Awake My Soul
Monday, October 11, 2010

So, here's the thing. 

I have always been a non-medicine type of girl. My hubby drinks up the Nyquil the second he starts to sniff. He's also big on popping a few Advil every time he gets in the car. I think it's a Pavlovian response. He gets behind the wheel and he instantly needs Advil for his headache. And then a big argument ensues because I NEVER have Advil in my car, even though he continuously stocks up my glove compartment with little jars of the pills and I always tell him forget the Advil because I think he just THINKS he has a headache. And he tells me I'm not the HEADACHE MARSHALL and only he can decide when and if he has a headache. And he has a headache right NOW and there is no ADVIL, AGAIN! And he wants to know where all the Advil goes that he keeps putting in my car, because now his headache is raging. 

The girls swipe them. 

They take a few for their headache and then that little jar just happens to find its way into their purse. One day, when these klepto girls of mine have all moved out, we will stumble upon their secret cache, it'll probably be a closet upstairs in their Dung Dump, filled with small sized jars of Advil, over 100,000 hairbrushes, tons of scissors, all my Tweezerman tweezers, Scotch tape, my favorite thongs and my killer patent leather stilettos that just mysteriously disappeared one day. I loved those shoes so much. 

I was thinking of putting their glossy image on a milk carton.  

But what I was saying is, I don't do medicine. 

I do take my probitotic every day, but that was it. I believe in letting sickness work its own way out. When I have a cold, I use my sinus rinse which is just like a Neti pot except much more streamlined than trying to stick a teapot up your nose. I also have some Chinese herbs if my cold gets too bad. But other than that, it's a few Advil here and there and that is the extent of my medicine taking.

Unless, of course, I'm in the hospital for something and they offer me morphine. Oh, sweet morphine! How I love thee! I've only had morphine twice in my life. Both times it was kick ass fun.

Back to my story. 

For those who are unaware of my plight, long story short, I felt a huge, sudden pressure over my left eye almost two weeks ago. Within seconds, I had lost normal vision in that eye. Everything was double and blurry and I had no depth perception. 

And I was scared. Very, very scared. 

I traveled my way through specialist after specialist, ending up at a neurologist's office. Dr. A is the Head of Neurology at our Big Cheese Hospital in our Big City. 

In the course of this journey, that seems more like two years than two weeks, I kinda, maybe a little bit, disagreed with Dr. A about some things. 

He looked at my blood pressure and my blood work and my wonky eye which wouldn't even follow a pencil. He looked at my MRI results and CT scan and arterial scans and all of my other countless tests. And he ended up writing me prescription after prescription of meds. 

Serious meds. Meds to be taken for the course of my lifetime. 

I said I didn't need them. I said I was not a girl who took medicine. I said I was proud of my health and the fact that I work out and never take the escalator if there are stairs and even then, I race up them, taking 2 steps at a time and I eat the good things, like brown rice and flaxseed on my steel cut oats and fruits and veggies, about 6-8 servings of those fruits and veggies in my day. And I am young and fit, too young and fit for serious medicines. 

And I floss. Not everyone can say that. 

And I didn't need his aggressive approach of prescribing meds like he was prescribing candy. 

And so I gave him a lot more than my two cents.

And that beautiful man didn't back down as I stubbornly argued with him. He just threw my arguments right back at me with some of his own.

I had convinced myself and my general practitioner for the last few years that my escalating blood pressure was due to White Coat syndrome, (where your blood pressure only spikes at the doctor's office) and that when I took it at home, I was fine. 

I'm coming clean here today to say, it wasn't exactly fine. 

But if I laid still and conjured up the sound of crashing waves and Martha Stewart's voice, (seriously, I find her voice to be the most soothing thing. I never watched her show for the cooking or the crafts. I just watched it for her hot stone massage of a voice.), and if I was ultra, ultra relaxed, my blood pressure wasn't good, but it wasn't alarming. 

It was always alarming at the doc's office. But I constantly pleaded, "It's white coat syndrome."

Dr. A told me he didn't want to hear anything more about my white coat nonsense. 

That's what he called it— white coat nonsense. Of course, this was after I had listed all the reasons I didn't want to take his blasted medicine.

I know. Feel free to call me a dumbass. I deserve it. 

And then Dr. A listed all the reasons I should take these meds, starting with the fact that this was just another way to keep my body in top condition, a preventative, just like all the other things I was doing. And that I would feel better once I started taking the meds. And no matter how hard I tried with exercise and eating right to bring my blood pressure down, that genetics always has the upper hand. And since my mother has been taking blood pressure medication since her 40's, my blood pressure genes were just laughing at all my best efforts.

And then he told me, that these medicines I was fighting against would save my life. 

I was sure my eye had just something muscular going on, from all my writing and reading and writing and writing some more. I thought I had overworked my eyes. Kind of like how I overwork my gluteal muscles, in a ceaseless futile effort to make me bootylicious. I thought I had just pulled a muscle of the eye or something like that. 

Dr. A thought differently. 

He told me I had inflammation in the vessels of my eye due to blood pressure surges, deadly blood pressure surges, and that my eye was the clanging alarm. And if I didn't start taking the meds to put my numbers back in healthy places, that my eye would be just the beginning. 

If I continued to let my blood pressure get the best of me, it would do exactly that. It would take more sight and it might take the ability to move my limbs and it might rob me of speech and even worse, it could rob me of thought and then, my precious, precious words would no longer come unbidden. They would be stuck in a brain that wasn't working. 

All because I'm a stubborn she-devil who was doing the worst thing I possibly could, I was lying to myself about my own health.

Dumbass, indeed.

I took the meds reluctantly, knowing I was overmedicating myself, certain I would have terrible, long lasting side effects. 

And as each morning began, my Hubby would say with this expectant tone, "Well? Can you see today?"

And I would start every morning with this quiet, "No" and a heart so heavy, I could not lift myself out of the darkness, no matter how much I put on a brave front and said things like, "Yes I'm fine!" and "This is no big deal!. I can handle a little something like a jacked up eye!"

But there was no joy behind my perfunctory words.

And I am usually brimming with sunshine. This time, I couldn't find the light, not a single ray.

But in my despair I knew one Truth, one ceaseless Truth that I have mentioned here before and it is this: We are not in charge. We are never in charge. I often forget that, but it is in the clearest moments of my life when I remember that Truth.

It was in that first smile my husband ever gave me.

It was in my three girls' newborn, lusty cries.

It was in the most sorrowful moment of my life when the ER doctor came into that awful waiting room— the private one, where no hope lies— to give us the shocking, shocking news that my father had left this world.

It was in the wails of my family after hearing those awful words, "I am sorry to tell you, we were unable to save him."

And it was there in the hospitals and doctor's offices and in their pencils and arterial scans and in the countless needles that drew blood from my veins, searching for answers, it was in the dark MRI tunnel and in the kind determination in Dr. A's eyes. 

Our paths are already carved out before we have even set foot on them. And in my Truth, it is the Lord Above who decides where our paths will take us. I prayed a lot these past few weeks. But as tough as it was, I did not pray for answers. I prayed for my friend battling breast cancer. I prayed for those who know so much more devastating illness than a little eye trouble. I prayed for my doctors. I prayed for the constant safeguarding of my family. And I prayed for the Lord's will to be done. I squeezed back a few tears as I uttered those words. But my job is to walk the path set out for me as nobly and righteously as I can. I cannot change what is set before me. I can only live it with grace and love and light. 

This is my Truth. 

And in my Truth, I think that perhaps the Lord Above, knows that this girl in her size 6-1/2, high heels  can't handle a lot. 

I am not brave. I get flustered easily. I have no patience. I always think with my heart instead of my brain. I talk way too much, especially when I'm nervous. I cry as much as I yell. I am a judgmental driver. I hate confrontation. I cannot sing, but I do . . . badly. I cuss like a sailor.

And my hair is thin and baby fine. Just thought I'd add that fact.

I think, God, in His wisdom, was up there going, "Okay, give Joann Mannix back her sight now. I cannot abide all the histrionics. How her poor husband puts up with it, I have no heavenly idea. Peter, add a few Get Into Heaven Free points to that man's scoreboard. He earns it every day."

I woke up ten days after my vision left and with not much hope I looked around the room. And in those blessed waking moments, there was an acuity that had not been there the day before. I could stare straight ahead and I didn't feel like I was looking in a funhouse mirror. If I glanced to either side, my vision was still bad, but straight ahead was absolutely perfect. 

I took in the wonders of a new day like never before.

There's a cool story behind this grand, old tree. I'll tell you all about it someday.

Nothing represents the South better than Spanish Moss.

The grandfather oak that stands guard over our house.

The rays of sunlight streaming through the trees make my Morons look like angels. Huh, imagine that. And yes, my Sophie always sits like she's doing yoga.

The next morning, my eyes were a little better. And every day since then, as the meds bring down my numbers, righting my body back into a safe place, my vision gets clearer and clearer.

I now say a prayer of thanks every time I pop those tiny little pills into my mouth.

I feel so fortunate for these last two weeks. For doors that opened when I needed them. For being placed in the care of stellar doctors throughout this unraveling chain of discovery. For medicine and physicians who practice the art of healing so nobly. And for Doctor A.

Especially for Doctor A.

I realized this week why he wouldn't back down. Why the last thing he said to me as he walked me out the door was, "You take this medicine. I want to see you back here next week, because I personally will be checking your blood pressure and I want to celebrate with you because you have every reason to celebrate. Don't change that."

I contemplated his words and I now understand how frustrated he must have been with me. This is a man, who on a daily basis, sees those who no longer have a chance to get it right. He takes care of those who have been ravaged and robbed by strokes and aneurysms and so many kinds of savage beasts. And here I was, healthy and whole and on that very brink between living a real life or having everything taken from me. And I had the audacity to fight that.

Dumbass. Queen Dumbass.

I am going to get a bumper stick made that says I ♥ My Neurologist.

Second chances were handed to me on a silver platter. Man, I thought I was a lucky girl before. Now, I'm sure, I am the luckiest.

I will not waste a minute of my luck. I will be going full force on some revisions for my novel, suggested by my esteemed critique partner and then off we go.

And every day, I look at the world, my world and know I will never take it for granted, again.

And don't worry, the sadness is gone. My next post will be full of the funny and the mortification. You won't believe what happened to me now. Oh and of course, there's still vacation tales to be told.

The old, but actually, more like the New Joann is back. Let's have some fun.

Two little bits of housework:

First of all, I missed something very special this weekend. There's a pretty big auction that I have always been a part of since its inception over 10 years ago.

Last year, I stepped down from my usual duties . . . except for one special duty.

Sunday was my Hubby's birthday and he wanted to spend the weekend at Disney. And in all honesty, with this awful eye business, I forgot about the auction. I apologize to all my friends and to Dena, our amazing chairperson, for not being there to support all of you.

And then there is certain man, a great man— my auctioneer who has made our auction a stunning success year after year. He was such a part of the auction and so devoted, even after he moved to Tennessee, he flew back every year to spin his magic for me.

Mike, I am sorry, I wasn't there for you.

I had some frantic texts from my best friend Michelle, Saturday night, telling me someone was looking for me and that someone was claiming he couldn't do the auction without me by his side. And then when I got home on Sunday, there was a message from Mike who couldn't believe I wasn't there, his helpmate during the live auction and at the end of the auction, his helpmate in tipping a few back and catching up until the next year. I am so sorry Mike. I'll be back next year, if you'll have me.

And then to all of you, who have emailed me, sent me notes of encouragement, prayed for me, sent me blessings and good wishes, I cherish each and every one of you. And I will be talking to each of you very soon.

When I got my sight back, I thought that was my signal to zoom ahead. I jumped right in, the first day and tackled two of my doctor appointments, my kids' dentist appointments, a  hearty workout, my housework and a huge grocery shopping trip, since our cupboards had grown bare in the past few weeks. My Hubby made dinner and I helped by cooking all the veggies and rice. By the time dinner was over, I literally could not get out of my chair, I was so exhausted.

I guess I'm supposed to take this in baby steps.

I'm not very good with baby steps.

But I'm trying. So, don't think I've forgotten any of you, it might just take me a little while to get there. It's all in the baby steps.

I'm ending this post with a toast: Here's to life, all of our lives. Make your life joyous and blessed and whatever you do, please, please check your blood pressure and all of those other super important numbers. Your life might just depend on it.

Today's Definite Download: Another Mumford and Sons. And I know, I know, I just did a Mumford and Sons, but this song is not only phenomenal and is so representative of their towering talent, it speaks to me, of what has been unraveling in my life, like no other song. I have been listening to this beauty, over and over again on my iPod. And with each banjo strum, with each word, I dance. I dance like I have never danced before.

"Awake My Soul". Because, I have awakened. I am here. I am here. Hallelujah.

How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes
I struggle to find any truth in your lies
And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know
This weakness I feel I must finally show

Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all
But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall
Lend me your eyes I can change what you see
But your soul you must keep, totally free

In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your live
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life

Awake my soul, awake my soul
Awake my soul
You were made to meet your maker
Awake my soul, awake my soul
Awake my soul
You were made to meet your maker
You were made to meet your maker


Jennifer Vanderbeek said...

Yay for your returning sight and for doctors who care enough to be forceful! So glad to hear you're on the mend.

Unknown said...

Oh Joann.
I'm so glad you are better.
What a post! Straight from the heart...the fixed heart? :)

Maria Melee said...

Oh lady.

This is so inspiring.

You are brave and I'm so sorry you had this scare. I'm am a nut about medicine.

Also, I love Mumford and Sons. I told my husband I'm pretty sure they have some sort of superpower because I've never had such a visceral reaction to music before.

Thinking of you.

Cari said...


I'm so glad you are doing better. That was a beautiful post and a very nice reminder to everyone. We don't always know what is best for us.

Lisa said...

Oh Joann - This was a beautiful post. It brought tears to my eyes. I'm SO glad you listened to your wonderful doctor and that you are so much better.

My MIL is just like you and hates to take medicine. A few years ago she was in a lot of pain and had blood in her urine. She came up here to go to Mayo, and the doctors needed her to take (strong) antibiotics so they could clear up the raging infection and then try to get to the bottom of what was wrong. She refused. She told them all that she was "holistic"...we battled, and we pleaded. When she did take the meds, it was only a fraction of what was prescribed and on an irregular basis. It was incredibly frustrating. Finally, the infection cleared enough that they could run some tests. What they found was that she had a bladder infection that had run rampant. She was "treating" it with cranberry juice - not a great idea when you're 81 years old.

And that is my cautionary tale for you!! Take your meds like a good girl and get better. We all love you!

Baby Sister said...

I am glad you're sight is coming back, and the doctor knew what you needed to get better.

Baby steps. Don't do too much...okay??

Unknown said...

Thank Goodness Dr. A found the problem and made you listen and take the medication! So glad you are doing better.

McKenzie said...

So glad you're sight is coming back and you are taking the medication!! This was an amazingly written post.

Shell said...

I'm very much like you when it comes to meds. But, there are times when they really are needed and I'm glad that you are doing better!

I have been thinking about you and praying for you.

Unknown said...

big hugs Joann.
your words made me cry.

Gigi said...

Dear Joann,

I have been a very bad bloggy friend. I had no idea any of this was even going on. I'm so sorry I haven't been around to at least wish you wellness and health.

I have not been reading blogs since my challenge started and apparently I need to get back to it as soon as the challenge is over.

I am glad they got to the bottom of your issues and that you're on the road to recovery. Hang in there. xoxoxo

Pat said...

Hallelujah! You've seen the light! You listened to your doctor, and he was right! I'm so glad you are on the right track to seeing correctly! Yipee! Proves we should ALL live life to its fullest every day!

Anonymous said...

WOW! How scared you must have been..I can't imagine..I CAN however relate to the blood pressure. Since birthing The Boss almost 4 years ago, my blood pressure has been high and I've been on medication. (Did I mention I'm only 30?) But you know what...I don't mind the meds...if it'll keep me here bossing everyone around..we're in biz! ;)

PS-I can so relate to the daughters being the house kleptos! lol

Smooches hun!

joanna said...

So glad to hear you're doing better. I'm wary of medications just like you, but sometimes the pros of taking the meds outweigh the cons. Glad you listened to your doc and I hope you continue to feel better with each passing day! Very heartfelt post.

twelvedaysold said...

Yay! I'm so glad you're back! And maybe I should fess up about more things at the doctor sometimes. I do the same thing and tell myself "I'm FINE!" Which of course, I'm usually right, but I can't lie to myself about everything.

Glad it's working itself out :)

Kelly said...

On one hand, don't you hate when doctors are right and on the other hand, aren't you glad the doctor was right?

I'm not a pill-popper, either, but sometimes, you gotta pop that pill.

I'm so glad you're on the road to recovery. Scary stuff there.

Judie said...

Oooh! We've missed you sooo much! We're all so happy that you can see only one thing at a time instead of two!


Sandra said...

I'm so glad you listened to Dr.A and your eye sight is back. Scary shit Joann! I do understand where you were coming from, but your doc is right: some medication is a way to keep your body working top notch...and I hear the side effects are a date with Bono :)
Anyway, I'm pretty sure that wonky eye didn't look good with your 6 and a half inch heels.

Noelle said...

I loved this post for so many reasons! But most especially for the ending...that whole part about you not being in charge. I remind myself of the same thing on a regular basis.

I'm so glad you're getting better! I've missed you!!!

jayayceeblog said...

So glad you can see straight now! Too late - I was going to suggest you have a menage a trois with your husband and your husband when you were seeing double. =)

duffylou said...

I am so glad you are back to your old, new self.

Take you recovery seriously. You can't conquer everything on your list in one day.

Hulk said...

Glad you are feeling better. Take your medicine. You've got a lot to live for.

Nancy C said...

Gorgeous writing, Joanne. I agree completely that we are not in charge--and thank God for that. If I was in charge, the world would be a lot more focused on hair products instead of social justice.

Oh wait. It already is.

I just adore you. This is gorgeous, funny, touching, and amazing.

One Photo said...

Wow Joann - all that news about your health, that must have been so very hard to accept and process. You have a beautiful home, beautiful family and beautiful life. I never take drugs for illnesses either, but when something like this happens in life you have to accept it so that life as you know it can go on. You have done so very well getting to this point and I am so glad your sight is returning.

Missy @ Wonder, Friend said...

Yay!! You're back! I'm thrilled for you and so relieved that you have an answer (and a solution).

I think I might have played the part of Medicine Skeptic, as well. I have trust issues with doctors and medicine, but after reading this post I realize that might be just a tad unfair.

Amber at The Musings of ALMYBNENR said...

Joann, Congratulations! I am so glad your eyesight is starting to get better and I hope it is 100% soon! Definitely try to take it easy and work yourself back up to your normal routine. This has been such a crazy time for you and I admire how you handled it. I would not have handled it as well.

Cheryl said...

I am so glad you listened to your doctors. There's a difference between not wanting to take advil for a headache and not wanting to take medicine that could directly save your life. My father had lots of health issues (including high blood pressure) and died from complications of stroke.

I'm so glad your husband didn't have to explain to your beautiful daughters that "mom didn't want to take the meds."

Not that I feel passionate on this topic or anything ;)

Heather H said...

Welcome back to the land of the seeing! We've missed you!

Meg at the Members Lounge said...

Welcome back, Joann! I'm so glad your doctor convinced you to take the medication. I was reluctant (same thing, family history) until I truly understood the damage high blood pressure can do. It doesn't just make you feel stressed and flushed, it truly wreaks havoc on your body. Take it easy and glad your fresh eyes see everything anew again.

Cecelia Winesap said...

I am so glad that you are getting to the root of the problem! It's so scary to not know what's going on in your body.

I did have to laugh when your husband said you're not the "headache marshall." That was priceless. :)

The Furry Godmother said...

Yay! So glad you are better! I know how you feel about meds. I am an anti-hypochondriac. It always shocks me when the doctor gives me a diagnosis. I'm all, Hey! You're supposed to pat my leg sympathetically and roll your eyes at Terra and tell me to take my healthy butt home!

Take your meds, hon. You have been missed too long.

Nicki said...

I am sooo glad to hear that you listened to the docs! I prayed for you that it wasn't a warning sign of a stroke. I prayed for skilled doctors and answers for you. 2 of my 3 prayers were answered! Luckily, the skilled docs and the answers you received can fix my first concern!!! I am sooo happy that you trusted the docs, however hesitantly! I am soooo glad for the update! Praise God that you have such a wonderful life ahead of you with so many blessings. God is good!!!

Crazy Brunette said...

Fuck lady!!! I'm so damn glad you're better I could do a fucking KS jig to celebrate!

Want me to You Tube that shit?

Trista said...

Yay, I am so happy that everything is better, and super duper thankful for a Dr. who knows his stuff and ain't afraid to tell you!

After you commented on my blog a few days ago, I was going to come back and remind you to take it easy on the eyes, but now I don't have to!! That is a very very good thing :)

Maybe now that your eyesight is back, you can go find those patent leather heels and go for a walk

The Bipolar Diva said...

Thank Goodness that you found out what was going on! I was pretty worried about you.

And, you are quite the lucky one to be able to see spanish moss whenever you want. I miss that!

Deidra said...

Yaaaaaay! Joann is back on top!! :D (...not meant to sound

injaynesworld said...

Joann, this is beautiful. It's some of the best writing of yours I've read. I can relate to a lot of it from an accident I had four years ago where I broke my neck. Blessedly, I recovered fine, but oh -- the lessons in letting go of control I had to learn.

I have a friend who lost vision in one eye permanently due to blood pressure issues so I'm glad Dr. A convinced you to take the meds.

Thank you for sharing your story.


randine said...

I'm so glad you're doing better!

Beautiful writing, and so inspirational.

And lovely pictures, too.
Thank you for sharing them, Spanish Moss is lovely- I have never seen it before.
And your dogs- I love how the one sits like he's doing yoga. That is too cute.

Kristen said...

I love to read a blog and come across someone I have so much in common with and you have taught me a lesson I needed to know, because I refuse to take all medicines, refused pain relief during my last birth and can't even swallow a pill without hiding it in food! Thank you for sharing this great moment of your life. BTW Martha Stewarts voice and Mumford and Sons are two of my most favorite things besides the hubby and kids of course!

Ashley said...

Glad to have you back :-)

Christine Macdonald said...

Second chances are pieces of desert with no calories, just more flavor.


Mrs. Ohtobe said...

My dear dumbass internety friend *hugs*. On a lighter note that might make your day: The City of Clearwater has banned your blog at work for 'adult content' and I can no longer read you until I get home. Yeah. I thought that might make your day ;) The next thing you know they will be burning blogs.

Anonymous said...

Welcome back! Now go buy some celebratory shoes. Two pair.


Rae said...

I've been waiting for good news from you! Glad things are back on track. You have a God-given talent for making us all appreciate our lives-
We love your wit, humor, honesty and and compassion for others. Keep blogging- and medicating...We need you!

Alexandra said...

I could send you an email, but instead I'll just send it here:

I know I know.

And your last photo is fantastic.

When I was on bedrest for months and months with my pregnancies, I remember thinking, "I will never be lazy again. What a gift it is to be able to use your body. This is only temporary, how do people with permanent disabilities maintain their focus??"

And, so it was: I have NEVER been lazy b/c I know what it's like to not use your body.

Thank you for triggering this moment of gratitude in my life right now.

Thank you.

And I'm glad you are better, and I know..what you mean.

And I don't know about those Mumford guys? Do you think I"d like em?

d-lou said...

so glad you're on the road to recovery! You're right- we're not in control. We make plans and God laughs

love the picture of Sophie yoga sitting...

Dawn in D.C. said...

So very happy that you are on the mend. So now your cute little pirate patches will be used only for "special" occasions, hhhmmmm?

Have a great day! Loved your story and I am inspired.

Anita @ GoingALittleCoastal said...

Glad you are on the mend and feeling better. Thanks for the words of wisdom. Off to use my netti pot and take my probiotic. Thanks for the reminder.

Liz said...

First and most importantly, I'm so happy you have an answer AND you are following through! I don't think you are cut out for the pirate lifestyle.

Second, I definitely think your car needs to be sporting a "I Love my Neurologist!" sticker!

granny1947 said...

Hello Joann...what a lovely much to be grateful for.
I take half a little magic pill a day....wonderful little creatures.
Great to have you back.

Anonymous said...

I am so happy for you. I hate doctors and I haven't been and only go when I need to so because of what has happpened to you, I am scheduling a physical. (even though I totally do not want to)

And I have baby fine hair too and my girls both have thick hair - SO NOT FAIR ;-)

Cheeseboy said...

I can't believe a hypo like you does not do medication. I take it for everything. I farted the other day and I downed a bucket of antacid. And that was for a single fart!

Grace said...

I'm your don't-take-medicine soulmate. So this spoke to me. Take your medicine and be well!

Anonymous said...

Joann! I go away for a month and all hell breaks loose. Geez. So glad you are better and thank God for Dr. A. That must have been so scary for you. Happy BD, to your hubby, too

purplume said...

m so happy for you. I don't take medicines either and I realize someday I may be the fool but so far it works. I'm so glad you listened and your Dr. got through to you and especially that it works Hallelujah!
I love trees and your great outlook.

Yuliya said...

I hope you feel better and better each day, or else who will do the dreaded laundry?

Anonymous said...

You okay? It's been awhile. Or are you working on your book?

Lora said...

i LOVE this post so much. thank you for sharing :)

Suburban Correspondent said...

So glad you can see! Beautiful post...

Anonymous said...

Good pоst. I'm experiencing many of these issues as well..

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