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Companion Animals And Chronic Illness:  How A Parrot Changed My Life

I have always been an animal lover.  Growing up, our household was alive with diverse pets.  We had fish, hamsters, cats, dogs, and birds.  Although I cherished them all, the birds captivated me the most.  I was in awe of these beautiful creatures and their unique personalities.  I knew someday when I was a “grown up,” that I would have my own parrot.

My sister had given me a book entitled “The Guide to a Well-Behaved Parrot.”    This book became my bible for parrot research.  I read it cover-to-cover many times.  It included descriptions of different parrots and their traits.  I bookmarked a page that summarized, in the author’s opinion, “as close as you can get to the perfect parrot,” and “an excellent apartment dweller.”

In 2008, I was a working professional in a diverse and wonderful city.  I had my own place for the first time.  Although it was a modest studio apartment, I was proud of it.  My home was the embodiment of my accomplishments as an adult. But something was missing.  My companion animal, my parrot that I had always longed for.

Thus began my quest.  I pulled out my parrot book and decided to find that elusive bird that caught my interest years earlier.  They are called Lesser Jardines parrots, and it turned out they were not easy to find. 

After months of searching, I found an animal rescue farm that happened to have a flock of Lesser Jardines parrots.  I bought a cage, filled it with toys, and made the 2 hour drive to find my new friend.  When I arrived, I found myself in an outdoor aviary surrounded by Jardines parrots.  Some were trying to fly to me, pulling at my shoelaces, making lots of noise.  As I scanned the space, I saw a shy little guy in the corner, peeping at me from over his shoulder.  He had a malformed toe but I didn't care.  This was my baby.  I took him home and named him Ziggy.  

Since 2008, Ziggy has been my constant companion.  We have moved all over the place together.  I experience happiness, joy, love, apprehension, fear, pain, sadness and heartache that life brings with my parrot by my side.  We sing and laugh together, and he comforts me when I am in distress.  For many years I existed without him in my life, but it’s so hard to picture that now.   I never knew a bond like this could exist between a person and a parrot.  

Living with chronic illness is rough. I am so grateful for my best friend Ziggy.  Nine years of my life I have cared for him.  Although I knew it before, the realization is crystal clear now.  I need him just as much as he needs me.   In my darkest hours, when the light fades from view and pain overwhelms me, he is there.  When I lay in bed, despondent and saddened by my reality, he is there.  It is quite something to have a little green bird cuddle in your arms and whisper, “It’s alright, it’s okay.”

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On soft Spring nights I’ll stand in the yard under the stars - Something good will come out of all things yet - And it will be golden and eternal just like that - There’s no need to say another word.

Jack Kerouac - from Big Sur (via watchoutforintellect)

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An Open Letter To My Significant Other

You came into my life as things were crashing down all around me.  As I was wandering through the stormy, starless night you arrived.  As bright as a beacon, you were a lighthouse on calm shores.  It was a very tumultuous and transitory period for me, and suddenly there you were.  I got the sense that you understood me, even though our paths in life had been so very different.  I think you knew I understood you, too.  I instantly felt as though I had known you a very long time.  Human connection is funny that way.

I told you about my chronic illness, the battles I’d fought, but that was insignificant in your eyes.  You saw beauty and life where I saw nothing but a sick person trying to make it through another day.  The truth is, you have seen me at my absolute worst.  You have witnessed me crawl on all fours to the bathroom because it hurt too much to walk.  You have seen me cry in agony.  You have watched me mourn the loss of a life once lived, the life of a “healthy” person.  

In spite of everything you have seen me through, your loving kindness and support has never wavered.  You sat on the hard, cold, tile floor while I lay motionless in the bathtub.  You have held me as I cried out in pain.  You have carried me through the house, across parking lots, up flights of stairs.  You sat and listened to me vent about how frustrating it can be to be me.  Oh, how lucky I am to have you.

Above all, you have shown me the depths of unconditional love.  A romantic love I am surely not accustomed to.  One night, after a particularly heinous day, I looked up at you, my eyes full of tears.  I told you that I was so sorry.  Sorry that you had no idea what you were signing up for when you met me.  You looked steadfastly back at me, with those gentle eyes like windows into your soul and said, “I know exactly what I signed up for. I signed up for you.”

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for being so wonderful.  You are the ever-burning light in the dark, so that when I am lost I can find my way. On Rotation: 16 Horsepower, “Secret South” #chronicillness #fibromyalgia #celiacdisease #chronicpain #spoonielife #fibrofight #support #love 

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One Year And Nineteen Days

It has been one year and nineteen days since I created this blog.  It has also been one year and nineteen days since I posted in it.  It goes without saying that a lot happened before this space existed, but much has happened since then as well.  I would like to tell you about the last year and nineteen days of my life, but I must not get ahead of myself.  

As a child, my health was relatively good.  I was born with a heart murmur.  Every trip to the dentist required taking large doses of Penicillin, in the form of refrigerated pink liquid.  I can still taste that saccharine, bubble-gummy drink now.  I thought it was delicious.  The murmur healed over when I was 8 or 9 I think.  I was your regular kid that loved Disney movies, Lisa Frank and watching TGIF.  

Then came the stomach aches.  The stomach aches I couldn't explain or make sense of.  The doctor thought I was lactose intolerant.  The treatment helped, sort of....I guess.  

Fast forward to 19 years old.  I still get the stomach aches, but I also have eczema covering my entire body.  It’s so itchy, I scratch it raw.  I chalk it up to living in the boonies with my best friend.  A small price to pay for her cherished companionship, I say.

My health waxed and waned throughout my 20′s, and I didn't do much to help my cause.  I worked hard but played harder.  I made friends, lost friends, moved to a city I adored, explored art and music, and had a career.  It was a beautiful, exciting era in my life that also brought great pain.  It reminds me of one of my favorite movies, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”  However tumultuous, I wouldn't trade that time for anything.  My memories are hazy like a dream and crystal clear at the same time.  How, I don't know.  

Things calmed down considerably for me as I ventured into my 30′s.  I was enjoying my chosen profession, I rarely went out, and I spent most time with family and a few friends.  Then I got sick.

In 2015 I became very ill.  I lost a ridiculous amount of weight, had stabbing pains in my gut, fatigue beyond description, and gastrointestinal issues that are not for the faint-hearted.  I had also been plagued by intermittent tingling in my hands.  I went to two doctors and they told me I was vitamin deficient and suggest I take supplements.  Oh, and laxatives.

Fast forward to April 2016, the month I started this blog, and I was finally diagnosed after years of suffering.  I have Celiac Disease.  It is not an allergy, a fad, and it sure as hell isn't going away.  It is a serious autoimmune disorder, the only treatment being lifelong adherence to a gluten-free diet.  With this diagnosis came hope.  It was tangible, understandable, and I could say with confidence what was wrong and how to fix it.  Oh, how little I knew about my own illness.

So, what has happened to me in the last year and nineteen days?  Well, let’s see.  I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease and started a gluten-free diet.  I sat back and waited for the symptoms to subside, to feel better.  But instead, I felt worse.  It turns out my gallbladder was chock full of stones.  I had it removed and boy, was that a fun time.  

After my surgery things just weren't right.  I didn't heal in the estimated time frame, and had to extend my leave of absence from work.  I continued to have pain but now instead of stabbing pain, I felt a dull ache that radiated from my phantom gallbladder to my pelvis to my back.  “Man this is some slow healing”, I thought.  I returned to work functioning at approximately 70%.  I took it slow.  My coworkers were very understanding and accommodating.  I am grateful for that.  The pain never went away though, it just kept getting worse.

By early 2017 it was a struggle to get out of bed.  I could barely walk some days.  Then “some days” turned into “most days” and “most days” turned into “every day.”  Upon waking, the second my feet hit the floor in the morning, my whole body was lit on fire by the most excruciating pain.  Pain that began at the base of my neck, traveled the length of my spine, through my joints to my feet.  By now peripheral neuropathy had limited function in my hands to 5-10 minute intervals.  I had to pee all the time.  I have never experienced an overactive bladder before and that is some uncomfortable stuff.  Almost all of my sick time had been used up by now.  I have always prided myself on my work ethic and it sucks when your body takes you hostage.  

Last month, after countless scans, tests and biopsies, my suffering was given a new name.  Fibromyalgia.  So, the good news is that I have validation.  The other good news is I am not dying.  Bad news?  Again, no cure.  Am I gonna suffer more?  Yeah.  

I am currently in this awkward space of trying to figure it out.  How to I manage this pain?  How do I go to work in this pain?  How to I emotionally accept my situation?  How do I keep myself from becoming isolated?  How do I maintain my sense of self?  Sometimes I find myself getting very angry that my life has become so limited.  It’s only natural to feel the feelings.  And I make sure to feel them.  Each and every one.  The pain, sadness, confusion, fear, hopelessness.  They all exist.  That doesn't mean I am giving up.  I’m just working through it.  I am grateful for every day I am given.  But even more than that, I am beyond grateful to my family and support system.  This illness has shown me how much I am loved.  How much my well-being matters to the people in my life.  It has also been tremendously humbling.  We should never judge one another, or make assumptions based on how things appear to us.  You never know what someone is dealing with, the roads they have been forced to travel, or how alone they may feel due to chronic illness.  

Currently on rotation:  The Horrors, “Skying”

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Make not your thoughts your prisons.

William Shakespeare (via quotemadness)

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You’ll need to suffer to make any real art.

Chuck Palahniuk (via quotemadness)

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Beginnings Of A Blog

I have always kept a personal journal.  In my life, it has served as a sanctuary of sorts.  A place where I can put pen to paper and privately purge thoughts that get tangled up in my brain.  After I write, I usually feel like a sense of order has returned:  like an emotional “reset” button has been initiated.  That is not to say that post-journal entry everything is okay when I’m upset or conflicted, but at least I have my thoughts in my own words to reflect back on.  I have never ventured into the online world of blogging.  It gives me a sense of unease, the public nature of the virtual world we live in.  I know that many people use private blogs.  I have considered that option.  However, I have decided to give the tumblr blog a go.  Of course I will only disclose personal thoughts I deem appropriate for a public audience.  And my reason for this blog is simple.  I know that life is fleeting, and your life is what you make of it.  Do everything you have ever wanted to do, even if it’s scary.  Jump in headfirst and see where it leads you.  Whether or not anyone reads this is irrelevant to me.  I created this blog to purge my thoughts just as I do in a private journal, but in a more linear and filtered fashion.  As I use this cathartic tool similtaneously familiar and foreign, I hope to clear my head and maybe say something interesting while I’m at it.

On Rotation:  Chapterhouse - Whirlpool