June 1, 2017
Pasadena Palms Hospital
One hour post-surgery
Y’all. I’m not trying to brag or anything. But I’m kinda killing this recovery thing. Every hour I have to walk the hallway. And dammit. I keep having to ask Marge to keep up. “You’re slowing my recovery, Marge,” I’ll say. And then I just tell her it’s the morphine talking.
June 1, 2017
Morphine Induced Chatter via FaceTime
June 1, 2017
Can someone please tell me why I’m feeding myself? With a syringe. I thought that was supposed to be Marge’s job. She’s clearly trying to slow my recovery.
June 1, 2017
Can you believe my belly fat is now up in that TMJ joint? Seriously. It now replaces my completely defunct and displaced disc that God gave me. Dr. Piper is like a genius. But did he have to leave that drain tube sitting there. And shave my side burns. Great. Can’t wait for those to grow out.
June 2, 2017
All kidding aside….for now at least. Glory be to the One who makes us brave. The One who teaches us real love. The One who gave it all. And the One who will continue to carry me on this amazing adventure. Thanks for all the prayers, friends! So grateful for Jesus and for all of you.
June 2, 2017
Winning at recovery, y’all! Jeff Thompson, Dr. Piper’s P.A, says I’m free at last. Time to head to my home away from home in Coquina Key. With my syringe. And Ensures. And start this life of closure. I am so excited!
June 2, 2017
Free at last. Swollen left face and all. But dang it. No more morphine. We’ll see how that goes. Ten minutes out and I’m already missing that pump!
June 2, 2017
First night home. This Demerol, y’all. I’m surprised I could even take this selfie. Swollen face. Tired eyes. 7pm. It’s time for bed.
June 3, 2017
Day three. Little blacks eyes have appeared. My face is deformed with asymmetrical swelling. I slept great. Then Marge rang the medicine bell loudly at 7am. Hated her at first. Then realized my left side hurts like hell. So I like her again. After Demerol. And y’all. One more thing. My abdomen is so swollen, I look pregnant. Which is scientifically impossible. And anyways, I asked him to take extra fat from that area. He must have decided otherwise. Great. Oh, and I promise I’m smiling in this picture. Can you tell?
June 3, 2017
I put on make up. Made me smile. So we went out and about. Tyrone Square Mall. Not sure why. But it’s dinner time. I have my meal replacement shake. Glucerna. All I could find. And they have….well, food.
June 4, 2017
Not gonna lie y’all! Today was a rough day. Pain. Irritability. Nausea. Frustration. Until I remembered I love to laugh. And realized that I can still laugh. And so I laughed. With my mama and little sister all afternoon. Over nothing. Goodbye hard day. Hello laughter.
June 5, 2017
Hey Y’all! It’s me. Only unwired. I got to brush my teeth and swish with saline water. And talk. For like 15 minutes. I’m caged back up now. Until the next 15 break. But the best news of the day….I have not one. But two. Two bowls on Panera soup in the backseat. And in another couple hours, the cage comes off again and I’m going to eat the hell out of that soup. I mean drink. Drink the hell out of that soup!
June 5, 2017
My first real meal since May 30th. I’m drinking the hell out of that Broccoli Cheddar soup. Panera is pretty much my favorite place right now. Best damn soup ever. At least on this day.
June 5, 2017
Ok. About these splint breaks. I hate them. They aren’t breaks at all. They’re more like torture activities with a few minutes, seconds even, to throw actual food down your throat. I mean swallow. Don’t tell Dr. Piper, but I’m beginning to wonder if my #jackedupjaw is even more jacked up now. Surely the surgery worked, right? Because seriously. Demerol no longer heeds the pain. Oh no. Marge is calling. She says it’s time for torture. Grrrreat. Hopefully, I’ll see you on the other side. Godspeed to me.
June 6, 2017
Y’all! Doesn’t my mama look so beautiful? I gotta tell ya. I’m one lucky gal to have a mama like her. Today has been the hardest yet. For both of us. She awoke early to the sound of my cries. And since then has wiped several tears. She’s watched me as I’ve endured physical therapy every few hours. Crushed pills and vitamins and food so I stay alive and healthy. Drove me to see Dr. Piper for nerve blocks and chiropractic care. Took me outside for walks in the rain. Laughed with me when I needed most. And the best part. The part I really needed today. She’s helped me keep perspective and stay mindful as I’ve found myself spiraling down a path of fear and weakness and negativity. I love this lady so much. Thank you, Jesus, for giving me the best mama a girl could ask for. He knew exactly what He was doing when He gave her to me. No one else could handle this craziness.
June 6, 2017
A walk on Pass-A-Grille beach. With my mama. At sunset. God’s beauty is overwhelming. I am grateful.
June 7, 2017
Yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. And I don’t have bad days. I cried more than I laughed. I hurt more than I felt relief. And I felt frustration beyond any I’ve experienced in my life. I prayed hard. So hard. But today. This day. I woke up with no pain. I did my first round of therapy with less discomfort. I ate….rather, swallowed…my favorite breakfast things. Eggs and grits. Cooked perfectly by my mama. And as I took my last bites, I looked out the window as I do every morning, afternoon, and evening here. And what did I spy? A beautiful rainbow. And not just any rainbow. A full rainbow that extended high above the water below. And that’s when I knew that all the prayers. The love. The support. The positivity. From all of you. It’s God’s promise revealed. He is for me. Not against me. And He will always keep His promises. For all of us. Today I feel like I’m finally getting my life back. I still have a long way to go. More than a year even. But the road to recovery is here. And it’s wide. And beautiful. And colorful. And all mine. Today I am still. And I know.
June 7, 2017
The kid at Walgreen’s just told me I looked like Hannibal Lecter. Mama and I died laughing. We agree with him. You probably do, too. Welcome to my new normal. I think I’m going to have fun with this!
June 8, 2017
Y’all! Best news ever. Dr. Piper. The man with the mustache. My hero. He gave me an A today. And he never gives As. Barely even B+. See. It wasn’t just the morphine talking. I really am winning at recovery! And now I get to come home. Home. The place that dreams are made of. Watch out, my girl! Mama’s gonna drive you crazy with kisses tomorrow. Big, fat, Hannibal Lecter kisses.
June 9, 2017
And we’re off! #jackedupjaw repaired. Awarded “A” in recovery by the world-renowned Dr. Piper. Band placement and physical therapy mastered. Marge killed it with the pill crushing, food mushing, and care taking. Not trying to boast….too much….but I think we did a pretty damn good job. Peace out, St. Pete. It’s been real. But my girl is the realest. See you in three months, Dr. Piper!
June 9, 2017
Finally. Mama’s home.
June 9, 2017
Sister and my girl nailed it. Piper mustache homecoming balloon. So good to be home.
June 11, 2017
You know. Just wearing a heating pad. With my mouth closed. Coloring. With the kid. Sunday Funday. Or whatever.
June 12, 2017
Y’all! Check this out. It’s Milestone Monday. I moved up a peg on my Therabite. My first peg advancement. Right on schedule. I can now open my mouth 2″. That’s right. Twelve days post-op. I get to do this five times a day during my 15-minute band breaks. I also have to eat…I mean, swallow food….and brush my teeth during this time, too. I’m like Speedy Gonzalez. Like that’s a surprise. And I have yet to even finish a LaCroix. Pains me. Oh, and yes. That’s me humming “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” as I complete my required 30 pumps. I learned this from an awesome #jackedupjaw support group. Humming the song plus six more pumps equals therapy speed perfection. And y’all know how I feel about getting things right. And one more thing. Don’t let the smile fool you. It hurts like hell. But it’s necessary. And I knew that once I was done, I’d get to swallow eggs with cheese. My favorite. And because I’m already learning the ropes of this recovery thing, the eggs were freshly prepared and awaiting me. Because I’ll be damned if I’m wasting one second of my 15 minutes of freedom.
June 14, 2017
Finally. Vitamin D. And palm trees. And a pool. Even though I can’t get in. Until that silly abdomen incision heals. This morning was rough. Feeling sorry for myself mostly. Feeling the effects of that damn second peg on the Therabite. Feeling like staying in bed. But we suited-up. My girl. Big sister. And me. And we’ll be here. Until it thunders 45 miles south or north. Even east or west of us. And believe me it will. It’s June in Florida after all. Then the lifeguards will blow their whistles. And the pool will close. But when we pack up. Head out. I’ll have a different perspective. I won’t feel sorry for myself anymore. Like I did when I walked in. I’ll be grateful I have access to a pool. And sunshine. And palm trees. Anytime I want. I’ll also feel lucky to have a Therabite. And hope for a future. Of burgers. And kissing boys. And eating Kind bars. Anytime I damn well please.
June 15, 2017
Just Marge and I this afternoon. In the car again. And it’s a good day. A really good day. We both curled our hair. And put on makeup. Probably been five days since we did all that. So we feel pretty. Not too much #jackedupjaw business today. I took my drugs like I’m supposed to. Trying to keep up with that #winningatrecovery thing. More like #jackedupbrain as we head to see Dr. Silliman. Another hero of mine. My brain doctor. The one who deals with my other health blessing. That MS of mine. Regular checkup. Another trip to be reminded that I’m scientifically crazy. I kinda like being scientifically crazy. Explains a lot. Am I right, y’all? It’s ok to agree. You know it’s true. Oh, and per usual we’re loaded to the gills in the back. Not Marge’s fault this time though. The littlest sister and her sidekick bought a house yesterday. For their dog really (don’t ask). So we bought them a little. I mean, big gift. For the girls. Not the dog. I think they’ll like it. Just as much as we like our hair. And makeup
June 16, 2017
Sister bought us matching shirts. And you know what they say? God is our anchor! Amen to that. I’m not sure I’d make it through all this closure if He wasn’t on my side. Because seriously. This mouth shut thing is getting a little frustrating.
June 17, 2017
Last day with big sister! She was my saving grace for two weeks. Made sure my girl was showered and dressed and brushed her teeth all while keeping her entertained. I’m forever grateful. It better not be two more years until we meet again, sister. Or else. Well, I don’t know or else. But something. So come back soon to your Florida family. Oh, and guess what. I survived my first out to eat meal. I didn’t get much time to swallow food and the lighting in the bathroom sucked. But I did it!
June 18, 2017
I’m spending some time alone today. At my house. For the first time since May 24th. Because I’m not quite independent yet. And I live with my mama. It’s been one hell of a month. An eventful one. Of adversity. And pain. And joy. And laughter. Even through tears. But when I think back since I was last here. When I think back to when I was last independent. All I really see is love. Love of a father and an incredibly wonderful woman. Love of an adoring and caring auntie. All of whom made sure our little nugget was too busy having fun and being engaged to miss her mama. These polaroids I found are proof of that. Love of my own father who even texted me to my make sure I was ok. And he hates texting. The love of a grandfather who played pool and old maid and made BLTs so I could rest. The love of a papa who allowed his body to become a jungle gym for hours on end to entertain both me and Stella. The love of a sister who took me shopping and made me laugh and helped me stage IG photos of food and let me curl her hair. The love of a sister who continually told me how cute it was every time I tried to talk. The love of a my almost sister who recorded the best conversation of my life. One I will watch until the day I die. The love of my co-author who let me vent and bought me a juicer. The love of my best girl who texted me pictures of her little love to cheer me up. The love of friends who came to the rescue when needed most and who continually told me how beautiful I was when I felt like Hannibal. The love of neighbors who gathered my mail, watered my plants, and even bought me a peach tree. The love of a second mother who helped walk my morphine-induced ridiculousness down a hospital hallway more times than we can count. And most of all. The love of my mama. Who wiped my tears. And held my hand. And fed me. Crushed pills. Smashed food. And watched me take a shower in case I fell. And walked with me. Chauffeured me anywhere I needed (need) to go. And listened to me. When I was supposed to be listening to her. And yelled at me when I deserved it. And told me stories. And made me laugh. And supported me. And loved me. And helped me keep perspective. Every step of this journey. Like she has my whole life. And will continue to do. Man, do I love my mama. And all the wonderful people God has blessed me with in my life.
June 21, 2017
In honor of National Selfie Day, I’m getting real. Vulnerable even. I’m sharing my current personal hygiene struggle. I’m sick of brushing my teeth. Every single band break. Five times a day. Seriously. I don’t even like to brush my teeth twice a day. To be totally honest, I don’t like to brush my teeth at all. Anyone with me? Don’t panic, y’all. I brush my teeth. Under normal circumstances. Twice a day. I’m not gross. I’m just pissed about this whole excessive brushing thing. And you know what. I’m gonna lose it if I have a cavity in 9 months. For real. So cheers to sharing selfies today. You know, cause I never share selfies.
June 22, 2017
My girl and I set out on an adventure today. Three mile bike ride to the pool. Not quite three weeks post-surgery. Because I’ll be damned if I lose at recovery. Even if it means it nearly kills me. Which it almost did. Which I realized about 300 feet in. We made at least 17 stops along the way. Some for her. Most for me.
June 24, 2017
Marge and I. Back in the car again. Ride along for me. She had to hit up Home Depot. For small fencing. And y’all know she bought the entire lot. Just like when she finds a shirt she likes. And buys one in every color. I promise. Gotta admit I was flat worn out after this trip. Major milestones yesterday. Bumped up a notch on that damn Therabite. Up to 3″ now. Ouch. And would you believe I can hear that belly fat squishing around in there now. I swear. It’s like sound of a fresh piece of bubble gum in your mouth. And I kinda like it. Sounds to me like #winningatrecovery. Which I am. Also, notice anything different about my mouth? Front bands gone. Less awkward stranger stares, too. And. Best of all. Fifteen minutes now added to my five daily breaks. What will I do with all this time? Enjoy the hell out of it. That’s what. So anyway. We made it home. Me half dead. And Marge got all her fencing. She better not ask me to help her put them up. Y’all know I’ll have to say yes. And then. Well. I’ll definitely need a two-hour nap. Like an old lady. Or more like my littlest sister. Who kinda is like an old lady. Pray for my family, y’all. We done lost it.
June 25, 2017
I woke up really frustrated today. Tears. I kinda hate the splint. And this closure. And my teeth hurt. But my girl and I went home for a bit. Because, you know, we’re still living with Marge. And we went out back. I looked at the sky. And thought. How lucky am I to be alive. This is a long journey. And I know there will be ups and downs. But God is looking down on me. And I am looking up at Him. And together, we’ve got this. Oh, and in a couple days, I head to the mountains of North Carolina. Now that’s lucky!
June 26, 2017
I think I’ll buy stock in this Kanka stuff. I’m only a month into braces. And I’m addicted. Big time, y’all. Kinda like I used to be with Advil. This stuff is so good, I almost feel like they shouldn’t sell it over the counter. It’s like a narcotic for mouth sores. So basically, I traded one addiction for another. Oh well. On the flip side, I haven’t had a headache in almost three weeks. That’s like a lifetime record for me. No joke. But mouth sores. They’re here for a while I think. Nine months or so. Damn. Maybe even longer since the braces stay in for who knows how long after the closure. So here goes. Hi. I’m addicted to Kanka. Because nothing is going to stop me from #winningatrecovery Phew, glad I got that off my chest.
June 27, 2017
June 28, 2017
I’m not trying to brag. But y’all! I mean, really? God’s beauty is mind blowing! There’s something about being in the mountains that makes you realize just how small we really are. And just how insignificant those trivial things are. The ones we worry about. Complain about. The things we wish were different. Or better. The things we want. And obsess over. Like a closed mouth. Or cuter shoes. Or a bigger house. A prettier face. Better body. And clothes. And husbands. Or boyfriends. Like our neighbors have. Or friends. Or the strangers we see in the grocery store. This view makes me trust that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Going through exactly what He intends. On the path that He has designed. I hope it does for you, too. And you know. Marge keeps telling me I won’t shut my flapping mouth. But y’all. I’m listening. I woke up to this view. And heard everything I needed to. Look for the light today, friends.
June 29, 2017
Today is 28 days closed, y’all! Twenty eight days. I’m not going to talk about how many more I have to go. Not important. But what is important is what you see in this picture. I’m figuring out this “have mouth splint, will travel” thing. Like today. I whipped up a green and berry smoothie. Threw it in my #jackedupjaw cup. Then took it right on with me in the car to save for later after a few hours of sightseeing and shopping. And wouldn’t you know. Everyone got hungry about three hours in. And so we stopped at this great sandwich shop in Boone. I took a leisurely stroll back to the car. Picked up my smoothie. Headed back to the restaurant. Closed mouth and all. And guess what? There was a very nice bathroom to un-band and use my Therabite. With copious amounts of wipes usage, of course. And when the food arrived, Stella and I took our first bites of lunch together. In public. In a restaurant. Truth be told. I would have rather had her BLT on sourdough bread. But I enjoyed every sip of that smoothie. And every bit of eating out. I’m like getting normal, y’all. Well, almost. Ok, I’ll never be normal. But I ate in a restaurant today. With my kid. And it was awesome!
July 1, 2017
Not a bad view for a band break, huh? I’m a little over four weeks post-op and learning this “have splint, will travel” thing. It was a busy day with family and 4th of July celebrations up at our vacation condo in the North Carolina. Shortly after I did my exercises on this rock at 5506′ up, we took the chairlift down. The next is my favorite picture of yesterday.
I was feeling so much joy. And I got to talk all the way down the mountain. Normally. I sipped my smoothie lunch. In between words. Many words. And it was delicious. The best part was the chairlift guy at the bottom. He was happier to see me un-banded than anyone thus far. “She can talk,” he yelled! He needs TMJ surgery, too. But in his words, “I ain’t doing that mess.” And y’all! I have to be honest. I’m smiling big here. But tears came a couple hours later. At a shag dance party. Where the music was so loud even normal people couldn’t hear each other. And well, I realized my limitations. Big time. I love to socialize. And talk to strangers. Connect with people. And it was lonely inside my head. With words that I wanted to share. Connections I wanted to make. And it was hard to just sit and listen. I had to remove myself. The frustration was just too overwhelming. And it brought me to tears. Big ones. But my daddy came to my rescue. And he reminded me that this is temporary. And it is. And I’m strong. A warrior. And I can get through this. And if tears come somedays, that’s ok. Because it means I’m paying attention. And feeling all the feels. Today I haven’t turned off my heating pad yet. And it feels so good! I might just sit here and leave it on all day. We’ll see. One hour at a time.
July 5, 2017
I love this girl so much. Because she wears ruby red slippers to an Independence Day community event. And will still wait in line forever to have her face painted. And then chooses the smaller, princess bouncy house. Because it looks more fun, she says. I love her because she always spreads joy around the house. Even when I’m cranky. Or downright grumpy. Because I’m frustrated with my closure. Or have PMS. I love this girl because she loves Jesus. And sees goodness in every situation. And every person. I love this girl because she (tries to) read my blog. And politely tells me you should never start a sentence with the word and. I love this girl because she still wants to hold my hand as she falls asleep. After we’ve said our prayers. And Our Father. And I especially love this girl because she is my greatest cheerleader as I am hers. And yells, “go mama,” as I successfully swallow (kinda) pizza for the first time. In a noisy restaurant. Because to her. That’s just what you do. For people you love. I’m so proud of her heart. And so proud to be her mama.
July 8, 2017
Because everyone needs a little reminder of their goals. Intentions. Purpose. And focus. Just listen. I might even get a tattoo of this reminder. Because I need it. Listen.
July 14, 2017
As if having my mouth closed for nine months isn’t enough, Florida Blue (BCBS) thinks this is a fair reimbursement for a $32K medically necessary surgery. I mean, a girl has to eat again. And kiss boys. Burgers. Kind bars. You know the routine. I’m appalled. Insulted. Never mind broke. I’m (kinda) ready to fight the good fight. If I could just get this damn splint out my mouth, y’all! Silver lining….I’m now up to 45 minute breaks. That’s a whole extra hour and 15 minutes of freedom a day. It’s the little things.
July 20, 2017
Not going to lie, y’all. It’s not always easy. To see the good. Maybe for you, too. But the alternative breeds. Faster than good. So much faster. And I’m not a big fan of breeding toxicity. I hope you aren’t either. Today is Day 50. I have 45 minute breaks. Oscar and I both get a little breather. For a little longer each time. And as of today. I’m on the last peg of my Therabite. The last one, y’all. That’s a major win. Still a long way to go. But who cares. That’s all good stuff. Day 50 is good stuff.
July 21, 2017
I love my morning coffee routine. Two heaping doses of CoolBrew. And a hefty amount of half and half. I love how the cream billows around the Ball Jar. My new favorite vehicle for my morning treat. Looks like candy. Only better. Because I really don’t like candy. Just chocolate. Dark as can be. Which I currently can’t eat right now. Dammit. You know what else. This cup. The swirl. It also reminds me of Jesus. Who I do like. A lot. And how He swirled around everyone. Especially the broken. He swirled right around them. With hope. And light. And love. Bringing newness. And reassurance. And salvation. I’m so grateful for Jesus. And all the blessings He brings to my life. Especially this coffee. After all. Who else do you think invented it? Duh. Jesus
July 23, 2017
Y’all! This is so me. Like legit me. Why does Jesus talk to me at night? Like right before bed. Right after I’ve taken the nighttime medicine that makes me sleepy. Right when I’m ready to settle in with my show. Because my kid is with her dad. So I get some good television time in. And He gives me all these words. And I can’t stop typing them up. And they’re pouring out of me. And making so much sense. I have to write them down. Why, Jesus? I have toothpicks holding up my eye lids. And still so much I want to say. That You want me to say. It’s You. Has to be. Because I hate toothpicks. And I’m tired as hell. And yet. You keep me going. And purging. And writing. And talking to someone. Telling them, “me, too. I feel like that, too.” I suppose I should thank You. For speaking through me. And making me brave. Thank you, Jesus. Now can we forget the toothpicks. And get some shut eye. Because you know Marge will be banging around the kitchen at like dawn. And ain’t nobody can sleep once she’s up.
July 25, 2017
You guys. My heart skipped a beat today. In line at Kohls. And listen when I tell you. It skipped a whole flippin’ beat. Handsome does not begin to describe what I encountered. Or really. Doesn’t even matter. In line with his mom. Talking about his shopping woes at Walmart. How he’s disappointed in the produce. You guys. He shops for produce. He eats produce. Good produce. And shops with his mother. He smiled at me. And he turned back. Did it again. Five times to be exact. Blushing, I had to look away. His eyes on me. And y’all. It’s been a minute. Since. Well, all that. Since someone has looked at me in a way that extends beyond, “oh, she has nice eyes.” It’s like the movie. Or the story. Of the guy and girl in a bar. He buys her a drink. Or maybe it’s her. I forgot. But they can’t get enough of the eyes. Until finally. Connection is made. With beer. Then wedding bells. And I so could have connected with his mother. Like I do. With the things in her basket. Or her cool frayed jeans. It would have been an simple connection for me. One leading straight to a conversation with him. In an instant. With very little effort. But don’t forget Oscar. The mouth splint. The connection blocker. And so. You know how the story ends. His last glances happened as he headed out the door. Twice. I grinned back. Made damn good eye contact. And prayed for Debbie to hurry up with my four measly items. The parking lot. I just want to get to the parking lot. But there would be no further meeting. Or eye contact. Or smiles. Or connection. I drove home. Excitement still racing through my veins. Then I started…..This damn splint. He was probably 10 years younger anyway. And wants a gander of children that I’m much too old to give him. Plus he doesn’t even live here. Who shops with their mom at Kohls. On Tuesday. At 3pm. In athletic apparel. He must be visiting. He’s probably from Alaska. But then I heard a voice. Jesus. Of course.
Two simple words:
Not now. He repeated. Not now.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
July 27, 2017
When you finally find it. You buy them all. Marge taught me that. And this right here is heaven in a basket. Or pint. Or carton. Or whatever. Pure heaven. And guess what? I can swallow it.
August 3, 2017
Y’all. Day 65 here. And get this. Oscar now gets one hour breaks. One whole hour. Man, he’s one lucky dude. And I’m one happy gal. What shall I do with those five hours a day? Five whole hours. Talk. And sing. Yep. I’m going to talk the hell out of some talking. And sing the hell out of some singing.
August 6, 2017
You know what this is the face of? One happy gal. Because she accomplished not one. Not two. Not three. But four awesome things in her one hour break. Y’all! I swallowed food. Went to the ATM. Hit up Publix. And best of all. Made connections. Without Oscar blocking all my opportunities. I got to talk to three people. Without any, “what was that?” Or confused looks. And I said like 10 passing hi’s to strangers in the aisles. And I even fit in this quick selfie before the alarm rang. So really. That’s actually five things. I feel like I’m on top of the world. Like the tippy tippy top! I told y’all a lot could happen in an hour. A whole damn lot.
August 8, 2017
Yep. Exactly what you think it is. They’re everywhere, y’all! Just ask Marge. And my girl. Floors. Counters. Sheets. You name it. This here’s a first though. Steering wheel. My girl spied it. I’m so immune to bands these days. I couldn’t even see the one. Right. In. Front. Of. My face.
August 8, 2017
Y’all! This is me. And my girl. And we’re at home. A place we haven’t lived for a long time. TMJ surgery does that to a family. At least a single mom one. We are thrilled to be back to our place. Our favorite place. Together. However. It doesn’t come without a little sadness. Leaving my mom’s house. Marge. Gammie. I’m writing about it. Because I listened so hard when we were there. And learned so much. Even if I talked everyone’s damn ears off. So stay tuned. New story coming soon!
August 9, 2017
Stella. Liberty. And me. We slept until 10:30. Clearly this being at home thing is working. Quite well. I’m just going to pretend school doesn’t start next week. And that my band break schedule isn’t totally jacked for the day. Because sleeping in like a teenager was awesome. And we still don’t want to get out of bed.
August 21, 2017
Y’all! I go back to work on Wednesday. After 12 weeks of FMLA. Thank you, Jesus. For FMLA. And it means a lot of things will change. Namely my band break schedule. Started at 7am this morning. Instead of 9am. And I now have an alarm set for every three hours to remind me to give Oscar the mouth splint a break. Believe me. I’ll need it when work begins. This earlier time also meant I got to go to Publix without Oscar. And I met a new friend in the produce department. Picking out our bananas while we talked about our Ninja’s. And how the whole house has to plug their ears on the number three setting. Because it’s the only setting that’ll cut through our frozen strawberries. But it’s also loud as hell. We met again in the checkout counter. Talked about how wonderful it is to shop at 7:45am. At Publix. On a Monday morning. Without kids. My pastor Stovall Weems tells us we only need a shirt and a sandwich. Man, that’s some truth. But I also believe we need connection. Jesus taught us that. Connection at church. At the UPS store. Pumping gas. Buying groceries. In the carpool line. I’m so grateful for my connection this morning. And I can’t wait until 10am. When another connection opportunity awaits. Who will you connect with today?
August 21, 2017
Too good to not share. My path is not your path. Your path is not my path. And thank goodness for that. Delight in your path. Honor it. Trust it. Embrace it. Love it. Jesus says so.
August 22, 2017
Because tomorrow is the big day. And I can’t wait to hear the alarm. Because I have a really cute outfit picked out. For my first day back at work. Gym shorts and my favorite tank. After all. It is a virtual job. Sheesh. I hope I can remember my password.
August 23, 2017
I’m starting to get recognized at Publix lately. And it’s not because of my blog.
August 24, 2017
Oscar breaks. Changing his life. Fifteen minutes at a time. Y’all! One hour and 15 minutes. Can I get a hand clap for Oscar?
August 25, 2017
Ok. So let me get this straight, Florida Blue. What you’re telling me is that you overpaid me for my $30,000 claim? And now you want me to pay back the $1663.84 you gave me last month? The ONLY amount you gave me. For my $30,000 claim. So basically. You’re not going to cover any of it? Like zero dollars? Of a medically necessary surgery? Ok. I’ll gladly give you back that measly check. In fact, I’ll send it right back in the envelope it came in. Because I’m a smart girl. And smart girls no better than to cash checks with low ball offers. Sounds to me like you’re asking me to meet you in court. Deal.
September 1, 2017
Y’all! Praises are in order. MetLife did the right thing. One claim down. Only six more to go. With the big dogs behind me!
September 4, 2017
Y’all! I’ve taken you this far in my insurance journey. Figure I better not leave you hanging. I’m still riding on the high from MetLife doing the right thing. I’m grateful for the $950. At least it’ll cover the follow-up appointment I have in St. Pete in an couple weeks. However, I must share with you the latest insurance BS. My first external review – the third process of a claim – has been denied. Now let me just state for the record. This “External Review” denial came on Florida Blue letter head. And as you can see from the verbiage, Florida Blue is the one to determine whether or not I qualify for an external review. Um, what?! How is that external at all? And how is that right? And how is that moral even? I’ve paid seven years of premiums to this company and yet, they’re the ones to determine if an “external review” is necessary. I’m at a loss for words. Well, you guys know I’m never at a loss for words. Shocked is more like it. This just gives me more ammo! Wonder what the Insurance Commissioner of Florida will think about this tomorrow morning? Stay tuned.
September 6, 2017
Irma’s coming. What am I gonna eat, y’all?!
September 9, 2017
When you’re still healing from a major surgery. When you can only swallow food. When you have a monster storm headed your way. And can pretty much guarantee you won’t have power for while. You grab a half dozen of Marge’s Ball Jars. Make a boat load of smoothies. And fill them suckers up.
September 19, 2017
I’m heeeeeere! Time to meet with Dr. Piper. The man with the mustache. I’ve never been so excited to get a CT scan in my life. Oh, and guess what? I’m totally still winning at recovery! Like more than winning. Killing it. And one step closer to burgers. Boys. And Kind Bars. Well. Maybe not Kind Bars just yet. But I’ll take burgers and boys. Over Kind Bars. Any day of the week! And y‘all! This one’s for the books. Today I chewed for the first time. In 110 days. That’s like one-third of a year. And I chose my first snack to be what any carb-starved girl would go for. A Cracker Barrel biscuit. Blackberry Jam. And unsweet iced tea with lemon. I think I chose wisely.
October 5, 2017
Date night with my best girl. While Stella enjoys dipping her chips in queso, I’m giving mine a shot at becoming soft chew. I have hope.
October 10, 2017
Working in my girl’s class this morning. First time all year. Because. Well. Oscar. You know. The chance at scaring young minds. For life. Oscar has that potential. I think. But now I’m down to 14 hours a day. Starting today. That’s it. Fourteen. I usually wear him 8-10 hours at night. So you do the math. On daytime wear. It’s pretty damn awesome. So today’s a special day. Another milestone. And matching shirts. Sort of. Because I finally get to spend time in my kiddos class. And that makes both of us really happy.
October 11, 2017
Notice anything different? You wouldn’t. It’s not like you brush these teeth five times a day. Or work like hell to get food out of them. You know. After I naw soft foods like a baby. I’ll give you a hint. There used to be three surgical brackets on my front teeth. These were the brackets that kept me wired shut for the first six days after surgery. Those good ol’days. But now. They are gone. Oh. And another thing. We have also began the movement of my front teeth. Because. You see. They are so big they’re now getting in the way of my bottom teeth. Which is totally a no bueno. Because that means my jaw is trying to move backwards. From a place where it started. And we do not want that to happen. Not one bit. So another milestone today. Surgical brackets removed. Or at least three of them. And the movement of teeth has officially begun. Wow. I really am winning at recovery.
October 13, 2017
Y’all! Big news. Maybe the biggest. A cheeseburger, y’all. A cheeseburger. I may not have been able to bite into it. And it may have been a concession stand one. With nothing on it but mustard. But y’all! A cheeseburger. One hell of a cheeseburger at that. Burgers and boys, y’all. Remember? I’m halfway there. But about that boy. I don’t think I’ll waste that milestone on just anyone. I think I’ll wait for the one Jesus is working on. Just as much as He is working on me. And anyways. There’s just too much metal up in this mouth to move in that direction. So. I’ll stick with cheeseburgers for now. And enjoy the hell out them. Because there aren’t many things that are better than burgers. Except Jesus. And boys.
October 26, 2017
Y’all! Remember the check Florida Blue sent me. In error. Their error. The one that I was supposed to pay back. The one that I never cashed. The one I sent back. The one they received in their office on September 17th. I have proof. Thank God for Marge. She made me send it certified. I received another bill for the same amount. Yesterday. Nearly 6 weeks after they received the check. The “repayment.” And I just spent well over an hour. On hold. Talking to various people who kept telling me it was processing. To which I replied, “No thank you, I will wait all day on hold.” Because “still processing” isn’t good enough for me. Finally got Rob. Seems like a good enough guy. Even though he wouldn’t give me his last name. Or direct extension. “They don’t allow that at Florida Blue,” he says. I recommended he find a new job. He’s going to spend the day researching. Fix the issue. And he’s going to call me back. Before five he says. Something tells me he actually will. Or else I’m just another naïve Florida Blue client. A person who actually believes there is good and just and mercy in this world. I am choosing kindness. And love. Towards the company that I would prefer to hate. That I have to remind myself constantly not to hate. The only thing that’s keeping me going right now. The one thing. Their hold music. I actually found myself dancing to it. Seriously. Not kidding. It actually has a decent beat.
November 1, 2017
The words I dread to hear. And yet here the are. Again. Based on these facts, we have denied your request. I must admit this one is a major blow. Not because I spent hours crafting my letter. The appeal. Or because I’ve spent the last two weeks feeling a sense of excitement. And fear. Every time I heard the mail truck stop at my box. Or because I believe my case is a strong one. And their decision unjust. Or because I’m growing weary. Of hearing these words. Over. And over. And over. Again. It’s because this isn’t the big one. This isn’t the appeal that separates financial disaster from financial relief. That one should be here tomorrow. I mailed them both together, you see. I’ve remained positive throughout this process. But it’s time to be realistic. I will hear these words again. Tomorrow. Because the appeal. The big one. It’s exponentially higher than the one I received today. Like I can’t even compute it, higher. So realistically speaking, it will most likely say: denied. I’m going to sit on the curb for a bit on this one. Catch my breath. Patch my wounds. Take a break. And when I’m ready. Only then. I’ll follow through on my next step. And I will be vigilant. And positive. And fierce. But until then. I’ll just pray. You’re welcome to join me.
November 17, 2017
Y’all! I’ve been ready to say this for a hot minute. Or two. I AM 40! And I don’t mean 40 like black balloons. Or streamers. Or fear of wrinkles. I mean it like freshness. And newness. And ferocity. And valiance. I promised myself on my 39th birthday that I would no longer accept mediocrity. That I would no longer live a mediocre life. Or make mediocre decisions. Or stay in mediocre relationships. I promised myself I would live the last year of my 30s with excellence. Bravery. Boldness. And damn. Jesus sure surprised me. I may not have always fulfilled that promise. I totally messed up. A lot. Because I am not perfect. But I’m proud of how I persevered through challenges. The greatest ones of my life. The hardest days. And hours. And minutes this life has given me. I have triumphed over more than I could have ever imagined I was capable. And I have come out stronger. And wiser. And full of joy. And love. Most days. We have to celebrate ourselves, y’all. Not just on our birthdays. Or anniversaries. Or when big things happen. We have to celebrate everyday. Even if we find ourselves on the bathroom floor completely maxed out (I heard someone did that recently. Not sure though). Life is hard. And when we make it through each day. Having felt some sense of accomplishment. Or goodness. Somewhere. Because we all have it, y’all. Even if we have to dig. Deep. We should cheers to ourselves! With Epsom salt baths. Or a good night’s sleep. Ice cream. Whiskey. Or whatever you fancy. Just do it, y’all. Be excellent. And brave. And bold. And ferocious. Then celebrate yourself. Because we all deserve a bit of kindness. And mercy. And grace. Extended to ourselves. By ourselves. Just like Jesus extends to us. I’m so grateful for the love poured down on me today. Thank you for celebrating me. And go on now. Go celebrate yourself, too!
December 12, 2017
Six-month follow up, y’all. Six months. Seems like just yesterday I was drinking water through a syringe. One with a tip long enough to fit behind my molars and down the hatch. Those were the days. Loaded up on Demerol. Spending my time trying to stay hydrated. Taking walks with Marge. Wondering how the hell I was going to survive the next nine months. But here I am. Two-thirds of the way through. And still winning at recovery. You see these smiles. Genuine excitement. Because now. Dr. Piper. My hero. Is ready to start some big work. Along with a team of my doctors, he’s going to do a little study. Kind of a big one actually. On how this jacked up jaw he’s turned almost perfect effects the flow of cerebrospinal fluid into my brain. You know. The one all full of lesions from my multiple sclerosis. I’m like a guinea pig. For what could be a cutting edge discovery for those with MS. But I’ll leave that up to Jesus. And my amazing doctors. Because the best news of the day has nothing to do with cerebrospinal fluid. I have been promoted to a regular diet. That’s right, folks. I can now eat just like you. Sort of. Maybe in like a year or two. But as of today, I get to start trying. And guess what? On the ride home, I totally killed. Well, more like butchered. A McDonald’s Quarter Pounder with cheese (hold the ketchup) with my front teeth. Y’all. My front teeth. Judge me all you want. That s**t was good.
December 16, 2017
Mid-rare. No fork. No knife. All teeth.
December 18, 2017
My girl turned 8 yesterday. And one perk of being 8 means visits to the orthodontist. In the chair right across from your mama. She killed it! Per usual. I did pretty good, too. My teeth movement is making my bite so much better which is awesome now that I am back to a regular diet. But my girl. Poor thing. She’s having her expander and thumb guard put on the first week of 2018. So just as one of us moves into normal eating, the other begins a diet of soft chew. Good thing we’ve both been used to it for a while. Fixing our grills together – who would have guessed?
December 31, 2017
Truth. And I wouldn’t change it for all the tea in China. For pain brings growth. And without growth there is no room for happiness. Happy New Year, Y’all! The best is yet to come.
The Girl Who Listens 