Lying...It's Complicated

    I always tell people that my mom grew up Jewish, my dad grew up Catholic, and I was raised Christian. After making such a statement, I’m typically confronted with a statement or question back pertaining to the fact that no matter what, I'm Jewish by default since my mother is Jewish. In the end, it really doesn't matter what my descent is; it matters how I was raised and what I believe. I was raised Christian and I believe that Jesus is the Messiah. Given these facts, there are certain rules and beliefs that one follows as is the case in any religion.

     One belief that I have always been raised with is the belief that lying is a sin. In fact, I pretty much grew up thinking that as long as I didn't lie, I didn't sin. Then came the tween years and the teen years when I had to learn the difference between a lie and a fib. I had to learn the difference between a lie and a white lie. Lie's in general were not okay, but a white lie was fine because it meant that you were getting the job done or you were covering up something so that others feelings were not hurt. For example, getting excited about a gift you receive even though you already have that same thing. Another example being that you tell someone you love their shirt if they ask because if you tell them you hate it and it's ugly, you'll offend them. I always grew up learning that lies were bad and white lies were not so bad, but what people don't tell you is how complicated things can get.

      Growing up, people don't tell you how complicated things can get when someone else lies on your behalf. People don't tell you that someone else's lie on your behalf can get back to you. They also don't tell you what your supposed to do when someone else lies on your behalf and you find out later. Everything your taught as a child kind of changes when you grow up. As a child everything is built on not lying and learning that someone depends on your lack of lying to gain their trust. What happens when things change? What happens when things get more complicated than what your taught?
     
     A couple of months ago someone lied to me about something. I honest to goodness believed every word they said until today. Today, I found out that this person lied and they not only lied to me, but they lied to my parents as well. When this particular event occurred, we absolutely believed everything they said and that what they were telling me was to benefit me. We had no reason to not believe what they said because this individual has known me for quite a while. They have never, to my knowledge, lied to me before and I thank them for that. This individual cared and still cares about my well-being and while they lied to me, I still believe this statement to be true. This is what makes things so hard.

    I sit here tonight trying to wrap my head around what happen a few months ago and why someone would have lied to me. I get what they did, but why they lied is something I don't fully understand. It's also hard to understand what to do about it. Would the outcome have been different had they not lied? Yes. Would the outcome have been good if they told the true? That’s questionable. If someone you trust lies to you, do you still continue to trust them? What if their lie was meant to help you? I grew up learning that not lying and trust go hand in hand. What happens when that one lie occurs? When you have known someone for such a long time, what is supposed to happen to that trust you had with that individual? One of the hardest questions come when you find out the truth from another individual. What are you supposed to do? Are you supposed to confront the liar? Are you supposed to ignore it and forget about it? These are really tough questions. You really want to trust others and what they have to say. You don't want to hurt others for something they did that was a mistake, even if it was a really big mistake. It’s hard enough to confront someone who has done wrong that hurts you. It’s even harder to confront someone when did t with such genuinity.

      At this very moment two really popular quotes come to mind. "What you don't know doesn't hurt you" and "Kill people with kindness". I really like the first quote because it's true. My supervisor uses it a lot when we are talking about what we say or don't say to our kids on a daily basis. I don't lie to my kids on a daily basis, but as someone who works full-time with children, you learn the art of  manipulation. For example, you may artfully check your email in the middle of the day about an early
dismissal and not let the child know until it is absolutely necessary. You may also tell your child that we can talk about what ever they are distracted by, fully knowing that they will completely forget about it by the end of a lesson. I think it's important in some instances to act in such ways, but it's also important to discern what appropriate times are.
   
     In the end, I think it's important to realize that we all must kill each other with kindness. People make mistakes and we need to forgive them for that. When they make mistakes we still need to remember to love them. In the end we all make some mistakes. Some are little and some are some real doozies.

The Perfect Day!

     Today, as I stood on the playground during recess duty, I began to explain to one of the other paras how yesterday seemed to be a perfect day. I went on to explain that by no means was it an easy day, but it was still perfect. Most days I wonder where God is and why he hasn't completely healed me and my mind since October. I wonder where he is when I ask for peace of mind or joy. Sometimes I begin to doubt, but yesterday was a day where I felt like God was giving me a little tap on the shoulder. Yesterday was perfect. 

      On Friday I sat in my living room typing away on my phone through messenger. I had seen a post by a friend that had me concerned. A few weeks prior to this post, a mutual friend had been hospitalized and then life-flighted to Geisinger. I hopped on and asked my friend if everything was okay based on her post and genuine concern for our mutual friend. My friend reassured me that everything was okay and that it had just been a rough week. She then added, "i also wanted to let you know that Emily isn't doing well". As I proceeded to as questions, she informed me that she really didn't think Emily was going to make it. Saturday, Emily at the mere age of 33 passed away surrounding by loved ones at Geisinger Medical Center. 33, less than 10 years older than me. 

      Fast-forward to this work week. I texted my direct supervisor to let her know that Emily had passed away. I truly didn't know if I was going to make it through Monday without falling apart at least once. I woke up Tuesday to be informed that it was a snow day. I didn't really want a snow day. I didn't want a day to wallow in tears and think about Emily. After having a great day Monday without falling apart, I didn't need to fall apart Tuesday. I hopped on Facebook in desperation that Sunny Days was possibly open. It wasn't, so I spent the day at home curled up with my family. 

      While the previous days had been hard and with Depression setting in, I became even more concerned about another snow day on Wednesday. I needed to keep my mind busy. I woke up at 6:30am to another email informing me that the schools were closed due to ice. I absolutely could not fall asleep, but something marvelous happened. I gave my old supervisor at Sunny Days a call to see if they were open. They were, and I decided to head in to visit everyone.

      

      Heather, my friend who works at Sunny Days where Emily was a client before she became ill, had informed me a day or two earlier that they were putting a memory board together for Emily's viewing. The pictures they were using were from Emily's time at Sunny Days. I was super excited about this and allowed Heather to pull a pic of Emily and I from my Facebook page for the memory board. 

     When I arrived at Sunny Days on Wednesday, the staff were just putting together the memory board for Emily. Low and behold, they had forgotten to add the picture of me and Emily as they had planned. I asked Heather if she had forgotten to print it and informed her that it was okay if decided not to added. Heather had completely forgotten, but with a reminder from me, she added my pic in. After all the pictures were glued down, I was instructed to write a little note about my memories with Emily. Wednesday evening we had the viewing. I had never gone to a viewing before and I had never expected that the first viewing I went to would be for someone who was so young. 

     Wednesday was hard, but it was still a perfect day. We need remember that when things get hard, there is still a plan. I fully intended to go to work on Wednesday. God had other plans that he so beautifully orchestrated through a snow day. Had we not had the snow day, I would not have ended up at Sunny Days. If I wasn't able to go to Sunny Days, I would have never added my picture or written my message to/about Emily. The snow day also allowed me to grieve with the people who were closest to both me and Emily. The day concluded with her viewing and dinner with my parents. 

      Yes, I said earlier that Wednesday was a day of God giving me a little tap on the shoulder to remind me he was there. He beautifully orchestrated this day for me to grieve, but not be upset. It gave me a chance to ask question and hug and empathize with my Sunny Days family. This one day gave me that perfect chance to write something on Emily's memory board, allowing her mom to see that I am still part of the Sunny Days family and that I care deeply about the loss of her daughter who was so loved. 

     

      While the day was a great reminder that God is near, it was also a great reminder for things to come. Having never gone to a viewing or a funeral before, I had never seen a dead body. As soon as I Emily's face, my stomach turned. Looking at someone's body feels so unnatural and perfectly uncomfortable. I do believe that God made this so because we were not mental to live a mortal life. God originally created us to have eternal life. In that moment of seeing Emily's lifeless body, knowing her high spirit and energy, it showed me that there has to be life after death. Sometimes we doubt God and sometimes we really wonder about Heaven. Emily was not there in that body. Emily was completely gone. Someone who had such a happy demeanor and high energy does not just disappear. For I truly believe that Emily is in heaven with Jesus. Having these experiences has truly showed me how God is working through me and around me. He is ever present. 

      Emily, you were a beautiful soul that no one could ever forget. Anytime I walked into Sunny Days, your arms would start flailing and your legs would begin to kick. You had the biggest smile on your face, giggling with your arms stretched out for a hug. You would often times point to my belly as to ask if I was going to have a baby; you loved babies. When you became concerned about someone who you hadn't seen in a while you would reach your hand up asking if they were in Heaven. You my friend are in Heaven. I'll never forget you asking me about Grange fair as soon as the warm days of summer came. You also didn't go by a day without your ranch dressing on something. You will be missed. High Fly Emily! 

Crisis

     It has been 10.5 weeks since I first got "sick" and I truly wish for no one else to go through what I have gone through. A lot has happened since October 5th, but unfortunately the story isn't over. I've had countless doctor's appointments, numerous emergency phone calls to the psychiatrist, several changes in medication and I have had new labels added to my diagnosis list. I'm not happy, but I think I'm finally getting healthier.

    Two weekends ago I went to into crisis mode. I don't think many people really actually understand what I mean when I say crisis. On Saturday I had gone to Altoona with my mother and a few family friends. Traveling to Altoona for shopping is usually a joyous occasion. I had a horrible time, lost my temper on someone, and my mom didn't know if I was going to make it through the day without completely losing it. On Sunday we went to see a doctor at the weekend clinic who could only tell me to go home and call my Psychiatrists office. By the grace of God, I was able to talk to my Psychiatrist.

    During our last emergency call to my Psychiatrist we completely rearranged the way I am taking my medications. Prior to getting sick I was taking an SSRI and an anxiolytic regularly. I would take a medication (not narcotic) to assist in my sleep as needed. Today I am taking that same sleep aid twice a day to literally keep my body from being in a fight or flight mode. The doctor has since added Trazodone to my medication regimen for sleep. It may only be one medication, but its really hard to think about the fact that something that used to knock me out for 12 hours at a  time is now being used to keep me from panicking during the day. It has been two weeks and things have stabilized.

      A couple of weeks ago I began seeing a new therapist to hopefully help work with the anxiety. When beginning with the therapist I was extremely cautious about my optimism given that I didn't think a therapist could possibly fix a problem that a medication caused. To this day I don't think therapy would have helped without the previously mentioned adjustment. Now that I have had a couple sessions, I am beginning to see major improvement. While the improvements have been nice, there has been an increase in diagnoses and I am still not the same person I was before I took Levaquin.

     Upon initial assessment my new Psychologist diagnosed me me with moderate Major Depressive Disorder. If anyone knows me, they know that I am anything but depressed. I'm probably one of the most outgoing people you could meet, but this is what medication has done to me. Since getting my medications adjusted, I have also been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as well. During the period of such high anxiety, it was difficult to really see what all was going on until I could fully articulate everything. I, Simply J am absolutely not a diagnosis and I would wish the stuff I have gone through on no one. Please understand, I am doing well, I am healthy, but I am not the same. Please educate yourselves before you take medications. While I have Depression and OCD, they don't have me!!!

   

7 Weeks

     It has been 7 weeks since I fell ill and a few people have asked how I am doing. Over the course of the past 7 weeks a lot has happened. I've seen many doctors, I've had blood tests done, and I've had medication adjusted more than once. I am not the same person I was before I took Levaquin, but I am strong. I've taken 5 sick days, I've quit my after school job, I've seen the doctor 3 times, my blood has been drawn 3 times, and I've had 2 EKG's, and 2 medication changes. I will win this battle against Levaquin. 

     I have seen a doctor more 3 times more than I would like to admit in the past 7 weeks. During the first appointment to see the doctor for what felt like death, the doctor did and EKG and some blood work. The doctor assured me that I was fine and that I probably had a virus of some sort. During this visit the EKG was normal and the blood work was not. At this time, I had severe anxiety, a low grade fever (99 or 100.4)  that depended on which ear you checked. I also had episodes of hot flashes with sweating. The blood work showed me as having a CO2 level of 21mmol/L when the normal range is 22-32 mmol/L. My AST was 49 U/L when it should have been between 10-35 U/L. Lastly my ALT was 94 U/L when it should be between 10-35 U/L. This blood work was collected on 10/11/18. 

    After a week of dealing with what the PA thought was a virus, I continued to feel the same: severe anxiety, sweaty hot flashes, muscle tension, and jerkiness. We decided to see the doctor again. At this appointment which occurred on October 20th, the doctor suspected that I was suffering from Mono or Hepatitis. All Mono tests came back normal and my liver enzymes still looked high, but had come down. At this point everything looked normal except for a high AST of 88 U/L. The doc wanted a follow up set for 4 weeks. 

     On the night of November 2nd or the early morning hours of November 3rd, I woke up in bed with what felt like my heart pounding out of my chest as my heart was racing. We immediately contacted my PCP at this time who asked me to set up an appointment with a doc for a holter monitor. On Saturday November 4th, the doctor placed a Zico patch on me and informed me that I may have a heart arrhythmia. At this point in time it is being determined whether or not I have Paroxysmal Atrial Tachycardia which means that my heart may have an extra fiber. I have since found out that Levaquin can cause long QT intervals of the heart which can cause cardiac arrest if not resolved in time. If I have a heart arrythmia, a surgical procedure is imminent. 

      Yesterday, I had a follow up blood test done. My AST is still abnormal, but I have made it down to 54 mmol/L. I occasionally have the hot flashes. I have heart palpitations or pounding at night.  I have stopped taking my birth control and my mood seems to be manageable. I see the doctor on Tuesday. I am currently continuing to work full-time. 

Invisible

      The past month of my life has been an absolute nightmare and it has taken until tonight for me to actually right down what has happened. Sometime towards the end of September, I came down with your average cold: sore throat and cough. Over the following days, it seemed as though I could not kick the cold. It turned into Bronchitis, my mom kept me home from work, and we went to see the doctor. What happened next, is something that I wish on absolutely no one.
     On Wednesday October 3rd, I was prescribed Levaquin for what we thought was Bronchitis and possibly a UTI. I took my first dose of my antibiotic that night. I took the following day off of work and continued to take the antibiotic. Right after taking this medication on Friday October 5th, we headed up to Homecoming at Penn College. It was my first trip staying away from home, in a hotel, without my mom. As we traveled to Williamsport, I realized that my anxiety was increasing and my stomach was not feeling well. I typically have anxiety when I travel. The anxiety bothered me, but no more than expected.
      Friday evening, I enjoyed time with old college friends, ate buffalo chicken dip, and called it a night. When I returned to the hotel, I got cuddled up in my pajamas, cuddled up in bed, and I tried to fall asleep. I soon realized that I was unable to relax myself enough to fall asleep and my heart began to race. Over the course of that night, I had 2 panic attacks and I thought I was going to die.
       Saturday morning, I woke my father up around 6 because I felt like I couldn't function or stay alive without him. My father grabbed breakfast and I begged to head home despite the fact that there for several fun things to do that day. Upon arriving home, I couldn't do much more than move. My mother arrived home from a retreat and took me to see a doctor who reassured me that the medications I was on were fine and that my heart was fine.
       On Monday October 8th, my mother contacted my Psychiatrist to see if he had any idea what was going on. He gave me a call later that day to share the news that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me or the Levaquin. He told me to keep taking my antibiotic and that it may just be messing with my anti-anxiety medication. He told me to give it 2-3 days to get out of my system and that I would be just fine. That Monday, I took the last dose of the medication I will ever take, despite the fact that I had one more dose to take.
      On Thursday October 11th, I felt as though there was no way that I could function and go to work. With no ability to go to work and function, my mother took me in to see the doctor again. At the office, they performed an EKG (normal), and some blood work that came back a little abnormal, but nothing too worrisome. The doctor informed me that I just had a virus and felt miserable, despite the fact that I still felt like I was dying and felt as though I couldn't think straight.
     I went back to work on Monday October 15th as I had no choice. I have already used half of my sick days for the entire school year. I went to work all week. Wednesday October 17th turned out okay and I thought I was on the mend. Thursday October 18th everything got bad again, but I had, had a CPR/First Aid training which could've increased my anxiety. By Saturday October 20th, my mother felt the need to take me to see a doctor again to get to the bottom of everything. More blood work was run and everything came back the same, if not a smudge better. The anxiety and stomach upset that I have had over the past 3 weeks has been terrible.
      Last week, I finally informed my boss that I needed to stop doing the 2nd part of my job. I am no longer working for our after-school program. As I was working with a student today, I ran into one of my supervisors in the hall. She knows that I am not well and knows that I can't do after school anymore. The problem I sit hear with now is realizing that I probably looked great to my supervisor today, but the reality is that on the inside I'm suffering. Today was a great day too, but that doesn't mean that tomorrow will be. I plan on going to bed tonight and waking up perfect, but I realize that may not be the case. I struggle with this dilemma all time. I feel like others couldn't believe what I am saying based on how I look on the outside. The reality is that I am sick. I may not be coughing sick, but I am mentally not well and I have a virus. I don't like having something that looks so invisible to the naked eye. I don't like to upset others. I want the best for everyone and I try my best. I never want someone to think I am a wimp or think that I'm giving up too easily. I know no one is upset, but it must be so hard to understand something that is invisible. Please understand that I am suffering. Today was great, but tomorrow could be different. I will let the world know when I am well. Never take Levaquin!!!
   
   

The World

     Do you ever just feel mad at the world? Are you ever mad for no apparent reason? Well, sometimes I'm just mad at the world. There is nothing I'm mad about, yet I'm mad about everything at the same time. I know, it's confusing. I currently feel as if my world is being turned upside down, but nothing bad has happened. What has happened, is change. Aspies do not do well with change. A lot of change, but all good change. I think part of the reason it's so hard is that the changes are things that I'm not used to.
  Today I went to physical therapy. I really enjoy going to physical therapy because I always feel better when I leave. My PT is also great, understanding, and just gets me for who I am. She doesn't treat me any differently and she doesn't act like I'm weird. She's funny and she treats me just like anyone else. You'd be surprised, but it's pretty hard to find people like that. I've gotten so good at it that I'm normally able to tell if you're going to be my buddy the first time I meet you. Not that I wouldn't kill you with kindness or not, but I may have to work a little harder to interact with you then just being "myself".
   As I stepped into the physical therapy office, I heard someone say hello to me. I was surprised that someone behind the reception desk knew who I was. Well, it was my PT. She stood and talked for a couple of minutes and then she unfortunately informed me that I wouldn't be working with her tonight. CHANGE!!! Did I mention how much I hate change and how much I love consistency.
     I'm also not used to living on my own, which will eventually be another change. Let's be honest! I went to college and I lived in a dorm. When I lived in the dorm, I was fed meals, everything was in walking distance, and my RA was practically like my parent. Wait, I forgot to mention, my parents were also only a phone call away.
       Next week, I'm going to be living alone.....for a week. My parents are flying across the country to a conference. I will be working full-time and I'll actually have to come home and cook myself dinner and clean up after myself! Gasp!!!! Needless to say, I'm overwhelmed. I'm worried about rides and if my rides will get me places on times. I'm worried about cooking meals and not burning the house down. Honestly, I'm worried that my parents are going to come home to a complete disaster. I definitely don't want that to happen.
      While I don't want the house to be a complete disaster, keeping it clean is much easier said than done. You know, because this chic doesn't have very good executive functioning skills. I can't keep my own room clean let alone a whole house. Give me a bunch of storage containers and lids and I about flip out because I don't know where to begin. God only knows how I made it through college with all the tests and projects. That being said, I'm also quite organized when it comes to checking things off a list. If someone emails me, I email them right back as soon as I can. Some people don't seem as organized as they could be. While individuals who have autism are not always organized, they like the rest of the world to be extra organized. While change and organization are hard it's also hard to learn something that you basically had to unlearn.
      While I refuse to go into detail tonight, I had to learn to speak up for myself and understand that I would be heard. Let me makes this straight. I know how to advocate for my needs, but I don't always know how to speak up for myself when something is wrong. Why? Well, when I was in high school other things happened that once again I will not discuss in length. During this strenuous time in high school, I learned that if I spoke up, I would just be told to stay silent and that I was misinterpreting things. If I wasn't told this, I was basically told that not a whole lot could be done.
      On Friday when I even hinted at speaking up for myself, someone actually listened to me. I was so in shock that someone actually took my word for something instead of throwing it to the side as just another thing that Simply J misunderstood. Someone ACTUALLY LISTENED and took action. When action was taken, I was so in shock that tonight I sit here with questions that have yet to be answered. While questions have not been answered, there really is no way to answer them, but to wait. Patience!!!! I'm not very good at patience either!!!
    So I'm mad at the world! I'm mad at the world because the world doesn't always make sense to me. The world makes me anxious and at times can be very illogical. Being illogical doesn't make sense, but tomorrow is going to be a new day and this girl is going to kick ass!!!
   

Pain

     I started Physical Therapy (PT) on Monday for chronic neck and back pain that hasn't gone away since I stopped wearing my backpack. As I explained to my mother how excited I was to feel better, she reminded me to thoroughly answer the questions that the Physical Therapist asked. I thought to myself about how easy that was and that it couldn't be too difficult. When I finally met with PT, I realized just how hard those questions were to answer and just how subjective pain is.
     During my time in OT school, the therapists that shadowed would always ask their patients what their level of pain was on a scale of 1-10. A lot of the time patients would say that their pain was somewhere between 7-9. I truly couldn't imagine how much paint these individuals were in. It scared me to age. I also couldn't ever understand how they could even gauge that.
      Fast forward to Monday where I was asked similar questions. The first questions was, "where is your pain"? Well of course the paint is in my neck, shoulder, and back. If I had to give a rough estimate, I would say the upper left quadrant of my back. That question was easy.
      Then came the questions about my pain level. "On a scale of 1-10, how bad is your pain?" I thought to myself and shared with my therapist that it was probably about a 1 or 2. I thought the questions were done. Then she asked, "On a scale of 1-10, how bad has the pain been at its worst"? I took a minute to think again and then I told her it was probably a 3-4, maybe 2-3. To be perfectly honest, I was scared was scared to answer too low for fear of her thinking that nothing was wrong and I was scared to answer too high for fear that I was being too dramatic. The pain is chronic and bothersome, but it doesn't effect my ability to function. Isn't that enough? She assured me these questions purely for insurance purposes and I totally understood the need to answer them, but what came next through me for a loop.
      After asking various questions about my pain level, then she started to go more in depth. How long have I had this pain? I don't know. It started when I was in college. Well, was it a year ago? 5 years ago? I settled with somewhere around 3 years ago; it wasn't like there was an exact day where I woke up and was in excruciating pain. Then the toughest question of all came. Is the pain a sharp pain? Is the pain an ache? I had no idea how to even begin to answer this question. Isn't pain, just pain? "Well, it sure isn't some dull ache like a pulled muscle, but it sure isn't sharp like someone just stabbed me either" Can't my body just hurt? Then I told her how certain things feel like they were following asleep such as my pinky finger. I also expressed a "burning sensation on my back. She proceeded with he questions, "well is your finger numb?" I told her that it was. Then she asked, "Or is it tingling"? Wait, don't numbness and tingling go hand in hand? What does tingling even mean?
      I never thought their could be so many questions about something I thought was so simple. Answering questions and rating something have never been something that I have been good at. From past experience, breaking a finger rates as a 10 on a scale from 1-10, yet people say that child birth is like breaking 20 bones. What's the difference between numbness and tingling? If you push on something, I'm sure you'll be able to tell if your causing me great pain, purely by the amount of sound that is coming out of my mouth. What do you mean a sharp pain? I mean, I get migraines regularly that start out as a headACHE and then the pain eventually gets sharpER. All I could say is that I was sore. Pain in not a concrete thing and this Aspie doesn't understand things that are not concrete. You may be able to use words asking whether something is this or that, but what if it is neither? What if it just is?