Health Update

What a difference a year makes.  When I think back to last year, I was in such a bad place with my health.  I had been diagnosed with adenomyosis in the Spring of 2018.  That summer I had tried to get an IUD to alleviate my symptoms, but my body had an AWFUL response to it, so I had it removed after only 10 days.  After that, my periods just got worse each month.  In October of 2018, I went to the ER because I was having some scary symptoms from my excessive bleeding.  I was home alone with both boys needing to take Owen to preschool, but I honestly didn’t feel safe driving.  My friend Lindsey offered to come get him, and when she saw me she didn’t think I looked well.  I called my OB’s office and the triage nurse advised me to go to the ER.  After she told me that I recall crying and saying, “Okay thanks I love you.” (Clearly I was delirious, lol!)

To add to the stress of my ER visit, I had to cancel a Little Cardboard Rocket Books and Baking class that I was hosting at my house the next day.  From that point on, I was forced to plan my life around my stupid period and could no longer be relied upon for anything one week out of every month.  I even had tickets to fly to Kansas City to surprise my life-long best friend on her birthday and meet her twin baby girls for the first time, but had to cancel the trip at the very last minute due to my period.  I could not continue to live my life that way, so my OB advised I get a hysterectomy.  (I think at one point I even threatened to rip out my uterus myself!)

I went as far as receiving the letter from my insurance company saying I had been approved since the procedure was deemed “medically necessary.”  I was even in contact with the surgery scheduler hoping to get it scheduled in the Spring of 2019.  Despite all my pain and suffering I had been through, though, I just did not find myself at peace with the decision to get a hysterectomy at age 33.  On the contrary, being faced with a looming hysterectomy actually sent me into a bad depressive state which forced me to go back to my full dosage of anxiety meds I had been trying to wean off of.

My friend Diana had suggested I make an appointment with a naturopath who she had recently seen herself.  Her name is Dr. Katie Rose, and she specializes in balancing women’s hormones.  Diana insisted I would just love her, and she was right!  When I first met with Dr. Rose, she said “Adenomyosis is a very difficult condition to treat, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”  Those were hard words to hear, but at the same time they also made me feel validated for all I had been through and that my pain and suffering wasn’t all just in my head.  I left Dr. Rose’s office that day feeling like if there was any medical professional out there her would be able to help me, she was it.

Naturopathic medicine is very different than traditional Western medicine.  For one, it is not covered by insurance in the state of Arizona.  That is especially hard for someone like me to swallow who makes exactly $0/year as a stay-at-home-mom.  It is extremely frustrating that insurance will pay thousands of dollars for me to get a major surgery, but won’t pay a few hundred dollars to cover some appointments and supplements.  With all that being said, though, the cost has been MORE than worth it!!!

I was terrified that Dr. Rose was going to make me do an entire overhaul on my diet.  When I had Googled ‘adenomyosis diet,’ I read “No coffee. No alcohol. No exceptions.”  My immediate thought was, “Welp, looks like I’m just going to have to get that hysterectomy!”  Thankfully, Dr. Rose initially said I didn’t have to give anything up at all!  Instead, she just advised I eat at least 2 servings/day of vegetables from the Brassica family the week before my period. (Broccoli, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, cabbage, etc.)  That was more than doable!  Also, she prescribed several different supplements to help not only with balancing my hormones, but also to help me with my sleep issues that I’ve had since becoming a mom.  For the first time in my life, I was being treated as a whole patient rather than just for my individual symptoms!

Dr. Rose ordered a blood test to check my hormone levels and various blood counts.  The lab results revealed that I have a high level of thyroid antibodies.  Though my thyroid itself has been functioning just fine, the antibodies suggest that it will eventually be destroyed if I don’t make changes to my lifestyle to bring down the level of antibodies.  In other words, I have asymptomatic Hashimoto’s disease.  The same person who referred me to Dr. Rose, my friend Diana, has suffered from Hashimoto’s disease for the last 3+ years.  If it wasn’t for seeing what all she has been through, I probably wouldn’t have been motivated to make my own lifestyle changes.  I have known Diana for over 5 years, so I saw how much Hashimoto’s has changed and affected her life.  If it wasn’t for Diana, I probably wouldn’t have taken Dr. Rose seriously when she suggested I give up gluten and start limiting dairy in order to reduce my thyroid antibodies.  I have never been one to restrict my diet in any way shape or form, yet I am proud to say that I have given up my life-long addiction to cow’s milk, and I have been strictly gluten-free for the past 6 months!  (Okay, so I might have made an exception for my brother’s amazing wedding cake this past July, but I think that was more than justified.)

Within days of first starting the dietary restrictions, we made a trip to visit friends and family in Kansas.  We stayed with my life-long friend Kristina who had recently become a Beachbody coach.  When she first got started with Beachbody, my thoughts were “NOOOOO!!!  One of my best friends is now drinking the Kool-Aid of an MLM!”  However, I had been curious about Beachbody since one of my close Tucson friends, Laura, has gotten in amazing shape since starting the workout programs over 3 years ago.  I had asked how much she pays to get access to the workouts, and was shocked to learn it only costs $100 for an entire year of unlimited access.  Therefore, I told Kristina that I wanted to try working out with her and her husband Zach while we were staying with them.  I absolutely loved it.  After only two days of 30-minute workouts from their 21-Day Fix program, I was super sore.  That told me: 1.) The workouts must have been good, and 2.) I was definitely out of shape.  I couldn’t wait to sign up and get started once I got home!

In the last 133 days since starting Beachbody, I have gotten in 124 workouts.  That means I have worked out nearly every single day, and each of my workouts has only cost me about 80 cents.  With 232 days still left in the year, I am obviously getting my money’s worth!  I actually used the cost as a big motivating factor for me to get into the habit of working out in the first place.  On Day 1, my workout cost me $100.  On Day 2, it cost $50.  On Day 3 it cost $33, and so on and so on until I’m now down to paying just cents to workout each day.  I certainly wouldn’t be able to get as much of my money’s worth from any kind of a gym membership.  Plus as a mom of young children, it is SO hard to find time to get out of the house to work out.  More often than not, one or both of my boys is right there with me as I am doing my workout.  At first they used to be all up in my business and I had to constantly get after them to get out of my space or else they’d get hit with a weight, etc, but now they mostly leave me alone since they are used to seeing me workout.

Another reason Beachbody workouts are so much more doable for me than going to a gym is because they are only 30 minutes.  Who doesn’t have 30 minutes???  Plus it’s not like I have to take the time to get all dressed up and drive anywhere.  Half the time I workout barefoot in my pajamas.  Frankly, it eliminates my ability to make excuses since the workouts can be done at anytime and anywhere without the need for childcare.  I tried the whole “getting up early before the kids” thing to get my workout in, but I learned that means the kids just tend to wake up even earlier.  Instead, I’ve learned I actually prefer to workout after I’ve had a chance to wake up, drink my morning coffee and eat breakfast.  I seem to have far more energy at that time.

I should also share that around the same time that I learned of my high thyroid antibodies, I received my latest 23&Me report revealing that I am genetically predisposed to Type 2 diabetes.  This wasn’t very shocking since it runs on both sides of my family.  However, it was yet another piece of information that gave me the kick in the pants to finally make some serious lifestyle changes.  If there is one thing I’ve learned from all that I have been through, it’s DON’T LET YOUR NON-DEBILITATING HEALTH ISSUES DEBILITATE YOU!  I thought adenomyosis was debilitating for me.  Whenever I was on period a year ago, I was usually bedridden for about 2-3 days.  The last thing I would have ever wanted to do at that time is workout.  However, I have since discovered that after I begin my workouts, my pain and cramping almost immediately goes away.  It often returns shortly after I stop working out, so as it turns out I’m actually MORE motivated to workout when I’m on my period!

As I type this, I am less than 30 minutes away from my scheduled follow-up lab work.  These past 6 months of lifestyle changes all lead up to this one blood test.  On one hand, I am secretly hoping that my thyroid antibodies haven’t changed at all so I can go back to eating all the gluten I know and love.  However, my true hope is that I have been able to successfully reduce the level of thyroid antibodies so I don’t have to worry about my thyroid as a “ticking time bomb.”  Plus, it would be pretty discouraging if these past 6 months of lifestyle changes and dietary restrictions hasn’t proven to be helpful according to my bloodwork.

Even if the bloodwork doesn’t reveal any changes, though, I know for a fact that it has all been worth it!   I am in the best shape of my life.  I feel great.  I am sleeping well.  I am in a very happy place.  My period no longer controls my life.  I am no longer in need of a hysterectomy at this time.  The fact that I have been able to eliminate the need for a MAJOR SURGERY just by making healthy lifestyle changes is something I am very proud of!  I have so many people to thank for getting me through this past year.  Whether I have mentioned you in this post or not, please know how much I appreciate all the love and support I’ve received from my family and friends throughout this very challenging year.  I am eternally grateful for you all!

My Family's Financial History Part 1

As I’ve been working on my paperwork for the Budget Teacher, I can’t help but reflect on my lifelong financial history which has had such a substantial impact on where we stand with our finances today.  For starters, my parents instilled in me from a very early age to avoid debt at all costs. This is a value that had been instilled in them by their own parents as well. My maternal grandfather was an incredibly hard-working self-employed antique car upholster.  His work was renowned, something my family continues to be proud of to this day even 17 years after he passed away. If you do a Google Image Search for “Paul Matz antique cars,” you will see several photos of antique cars with his name cited for his pristine reupholstery work.  My grandfather truly earned every last penny he made with each precise stitch and tuft. With my grandma as a homemaker and my grandfather tirelessly running his own business, my mother’s family certainly was never rich, but they also never found themselves struggling financially either.  All in all, they were very smart with their money.

My dad’s family’s story is quite different.  Similarly, though, my paternal grandfather was a self-employed crop duster.  With the wealth he saved from crop dusting, he purchased his own trailer court and ran the business himself.  Unlike my mom’s father, my dad’s father was extremely wealthy. It was well-known to our family that he was a millionaire, but outsiders would have never known it because he was such a penny pincher.  My dad grew up in a small run-down home. Right next to that same crumbling dilapidated home, my grandfather and grandmother lived in a double-wide trailer until the time each of them passed away. My grandfather died in 1997, but my grandmother didn’t pass away until 2009.  Sometime within those 12 years, my grandmother managed to spend nearly all of my grandfather’s acquired wealth. I certainly don’t blame her, though. My grandfather could not have been an easy person to live with for all those years. I can’t imagine what it was like to live so stingy for so long knowing they were more than capable of having more.  

After my grandfather passed away, my grandma almost immediately purchased a brand new car.  Nothing too fancy- just a Pontiac Grand Am. However, I don’t know if my grandma ever had the privilege of owning a new car up until that point.  She chose to remain living in the same double-wide trailer she had shared with my grandfather for so many years. It was the place she knew as “home.”  However, I know she spent a good chunk of change remodeling that double-wide from top to bottom. I also remember she carried an obscenely high insurance policy in the event anything would ever happen to her precious double-wide.  Another way in which my grandma enjoyed her new-found wealth is that she took the whole family...and even extended family and friends...out to eat very often. We could order whatever we wanted! I recall many trips to Red Lobster in which the table was filled with several Ultimate Feasts, and my teenage-self got to indulge in both a non-alcoholic pina colada AND key lime pie for dessert.  That was sure the life!

It wasn’t just my grandma’s spending that dwindled away my grandfather’s life savings.  Unfortunately she also had a gambling addiction. I don’t even want to think about how much of her money went to Harrah’s Casino or trips to Vegas.  As I shared earlier, I actually am grateful that she had the opportunity to spend money more freely after Grandpa passed away. However when Grandma suffered a stroke in 2004, the family quickly realized there wasn’t much money left to even cover her need for long-term healthcare.  For five years, my grandma spent time in and out of substandard care facilities, until my dad took on Grandma’s care full time for the last few years of her life. Although they made the best of it and seemed to genuinely enjoy their time spent together, that circumstance taught me that I absolutely never want to burden my own children with my care.  

Funny how different the financial circumstances were between my two sets of grandparents:  Both grandfathers were very hard working entrepreneurs, but my dad’s father had far more wealth than my mom’s father.  However, my mom’s family lived far more comfortably with their nice houses, nice cars and nice clothes. Yet, they always made smart financial decisions and never lived outside their means.  My dad’s family, on the other hand, lived very far below their means for a large portion of their lives.  

A very critical difference between the two sets of grandparents that had a HUGE impact on their last few years of both grandmother’s lives: My mom’s parents took out a long-term healthcare policy early on in the 1990’s.  My maternal grandfather never had a need for the policy since he passed away from glioblastoma, a very aggressive cancerous brain tumor. My maternal grandmother, however, most definitely used the policy. For nearly the last 3 years of her life, my grandma resided in a comfortable assisted living facility in Wichita, KS.  She had her own apartment with a kitchen, living room and separate bedroom and bathroom. It was furnished and decorated with all of her personal belongings. It wasn’t the most top-of-the-line assisted living facility and my grandma still had plenty of complaints, but all in all it was still quite nice. The best part of all: it was FULLY covered by her long-term care policy!

Most uninsured elderly adults who end up needing long-term care burn through their life savings pretty quickly, as was the case with my maternal grandmother.  (Although she had already burned through much of her money before she was in need of long-term care.) Long-term care policies were unbelievably affordable when my maternal grandparents took out their policy in the 

1990’s.  Unfortunately these days, though, long-term care policies are incredibly expensive and they usually only cover 3 years of care unlike the lifetime policies that were offered over 20 years ago.  However, I still think it’s incredibly important for older adults to purchase a long-term care policy. My maternal grandmother never had to dip into any of her personal money to cover her long-term care.  Therefore, that allowed both my mom to receive an inheritance. Shortly after my mom got her inheritance, she took out a long-term care policy for herself. That was by far the best gift she could have given to both my brother and me.

When I first started typing my story, I didn’t originally have the intention of preaching the importance of carrying a long-term healthcare policy.  However, it truly is oh so very important, and something all of us millennials should be encouraging our baby boomer parents to do. There is SO much more to my family’s financial story that I would like to share when I have the time.  But for now, I will you at this. To be continued...

One Year Post-Monat

Facebook reminded me that I had posted about my Monat experience exactly one year ago today, so I figured it was time for an update. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this story, my Monat experience is actually what inspired me to concern myself with safe beauty and create the Better Beauty Clean Up Facebook group. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that products I use on my body could so drastically affect my hormones! My original post got shared over 1,400 times. With that many shares, I can only imagine how many sets of eyes read it. I even received an email and phone call from a woman with ABC News. We’re talking the national news station out of New York, not local. While nothing ever came of it (so far anyway), it definitely presented me with the thought that I need to “Make my mess my message.” How fitting that quote came from Robin Roberts, an ABC News anchor. After having my story shared so many times, I received a countless number of messages from women all over the country who had similar experiences. Many of them thanked me for sharing my story since it allowed them to connect the dots themselves. One of the messages that stood out to me the most was a woman who said I may have actually saved her from getting hysterectomy! Little did I know that one year later I would be faced with a looming hysterectomy myself. As I shared in my original post, I was diagnosed with adenomyosis. While it’s not at all likely Monat caused me to have this condition, it’s very likely that it exacerbated it much quicker. Adenomyosis is a condition that is fed by estrogen, and the capixyl (i.e. red clover) contained in Monat acts as a phytoestrogen (i.e. fake estrogen). A simple Google search will explain what exactly adenomyosis is, and it will also tell you that the only true “cure” is either a hysterectomy or menopause. I hate to get into too many details about what I’ve been dealing with over the past year. Here’s the brief synopsis: Last summer I tried having a Mirena IUD placed, but I had a horrific experience with it and had it removed after only 10 days. Because birth control can sometimes help alleviate symptoms of adenomyosis, I decided to try the Nuvaring next. Well, that was in less than 48 hours before I could no longer take the pain it was causing me. (Note: I successfully used a Nuvaring in the past, but that was long before I had been diagnosed with adenomyosis.) Birth control just doesn’t not seem to work well with my body, so I was feeling all out of options. My OB had suggested trying a uterine ablation, but the fact that I’m still so young means it would likely only be helpful for a short time. She then recommended a hysterectomy. I got as far as receiving the approval letter from my health insurance as well as a phone call from the surgery scheduler, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to move forward with it. Prior to all this I felt confident that I was done having kids, but the idea of having a hysterectomy at only 33 just hasn’t settled well with me. At all. Like I have lost SO much sleep over this, and been forced to increase my anxiety meds that I had been trying hard to wean off of. When it comes to making such a big decision, I believe it’s important to be at peace with that decision. I definitely am not. Not at this time anyway. I’m pleased to say that the last few months have been MUCH better for me for some reason. Still not great, but drastically better from the period that sent me to the ER back in November. Literally the only thing I’ve changed is that I’ve been consciously trying to consume only warm foods/beverages while on my period. This was recommended by a dear friend after she heard something about it on a podcast, and it certainly seems to be helping. Another dear friend recommended a local naturopath who specializes in balancing women’s hormones. I met with her for brief consultation last week, and decided if there’s anyone who could potentially help me it’s her. She told me that adenomyosis is a very tricky condition to treat, and a condition that she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Yikes. Not gonna lie, that was pretty tough to hear. I will meet with her in early March for a full appointment, but most likely she will recommend I take prescription progesterone along with having regular acupuncture treatments. I am so grateful she does acupuncture treatments because that was definitely an avenue I was planning to explore next. Those of you who have known me for awhile might recall when I dealt with horrific unexplained chronic pain after having my first child. Another long story short, I saw every kind of specialist, had a multitude of different tests and treatments, paid visits to both the Mayo Clinic and Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix...but acupuncture ended up being what cured me and gave me my life back. The question is: Can the same miracle happen more than once? I suppose I’ll soon find out. As usual, I didn’t expect this to be nearly this long. I felt that I owed my Better Beauty Clean Up members an explanation as to why I haven’t put much energy into the group lately. I also feel like I owe my local friends an explanation as to why I may have seemed to fall off the face of the Earth recently. I’m usually the kind of person who is constantly getting people together, hosting parties and playdates, etc. The majority of my interactions with friends these days are spur of the moment, because I just don’t know how I’m going to feel if I make plans too far in advance. For that same reason, I have shifted my role at Little Cardboard Rocket and have just been serving as assistant. I can’t be relied upon at all for a good 5-7 days each month, and it really sucks that it has even caused me to cancel a few much-anticipated trips. I certainly can’t keep living my life between periods, so I REALLY hope I can somehow find relief. Above all, I am mostly just striving for peace of mind.

Build-A-Bear Blunder

I was one of the 3.2 million people across the globe who stood in line for Build-A-Bear’s “Pay Your Age” day.  Where did I get that statistic from? Nowhere. I completely made it up. I’m a stay-at-home mom to a 2-year old and a 4-year old; I don’t have time to do that kind of research or fact checking.  I want nothing more than for this to be a well-researched, fact-base piece on the fallacies of American consumerism, but I only have the running time of the movie Frozen to write this piece, or however long my 2-year old’s attention span holds.  I’ve seen the comments on social media criticizing those who even went out to Build a Bear today in the first place. I can’t tell you who the other 4.7 million people who stood in line were (see how my random number keeps changing?), but I can tell you who I am as well as who some of the others were joining me in that ridiculously long line.

Okay, so you get the point that I’m limited on time to myself to think and compose my thoughts into writing, but yet I also have all the time in the world…so long as that time involves my two small kids.  My “job” as a stay-at-home mom is basically planning daily outings to prevent me and my two young sons from killing each other each day. Bonus: If I can wear them out enough, that might even result in a dual nap so this mama can get some much-needed time to herself!  (Without the movie Frozen playing in the background for the 4.7th billionth time.) Needless to say, that’s why I am “one of those people who obviously has too much time on my hands” that braved Build a Bear today.

I feel like it’s also worth noting that my boys and I just got over a horrific stomach bug which forced us to be stuck at home all week.  We were beyond desperate to get out of the house. Even my husband recognized this morning that it was imperative for us to escape. I put the Pay Your Own Age Day event in the calendar last weekend when I saw someone share a news story about it on Facebook.  I expected it to be crazy like the $5 Build-A-Bear Day my older son participated in almost exactly 2 years ago. I thought the one hour wait in line for that event was painful, so I decided to arrive before the store even opened instead of mid-day like we had 2 years ago.  Little did I know we weren't even close to beating the crowds...

Despite arriving 45 minutes before the store even opened, I could tell just by seeing the packed parking lot that there was no way my boys wouldn’t get to build a bear today.  We went ahead and parked, and asked a mom leaving the mall with her child what it was like inside. She told us they had already shut down the line for those who would get to participate in "Pay Your Age" day, but they were passing out $15 vouchers to the rest of the people remaining in line.  We opted to go inside and see what the voucher line was like since we were already there.  The voucher line alone literally spanned half the length of the mall and even wrapped around.

The only reason I was willing to stand in line for the voucher was in hopes that it would help my boys understand why they weren't able to go to Build-a-Bear today.  I secretly hoped they wouldn't be able to handle it which would give us the excuse to just leave, but I think they actually kind of enjoyed the excitement of it all. So, yes, we truly had nothing else better to do than to stand in line for about 45 minutes in order for them each to get a $15 voucher.

While there, I posted a picture that showed only a tiny fraction of the ridiculously long line looping around the mall with a warning to my friends NOT to go there today!  I’m assuming the fact that I tagged the Tucson Mall in my post is why I quickly received two message requests in my Facebook inbox. One was from Mrs. Grant, a local radio personality asking me to take a call about my Build A Bear experience today.  The other was from someone who works for our local paper. Of course I was willing to respond to both of their messages, that is, once I finally got my screaming 4-year old down for a much-needed nap. (He doesn’t normally nap, but he was a mess after leaving the mall with a coupon instead of a new stuffed animal that I would likely just sneak off to Goodwill in 6 months anyway.  I’m still working on the whole “There’s starving children in Africa!” concept with that kid.)

Not gonna lie, I got off that recorded phone call with Mrs. Grant and Greg Curtis feeling a bit of a high.  Life as a stay-at-home mom can be pretty dull, especially after a week of cleaning vomit from towels, sheets, carpets, rugs, toys...okay, to be fair my husband did most of the vomit-cleaning since I was busy up-chucking myself.  I sure love that guy. (And as another side note: I can understand why no friends will be accepting my invitations to come over for a playdate for a very LOOOOOONG time!)

Anyway, that phone call got me to think more deeply about our whole Build A Bear experience this morning.  A high school acquaintance (and fellow Valley Center High School valedictorian who has lived a much more exciting life than this elementary-teacher-turned-stay-at-home mom) commented on my Facebook post.  He said, “I’ve long held that everything that is wrong about American overconsumption can be found in the existence of Build-a-Bear. Here we are.” I suggested he write a piece on his thoughts, as it would be very timely given today’s blunder.  Here is his response [and I apologize for not taking the time to paraphrase because Olaf is currently singing his song about Summer so I can feel the time ticking away]: “I’ve thought about it. They have one in Dubai. After a particularly grueling stretch in Afghanistan a number of years back, I had a few days of travel in the UAE. As I was having a cup of coffee across from the store, I remember reflecting on how much disconnect there is between the world where children are born in camps for internally displaced persons, knowing nothing but tents and filth and sickness and hunger, and the world where stores exist for the sole purpose of building a stuffed animal. And the very fact that people will line up for hours, pushing and yelling, is a very sobering critique of the world in which we live.”

Well said, Dayne.  I’m truly envious of not only his life experiences, but also his ability to share an intelligent, well-thought-out response to a Facebook post unlike mine which usually involves the use of 1 or 7 emojis.  Aaaaaanyway, believe it or not I’ve actually had a similar thought about Build-A-Bear. When I stood there two years ago watching my then-2-year old stomp the mechanism that fluffs up an animal, blow on the stuffed heart that goes inside to make a wish, and do all the other cheesy things that are frankly only cute-ish for super small children to do...I couldn’t help but think about children in third world countries who could have quite possibly been the ones to sew those limp, unstuffed animals together.  (Note: Again, I’ve done exactly zero fact-checking here. I’m not saying Build-A-Bear uses child labor to manufacture their products...this was just a random thought that came to mind.)

Albeit unfounded, you would think that fleeting thought of small children sewing limp unstuffed animals would make me swear off Build A Bear forever, but dammit I just can’t pass up a good deal.  (Did you catch the fact that I used to be an elementary teacher? Thriftiness is basically embedded into our genetic makeup.) I’ve actually been wanting to take our boys back to Build A Bear so my two-year old could enjoy his first fluff-stomping, heart-blowing, awkward-ceremonial-chanting experience.  I just can’t bring myself to pay $25+ for a stuffed animal that I’ll likely sneak off to Goodwill in 6 months anyway. Therefore, of course Build A Bear’s Pay Your Age Day event made its way into my calendar.

Okay, so here’s where I feel guilty (aside from all the blatantly obvious reasons I SHOULD feel guilty for taking part in Build-A-Bear’s obscene marketing ploy)...it became apparent to me that many of the people standing in that ridiculously long line weren’t just people like me who wanted to take advantage of a good deal, but rather people who could only afford the Build-A-Bear experience because of this deal.  The sweet woman who we stood next to in line was a Grandmother dressed in scrubs to work her afternoon/night shift in an alzheimer's care facility. Trailing behind her was her son, his wife (or maybe just baby mama?) pushing their 6-month old baby in a stroller, and that same mama even had another baby on the way. That Grandmother revealed to us that all of them live with her and are dependent on her income since her husband passed away.  They had driven about an hour to attend thisa event, just so that 6 month-old grandbaby could have his $1 Build-A-Bear.

I know what you’re thinking about that family.  Trust me, I had all those same thoughts about priorities and life choices, too, but who are we to judge?  I’m pretty familiar with the mindsets of impoverished people after teaching in three Title 1 elementary schools across three different states.  All three of those schools sent Friday food bags home with students who would otherwise go hungry over the weekend. Those are the kind of families who probably joined us in the ridiculously long line at Build A Bear today.

For those who say they don’t understand poverty, I’ll point you in the direction of Ruby Payne’s Framework for Understanding Poverty.  In my first year of teaching, I participated in a book study and travelled for a professional development workshop that was designed around that book’s principles.  I have spent the past decade recommending Ruby Payne's book to any and all people who say they struggle to understand the priorities and life choices made by the poor.  Her Framework explains that people in poverty place an extremely high value on entertainment, which is why they would choose to have a nice big screen TV in their homes, even if they lack a working refrigerator to properly store perishable foods. Therefore, an event like Build A Bear’s Pay Your Own Age Day is going to be something people of poverty would absolutely take advantage of, even if it means spending $25+ in gas just to make the round trip to the mall.

Okay, Elsa is now back in Arendelle proclaiming that they’ll never shut the gates again, so I really need to wrap this thing up.  In short, I don’t blame Build a Bear for exploiting stay-at-home-mom deal-seekers such as myself. However, I do blame them for exploiting poverty.  I truly felt bad for all those people standing in line awaiting their coupons, knowing that when or if they ever redeem those $15 vouchers, those families will still end up spending way too much of their hard-earned money on clothes, shoes, accessories, sound mechanisms, etc. for their chincy stuffed animals.  I’m not sure whether to end this by saying, “Shame on you, Build A Bear” or rather “Well played, Build A Bear, well played...” [insert eye-roll emoji here]

My Open Resignation Letter

For the third time in my combined total of merely 4 ½ years of teaching, I have resigned.  I’m sure this doesn’t come as a shock to many considering I had decided to take the year off to stay home with Owen, and this past year hasn’t exactly turned out quite the way I planned.  The “plan” was for my mom to move here to Tucson sometime during my year off, and then she would be Owen’s caregiver when I returned to teaching.  Instead, I found myself dealing with a bizarre medical mystery which required us to fly her out here last minute to help out with Owen while I attended numerous (and I mean NUMEROUS) different appointments and tests.  We thought she might be here a few weeks, but instead my condition kept her out here for over three months.  Throughout those three months, she was working with a realtor and ended up putting offers on three different condos adjacent to our neighborhood.  Her offer for the third condo was actually accepted.  At that point it was decided that my 89-year old grandmother would make the move out here to live with her, since the two of them have been living together in Kansas for about 10 years.  Well, long story short (or at least less long), my grandma ended up having a heart attack, Mom put a stop-payment on her earnest money check for the condo, she rushed back to Kansas on yet another ridiculously expensive last-minute flight, and has been there ever since.  My grandma went straight from her hospital stay into an assisted-living facility there in Wichita.  She has been continually fighting a bad infection off and on which quarantines her to her room, so needless to say it has been a very rough transition.  Of course my mom feels obligated to be with her in Kansas right now, so any plans for her to move to Tucson have been indefinitely put on hold.  

Whew!  My intention for this blog post truly wasn’t to be about my personal situation, but rather how I felt about the job I left.  Well, it’s time I lay it all out there.  Here’s how I really and truly felt:  I loved it.  I loved the students, their families, the staff and my principal.  I loved my classroom that I had worked so hard to set up just perfectly.  I loved the school community, which truly felt like one big family with all of us “in it together.”  Many of the staff members have become my close friends.  They’re people that Justin and I enjoy socializing with, and even consider them our families away from home.  I loved teaching first grade, and had the amazing opportunity to be pregnant at the same time as my grade-level colleague.  That same colleague is someone I consider one of my best friends here in Tucson, and I truly adore her whole family.  Working with her was like working with a sister.  She made the silliest little things about work so much fun.  If there is one thing I miss the most about each day, it’s sharing lunches with her.  Speaking of lunches, I loved my 40 minute lunch!  I had never had that amount of time to eat before in my teaching career.  Honestly, I loved my whole daily schedule!  I loved the resources available to me, including the classroom technology, curriculum materials, supplies and especially the resources provided by other school professionals.  I know it seems like I’ve done a little “bait and switch” by saying I’m going to put it all out there only to gush on how much I loved my job, but I do have an angle.  Believe it or not, this post was not intended to be about me.

Whenever I’d explain to my out-of-state family and friends that I worked in a renowned school district here in Tucson, no one could really understand how it made sense.  That district has an overall low socioeconomic population of students, and most can understand the challenges that come along with that.  Yet, this district has extremely high standards for its students as well as its educators, and overall they are very successful in achieving those high standards.  This comes from a cohesiveness across the district in the way their teachers teach and the type of expectations they set for all students.  Whether in a preschool classroom or high school chemistry, a principal or district administrator can walk in and expect to see the same kind of teaching taking place.  The content may be different, but the “Essential Elements of Instruction” are the same.  This is what makes the Flowing Wells School District here in Tucson so successful.  I know my educator friends from across the country are all familiar with the “Teacher Bible” which is the required reading for all education undergraduates and first-year teachers: Harry Wong’s The First Days of School.  Well, as a testament to Flowing Wells awesomeness, I can tell you that it is acknowledged in that book 4 different times.  Trust me, I know.  As a perpetual “first year” teacher, I now own four copies.  

Tucson is home to the University of Arizona.  While I didn’t attend U of A, I’ve gotten the impression that Flowing Wells is THE school district in Tucson where all education majors hope to teach once they graduate.  One of my friends who teaches in a different school district said, “Flowing Wells is hard to get into, but once you’re in, you’re IN!”  Well, I managed to get “in.”  I truly lucked out when after only 6 days of subbing for the district, Homer Davis Elementary needed to hire a first grade teacher in the middle of the school year.  Little did I know when I accepted the position, though, all that would be required of me.  I thought the district job application, the interview process and the requirements for my Arizona teaching license were grueling enough!  I wasn’t aware that I’d have to take a crash course on their Essential Elements of Instruction only to be assigned a mentor and district coach who, in addition to the school principal, would be observing my teaching to make sure I was putting all that EEI into place.  The thing with Flowing Wells is they don’t care whether you’ve had zero years of teaching experience or 100 years of teaching experience, they have the exact same requirements for all of their new teachers no matter what.  To give an idea of just how serious they are about it, I had just ONE final EEI day left after attending all of the others, and that just so happened to be the day I went into labor.  I was dressed and ready to go, even though my water had broken.  I was actually calling the EEI instructor asking what time I’d need to be there for the final test, and then asking the nurse at the hospital if I could make it there by 11 a.m.  I had asked weeks earlier if I could take the test in advance “just in case” I ended up having the baby before then, but I was told, “Oh don’t worry!  If you can’t make it that day, you’ll just make it up next year.”  Even as I was on the phone saying my water may have broken, I was told again, “If you can’t make it by 11 a.m., you can make it up next year!”  

Yes, my going-into-labor story makes Flowing Wells “Essential Elements of Instruction” program sound a little bit ridiculous, but it’s “ridiculousness” is also what makes it effective.  You’ve got to understand that this is actually really hard for me to admit as a perpetual first-year teacher.  I mean, I’m really really REALLY sick of being a perpetual “first year” teacher!  However, even so I still cannot deny how great it is that every staff member across the school district from preschool to high school shares the same set of expectations.  That’s pretty awesome.  The EEI teaching methods are good, too.  I mean...really and truly effective.  I feel like every one of Flowing Wells teachers could hop into some other school district and wow everyone with the way they teach.  These teachers are not only amazing at what they do, but they work incredibly hard.  They are 110% devoted to their jobs.  Not only are they fully committed to every aspect of effective teaching, but they do everything that it takes to help improve their students’ personal lives, many of which could use some major improvements.  This was the third school that I taught at, in a third state, that sent home Friday food bags for kids who may potentially go hungry over the weekends.  Hunger is just one of the many needs for this student population.  Given our proximity to the border, students would leave unexpectedly, and often it was suspected that they were deported.  This is very challenging for teachers who invest so much of their energy, not to mention their heart and souls, into students who often disappear with no warning.  I lost 13 students from my original class list last year.  Thirteen.  Yet, I was held accountable for students’ test scores who were only in my classroom for a brief portion of the school year.  

I don’t need to dwell on all the obvious details to describe how hard these Flowing Wells teachers have to work.  I think the important thing to dwell on is that they WANT to work hard for their students.  They know that those hours of the school day are most likely the best hours of those kids’ lives, and they do whatever it takes to make the most of that time.  These teachers know that by setting high expectations for their students, they are providing them a legitimate chance at success in life.  A chance that may seem very slim based on their upbringing.  Somehow in the midst of all this hard work, though, this school manages to have FUN!  School assemblies, spirit weeks, holidays, Love of Reading Week, evening activities...they’re all truly a joy to behold!  There is nothing “obligatory” about these special events; everyone gets so into them!  I had a you’re-not-in-Kansas-anymore moment when I first attended Water Play Day.  Picture the entire school’s worth of students outside in their swimsuits hitting beach balls over volleyball nets, sliding across a slippy-slide made from a giant tarp, running around in the sprinklers...palm trees and sunshine overhead.  Yes, that may be only one day out of the entire school year, but the spirit of it remains throughout.

I suspect at this point people are wondering how this school is truly different from the others where I taught in Kansas and Washington.  Well, the truth is it’s actually very similar.  Being a teacher in those schools was a lot like being a teacher for Flowing Wells, except in Flowing Wells I had to work even harder...only to get paid substantially less.  Yup, there’s the big juicy angle you all have been waiting for.  It’s no secret that teachers don’t make much money, but  teachers here REALLY don’t make much!  Arizona is one of the lower-paying states, Tucson is one of the lower-paying cities, and Flowing Wells is the lowest-paying public school district in Tucson.  That’s the part which no one could really understand it when I told them I worked for a renowned school district.  How could a school district be “renowned” if it pays the lowest?  Well, remember what I said about U of A grads all coveting a job at Flowing Wells?  Teachers are willing to get paid less if that means they’ll be in a better work environment.  I can tell you that the massive Tucson Unified School District does not have the best reputation for “job satisfaction,” but Flowing Wells most certainly does.  

I’m not an Arizona legislator whose job it is to allocate funds to education, so I certainly don’t have the knowledge or experience to throw around criticism.  I can, however, tell you something in the system isn’t right when the hardest, most dedicated teachers are getting paid the least in order to have the “best” jobs.  I cannot commend Flowing Wells employees enough for doing all that they do despite getting paid what they do.  This isn’t meant to be a personal complaint of mine.  I realize I am extremely fortunate to be in a position to where I can extend my time as a stay-at-home mom.  Even though it would be hard for us to justify paying full-time childcare for me to return to work, I still tell my friends I feel like I “gave up gold” by resigning from this teaching position.  The riches of the teaching profession are many, even if they’re not monetary.

Keep doing your thing, Dragons.  I hope to be back someday.  In the meantime, though, you can still expect to see my face around Homer Davis from time to time :-)

My Medical Mystery

Alternate titles for this post include: “Where I’ve been for the last four months” and “Why I never accepted any ice bucket challenge nominations.” (That gives you an idea of just how long this has been going on.) I normally consider myself a bit of a Facebook-oversharer, but that hasn’t been the case over these last four months.  Although I suppose I could regain that title after sharing this very post.

After suffering through several unusual symptoms, seeing numerous specialists and having endless tests, I have yet to receive a definitive diagnosis. I’ve had severe pain in my upper back/neck/shoulders/arms, numbness in my extremities, shortness of breath and substantial weight loss, despite having a very healthy appetite. I had to switch my primary care provider after not being taken seriously by my first one, and thankfully now I have a wonderful doctor who is treating me with great care and concern, although there’s only so much a primary care doctor can do. I have seen a pulmonologist, cardiologist, gastroenterologist, an endocrinologist, a neurologist, two neurosurgeons and have future appointments with an additional specialized neurosurgeon, an orthopedic spine doctor, a pain specialist and a rheumatologist. I’ve been to the ER twice, had two CT scans on my lungs, a spinal x-ray, an abdominal ultrasound, a pelvic ultrasound, a cardiac stress test, two EKG’s, two breathing tests, a HIDA scan on my gallbladder, an endoscopy and an MRI on my spine, an MRI on my brain and a third one for my spine will be scheduled soon. My blood has been drawn enough to feed a family of vampires, testing my thyroid (numerous times), valley fever (twice), TB, RA, lupus, several CBC’s, a CRP, lyme disease, Celiac’s disease, pituitary function, numerous more I’m forgetting…all normal.

While my doctor feels those results should rule out anything “scary” like cancer, it’s difficult to feel any sense of reassurance when I continue to feel pain each day. The one finding that has come from these numerous tests is that I have a thin syrinx in my cervical spine, which is the term for a spinal cyst. I was told for weeks that the syrinx is too thin to be causing my symptoms, but then recently I was told that my pain is the textbook description for syringomyelia (the condition of having a syrinx.) I’ve spent hours upon hours Googling this condition and I can tell you with little doubt that it’s the exact kind of pain I’m experiencing. It was also recently discovered that I have scoliosis, which is associated with syringomyelia. Doctors insist that I must have always had the scoliosis but we never noticed it until now. However, Justin, my mom and I all feel like it’s something we would have definitely noticed since the right side of my back is raised so much higher than my left when I bend over. Because of this, I was going to physical therapy two times per week, but it has done little to help my pain. It’s extremely frustrating that doctors act as if the syrinx is just an incidental finding, and therefore nothing to be concerned about. One quick Google search for “syrinx” or “syringomyelia” will tell you that there’s nothing incidental about it.

I even traveled to Mayo Clinic to meet with one of their doctors, but he was of no help to me. After making the appointment, gathering all my medical records and tests, and making the two-hour trip to Scottsdale, I couldn’t have been more disappointed to have a supposed “top-of-the-line” doctor tell me the pain is in my head. On one hand I cannot blame him for jumping to that conclusion when he reads through my paperwork and sees that I just had a baby 8 months ago and also recently lost my alcoholic father. I’m sure my breakdown right there in his office just further confirmed his diagnosis. My breakdown, however, was due to the fact that I’ve been through the scariest experience of my life over the past several months, feeling absolutely helpless dealing with our challenging healthcare system, and spending each day worried that I’m not going to be around for my baby boy. I could tell immediately that this doctor had me pegged before I even opened my mouth, and all I could think was, “You’re not going to help me, are you?”

There is no way I can cram into one blog post what I’ve been through over the past four months. I’ve spent each day in miserable pain, desperate for an answer. These many tests and specialists have not been easy to come by. Once my doctor provides me with a referral, I usually call 4-5 different doctors in each specialty and make numerous appointments before I can find one who can get me in without having to wait several months. My intention in sharing this is not to have people feel sorry for me, but rather just to “get it all out there” so I can stop feeling like I’m harboring a big secret while I’m mostly holed up at home.

We have been extremely fortunate to have my mom here in town over these last few months helping with Owen as well as with anything and everything else so I can try to take care of myself and attend these numerous appointments. I am also very blessed to have an incredibly loving and endlessly supportive husband who has been by my side through all of this and has even taken time away from work to attend appointments with me. If there is one positive to come from this awful experience, it’s that I never want to take anything for granted ever again, especially good health. I now have so much empathy for people who suffer with chronic pain. You feel like you have to convince everyone that what you’re going through is real since you look fine on the outside, or just do your best to hide your suffering and pretend like everything is okay. It’s a miserable way to live life, and yet it also provides one with a clarity and perspective that can only be found in times of suffering.

I have yet to catch a glimpse of that light at the end of the tunnel, but one thing is for sure I am not willing to give up. I have a beautiful baby boy who deserves a healthy, happy mama. So far I’ve been told that pain management is my only option, and nerve pain is one of the hardest kinds of pain to treat. After being prescribed numerous medications and discovering that they offer little to no relief, I am just not willing to accept that as the final answer at this point. Although I am beyond sick of attending appointments and frustrated that this has become my full-time job, what else can I do when I’m living in continual pain?

According to what I’ve read online, syringomyelia occurs in only 8 out of every 100,000 people, so as you can imagine it’s very difficult to find a doctor who specializes in this condition. Fortunately, Phoenix has the Barrow Institute which is a world-renowned neurological center. I have an appointment scheduled with one of their neurosurgeons who specializes in syringomyelia. I’ve been told by two other neurosurgeons that my syrinx is inoperable because it’s too thin, but there is a possibility it may have expanded since my last MRI as I’m experiencing increasing pain and stiffness.  As much as I don't want it to expand for fear that my pain will turn to paralysis, I also don't want to just accept that I have no choice but to live in pain.

The syrinx doesn’t necessarily explain my shortness of breath, although the doctor thinks my breathing is somehow restricted due to the pain, and it certainly doesn’t explain why I’ve lost so much weight. Therefore, despite having one diagnosis that doctors can’t seem to agree on, I still feel like I’m living in the limbo of a medical mystery. Prayers are much appreciated, and please…never take your health for granted!

Romans 8:18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Grief Feels Good

I lost my dad today, and it hurts. The pain is what one would expect to feel when losing a parent, and that’s why it feels so good. Those who are closest to me and my brother know our dad struggled as a life-long alcoholic. Our whole lives we had prepared for the fact that we’d most likely lose our dad at a relatively young age. There were many many times we thought we were going to lose him due to incidences directly related to his alcoholism. At those times, we felt sadness and pain somewhat similar to what we feel now, but at those times our sadness and pain was also fueled by a sense bitterness and resentment. At this time though, there no bitterness, no resentment, no regret…just love. Dad had a major relapse almost two years ago, just as Justin and I were making our move from Washington to Arizona. We were very lucky not to lose him then, but his health had been in a steady decline ever since. He had suffered liver failure, which was mostly under control with the help of medication, but other health issues arose over the past year and a half that his body was no longer equipped to handle. He had a loving girlfriend who cared for him for well over a year, allowing him the best possible quality of life that he could have before ultimately needing hospitalization followed by the last month or so of his life spent in a care home. For almost two years, we haven’t had to live each day wondering, “Is Dad drinking again?” Though we were constantly concerned about his health, it was such a relief to not have this thought running through our minds at all times. This past year and a half allowed us the opportunity to think less about Dad the Alcoholic, and more about him as just Dad. Other times when we thought we’d lose our dad, we ached with anger for the choices he had made and the fact that, yet again, he let his disease get the best of him. Now, it is a true luxury not to have those feelings. That’s why the grief feels so good, because we just miss our dad. The man who picked me up from school every Tuesday in kindergarten and took me to McDonald’s for a Happy Meal. The man who loved taking us to the park to feed the ducks, from the time we were little kids to even more recent times as adults. The man who had a resounding sense of humor with a laugh that could be heard above all others in a movie theater. The man who was scared to death when he first took me out for a driving lesson, yet he didn’t blink an eye the first time he flew with his son piloting an airplane. The man who had the greatest time of his life when he made trips to Washington to visit his kids, and believed his son’s apartment near the Space Needle came straight out of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.” The man who was immensely proud of his kids, and viewed us as the greatest of his life’s accomplishments. Our dad was far from perfect. We were always “cautiously close” with him, keeping a safe distance which allowed us to maintain a good relationship without ever letting his life choices get the best of our own well-being. I think Dad understood that, and truly respected us for the way we chose to live our lives. Living so far away may not have allowed us a large quantity of time, but every moment we spent together was certainly quality time. Those times were always filled with numerous “I love you’s” and “I am just so proud of you guys!” For anyone who has ever questioned how Drew and I managed to become the people we are despite having an alcoholic father, it’s because of love. Losing a parent is never easy. It’s hard. It hurts. And for that pain, I am very grateful. Because that means there was love.