We have a saying in our family: You gotta show up at the trailhead. Essentially that means “showing up” is half the battle. Before today, I hadn’t swum since December because I had an injury and was in PT. Then I got my Lynch Syndrome diagnosis (see previous post) and several weeks ago had a total hysterectomy (removal of the uterus and cervix) with bilaterial salpingo-oophorectomy (removal of the ovaries and fallopian tubes) to prevent cancer-development. I’ve been walking as part of my surgery recovery, but am just up to 2.5 miles, and overall I’m terribly out of shape and
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I’m currently living on railroad tracks, and I don’t know if a train is going to come and eventually crash into me. Are the tracks deserted or active? Heck if I know! If you were on these tracks, what would you do? Stay on the tracks and let that possible train come tomorrow or next month or next year or when you’re 60? 65? 70? (Or, not me, but 40?) Well, it’s been a little scary for me lately coming to the acceptance that my home was built over railroad tracks. I’ve worked really hard to take care of my
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I’ve been working on cleaning out my Google Drive because Google has been warning me my storage is almost full, and I don’t want to pay for more storage because that’s ridiculous (in my mind). I’ve already been going through my old e-mails for months (I’ve been at 92% for a while), but hadn’t been aware of the space I was taking up in Drive. I had stuff in there from 10 years ago and files I have no idea why they were there in the first place. Recipes and photos. Old copyediting assignments. But also files I shared with
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[Content Trigger Warning] Last week I had a panic attack while riding in the car with my husband. That’s never happened to me before. The seatbelt was bothering me first, and then I felt a rising tension in my chest, had trouble breathing and eventually felt this intense feeling of being trapped. We only had 25 minutes to go on the car trip, and I thought: Well, I can handle it for 25 more minutes. And then I realized and told myself, “NO, I don’t need to “just handle it,” and asked him to pull over so I could get
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