The Best Laid Plans...

There are so many things going on while I'm here in Oklahoma... a friend that was loved dearly by one and all in our Meetup group has died - from what I gather is suspicious circumstances (we are waiting for the medical examiner's report... THAT'S never good any way you look at it) and I am deeply bothered by this. He was ALWAYS upbeat and happy and thought of others long before he would consider himself. That always set off bells, lights, and whistles in me, but that's just my way of thinking. Anyway, recently I suggested to him that we start a book together of gratitude for our particular Meetup. I was serious about it but had been busy with another "situation" in my life and had not gotten back with him about it. Now, I don't blame myself (if it comes to anything like that) for something that might have happened, but it gives me pause to consider what this man might have been going through... those are just my preliminary thoughts. Again, we are waiting on the medical examiner's report. Namaste my friend, David.

My "other situation" has been with an 18 year-old who aged out of foster care and was on her way to a new life. That new life didn't work out and I was doing my best to help her, and protecting my own self at the same time -- knowing full well that situations like this can be risky in more ways than one. Let's just say that no good deed goes unpunished and I am "persona non grata" in her life now. So be it. I am not a parent, though, and am not used to these feelings of betrayal and watching someone make HORRIBLE choices knowing full well what awaits them. I mean, I have nieces, but my nieces have made pretty good choices, and I am still in touch with both of them (THANK GOD!!!) and I think they both still want me in their lives (I hope it stays that way). I was SO unprepared for the hurt I felt. Without the help of the General Manager here at the hotel I don't know where I would have turned for solace. Talk about above and beyond the call of duty... LOL I am emotionally in her debt, and I know the Universe is watching out for me.

I am loved, and alive, and so lucky to be me and have the intelligence, the upbringing, the friends, all the things that have come together to make me who I am -- including all the bad stuff. That's made me able to understand some of this better than I would have been able to had I had a "gifted" life. I learned a new saying today from a friend here: It is an old Asian saying: "May you have an interesting life." Ahhh, yes. I think I can say I have had an "interesting life". I wouldn't have it any other way. LOL

Guest Blogger: A Post I MUST Share: "Life in Pain: Living with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome CRPS: I wish I had cancer..."

I am compelled to share the post below.  I found it on the Facebook page "Chronically Optimistic:  Invisible Illness, Visible Hope".  I, too, have the diagnosis of Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome and the usual "story" that goes along with it.  The term is a mouthful so I don't use it often.  I prefer chronic, or intractable, pain.  In most states there is what they call an "Intractable Pain Law", though it is rarely enforced. In fact, in Florida, there is a law on the books that directly contradicts the intractable pain law.  Our attorney general is a republican right now and trying to make controlled substances illegal (no, I'm not kidding) so guess which one is being enforced?  I bet things would be different if SHE had chronic pain.

MY STORY
It is beyond me how pain can last so long after an operation; on some days it feels like it is the day after.  My pain doctor has to explain to me, each time I see her it seems, what is going on in my body and causing that chronic regional pain.  She patiently lists my options again and again, and I shy away from them, again and again (my pain doctor is a gift from God, and she is constantly at the top of my gratitude list).  Then I go on with the pain patch and medication I am currently using.

The surgery that caused my pain actually took place at a cancer hospital, so I have also known the feeling of wishing that I had cancer.  I even said that exact phrase right after my surgery when they discovered the spot on my lung was not cancer.  If it had been cancer I would have continued being treated like the queen I was at Moffitt during my surgical stay.  The minute they got the biopsy results, however, they began to treat me as the "ugly step-child".  Even the respect which I had been treated with as a hospital patient the day before was withdrawn due to the lack of cancer diagnosis.  You think I'm kidding?  My surgeon disappeared...  I was only visited by the surgical associate.  After I was released and called to ask why the pain was so intense the nurse wouldn't put me through to talk to my surgical team; she wouldn't even take a message for them to return my call.  Not even the referring pulmonary oncologist would return my phone calls.  When time finally came for me to see the pain management team in oncology they outright refused to treat me even though I was right there sitting in their office.  Why?  I didn't have cancer.  Period.  End of story.

I felt so alone.  In most of my life challenges I had friends that had been through similar experiences; enough to be able to lend emotional support at least.  During my divorce I could turn to the plethora of friends that were divorced and, let's face it, most of my friends are divorced.  When my parents died there were a handful of people that had already lost their parents and they were a great comfort during that time.  But with the pain that had been hanging on for months and months and months and months?  There was no one.  And even fewer who could understand losing half a lung.  Pain literally ran my life.

There were precious few days I felt like doing anything but doing the bare essentials of taking care of myself.  And when I did feel like being with friends, if I mistakenly talked about what was going on in my life (doctor appointments, acquiring pain pills, new ways to fight the pain naturally, improvement in my pain, insurance frustrations) my friends would hit the roof!  They just didn't want to hear it.  What most people didn't know was that I was sleeping anywhere from twelve to 20 hours a day.  I literally had no other activities to talk about.  I could have named the dust bunnies under my bed and recited those to them but that might have convinced them I was crazier than they already thought I was.

There is one last thing I must report on this subject.  I finally received my diagnosis of cancer.  For some obscure reason, having cancer is the only way to qualify to receive certain controlled substances severe pain.  I am currently being followed by a pulmonologist for suspected cancerous nodules in my left lung.  Thus I have gotten my wish; the cancer diagnosis is mine.  Funny, I still can't get the pain medications I need.  The Attorney General of Florida is making sure of that.

A lot of judging goes on as the article points out.  Judging from doctors, pharmacists, friends, complete strangers, all facets of life.  The statistics are listed and it's worth the read to realize what people like us are up against.  You, too, will understand why so many of us with chronic pain wish we had cancer.


Life in Pain: Living with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome CRPS: I wish I had cancer...: I know it sounds weird, but I wish I had cancer instead. Cancer is this big bad that everyone now worries about.  But cancer has a f...

Surviving

I've been reflecting on people referred to as "survivors" and the traits peculiar to them as opposed to others not necessarily labelled as survivors. Those people that exhibit a gift for going through life challenges that, on the surface, daunt others. Those individuals that live through things most of the population never have to deal with; who face difficulties that seem horrendous and come through them seemingly unscathed -- ready to face another day. What is their motivation to survive? Where does their will to overcome these challenges come from? Is it mere habit? Are they just old souls that don't know any better? Have they been reincarnated so many times that it's just all they know to do? Have they been given a special gift? Do they love life more than the rest of us? Do they have loved ones that couldn't live without them and they live for them? Or can they not live without their loved ones and they survive to live another day with them? What if they aren't really tied to anyone? What then? What do THEY survive for? Do they survive just to say they survived? Is it in the genes? Is it hard-wired into them? Maybe it runs in families, in certain types of personalities or in the birth order. Or in how many tragedies they have witnessed before the first life challenge presents itself... and they have had time to think about the nature of tragedy and how it unfolds.

Tragedy unfolds one simple moment at a time... it doesn't unfold all at once. Some moments are more horrific than others, some moments hurt more than others, but it only lasts for a moment, then it's over. Another moment starts and takes the last moment's place and it's not quite as bad... or it's worse and you laugh because you thought the last moment was so awful. You just have to hold on then it's over, and you can start again in the next moment. Maybe that's it; when you've seen enough tragedy -- when you've had so many challenges that you understand the nature of tragedy -- it becomes YOUR nature. You just figure it out. You know that moments don't last forever; only forever is forever.

Hello, It's Me...

If I were to describe my life to you now and compare it to my life of two years ago you might doubt it was the same person.  LOL  Many dreams have come true over these two years, many life experiences have taken place that naturally do in life, and then some experiences have altered my short term plans in a big way.  I'm at a point where I need to...  RE-ALIGN is the only word that is coming to me.  Huh...  I like that.  Re-align with the Universe.  OK.  That works for me.  I labeled my illness and resulting lobectomy and surgeries "Debi's Detour".  I think this can be the "Realignment".  Oops, gonna have to Google "re-align" and "realign".

I'm tired, I'm in pain, my brain fog is overwhelming right now (to the point of scary), and I have so much work to do to prepare for homelessness.  That's a lot of things to bring into alignment.

Yep.  I like that term.  I need to realign the negative perception I have about my recent experiences with the serenity I found through the trials of those experiences.  Through meditation, serious study and contemplation I was able to find my peaceful place; my "go to" place, my Nirvana if you will.  It happened during the process of the second surgery in February 2013.  I had an overwhelming feeling that I wasn't going to make it through that, and at some level I still believe my time is ticking by quicker than it was before - and that's one of the things I need to accept.  I have come to understand that I cannot get back to living without acknowledging that I am dying.  Several times I thought I had accepted death, and maybe I did.  Or maybe I just gave up...  I mean, when you're comatose the thinking process isn't very sharp.  I don't remember being aware of much during that time; I was in and out of consciousness.  I had an understanding, though, that I was going to die if Dr. Miller couldn't figure out what was wrong.  He did though, obviously, and I IMMEDIATELY moved on to the next (simultaneous) crisis in my life -- my divorce and the death of my Father.

A big positive recently; I have found a sister from one of my prior lives.  I was a mermaid [SHOCK! -- Alert the media!!!] in a prior life, but it was a life I lived very long ago, indeed.  I mean eons.  We were very close sisters.  Her name was Clarissa, mine was Emily.  The night we realized this was incredibly emotional, to say the least.  I'll blog about that another time.  It's just so validating when you recognize someone, and they recognize you, from one of their past lives and immediately knows who you are, what you are, and loves you.  I just kept saying, "I FOUND YOU!  I FOUND YOU!"  People thought we were nuts.  No.  I'm pretty sane.  Just "re-aligning", thank you.

Namaste, my friends,

Your Mermaid

I think I may have something to say, FINALLY

I haven't posted a blog this year.  It hasn't been the best year, I must say.  And if I haven't blogged it must mean I am afraid of something:  Afraid of sharing myself, afraid of being made fun of, afraid of being embarrassed, of being wrong, or seen as stupid, or too smart, or of being "found out" that I am simply not good enough for some imagined measurement of personhood that people use to judge others.

When I used to ask my wonderful Dad for help as to how I could change something in my life he would tell me, "When you get tired enough of it you'll change it".  There's a lot of truth in that.  There's something about being miserable that makes you ready to change things.  Through the past several months my life has taken so many twists and turns that I'm not quite yet sure which way is up, or which way I'm headed.  But one thing I know now is that it doesn't really matter.  Whichever way I am going I must forge ahead, for better or for worse.  I cannot continue to isolate myself and be as depressed over happenings in my life - no matter how big.

It is humbling to realize that life really can bring you to your knees without the support of others, no matter how strong you think you are.  Since my divorce and Father's death I have become more and more convinced that I was supposed to go through life alone; relying on no one but myself.  I have discovered, relatively recently, that is not true, and although I may not yet be convinced I am worthy of love I think there is a possibility of it and I am hopeful.  Surely, this is a damn site better than where I have been.

That is all, for now.  More later.    >O'  <----that's my fish icon...

Walk on the Beach 11/14/10

The world always looks better after a trip to the beach, er, ocean. Well, call it what you will. They're kinda indivisible. Ever thought of that? If you go to the beach you go to the ocean, or at least a body of water. In Texas we had a lot of lakes that frequently were better called big mud puddles, but there was always a beach. I frequently camped on the beach and scuba dived in the big mud puddle attached to it. :) Very fond memories.

You can really tell the Snowbirds are back in Florida. There was a lot more trash on the beach tonight; most notably plastic bags that I picked up and threw away. The birds were pecking on them out of curiosity. Some humans are such pigs.

The sunset was gorgeous, of course, but I didn't see any dolphin feeding. The sand was so cold that by the time I had walked the width of the beach to reach the shore my toes were frozen! The water was a little warmer but not my much. I didn't time my walk very well. The time change still has me confused. By the time I got there it was later than I thought so I had to turn around before I reached the pier. But I still got some good thinking in, found 2 really great shells (some obsessions may never go away), found my sense of humor and left with serenity and peace. Life is never perfect, but all is well.

The Two-Day Filter

OK. Putting time and space inbetween "news" and "action" often helps one's perspective. It's been two days since I found out that I may be losing some income and may not be able to make ends meet each month. I've mulled it over and put it through the "outside the box" computer - or whatever that magic thing is that gets me out of these tight squeezes every time I'm in them.

Maybe living in a tent isn't the best "Plan A". I'd love to go back to work part time, but that brings problems all its own. It wouldn't bring in more money, and it might eventually lead to a whole lot less money. Of course, that's not the real problem. I don't think I COULD work. I don't have easy access to sumatriptan right now - and I would need that to work; my back is still a daily painful issue; and I might be putting my insurance in jeopardy and I can't afford to do that. In so many cases it is the government that keeps people on disability, not the individuals themselves. The system is set up so that it becomes impossible to get out of it if you have a chronic illness. Life just isn't black and white like the government would like for it to be... like so many people would like for it to be. Sure, I'd love it if life were clear cut and laid out perfectly but I learned long ago it isn't. I guess it's just another place I don't fit in. (Wow, I'm not in a good place this weekend.)

So -- I don't think going back to work is the answer. I had hoped to when I moved down here, and maybe sometime in the future I can, but not now. NEXT!

What about a roommate? Baaaaaaaaahaaahahahahaha!!!!!! I only want a roommate if he'll fuck my legs off three nights a week and on weekends. Oh, and he has to be a soulmate, too. NEXT.

Sell everything? God knows I'm trying. Well, OK, not very hard. I'm still in the middle of getting all my stuff to Florida. That's why a big part of me is so angry. I had everything where I wanted it here in the apartment and now I have to practically re-situate everything to accomodate the stuff that I really wanted to put there in the first place. Did you get that??? The stuff I really wanted all along was in Greensboro.

I'm looking back at this move and wondering how all this happened... Did I bring this all on myself? Should I have asked for help? You see, I will do just about anything to not feel like a victim. I spent far too much of my life feeling like a victim. So I do the opposite of being a victim - I blame myself for things that might not be my fault rather than blame someone else for things that happen to me. But it feels better to take responsibility for myself and then have it be on me than feel like a victim. Maybe that's why I have trouble asking for help. I don't want to be victimized ever again. And I figure if no one helps me then I'll be responsible for everything I do.

Hmmmm... there's something wrong with that logic. LOL Maybe a little over-reaction to being a victim, huh. Then, of course, there's that perceived reality that no one really cares enough to help me, anyway. That has certainly been proven a couple of times. Again, though, that is also an over-reaction to unforeseen circumstances where people couldn't show up due to various reasons. Well, that, and the incessant belittling from my Ex. [Thank you, Dr. Freud. We now return you to Debi's Blog.]

Bloody hell, where was I? I think I'm going to take this stupid money issue and table it, or better yet sink it during my walk at the beach tonight. If my days are numbered I want to enjoy them. Worrying about this shit isn't going to make it go away or put it off. I want to think about how wonderful it is that I live here at all... how grateful I am for everything I have, and that I don't have a headache today. I have food to eat, if not all my drugs, but fuck my drugs. Who needs them? :) I want to yell across the ocean that Aung San Suu is free - at least for the time being - and feel the gratitude in my bones. When I am cheering up my friends and family I never think of my problems. I would so much rather do that than worry about me. I don't know if that is the path to enlightenment or not. I hope so. It sure as hell makes me feel better, and it seems to make others feel better. However, I DO know that all the "Christians" in my life think I'm going to hell if I try to be "enlightened". But not to worry. I don't believe in hell. :) I DO believe that when we are negative bad things happen, and we must try to be as positive and kind as we can. But that is for another blog... I've got to get back to work on this seemingly impossible task of re-arranging my apartment. It'll get done. At some point.

First, Do No Harm

This was a bad day. It didn't start out that day, but it ended up as one, long adventure in pain.

My insurance, in it's God-Complex-As-Only-An-Insurance-Company-Can-Have, cut me off from the medication that resolves (medical jargon for "gets rid of") my migraines. Apparently due to cutbacks I am allowed 48 shots of sumatriptan each year now, and I have planned my headaches badly. Bad Debi. Bad, bad Debi. Actually, if you think about it, that's 4 shots a month. That's more than I usually use, so I'm not sure what's up with me this year. But the fact is I have cluster headaches, not normal migraines. That diagnosis has probably gotten lost in my paperwork because the sumatriptan now exists and has worked so well for me. OH, AND NO ONE HAS EVER COUNTED HOW MANY DOSES I'VE USED PER YEAR.

I used to live in fear of my migraines simply because I would be in pain for days on end, unable to move, vomiting up nothing, delirious, and alone. Depending on whether or not I was married at the time, I would get so sick that at some point I would drive my idiot self to the ER and either call a friend or take a Taxi home, or my husband would drop me off on his way to work and pick me up on his way home, or whenever. The only way to treat migraines before the late 1980's was pain meds and anti-nausea drugs. Then came Ergotamines. They helped somewhat, but still left you looking like a mummy and acting stupid as a stone.

I took part in the drug tests for sumatriptan. I know I took the actual drug, because within 20 minutes this wave of relief swept over me like I'd never felt before. It was amazing. Life as I had known it was changed forever. Of course, it took years for it to hit the market, but once it did, life was good. In fact, a doctor once asked me if I had a choice to get rid of my lupus or my migraines which would I choose? Without skipping a beat I responded that I'd gladly keep the lupus. This astounded the doctor, as well as me, considering that the lupus was a deadly disease and migraines were not. But I didn't live in fear of lupus; I did of migraines. And now I am back to that way of life because someone - NOT MY DOCTOR - thinks I've had enough sumatriptan this year. In fact, they are so bent on this position that they are willing to pay a hospital to give me the shot rather than have me give it to myself.

So I must play this game until January 1, 2011, though it's no game. It's my quality of life. I offer up, as an example, today's adventure. A 4-day migraine that I almost got rid of last night, but I just didn't quite get it done. So off to my first ER visit in Florida. All is going well. I'm meditating to ease the pain until the shot comes - which as we all know can be hours - and it was... about two. So a nurse walks in with THREE, count 'em, THREE shots when I only needed one: SUMATRIPTAN. She's got the sumatriptan, a pain injection, and an anti-nausea. I appreciated the thought, but the sumatriptan gets rid of all of those immediately so there's no need for the pain and the anti-nausea shot at all. I'm not sure why they were ordered by the doctor, unless this was his first time treating a migraine. Lucky me.

OK, back to my adventure. The problem started when the anti-nausea medicine the nurse is about to give me was one I am allergic to. OOPS. So I point this out and all of a sudden EVERYTHING CHANGED. The atmosphere in the room went thick. Her attitude went from nurse-like to attorney-ish. I asked her if she checked my chart first; I never got a response to that. She kept interrupting me. OOOOOOOOOO... that is a huge pet peeve of mine. I HATE being interrupted. It's rude, and you can't possibly communicate when someone keeps interrupting you. HUGE PET PEEVE. Thus, she doesn't hear most of what I say, and I'm so out of it from the pain that I can't remember most of what she said. LOL - Although, it wasn't funny at the time. I remember she said something like, "I never came close to your skin with that shot." HUH? Who brought my skin into this? Then, "Well, I don't actually have the shot with me." HUH? Then how could you have come close to my skin anyway? This was the way the conversation, er, lecture went. Then suddenly she says she's going to "waste" these three shots and go talk to the doctor. WHAT? She's got my sumatriptan in her hands and she's going to "WASTE" it? I've been in pain for FOUR DAYS, she's a foot away from me with the one thing that will get me out of pain and she's going to "WASTE" it? And that's exactly what she did. She walked over to the red box where you put used needles, put all the meds into the box and walked out.

I lost it. I didn't stop crying for the next 2 1/2 hours. I don't know why, I just couldn't. I stood at the door to my ER room crying those huge, guttural cries, gasping for breath, asking people to send my nurse in and no one would. The entire staff ignored me. I've actually had dreams like this. Being a frequent patient, when others have complete control over whether you are in pain or out of pain it is a desperately helpless feeling. It's difficult to maintain any dignity at all.

I've been in pain with my lupus for over half my life. OK, life sucks. But if I don't have to be in pain I have vowed not to be. Someone else can play Saviour, I'm going to get out of pain. The technology exists for me to be free of pain on occasion and I will take advantage of that freedom whenever I can. More and more the powers that be (the FDA, the government, I don't know who) has decided that pain meds are dangerous. All the scientific data has proven that pain meds are only a danger to people who are not in pain. The percentage of people in pain that get addicted is actually very low, despite the high profile headlines we see. It is only those who aren't really in pain that get addicted. People in true pain don't want the meds when they don't need them because they would rather live a normal life. Pain meds fuck you up. We don't want to feel fucked up. We want to feel NORMAL; and pain meds make us feel normal when we are in pain.

With sumatriptan for migraines pain meds are not necessary. The sumatriptan actually treats the cause of the pain (inflammation of the blood vessels in the brain) and thus the pain is immediately dissipated. Fun, huh. BUT FIRST YOU HAVE TO GET THE SHOT.

My migraine is still present and accounted for, and I've had the maximum dosage I can have of sumatriptan for the next 24 hours. I'm screwed. I don't know what I'll do tomorrow, but for tonight it's just another night of pain with no way out.

You MUST Listen To Your Soul

I am feeling overwhelming gratitude this minute - hell, this week. So many incredible things have happened this week; both bad and good, and in time they have shown their true colors and made clear what I needed to see.

I just arrived home from a dinner Meetup where I met wonderful, new people and, FOR THE FIRST TIME, saw old, familiar people that I'd seen at other meetups and recognized AND THEY RECOGNIZED ME! And just by being who I am I was able to make a newcomer feel as if she'd been there for years (I have a way of doing that - if I do say so myself). The people that recognized me were giving me a hard time, joking with me about being a dive instructor and a football fan. I felt like one of the group. It was wonderful.

After dinner we went to the first bar I went to when I first moved here: Ozona Blue. It has a swimming pool, a jacuzzi, and is right on the water. It's fucking amazing. There was live music tonight (as there was at the other place, but for some reason - which I don't care to detail at this time - we decided to go down the road a half mile and the equivalent of Key West to South Beach) and we drank and danced and had a great time. After everyone left I stayed and bathed in the moonlight - trying my best to get a moonburn on one of the lounge chairs listening to the band. I couldn't understand why someone, on a Friday night, would want to leave the company of a live band (who was pretty good), the quarter moon, the sound of the waves lapping at the boats tied up nearby, the glow of the pool, the service of the waiters in the cool breeze of a Florida evening. I just didn't get it. Search me. I have to get up early this morning, too, but SERIOUSLY! NOTHING is that important. If it is you don't have your priorities in order.

So when I finally peeled myself out of that lounge chair I meandered down 19 Alternate (which runs down the Gulf Coast) and stopped by (first) Edgewater to walk the pier and cry. I do this frequently; both walk the piers and cry. LOL I talk to the water and tell it my dreams and how soon I will see it. This time I could tell it it would be really soon. :) I'd found my scuba shop and I now knew it was going to be REALLY soon. I stopped to think about that for a moment... I've been here a bit over 2 months, and as impatient as I am I have found a scuba shop. That's bloody ridiculous. OH - I'M SORRY. I didn't find them - they found me. Well, pretty much.

Anyway, I dried my tears, got back in the car, and continued down 19 Alternate to Sunset Point - my street. Well, basically my street. I live right off of it - you probably can't find my street on a map to save your life. It DID take the U.S. Postal Service an entire MONTH to find me, after all. I pulled off at 19 and Sunset Point to a lookout on the Gulf and sat and looked at Clearwater Beach across the bay for a few minutes. I still can't believe I live here. I wake up every day to this ridiculous noise of Highway 19 - the deadliest road in Florida - a sound I have grown to love (how nuts is that???), I hear the whirl of my ceiling fan in the background (because it is now cool enough to leave the windows and doors open and cool the apartment with the fans only), I hear the birds, the frogs, the crickets, the occasional emergency siren, noisy neighbors, and endless other noise pollution and I know I am in paradise. Frankly, the apartment that I lived in in Greensboro which was situated in the middle of a protected National Park was FAR MORE QUIET than where I live now.

So why do I go to sleep and wake up knowing I am in the paradise I never want to leave for the rest of my life??? It makes me laugh! I can't smell the salt water from here, I can't see it from here, I can't smell fish from here, I have some palm trees around but no mangroves and CERTAINLY no manatees. But I am home. Wherever I am in this silly place, as long as I'm within spitting distance of the beach I'm home. And trust me, that "spitting distance" is getting shorter and shorter every day. LOL

The gratitude I am feeling is overwhelming and, at times, feels like one of those waves that will overtake you when you're in about waist deep. I get angry at times for staying in Greensboro for so long. I feel like I wasted so much time. I felt so lost and I felt like Greensboro was the center of the Universe and I was such a nobody. That is how I know that it was not very good for me. The center of the Universe should never feel like it is on Earth. It isn't. I now feel like I am balanced, and the Earth and the Universe are balanced around me. I believe THAT is what the world should feel like. When we begin to feel like we are the center of the Universe, or someone near to us is (like when your Father is dying) then we should realize that our world is out of balance; because - as stands to reason, it is.

I am still a bit peeved at Greensboro, but I will forgive. I always do. I simply couldn't get here any quicker. It wasn't within the realm of possibility. However, if you are reading this and you have any of the above-mentioned symptoms, or you feel the least bit unhappy where you are, GET THE FUCK OUT AND RUN TO THE PLACE THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY. You will never be sorry you did. You will wonder why you didn't do it sooner.

The New Scuba Meetup

What's the next great thing that the Universe has in store for moi? Getting wet. Scuba, here I come. I had joined a scuba meetup and was really underwhelmed with them for different reasons. But Wednesday night there was another one I joined that was holding their monthly meeting just up the road a tad so I attended and was pleased with what I found.

First of all, there was a woman running the meeting. This is no small deal. Being a woman that was taught by Navy divers over 20 years ago I know how hard it is to break into the dive business. Most of the men in power still don't think women should be in the business of diving, and I remember how I had to do everything twice as good to get the same grade as the men.

Second, there were TONS of announcements about how many dives were coming up. This place and that place and here and there. I had NO idea where they were, but that's no surprise; the point is the opportunity is there for me to go and learn where they are. WOO HOO!!!

Third, there was an announcement about an archaeological dive class coming up that you can walk away with a certification as an Underwater Archaeologist Mapper (or some minor classification). Not bad for a couple day's work and $75 bucks. Think of the fun things I could do with that!!! And I just happen to have the refund from my Greensboro apartment eating a hole in my pocket waiting to be used for something special... I think I've found it! :D

Fourth, they had a speaker from a manufacturer that brought some really cool play toys to learn about and play with. Always fun.

Fifth, at the end of the meeting as I was introducing myself to the organizer and the other "important" people they began to understand I was an instructor. There was a sudden hush in the room and an exchange of looks. The organizer looks at me and says, "Are you looking for a job?" I'm like, "Huh?" LOL It turns out the co-organizer at another dive shop is looking for another instructor to help out. I'm dumbfounded. How is it that people doubt the Universe when stuff like this happens?

The reality of the situation is that I've been absent from instructing so long that I would have to take another IDC (Instructor Development Course) and IE (Instructor Exam) plus get my insurance back up to current. So (ballpark) we're talking about $3,000 give or take. I simply don't have that kind of money. BUT I could play divemaster for him, which covers almost the same responsibilities without the cost for about $130. Now THAT I could probably swing. It would hurt, but if you don't tell my creditors I won't either. :/

Diving is such a funny business... You pay all this money to volunteer to pay more money to dive. Nuts, isn't it. So, yes, I'd be paying money to be insured to be able to pay to fill my air tank and fill my gas tank to take trips to fill my air tank even MORE to help certify little tiny baby squids (what we call new students) so they don't die and can learn the wonder of scuba diving and help us save the oceans - because most of them become automatic ecologists. Did that make any sense? Eh....

I am THRILLED at finding this meetup. What an opportunity to get back in the water, work with students again, and - oh yes, spend more money I don't have. LOL Oh, wait though... there were a couple of really cute guys there, though. ;)