Well the good news is I got a hair cut and it was at an Aveda spa for uber comfort and relaxing (and wine for the asking); I also don't look like Laura Ingalls Wilder anymore.

Also, Thursday I saw India Arie in concert. Please see her; she is the voice of women and exactly what I needed. I only saw her for about 30 minutes because I was just tired, but it was perfect. Her positive and spiritual message is beautiful; it just seems like the answers the world needs, especially women. After all of the weight gain (put on over the past 6 or so years, being sick and not knowing it) , listening to India sing songs like "This Too Shall Pass" and "Video" was perfect. At the beginning, she prayed that the concert would touch everyone in exactly the way they needed.

The other news is my health has very much spiraled as we attempt to figure this tumor thing out. I can barely get out of bed sometimes; it's unbelievable- we are talking tired to the point that I'll have B drive me some place to "get out of the house," and by the time we pull up, it's not worth getting out of the car for me, and I sleep right there. I've never felt anything like this. My work and family and friends (although I rarely am social these days) have been fantastic. My mom flew out here when B visited his mom (dealing with chemo!), so I was not alone. My work has given me the space I've needed, including the wonderful parents of my classroom; I don't like to discuss work in detail, but I will say that 12 parents attended our final field trip! Sadly, I just haven't had the stamina/physical stability for the past two field trips. It's been hard. I so identify with my role at work, being good at it...and, although I still stand proudly behind my teaching, there is much that I just can't do. I love being with my students. I love teaching. Missing the last field trip was unbelievably hard; the humility of watching a sub and 12 (very kind- I don't know what I'd do without them!) parents load my students onto a bus because I couldn't do it all just hit me at once, and I went to my class and just cried.

Thank God for the people I work for, the people I work with, the kids I teach and their parents. Thank God for B, for my family, for my friends who put up with me never ever calling. I know this too shall pass. I know it's all good in the end. I know I will see it. I have enough wisdom to know it will come, I just don't have the wisdom to see it right now.

Wednesday I visited my infinitely wise gp (message me if you are a Cliffie and need a fabulous THINKING, non-egoic gp!). I knew things were much worse, but it's one of those things in which I've felt so exhausted for so long that I'm not sure what's what these days. She looked at my cortisol labs and said, "Your life is hell." I had this instant feeling of validation-- for people going through something that no one can seem to figure out exactly, the LAST thing you want is a normal lab or a dr to minimize things! She tells me I'm approaching total adrenal failure and I need to get into a good endo in "days, not weeks." I think only a handful of people will understand why this was good news to hear (as was the tumor!).

The endo, I'm working on. My last endocrinologist was, well, we're not going to work out. I cannot wait out the left-brain logical-sequential approach to this. I'd like to get into someone that specializes in pituitary issues; I'm wait listed right now but some say they can see me if my gp asks for an urgent referral (working on).

I have researched cortisol levels that are this low, and it seems that these people wear medical bracelets-- you need cortisol to live. If you're in an accident or ill and your body can't make cortisol, that's a life or death thing. I'm not certain if this applies to me-- I tend to think we just don't know if it applies to me. We don't know how or why my cortisol has tanked, if its related to the tumor or no.

I'm getting a little, not worried, but wondering if this is going to be something more serious. When you step out far enough, there are only a couple of things that would make sense and encompass the breadth of lab results and clinical symptoms. One is not very good, and one is pretty bad.

I cycle between acceptance of my new normal and then desperate fantasies of coming back to next year's school year as if I've been 'watered,' energetic, thin again, healthy and strong. And then there are the darker times in which I wonder if this is the beginning of some kind of end, of what's nature I don't yet understand. I know I'll come to terms with whatever I need to reconcile, but I'm finding myself grasping onto the structures I've so intentionally built into my life. I want them to be permanent; I love them. Intellectually I'm aware of the ephemerality of things, and yet intellectually, I grasp. Another day, another paradox.

:)

po- po- po- poker face

Dallas zoo. I got a little sad about the elephant, I'm not sure why, so I didn't put up her photo. But I did pray for her; what kind of flakey weirdo am I? Sometimes, I think someday I'll go back to working at a zoo. I love what they do for animal conservation. You know, the reason quit was because I suspected I might be "more PETA* than AZA." The whole animals in cages thing; I get a little emotional about it sometimes, especially with chimpanzees. You know what, though, Jane Goodall says zoos might be the best hope for animals across the world. Jane Goodall. I think I'd like to maybe be an education curator some day.

My mom is coming to town on Mother's Day weekend. B is going to visit his mom, who we are keeping in our prayers, because she's going through her 2nd round of chemo for NH lymphoma. We're flying my mom in to keep me company, since the whole cluster headache thing is new and being on the medicine for it makes me about as smart as that guy I dated who said low carb beer was a bad idea because why would you drink beer with no fizz (a walking after school special for why not to do shrooms all day, every day, duuuude.)-- and because I like my mom.

So, I've been laying around a lot, I suspect from toomah fatigue. Sooooooo tired. Usually, I am accepting of that; today, not so much. IIn lieu of perspective I present to you The Song A Day Guy!!, one of the unsung perks of rarely moving + clunking around on the internet far more than is healthy. This guy is SO funny, man. He writes a song a day. Check out the Paul Krugman song. Bwaahaaaahaaa.

In other news, tonight I stay up until midnight. Eeek! I haven't been that cool in awhile. I have to chew on this thing at midnight and then take it to a lab to see if toomah is making cortisol. All before my economy car turns into a pumpkin.

And tomorrow, I actually am going to be cool, because I have tickets to see Fleetwood Mac! I don't think I've ever longed to see any band more or watched any band's concert dvd more than Fleetwood Mac. I went to see them once, but I was a mere fetus!

*I'm not in PETA, so you can put your hateraid down (okay, I just wanted to say hateraid).

I used to be, though, and I probably will again.

They actually do a lot for the environment and for animal welfare in general; I'm sorry

that some of them can be scary or threw paint on your coat.

Go ahead and eat your steak;

I'm not judging.

It was about to rain.

Pretties.  I almost cut these down because they are ugly in the winter, but then they turned out to be one of the prettiest little plants we have!

Big snail + garage door.

Where the hell are my keys?

snail + chrysanthemum stems

rain drops + fuzzy plant

It's raining, it's pouring, it's all relative.

evergreen + rain drops

leaf +  grasping

It's all relative.  Is it a good day? A bad day? I feel...depressed? But I don't know if I would call it that, because I know everything is going to be fine.  Better than fine.  I know this is important for me, this experience.  One part of me is actually grateful for the challenges, knowing my job is to let go and float down stream, follow my bliss, see where I go.  On some other level, I just feel...tired.  And not just toomah tired, but some kind of emotional hangover of sorts.  I feel like my vulnerabilities have been exposed, like the ground I stand on is shaky.  And intellectually, I know that's okay and even good...but I'm having a hard time moving, because I just feel a little, I guess, beat down?  It just is what it is.

I'm not at work.  I'm working out things that make part of me sad, like setting up what to do if I need to take a leave of absence (which is heart breaking to me!), going to the doctor, making more appointments, figuring out how to get my insurance company back on my good side, and catching up on a lot of the work-related things I simply did not do last week when I was in my pharmaceutical daze.

This moment is the perfect teacher.  This moment is the perfect teacher.  This moments is the...

trash water fall + upgrade to class I rapid

The one in which she professes miracles.

fruit-salad + eggs with sweet potatoes + coffee.

Seriously. Baby Jesus? Genie?

How, how, how, after FOUR weeks of predictable debilitating headaches, do I not have one right now? And did not have one last night? (And last night would have been the debilitating one...the morning/afternoon ones are like a light migraine; the night one, I cannot describe.)

EXACTLY at the point in which I honestly felt like I had NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GOING TO DO.

These things go in cycles, and I am thinking my "cycle" might be over. I am in disbelief over the timing.

Sometimes I wonder if all this is happening because I keep saying I want to grow personally, spiritually...It's like one gut check after another. I really and truly do wonder this.

I'm headed off to the zoo, medication-free, which means I'll have real actual emotions and be more of a person than a zombie!!

WOW!

The one that is ironic.

How's that for ironic.  Right after all of my whining and admitting defeat, this is my first night in WEEKS (I'm thinking 4) that I have not had a headache right on schedule, starting at around 5:30- 5:45.  I started to get it.  I drank a lot of water and some caffeine.  I took no medicine; it's gone.  I just can't believe it.  I had been starting to get a little afraid, too, because of how they had been gaining in intensity.  I am terrified of having attacks like what I've head about; who wouldn't be?!

Anyways, now I'm wondering:  Is the cycle over?  

A cluster headache is one of the most painful types of headache. A striking feature of cluster headache is that the attacks occur in cyclical patterns, or clusters — which gives the condition its name.

Bouts of frequent attacks — known as cluster periods — may last from weeks to months, usually followed by remission periods when the headache attacks stop completely. The pattern varies from one person to another, but most people have one or two cluster periods a year. During remission, no headaches occur for months, and sometimes even years.

From Mayo Clinic Website

The one in which she is resentful.

This morning:

Me to me: This moment is the perfect teacher. This whole cluster headache thing and toomah thing, it's good for your soul. Thank the universe for reminding you that there is not real ground in this world, that everything in it and all the perceived "ground" is impermanent. Pain is inevitable. Suffering comes when we resist.

Me back to me: You're right, me. Everything is perfect just the way it is; this is exactly where I am supposed to be and exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. Do you want to light the campfire, or should I? Kumbaya, my...

Later today, B calls Walgreen's to get my prescription filled. I tend to need 3 to 4 pills a day to be functional, which ends up costing about $20/day; Yes, that's a lot for us!:

B to me: Did you hear me talking to Walgreen's? Your insurance will only approve 9 pills every 28 days. It's $230 for 9 pills. (About $100 a day)

Me to myself: Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

So the gist is this: Things just keep undoing more and more. Overall, I've gained some kind of inner spiritual-ish strength with each little piece of ground that disappears, but every now and then I want to throw a tantrum. So here it goes.

I have to admit that I can't complain too much about the tumor. I am afraid of the surgery (if it even needs to happen--we could still luck out with meds, people, or even watch and wait if it's not the big causal thing happening), because, really, I'm just like that. I'm actually more secretly afraid of the procedure that's often done before the surgery, in which they take a little balloon thingy and thread it up from your leg to under your brain to take a hormone sample. While you're awake. The hell?

My thinking has gotten so cloudy- I think that's close to the top of the list. All of this crap, and I really try to learn from it. Not to squash down my inner cry baby, but to emerge at some point with an answer deeper than a tantrum.

But, now I start to get these cluster headaches. Cluster headaches. Are you kidding me? Cluster headaches are like migraines, but more severe. They are called cluster headaches because you'll go through cycles in which you'll get 'clusters' of these headaches every day at the same times; then, you have a remission for awhile. I got some medicine, and even with it, I wondered what I was going to do. Just to function (as in show up), I needed to take about 20 dollars a day in pills. B and I have had conversations lately about what will happen if I'm not able to work.

And that's what really makes me feel resentful.

I dare you to find ten other people who love teaching as much as I do. It is such an incredible privilege to me, and here I am, wondering if I can at least make it through the year. I feel bitter about teachers who don't appreciate their profession; I feel incredibly and increasingly judgmental about it. I find myself hoping and praying someone will make an unlucky comment to me so I can feel justified in saying what I really feel.

Now, without the medicine, I just don't know. I know I'll have to accept whatever happens. I know it'll be okay. I don't always feel okay about it. The lesser me (egoic me?) feels like I'm missing out on life. Missing out on being there 100% for the best job in the world, for kids that deserve someone to actually be present for them.

I'm trying to hard to keep swimming, and when do I say I'm doing great, I really mean it. I know I'm learning from this. I know this is important for me, otherwise it wouldn't be happening. But I feel like two people right now. There is the wiser self, who sees the perspective in it all, the greater purpose. The other thoughts are there, too. And I'm not going to try and make them go away, because I've finally realized we aren't our thoughts. Our thoughts just are.

It is what it is.