occupational therapist – Page 2 – Jesus is for the Wounded

A Pig for Sale

Published on August 21, 2014August 21, 2014 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Only in Indiana. Or maybe in any other State with farming. Well that would include all 50 States. I guess it’s just new to me . . .

The Facebook page for selling stuff in my town had a posting for a pig for sale: $300 for the live beast. I actually thought about it for a moment! The biggest issue would be finding a place to store all of that meat. Our lil’ freezer just ain’t big enough for my hubby’s ice cream and my bone broth in addition to a virtual bevvy of pork! Darn. I’ve been missing BBQ ribs for some time now!

I suppose that someone else with a chest or upright freezer will jump on the offer. Maybe our neighbor who bought our used freezer will find it in her budget to feast on Porky Pig for the rest of the year? Or maybe not. But if she invites us over for some Famous Dave-style ribs I am sure that we would oblige! We will even bring my Grandma’s famous potato salad. Yeah I won’t forget the horseradish, pickle relish, and bacon grease (aka “secret ingredients”)!

We live in a time where you can buy and sell just about anything. With the diversity of our world and our accessibility to most of it via the internet, we can get much of what we want for a price. Do you want someone to paint your business logo on his hairy belly and sing a song for you? Just check out the gigs on http://www.fiverr.com and it will be yours for the price of a latte’. My preference for that one would be “NOPE.” That is, in the physical realm. There are other realms for which I would need a song you know. And tonight my heart realm can’t buy me even a lullaby for peace of mind. My heart is breaking and there simply is not much I can do about it but pray.

My brother, Mike, whom everyone else calls Michael, continues to live in a wretched inner city nursing home after a serious stroke. He is four months post-CVA and three months enduring the “3 hots and a cot” provided by a one-star facility. I flipped when I found out that he had an infectious rash on his hemiplegic hand! I asked his fiancé and Mike to check for signs of bed bugs and call the State Ombudsman immediately if they found any signs of them. Mike’s roommate itches too. Hopefully it will be a case of an allergic reaction to the laundry detergent. But why would the bumps become infected? Good golly. Water (no juice, milk, or coffee) for breakfast, a delayed response for significantly elevated blood pressure, and no follow-up whatsoever on a 6 cm kidney tumor ARE ONLY THE FIRST THREE items in the long list of substandard care complaints. So sad.

Lisa, Mike’s precious fiancé, is at her wit’s end trying to get Veteran’s Administration or Medicaid benefits processed correctly to change his situation. She faithfully visits him when she can, brings him home-cooked food, and follows up the paperwork nightmare as Mike’s legal guardian. Just when I wonder if things moving forward fast enough or why she hasn’t returned my phone calls I find out that she has started a new job to try an better their overall situation. She is such a trooper. Thank the Lord for Lisa’s love and care for her Michael. And our cousin, Lisa, helps out where she can as well. Cousin Lisa is an optometrist for the nursing home and has more than once been able to positively influence his care by her presence, her visiting, her dipomacy, her support of fiancé Lisa. They are doing the best they can and that is both a gift and all I can ask from 200 miles away.

This is such a curious situation, you know. I am an occupational therapist with over 30 years of professional experience including patients with the very same medical condition as my brother. Yet due to a severe illness I am enduring, I cannot even visit him! The dirty conditions of his living environment would surely trigger seizure-like attacks for me. Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome, Multiple Chemical Sensitivity, or whatever you want to call this nightmare is keeping me from seeing my brother. And this is the Lord’s plan for both of us right now. I don’t understand it. My heart is hurting. I would be honored to work more closely with Mike, even provide supplemental therapy or visits. I cannot do it right now. Oh sure, I send him something in the mail occasionally or make a phone call to his facility and get placed on hold for a very, very long time before actually getting through to anyone less than 50% of the time. We are all doing what we can and waiting on the Lord. It’s just so very frustrating for each of us!

So if you’ve got an extra 300 bucks to donate to our cause, kindly send it to St. F—— Nursing Center in D—–, room 207. Leave the pig and get my brother out of there please! They might not notice Mike missing for awhile since a piece of meat is a piece of meat when you don’t care much for the sweet sense of humor that used to characterize my tall lanky sibling. Oh geez, I’m getting a little upset here aren’t I? Well at least the pig will stomach the food a little better without complaining. Like the Cheerio’s commercial said many decades ago, “he’ll eat anything! Hey Mikey!” Yeah but it won’t be Mikey. One day Mikey will be gone from the place he and his fiancé are calling, “the dump.” May the Lord pour out His grace on those left behind when he does go.

I just hope that moving day will be soon. O.k. I’m done venting. Gotta get back to praying. JJ

Handling loss is a skill for living well

Published on August 18, 2014August 19, 2014 by Jesus is for the Wounded3 Comments

Some disappointments this past week have reminded me of the importance of handling “loss” well. Change is a certainty in this life and many of us have had more than our share of both the voluntary and involuntary fare. Change often means letting go of something or someone we cherish. For the Christian we can view change as part of becoming more like Christ, maturing in our faith, and working out the details of our lives with the Lord. It is necessary! And all too often it doesn’t feel well though.

Here are 5 changes that came in rapid-fire succession for me lately:

A counselor that I have been seeing to handle the grief of this serious biotoxin illness I’m dealing with, suddenly discharged me from her care. A week ago Tuesday I had a major seizure attack episode in her office and had to leave abruptly. The episode went on while standing outside the front door to her office then continued as I struggled to get back into my truck. An hour and a half later I was able to leave to return home. She checked on me multiple times during the event and even called me a few times to discuss our next appointment. Until that day she had been opening the window in her office for me to increase air circulation before our starting time. When she did not do so until I was about to walk into her office (on a rainy, humid afternoon), the scented “warming candle” residuals, soil aerosols from her live plant, and possible contaminants embedded in the office carpeting were too much for me. She is now unwilling to meet me in a nearby library conference room since her driving time simply would not be reimbursable, won’t fit into her busy schedule. So for now it’s bye bye Julie.
For the third year in a row I had to miss my husband’s United States Canoe Association Nationals due to illness. I am sad. I love watching Steve compete in his surf ski (racing kayak) and missed both of his races including the exciting trial class event with our outrigger canoe. It sounds like there was a photo finish as he crossed the finish line and I was not there to take it all in or take pictures. Sigh. We love taking road trips together. Even if we could have afforded the expense of travelling together, I cannot tolerate the fragrances of hotel rooms, conditions of camping, or the unknowns of renting a travel trailer. Such is life with Multiple Chemical Sensitivity and Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome! I stayed home with our German shepherd pup in our “safe home.” Parts of the two full days were actually better by the way: I got to dig in the dirt of a new garden bed. The second day was terrifying however with two, severe, hour-long episodes while home alone. My Jesus saw me through when I thought I would stop breathing. I did not. My husband needed this time away. Besides, having someone stay with me or check on me in the end dangerously increases risks to my health. We made tough choices indeed.
I realize that the isolation that accompanies this illness is killing my spirit. I sense my social skills eroding. Sitting in my truck in a cemetery adjacent to a Garden Walk event on Saturday, I nearly panicked because I was late and there were cicadas plunking my windshield as I tried to wrap up a phone call with Steve! I had not talked to anyone but my dog for 24 hours so I was glad for his call. However, I had felt awkward and alone getting ready. And I know that these were just feelings. The evening out went fine with barely a few tic zips, enjoyment of select entrees, and meeting some really nice fellow gardeners. It’s just that the social part of my life is so unnatural, absent, and different now. Just like when I went through a divorce, lots of people have left my life once again. Reaching out has been tough when it’s so complicated just to get together. I will keep trying though. I have to . . .
An occupational therapy (O.T.) recruiter for an agency for whom I used to do contract work called me TWICE this past week! I guess they really needed someone! Oh how I miss working. Last night I did the equivalent of 4 hours of (free!) continuing education credits for my O.T. license, inspired perhaps by the phone call earlier. Maybe someday there will be an equivalent at-home professional job that I can do that will utilize my skills. Just gotta get rid of some daily seizure attack episodes first, eh? Today they lasted most of the day. My “job” was to take a shower and make dinner. Done. Don’t need an App to keep track of this kind of schedule, I tell ya! Sish.
Most of the time my worship is in isolation. For a long time I looked to my husband to try and fix this one for me. Why wasn’t he trying to find a church for us in a newer building that wasn’t water damaged? My criticism of him and “our” church goes on from here; it is not good. I have tried to fill the void with a read-the-Bible-in-a-year App, Christian radio talk shows, following various ministries via email or Facebook, interacting with other believers via the same, and continuous prayer throughout the day including praying with Steve. But I crave real Christian fellowship. I crave Women’s Bible Study. There wasn’t even an outdoor baptismal service with our church this year and the annual hot dog roast will be a “no” in October due to the noxious exposures from the campfire. (The smoke was hell for me last year.) My heart is breaking on this one. I know the Lord sees it too. I trust Him. Just today I got the sense that I may need to reach out a little more and not wait for someone else to fix it. I contacted our “Encouragement Ministry” leader about starting something with others who are home bound and I am waiting to hear back from her. Hopefully it will be soon!

While we could discuss the solution to these problems the more important point here right now is that I know that each of these will bring goodness in due time. I have realized the promise of the Lord “restoring the years the locusts had eaten” (Joel 2:25) after my life fell apart in 2003. Joy returned and reminders of it are all around me. I have chosen to write about these things in hopes that you will pray alongside me for the Lord’s will and redeeming grace for these recent losses. Perhaps you, too, have loved and lost much while enduring all kinds of trials. Please let me know about them and I will pray for you.

Gentle Reader: we are to stand firm on the foundation of our faith in Jesus Christ who will:

Make all things new. (Revelation 21:5)
Direct our paths. (Proverbs 3:5-6)
Extend His love, compassions, and faithfulness in newness every morning. (Lamentations 3:22-23)
Remember us in our low estate with love that endures forever. (Psalm 136:23)
Reward us for our faithfulness. (Matthew 6)
Bless those who are good stewards of time, talents, and resources. (Luke 16 & Matthew 25)

And so much more. I am encouraged. My Jesus sits on the throne of my life and the throne of grace. He will make beauty from the ashes (Isaiah 61) which are the losses that characterize living a full life here with Him as our Lord and Savior. I trust His Word on this and hope that you will too. Let us rejoice with great expectation for the goodness to come!

Isaiah 61

¹⁰I delight greatly in the Lord;
    my soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation
    and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness,
as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest,
    and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
¹¹For as the soil makes the sprout come up
    and a garden causes seeds to grow,
so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness
    and praise spring up before all nations.

That’s what friends are for

Published on July 14, 2014August 5, 2014 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Mrs. Wesolowski would turn over in grave if she saw this title and its dangling participle. So sorry my late English teacher. It’s even a song title and a great pop tune as well:

Tonight I got to go back in time to my working days. I had the privilege of talking on the phone with 2 ladies via conference call that I worked with over 10 years ago. The two of them are long time friends from college. As for me, “P1” was the Certified Occupational Therapy Assistant (COTA) in a skilled nursing facility (SNF) where I was her supervising Occupational Therapist. She was hard-working, dedicated, thorough, and very kind with all of our rehabilitation patients. We had lots of memorable moments and a few we would rather forget as well. It’s all in the mix when you serve others in the zany, fast-paced people business of healthcare.

“P2” was also a COTA in another SNF when we met, providing quality therapy services over the weekend. We laughed and got an incredible amount of work done with residents we hardly knew when covering for the regular therapists. On call work isn’t for everyone when you have to provide billable services in a place where you can hardly find the resident’s rooms in an unfamiliar setting! What I remember most about P2 was our 1 1/2 years together when I assisted her with a Fibromyalgia Support group she founded for Central DuPage Hospital. I learned a lot from P2 as she cared for those who attended as friends, as sojourners, emphasizing the importance of keeping our focus on wellness, not just illness when battling chronic pain.

I am so grateful that P1 put this call together tonight. We got to talk “shop” for the first time for me in a long time. They also understood the administrative details with which I have struggled in my brother’s care after a stroke 3 months ago. With P2 we share a strong interest in gardening: in the past P2’s home was a registered bird and butterfly sanctuary in the west suburbs of Chicago (a very unlikely place for a natural retreat!) With P1 I share overcoming a traumatic event at our place of work when an administrator verbally attacked her in front of a regional rehabilitation manager who did nothing to defend P1. She ended up resigning to save her dignity and avoid having to travel many miles between two facilities with the second one even further from her home. I respected her tremendously for moving on. We lost a dedicated employee that day but I gained a friendship that has endured more than this . . .

Their sons are now nearly grown and I have moved 200 miles away to another State to remarry and start a new life. P1 is back in occupational therapy in a SNF near her home and P2 provides Ai Chi water classes to those seeking peace through gentle movements and relaxation techniques. Both apply everyday what it means to be trained in the field of occupational therapy: adapting to the challenges and opportunities of life, enriching the lives of others, connecting with those we hold dear. I do miss working as an occupational therapist. I also recognize that I am grateful for the skills I learned in O.T. that I use everyday to cope with an ongoing, serious illness. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to relive some of those days when a twinkle in the eye of an older adult was my greatest reward for a job well done. Or when I hear a whoot! whooot! from behind a closed door from a patient who has just regained the ability to care for himself because of the therapeutic relationship with his seasoned COTA. Those were the days, eh ladies?

As we move forward in life the focus must always change at some point. I do wonder if I will get to share a cup of coffee or tea with P1 and P2 in person? Or maybe we will walk in P2’s garden along the wetland in her backyard and marvel at the 80 birdhouse gourds she might harvest once again. We probably will never work together again and that’s cool too. But hey, let’s never lose touch o.k.? You have filled my heart with goodness this night and I appreciate you too so very much. Seeya on Facebook. Love to you both, Just Julie

A day in the life of our dog

Published on May 22, 2014January 7, 2022 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

8:30 a.m. The big guy has finally finished praying, eating out of a tiny bowl, and remembered the fuzzy one at his feet. Yippee! It’s time for mad dashes across the yard at Top Gun speed in the cool air that I really like. The tall one thinks I really like that neon green ball but really it’s the hip massages I crave that follow when I roll onto my back at just the right moment. Roll over too soon and the scratches will barely reach my undercoat. Submit too late and he mutters something about work as our bonding time ends. HEY, I LIVE FOR THIS! What else is there in a dog’s life?

8:45 a.m. No way the dude got as tall as he is with the dry nuggets he feeds me. Better check out what’s in that little black bowl on the table when he’s in my storm shelter (aka bathroom) later. Finally it’s time to eat again, gourmet Purina Select for my allergies, but it’s chump change for a pup with discerning tastes. Oh well. I’ll see what I can charm out of the girly one when she appears after my post-breakfast nap.

9:00 a.m. I watch out the window as my buddy leaves in the bat mobile with funky racks on the roof and a grumbling noise that’s worse than me. Sigh. Who knows when the girly one will find me lying here in the laundry room. Better position myself so I can see her when she comes for me yet still defend my turf if needed. My eyes may be covered with furry lids yet I know when that beastly garbage truck, UPS invader, yellow child carrier, meter reader or anyone else threatens my territory. Time to go to work or is it sleep? They will never know!

9:30 a.m. Looks like the girly one has entered my zone here at the front of the house but she is ignoring me already. “Hi Elle” doesn’t cut it when my ears need scratching! Sometimes she gives me a teaser then goes and washes her hands in the perennial water bowl on the counter. Nice sentiment! I never brush my teeth when I lick your pants do I? Those earthlings just don’t get it. My mouth is cleaner than a baby’s bottom! Just ask G.J., the mutt that used to lick your grandmother’s feet every night. Heaven for both of them for sure.

10:00 a.m. More food smells fill my nose! Sometimes she’s eating in the unauthorized zone for me, in the back of the house somewhere and sometimes she’s out here with me in the kitchen. I like it when I am within range of the good stuff. She eats meat for breakfast and that is what I like too. I often get a fat scrap to tide me over until they almost forget to feed me in the evening. I really need to unionize or file a complaint about that one. I am on watch at this point. The girly one is up and I am a shepherd. I will protect her from anyone that drives into the courtyard that needs my scolding. Warning: “come near and I will eat you!” or at least it’s going to sound like it when you come near. That’s just the way it goes with bigger pups like yours truly.

11:00 a.m. Now where did she go? Hey, it’s still puppy play time! What about me? Sish. She’s gone back to the unknown zone in the back where I am not allowed to roam. Things get really quiet when she is back there. She’s still got that fake fur light blue coat on so maybe she is taking her own post-breakfast nap. Humans! Who can figure them out? Better believe that she will reappear if my barking is convincing enough. Hmmmmm. I could mess with her on this one a bit. And maybe I have . . . .

2 or 3 or 4:00 p.m. If she is still here and hasn’t left me stranded in my boring dog zone in the kitchen, the girly one is back. Yes! That means it’s time to go outside if I haven’t gone earlier. Sometimes she makes me wait a long time. Good thing I’m not on a potty schedule or anything. Gotta time these slurps of day-old water just right. (Not that I mind day-old water. Mud puddle, bird bath, pond scum, water dish are all the same to me!) If I am really cute maybe she will play with me a little longer or take me for a ride in the giant metal pet carrier on wheels. Well I am just going to sit here with my ball beyond the property line where she has tossed it and give her my best silhouette. It’s kind of like being obedient. She doesn’t know that it is a game with me. Who wins is the one who gets to play longer. If I come back right away after squirting the grass then she will usually toss the ball for me a couple more times. Win-win. I’m a dog and I’m not concerned about her afternoon appointments. It’s play time!

7-9:00 p.m. Rarely do I get to go anywhere in the evening unless short stuff takes me for a walk. When she grabs that black leash I am in heaven! Otherwise if they have stranded me for the day, it’s nearly dark when my peeps return with bags of stuff that rarely contains food for me. What a waste! Take me with you next time! I’ll sniff out the best deals! Oh well. At least they take me for a bathroom run again and let me run around the yard a bit before dark. The winter time is best for this when that white stuff is on the ground. I LIVE FOR SNOW! The big guy puts on his paw extensions and we go for long slides around my watering hole out back. IT’S THE BOMB! In the warmer months I get to do pretty much whatever I want while either the tall dude is pushing a buzzing snack shaver around my yard or the shorter one is digging up stuff, playing with my watering wand, or kicking me out of bunny sniffing zones. Paws are better for digging dontcha know and I have an underground condo to prove it! Alas, I love being outside. It’s where I was born and where I belong. However I’d really rather be with these oddballs without fur (except the big guy who has a wimpy version compared to me) so I go in when I am called. It’s my duty as their pup!

10:00 p.m. My masters sit and eat in front of me and never feed me from the table. What a rip off! It’s not like I can’t smell it you know! Later when they remember that I am hungry too (I am not just being cute: I am trying to tell you something!), they dump some more MRE rations in my bowl. Hey throwing it on the floor would be more fun really. Whatever. When the girly one gives me some skin, as in chicken skin, I am in heaven. This when I know I am truly alive. Then they wrestle with me and I pretend to chew on their paws. Yeah, they really love me. Even if they cut back on the tartar control mix they call dinner, to keep me a lean, mean, fighting machine — I don’t mind. The rabbits get a better run when I have a waist don’t you know?

11:00 p.m. At last. More dog time with my master. Oh the girly one thinks she has my heart cause she pets me when we are home alone or up late at night. Yeah but it’s the big dude that sets me straight and that is cool with me. I get a little wild sometimes in my canine heart that wants to run freeeeeeeee! His discipline is firm. This is how I know he loves me and wants to protect me as much as I want to protect him. I don’t really want to get squashed in the street you know as I chase the kids on their bikes. Maybe it looks like I don’t know what I am doing? That is not the case. I am a smart German shepherd and I am always on alert don’t you know. Just watch me sitting at the edge of the yard sometimes, placing my furry tush between them and any potentially offending intruder. One false move and I will let them know who is boss. Well, at least my bark will say that I am da boss!

Wee hours of the a.m. This is a strange time in my den. The girly one has been up with me until nearly daylight for the past 2 years. Sometimes I hear her crying in distress and it breaks my puppy heart. I am worried about her and I know she sees it in my face. The look is good for a scratch behind the ears too. “Puppy therapy” she calls it when I see her a little later. Whew! I sigh with relief that she’s o.k. I don’t know how she does it every night. Maybe she will get better and sleep more like me. I think it’s starting to happen but I can’t be sure. It’s a dog’s life and I live in the moment. Besides, dozing, sleeping, listening with my eyes closed is a full-time job you know. She used to do stuff outside our den most days of the week. Oh well. For now she’s here with me, most days and every night and I love her. The big guy is pretty cool too. He is rough with me and I like it. Such a nice blend. They make a great couple. Oh well. What do I know?

I’m just a dog and this is my story. Elle.

My Top 10 List: Tools of the Trade

Published on April 7, 2014April 7, 2014 by Jesus is for the Wounded4 Comments

I had a supervisor one time that said, “you are only as good as your tools.” She was referring to the splinting supplies in the occupational therapy clinic that included state-of-the-art warming trays. Thermoplastics used in making upper extremity splints must be heated to the correct temperature or they become gummy; they also might burn your patient’s forearm when it gets too hot! They had a thermometer on the splinting cart which was a luxury in those days. Now with so many choices of materials from which to choose at a variety of temperature specs, having the right tools is standard practice.

Splinting never was my forte but the advice stuck with me. My words came back to me when the men in my life would often repeat this phrase when faced with a decision of whether or not to add to the man cave “tool box!” Yeah, it was usually o.k. with me. Usually a new kitchen gadget jumped into the shopping cart too. 🙂 These days my tools relate more to gardening and my own health care. Here’s a new spin on the latter: your recovery is only as good as the tools you employ for recovery. This post is an addendum to an earlier blog entitled, Keeping Sane While Recovering from Serious Illness. With some tools that are tongue-in-cheek and not necessarily in this order, here goes:

1) Treatment journal, online or in a notebook. Keeping track of medications, supplements, medical appointments, changes in treatment plan, etc. is critical to success. Who wants to make the same mistake twice? My hand-written journal entries are more truncated these days since I’ve got my routine stuff down better and more social supports in place. I do go back to earlier postings and am grateful for some progress. Even if I am not doing better in other areas, I know that I am coping better overall; thank you Lord!

2) Smart phone. When stuck in bed I can still stay connected to the outside world via my social media favs, email, and text. The Bible App is awesome and keeps me in the Word on a daily basis with its Bible-in-a-Year reading program. On my mobile I can also look up what the heck is going on in my body and boost my lame brain with reminders of this or that on my calendar. I was a late-adapter to the world of 4G+ and cannot see going back to a flip phone anytime soon!

3) Fingertip less gloves. My hands and extremities get chilled in the evening. It’s a battle trying to do a few things when I am awake and feeling better in the middle of the night but feel like I’m freezing! The drop in body temp can trigger noxious symptoms so I needed to find a strategy for keeping my hands warm. I was Christmas shopping at Macy’s this past year and there they were in a colorful display: a table filled with mittens that had removable mitts so you could expose your fingertips. Your hands stay warm from the middle knuckles through the wrists. Success! These even come in handy when taking frozen foods out of the freezer or grocery shopping. Grocery stores give me the chills year round. Know what I mean?

4) A really warm fleece jacket with pockets. For the reasons noted above, I finally have something to keep me warm when roaming about the house later in the evening. The softness of the fabric is comforting too. What did we ever do before Polartec? Or maybe for you it is a handheld fan?

5) Fuzzy socks! Yes they are warm. It’s the cute designs and fun colors that make me smile a little when my feet are cold. My cow socks (which were a gift from when my Aunt Patty lived in Vermont) are my favorite. The thicker the better, over the ankle, and loose-fitting too. Such a simple pleasure.

6) Breakfast from a traditional lunch bag. Mornings are the hardest for me. Most days I awaken in elevated pain with noxious symptoms that make it difficult to use the bathroom let alone make breakfast. Finally the Lord led me to a solution of making my breakfast the night before much like I used to make my lunch to take to work each day. The freezer pack keeps it cold until morning. Many times I am eating food cold that others might microwave/heat up before mealtime but that is not a requirement for me anymore. I just gotta get food in my belly to feel better so a chunk of meatloaf for breakfast it is sometimes!

7) Making the effort to cook or purchase special snack foods that fit within my restricted diet. For example, I think I’ve finally mastered coconut flour pumpkin (or squash) muffins to comply with my Candida/mold-free/low oxalate diet. Pulling a little essence of home-baked goodness out of my breakfast bag in the morning with Earth Balance Organic Coconut Spread, I no longer feel deprived! The recipe is a bit challenging so I double it and freeze them for yummy goodness each morning.

8) Emergency remedies on hand at all times. For me this includes high CBD hemp oil and a charcoal-filter face mask that have arrested an oncoming seizure attack when in a public place more than once. We need to be proactive in managing the crises of our health condition where possible, saving the real emergencies for situations beyond our control, eh?

9) Slip-on shoes and slippers. Who wants to bend over and risk falling on one’s head when weak from illness and needing to cover one’s feet? Yeah, not me either.

10) Something or someone warm and fuzzy. Yes, this can include the stuffed kind or your man with generous amounts of chest hair to comfort us when needed. (O.k. maybe your lady in soft flannel pajamas would apply here instead!) When my beloved is not home our German Shepherd pup gets a little extra massaging. Who knew that a big, protective dog breed would love to cuddle? Elle, you rock.

Well there you have it: my top 10 list of recovery tools. Have some of your own? I’d love to hear about them! Please feel free to add your comments below.