I Wore Slippers to a Funeral

As you can see, the title of this post is "I Wore Slippers to a Funeral."

That's because I did.  I wore slippers to a funeral.  And I am very seriously contemplating wearing them to the next wedding I attend.  I've also worn them to church, bible study, to dinner, a lecture, the grocery store, the drug store, the dentist, a tea.

Now this is not the time to make fun of me for not having a "life", for we all know by this time I go nowhere of any significance.  But allow me state for the record that I also intend to wear them to a wedding shower, comedy show, and a ZZTopp concert on Halloween.

Talk about a Sharp Dressed Man!  (Well, woman, person, human. . . )

I told you a few weeks ago that I was looking forward to receiving my AllBird slippers and they have changed my life.

Move over UGGs.   There's a new ewe in town!

#Sjogren'sStinks

All of this.

Every day

All day and all night

To battle dry eyes.

And yet still I continue to rip my corneas each morning.

#Sjogren'sStinks

Because

While glued to the television watching the coverage of yet-more senseless killings this week, I've been ruminating over something.  And it has to do with survivors.

We can all understand why they would grapple with a sense of guilt.  "Why did I get to live and tell my tale when others were cut down in their prime?  Did I do enough to help my fellow man?  Why them and not me?"

And I watch the news anchors respond with the reply,  "Because you were meant to go on and do something special with your life."

But I'm here to tell you that they've got it all wrong.  You didn't get spared because you were meant to do something special with your life.   You can do something special because you were spared.  Because you've seen horror, you can now bring beauty into this world.  Because you feel weak, you can now be your strongest.  Because you've seen the worst, you can work for the best.

Okay, I admit I'm not God, but I'm pretty sure he did not pre-ordain this violence.  This was senseless and random.  And only those who face adversity truly know what it is like to be strong.

You're a survivor.

I'm a survivor. 

Yes, I may be sick.  But I try to be the best darn sick person the Good Lord ever put upon this earth.

Let's Talk Feet

I love talking feet because I have so much to say about mine.

Yes, we all know they hurt and burn and that I simply cannot find any shoes that feel good on my feet aside from my UGG slippers, so I won't bore you with THAT information.  Let's talk instead about what makes them feel good.  And, believe it or not, it has nothing to do with piggies going to market, or staying home, or eating roast beet.  Nada.

 Turns out it has to do with a company named Allbirds who then turn around and then make it about sheep.

And thank the good Lord that they do; for I am in love with those sheep and their soft comfy wool which lines the inside of my UGGS and who now contribute their beautiful 100% merino wool in my soon-to-be Allbirds which I just ordered today..


 It's like my feet have now joined an on-line dating site and will be having their first meet-up in five to seven business days.

I'm prepared to fall in love at first touch.

Will let you know when the nuptials happen!

An Addendum

So if you were to read my post on my other blog titled, A Fall of Olympic Proportions, you might just think it was funny story about a fall.

I'm here to tell you all of the reasons it was not;  the things that that 100-voice chorus did not know about me and my circumstances as they watched that fall.

1) No one knew how I agonized over going to that event in the first place.  How I despaired about being with 1250 other attendees.  How I worried about having to stand too long during a cocktail hour.  And so no one knew that my plan was to arrive late and so that is how I came to notice that the valet parking was a nightmare; for certainly I could not walk the long distance from the self-parking area.

2)  Likewise, no one knew how I agonized over which shoes I was going to wear; for we all know that the ONLY footwear that feels good on my feet are my UGG boots and slippers and I certainly couldn't wear either of those to a fancy event.  And so I chose a sensible shoe with a bit of a chunky heel and - most importantly - extra padding on the ball of my feet.

3) And as the speeches were wrapping up and the time came close to retrieve the car from the valet service, no one knows how I worried that I was going to have to stand in a long and tiring line waiting for an overwhelmed valet staff to bring my car.  And so I begged my husband to hustle to the front door so he could be first in line - which indeed he was.

4) But no one noticed that as I joined him on that second step of that grand entrance, waiting for our car, my right foot was already halfway off of that step and I didn't sense it.  Hence, the momentum of the weight shift as I turned around to say something to a friend and turned around again, was more than my neuropathic feet and legs could handle and I fell forward out of the blue.

5) No one but my husband knows how upset I became on the ride home as he tried to blame my fall on poorly marked steps at a brand new venue.  But I knew what the cause of my fall was and it somehow upset me that it appeared that he - like so many others - wanted to minimize or explain away my ailments.

Nobody knows.

I tell you, nobody knows.

And so I told him that I didn't want to hear a million excuses about the size or construction of those steps.  I wanted - instead - for him, to say "Gee, Liz, I'm sorry that your freakin' disease has caused you to lose all feeling in your feet and so you couldn't gauge where you were and consequently fell on your ass in front of about 100 people."

Yes, I yearned for him to say, "I'm sorry that your feet made you look like an ass."

Then, and only then, I would know someone else knew.

Loving It!

 If you happened to read my post from the other day where I complained about my skin being on fire from small fiber peripheral neuropathy, you will understand why I quickly took to my bathtub after writing it.

I have gotten back into the habit of taking baths lately to try and sooth my skin.  And while I had always used a combo of baking soda and sort sort of scented epsom salts, I decided to try Dr Teal's foaming bath with essential oils instead.

Clear the bathtub people!

I'm sure it must be the essential oil element which left my skin so hydrated and smooth, but I may never use anything else again!

Just Any Day in Paradise

Today, my friends, I feel just like that photo.

Only the burning sensation is not in my hand.  It's beyond my hand and up around my elbow.  It's also moved past my feet; although the tops of my feet are forever burning an eternal flame.  No, it's radiating up my shin.

On the right side of my body only today.

That's the way it is today.

This day.  This time.  On this occasion.

And the fatigue?  It's an In Your Face Fatigue day. The one where my head feels like I'm already asleep so my body must follow.  Hard to sleep, though, when your skin is on fire.  The bedclothes feel like my enemy; in fact ALL clothes feel scratchy and bothersome to me.

Today.

I should be standing naked in a pool of tepid water. Or perhaps take the job of dis-robed statue of naked woman in a fountain.

Yes, that just might do it.  We"ll name it The Neuropathy Flame.

The Buddhist in me tells me that everything is subject to impermanence and change.  That things may be different tomorrow.   My Mindfulness approach tells me not to judge it today.  My Catholocity tells me to offer it up.

Today.

Offer it up today, girl!