known people who have. Do I judge them? Good gracious, NO! Why? Because I've walked in their shoes. I FEEL like I know what they are going through. I can talk with people about their medical issues and so many people have told me that they appreciate talking to me about it because for once they feel like someone gets it. FINALLY, someone knows what they are talking about.

Chronic pain can do that to you. Drugs can do that to you. Talking to people and sharing your stories can do that to you. Putting yourself out there for riddicule (again with the spelling) and judgment and weird looks can do that to you.

But I did it. I do it. And I will continue to do it.

So what all drugs am I talking about specifically? None of your business plus I couldn't name them all if I tried but it covers antidepressents, muscle relaxers, narcotics, epiliptic medication, (too bad there isn't a spelling medication...or is that practice...or spell check...or slow down and edit? None of which I am willing to do in my haste to get this out.), sleep medication, parkinsons disease medication, allergy medication, intestinal mediation, sinus medication, cavity/tooth medication, anxiety medication, steroids, and these are just the ones I can remember. Pretty impressive, huh? Or depressive.

But I've never done anything illegal. I've ALWAYS walked the line and tried my best to follow my doctor's orders. So when I heard about an experimental drug treatment that would maybe help keep me from getting a surgery sometime down the road that I might possibly have to remove my jaw and shave off a few millimeters, etc, I was all over that. ALL OVER THAT. And can you blame me?

You know those drug commercials you see on tv? Annoying aren't they? Especially the small talk that is longer than the actual commercial that lists all the possible side effects. And then when you pick up the actual prescription you get pages of paper that have such tiny writing that you can hardly read it and it goes on and on and on, too. Who reads all that? Who has time? Now combine that with all the number of drugs I was taking and how many of those side effects, or possible side effects, might be the same? Yeah. You catch what I'm saying here.

So this experimental thing really had no papers to sign in comparison. No real list of what was involved. All I knew was that my doctor suggested it and it was experimental. My insurance would pay for it. I was desperate. I signed up. That was the beginning of my ... miraculous story.

And I hate to break it to you folks, but that first happened back at Thanksgiving time of last year. So here I've gone through one whole post and I've teased you yet again. :( I'm sorry. Really!

Enjoying the Sabbath Day

Just kicking back enjoying the beautiful Sabbath Day. Luckily it is a day of peace and rest for me today. How about y'all? Because sometimes don't you think it can be super crazy doing all the running around for the Lord?
Jennifer, my oldest, was born on a Sunday by the way. For those of you who think Mormons don't walk on the Sabbath or go to hospitals or anything you are wrong. At least not for THIS Mormon. I can not thank my doctor, the nurses, family, friends, and everyone else who helped me that day and the many days to come.
I also believe in modern Western medicine. Again, maybe you don't know or really care but I always intended to have an epidural with this pregnancy. A cesarean? Nope. But did you know (another off the wall fact) because we DID have a "complication" our insurance covered 90% of the expenses instead of the customary 50% or whatever it was at the time? Get this...we put our firstborn daughter on a credit card. She wasn't payed off until she was almost 18 months old. Ha ha, what would they have done had we not been able to pay...repossessed her? (I probably shouldn't laugh and make a joke about that now a days but there you go, my sense of humor. Love you, Jen!)

Now if you take a close look you'll notice that I probably did so many things wrong (both with my scrapbooking skills and my parenting skills and decorating/fashion skills or whatever) but do you think I care? Not a bit! Look at that face? So you can't tell if she's a boy or girl, who cares? Most, no I take that back, probably all of those clothes were hand me downs or gifts and it just so happens that I THOUGHT I was having a boy (remember my previous post) but it didn't matter...they were free. No playpen? Laundry basket. No teething toy? Student housing telephone cord.
You might notice that one of her feet there in the car seat looks awfully bulky. Well, uhh, yeah. That one is all my fault. You see, she had a broken leg. Now adays I'd probably have CPS called on me and monitoring me for both that and the above pictures but guess what? This little cutie is alive and well and besides my bumbling loving attempts, she is one beautiful, smart, intelligent, married woman herself.
(If I knew how to stick my tongue out I'd probably do it right about now.)

What is my point in today's rambling? Hmm. Let me try and tie it back in with my Sabbath Day title. Give me a minute. OK, it's this. Remember one of my reasons for writing this blog is tell you about this miraculous experience I had? I don't know if I mentioned that I honestly believe if it weren't for my faith, family, and friends I wouldn't be here today.

That is important so let me state it again: I HONESTLY BELIEVE IF IT WEREN'T FOR MY FAITH, FAMILY, AND FRIENDS I WOULDN'T BE HERE TODAY. And I mean that in that order. Because I have to wonder if I would be dead right now or in a mental institution without them.

Now how's THAT for another teaser? Really, I should be an author :) Enjoy your beautiful Sabbath Day y'all. It's great!

Hold Up

You're right, Michele, and others. I'm in no rush so let me take a minute to just say this...yes, I DO want to focus on the positive because hey, I'm naturally a happy person. Or at least I try to be. But don't be fooled into thinking that my life has been or was a bed of roses up until this point just because I glossed over everything in my hurry to get to my "life changing experience" that happened this spring.

Roses are beautiful and all but have you ever tried to pick those things? They've got thorns people and they can draw blood! We've all got our good and bad experiences. Funny and sad. Some have more of one than the others but let's get real. Here's some more pictures to illustrate what I mean. Who woulda thunk I would have been married at 19?

 See what I mean? You never knew what you were gonna get! Big hair, mullet, boy hair cut, glasses, no glasses, smile, ... Let's just leave it at that shall we?

Again, how many pictures have you posted of yourself from back in the day to the whole world y'all? Uh huh. That's what I thought. :)  Enough said.

My whole point for today's blog post is to remind everyone that yes, I grew up poor in that I got free/reduced lunch. Did that make me any less happy? No. Did I have everything I needed? Yes. Was I well loved. Yes again. Obviously. Remember how I said I grew up LDS? Did I look sad and mal-adjusted to you? Even though I had a "large" family? No. Did I look like I was well educated and like I wanted to get married? Yes. I had a "normal American childhood" according to my state and socioeconomic way of life.

Do you care? Don't know. Why do I feel like you need to know? Again, I don't know. It's really none of your business I guess but I feel like I should point it out so there you go. And also because I feel like saying it, my husband comes from a pretty similar background.
(But I'm not going to post pictures of him. I must say it's a good thing I DIDN'T see his teenage pictures before we met because then I might not have been as attracted to him. Just sayin!)

Love you, Dave!

Moving On

I feel a sense of hurry. Hurry and get to the point. The point of what? What happened to me? My past, my future? The future of this country or of the world in general or of me in general? I have no idea! What do y'all want to hear about? What do I want to say? Comments would be appreciated I guess. Just remember to keep them clean and don't expect me to answer each and every one if I get busy doing something else. That's not too much to ask now is it? :)

So go with me back to the 90's and here I am a poor college student who decides I want to play house and have a baby. WE decide together this is the best plan of action for our family and right away we get pregnant. Now THAT is scary, folks!

My whole life I've dreamed about being a mother and I am sooo excited but come on now, there is some foreign thing growing inside me and I'm scared to death! I'm young and healthy and keeping notes on every little thing and not getting sick at all. But at times I do wonder why I'm still going to school. I mean really, the plan is for me to be a stay at home mom so why do I need to keep busting my butt going to school for this double major? Dave is smart. Really, really smart. He's working part time, too. Though it is at Discount Tire but I'm also participating in the Color Guard with the marching band and it's hot and sweaty and tiring and give me some pity points, I am pregnant here!

But no, the deal was I would finish school no matter what if we decided to start a family so I stick to it. I told you this was complete honesty. And can I also admit I kinda wanted a boy first, too? Back then we didn't get an ultrasound unless there was a problem and since I was healthy as a horse I didn't need one. I kept pestering Dave with, "What do you think it is? Just pick one already!" So he did and picked a boy. So I kept thinking of little one as "he". Duh, Dave had a 50/50 chance of being right. Why did I think he was having some revelation or something? Men, here is how women's minds really work. Or at least how my young mind did at that time.

Anyway, here's a picture I found that I'm willing to share. So we plowed along and to our utter joy and delight, our first born DAUGHTER was born soon before my 21st birthday.

It's OK, you can be jealous of the hair, or dress, or smile or whatever :) 

I'm sure Dave would say the same thing. But really, you SHOULD be jealous that I had such a good friend that made me this dress for our sweet little Jennifer Lynn.

 Did you know, though, that a C-section is NOT something you want? I always thought maybe that would be preferred since giving birth was such a scary thing to a first time mom. Nope. I had to learn the hard way that a breech birth equals an automatic C-section in Provo at 5am on a Memorial Day weekend to my particular doctor. And on that particular Memorial Day weekend that meant running out of pain medication, too. And not getting to see your first born daughter for hours because she was whisked away to the nursery and they kinda forgot about getting her back to you. Hmm. Lot's of things I didn't know.

Really all you people reading this blog, there are so many things first time parents DO NOT KNOW that they really really should. Maybe this blog can help someone in some way? If so, you're welcome. If not, hey, I tried. And now I'm ready to move on...