I was 35 when I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. I was feeling sluggish (like crazy sluggish) and there wasn’t nearly enough coffee to get me through the day. Sleep!! It. Was. My. Best. Friend. I loved being in bed and when the alarm went off in the morning it was like a death sentence to get up and get moving. That was not like me, so something had to be wrong. Turning to the internet was the first, obvious choice and after self-diagnosing with just about everything from a heart condition to cancer, I finally decided to see my doctor. Good idea, huh? Upon the results of a blood test, my thyroid was so out of whack that I am not sure how I mustered the energy to drive to her office to give her blood much less hear the results. Getting that news came with both relief and annoyance. For starters, I wasn’t dying (thanks for scaring me WebMD) and medicine would help. Yay! But wait. I was going to have to take medicine EVERY DAY for the rest of my life! What? I am only 35! I am way too young, right? What was next? Blood pressure medicine? A low sodium diet? I waited for 2 days to fill the prescription purely out of disbelief. Finally, when I was moving slower than a snail, I filled it and came to grips with the reality. I was now officially ‘on medication’. Every. Day. Having been sick so very little in my life, this was going to be an adjustment. You would think that the thought of getting my thyroid back in line, so I felt like living would have motivated me to remember to take it every day. Yea, that didn’t happen (brain fog is a real thyroid symptom by the way). I read all sorts of tricks about how to remember to take this life changing medicine and moved the bottle all over the place, put it upside down, right side up, counted the number of pills (but then I couldn’t remember what the number was from the day before so that wasn’t going to work) and then I finally broke down and bought a daily pill box. You know the ones with the S-M-T-W-TH-F-S on the top that you flip open. It was the only way I could remember each day. So sad.

After a few months, my doctor referred me to an Endocrinologist. She said that I would be better off having someone who specializes in this to monitor the changes. I wasn’t super happy about that because now, I was getting a ‘Specialist’ to go with my ‘every day medicine’. It wasn’t long before I was told that not only do I have hypothyroidism, but I have Hoshimotos Hypothyroidism. Yep. The autoimmune kind. Nice, huh? My doctor explained to me (in very large and important sounding words) that my body was attacking the good thyroid and basically killing it. What? Why would my body do that? What did I do to make it mad? I was back in disbelief yet again. I just decided that I would educate my way out of this mess somehow. There had to be a diet, exercise plan, supplements or something, right? Well, that is impossible unless I can create a new thyroid gland that has a force field around it, so my body will stop trying to kill it. That wasn’t happening, so I had to settle for medicine, management and to read all I could about what to expect with this demon living in my blood stream. Next stop assisted living. Again, I was only 35 (I may have made it to 36 by this time but probably not, I can’t remember. It is the brain fog’s fault).

Several years went by and I got pretty good about keeping my little pill box up to date. I had a few dosage changes and was back to feeling like a human consistently. Then I turned 43. Yep, the ripe old age of 43. I started having some aching in my left elbow. It felt like the kind of ache you feel after holding the telephone up to your left ear for a long time. It would come and go but was present most days. Advil helped when I thought to take it (I am sort of stubborn about medicine sometimes) but then my ankles, wrists and fingers began to chime in. I had started running the year before and was up to about 25 miles a week at this point, so I thought maybe it was just the wear and tear on my body from that. I popped my knuckles (thanks to my dad who taught me that as a little girl) so maybe that was it. I was a competitive figure skater and so maybe that was it. I pretty much had a reason for it (without looking on the internet this time) and so in a casual conversation at my physical, my doctor ran a blood test looking for Rheumatoid arthritis. She was smart to not tell me that ahead of time because I would have pitched a fit! I was only 43!!! It is not time for rheumatoid arthritis. And while I had always been an athlete, I knew people much harder on their bodies who didn’t have arthritis. Thankfully I didn’t know it was even happening. At my follow up to discuss the results, my doctor let me know that she screened for RA and……Lupus! What?? One was bad enough! She said that my body had inflammation in it and that she needed to send me to a specialist. Here we go again. I now have 2 specialists. Are you serious? Did I mention that I was only 43? Well, off I go. I am going to see a Rheumatologist. Sheesh….. I just had some sore joints. It isn’t like I couldn’t function. Well this Rheumatologist was quiet, smart and seemed to sum it up in 5 minutes of meeting me. She suggested more blood work to rule out some things, and then we would get a plan. As she was walking out the door from visit #1 she asked one more question. “Do you ever have skin rashes or patches of dry skin that just show up?” I said, yes and she said “OK. See you in 2 weeks”. What did that mean? Don’t just ask me that question and then walk out? Come back and explain why you wanted to know! Yep, nothing. I would just have to wait to find out.

Two weeks later I go back for the big results. I, sadly, had looked up RA and Lupus on line (again, when will I learn?) and neither option sounded appealing. I also stumbled upon all the other auto immunes and thought that it could be so much worse. Who knew that MS was autoimmune? Or Type 1 Diabetes, or even Celiac? What is happening? Were these around when my great-grandparents were my age? Not so sure they all were. It must be the chicken. My 2nd specialist comes in to share with me that I have Sjogren’s Syndrome. I have what? I can’t even pronounce that unless you say it again, much less spell it. What is that? She was great and told me that it would be more inconvenient than anything and that Venus Williams the tennis player has it too. I guess that made me feel better? I am not sure I remember hearing much more after that except that there is no cure and there are just a few options for treatment. We talked through treatment and I left with more medicine. More every day medicine. Thank goodness for my little daily pill box. My Synthroid was getting a roommate. When I got home, I looked up all I could on the internet and discovered that there wasn’t a lot out there. It was all pretty scary. Sjogren’s won’t kill you I learned but what it can do to your eyes and mouth would make you want to die. I learned that day that this second autoimmune is attacking and killing my moisture producing glands in my body. So, I have these little abnormal antibodies in my blood which are trying to stop my eyes from making tears and my mouth from making saliva. So…. again the question comes up….. what did I do to make my body mad? Why oh why? Not wanting to sound too dramatic, the doctor said that stress can make the symptoms worse and that I needed as much rest as possible. At that time, I was getting divorced, my dad was dying, and I was working as an almost single mother. Yea, I will see what I can do about stress and rest. Not.

The first (and then only) attempt at medicine was not great. She started me on steroids which made me feel great but who can live on those forever? Ummm….me? Not really. The second medicine was supposed to slow the progression of the damage from the disease since this is a slow, progressive killer. I found quickly that this medicine, Plaquenil was not my friend. I was taking 2 a day and it didn’t take long for the one unmentioned side effect to show up. Bruising. It was crazy. The lower half of my body looked like I was beaten every day. New bruises all the time. Bruises in places that were bruise-free the night before. It was bizarre and crazy. Like I said earlier, I am not the most agreeable with taking medication much less one that is going to make me look like a battered woman. When I saw my Rheumatologist for a follow up she was all like ‘yea, it does that sometimes.’ What? Hello? Small side effect that was NOT listed on the drug paperwork! She suggested that we go to 1 per day and I promptly decided on my own to take none per day. I was not putting that back in my body. So off I go and decide to roll the dice with the slow progression part. How much could the venom medicine really slow down the progression? I wasn’t going to explain my bruises to anyone just to maybe slow things down? I moved on and decided to just see what would happen. I did get an ophthalmologist who has helped with the dry eyes. Specialist #3. I like him, and he has been very helpful. I have tried all the dry mouth toothpastes and mouth washes. They are just OK and didn’t seem to make that much of a difference, so I went back to regular stuff. My joints hurt from time to time and my stress level has peaks and valleys like everyone. I can say that stress is probably not great as when it is high, the symptoms are very present. Rest is important for a lot of things and until my life slows down, I am doing what I can to get rest.

Flashforward 5 years to today. I finally had to go back to see the rhuematologist. It was time to get a plan. There are new drugs on the market. One is helpful for making more saliva. I am taking it now and occasionally I feel like I am making enough for 2 people. She put me back on the Plaquenil. Against my better judgment said ‘OK. But only 1 per day’. I don’t take it every day It has come crazy rules about when to take it and with what. That seems inconvenient to me, so I take it when I remember. I am still in a bit of denial that I even have Sjogren’s, but the blood tests I have had continue to point to yes. I have a good friend whose Mom has it and living with it and is awful. I am sure as I continue to age the symptoms will get worse. I am just hopeful that the advances in medicine will move ahead fast so maybe before it leaves me unable to swallow food without water or keep my eyes from feeling like the Sahara. I am just rolling the dice on that.

There are diets, vitamins and all sorts of all-natural forms of relief but I haven’t gone down those roads yet. I finally joined an online support group and I have read about the new treatment methods that are coming. I know it could be worse, and I am grateful for what I must handle compared to the stories of folks I read about. I would love for you all to take a few minutes and read all about Sjogren’s. It is often misdiagnosed and it usually a long time to figure out (typically by process of elimination when other drugs for other auto immunes don’t work). It is most often diagnosed in women in their 40s. (Oh great! Welcome to the 40 club! You have Sjogren’s!) And 9 out of 10 diagnosed with this are women (that is OK, we handle it better than men would anyway).

Thanks for reading friends!

Kimberley 🙂

Hey friends!  This is a blog I wrote in May of 2016.  Wanted to share it again…I am still middle aged (thank goodness!) and I would write it exactly the same still!  I am now 17,480 days old and wiser still….

I was recently called a #saltymiddleagedmom on social media by a girl who I give no time or attention to in my everyday life. I have almost no interaction with at all however we are somewhat connected. I was taken aback by that and not because I thought that to be true necessarily (whatever that is) but because I could not believe the lack of respect that was shown to an adult. (Although I shouldn’t be) Upon more thought I realized that she is a product of what she has learned thus far in her life and then I was no longer irked. I would hope that if either of my children showed little to no respect to an adult I would handle it and then look at how they have lived to learn that is acceptable. While I am not the perfect parent and have made my fair share of mistakes, I know that I am working to be a better person today more than I was yesterday and so on.

I have shared this incident with several of my friends-most are middle-aged and come from every different walk of life and economic background and the same question came up every time “what is a salty middle-aged mom?” This is how I interpret it from my point of view.

1) Yes, I am middle-aged. She was correct about that. We all are currently middle-aged, we will be, or we have been already. Nothing wrong with that. It is a sign that I have made it half-way (hopefully) through life. I have experienced a lot of awesome in the first half of this God given life and have no doubt that I will experience so much more in the second half. I have had some days I would rather not repeat and some I would love to relive. But don’t we all have some of those days?

2) I physically feel better at middle age than I felt at quarter age! Do I have things to manage with my middle-aged body? Yes, but that is OK. I have earned that by living half of my life so far. I take far better care of myself now than I did as a teenager or even at 25. I guess that comes from an appreciation of the body that God gave me. Plus, I feel like I look better than I did at quarter age (as teenagers in the 80s, I can tell you we ALL look better now!) Do I see flaws in my physical appearance—absolutely! Am I as fit as I would like to be? Not even close. But I am grateful for good genetics that have brought me this far! I embrace my number. My middle-aged number!  I believe most age is just attitude anyway and that starts from the inside. I truly appreciate what is beautiful unlike before. I think the middle-aged woman who has raised great kids or worked her way up the corporate ladder or gone back to school to get or finish her degree or spent more volunteer hours than she can count helping other people or who has cared for an aging parent or watched a spouse die or who had so little time to take care of herself. To me, that is an absolutely beautiful middle-aged woman. The list could go on and on. Those middle-aged women are inspiration to me and what I use as the mark of beauty.

3) I am SO much smarter–both book smarts and street smarts. I thought I knew everything when I was quarter aged. My mom couldn’t tell me anything because I knew it ALL! Funny to think how little I actually knew then. We would all love to go back to the younger self with the knowledge we have as adults but instead of wishing for that, I embrace what I do know and ALL that I still have left to learn. I am so not done even at what I hope is the half-way mark of my life!

4) I appreciate what is truly important! I believe that I always understood the big IT (I talk about it a lot) but I get the BIG IT now more than ever. I can only imagine how much more that appreciation will grow! Life is truly about the relationships we have and the experiences we learn and grow from. It is so not about the ‘stuff’.

5) I think I am raising pretty awesome sons. They aren’t perfect and I will never be the mom who thinks they are untouchable.  I see them for who they are. I am blessed God chose me to be their Mom, in spite of my flaws. They are compassionate, loving, bright, funny, kind human beings. I, like all parents, hope they grow up to be the amazing men I know that they can be. Whatever paths they take in life, I pray for them to love and follow God and be happy. Happy people inspire others. Those boys are the best 2 things I have ever done with this middle-aged life.

6) I am much more selective in how I spend my time at this age. I am still in the ‘busy years’ (as my mom says) and I am keenly aware that I am half-way through (again-hopefully) my life. I would give anything to have some days back but instead of dwelling on that, I chose to look at each day as it is a gift and focus on the forward. I am grateful for the middle-aged knowledge of what is worth going to the mat over and what isn’t. The confidence that comes with that is amazing. I can say that in the first half of my life the things I was most concerned with aren’t even a blip at this point. It is about quality and not quantity.

I could go on but I won’t. Let’s just say that I embrace being called a #saltymiddleagedmom (even knowing how she meant it) because that is apparently what I am!  It is a compliment as far as I am concerned. As of today, I have lived 16,553 days and if I am lucky to make it 16,553 more than I will be 90 years old. Imagine what I will have experienced by that point!

Thanks for reading friends,

Kimberley 

Ok, ok, ok, so I don’t usually write negative stuff, so I apologize if that comes off that way! I just had something touch a nerve and decided to share!

By now, I am sure most of you have heard about the Build-A-Bear debacle from last week. If you don’t know what happened then I will quickly fill you in. Build-A-Bear ran a promotion for ‘Pay Your Age Day’ at all their US, UK and Canada locations. This one-day promotion was to allow children to purchase a bear for the amount equal to their age instead of the $35++ dollars that they normally cost. Unsure of this promotion’s popularity, the stores were overwhelmed with the number of folks that turned out on this one day! Out of concern for safety and unable to serve them all, they closed their doors early giving out vouchers for a return trip at a later date.

Needless to say, it was a very unfortunate day at Build-A-Bear as there were a lot of children and their parents turned away. And I mean A LOT and after standing in line for hours!

The news reported this story the next day, and the CEO (on national television) apologizes to everyone claiming full responsibility while trying to explain what happened. She owns the failure AND she was as honest and apologetic as she could be considering they had no way of knowing how popular this promotion was going to be. I was very impressed with her candor, her sincere apology and that she was willing to put herself out there immediately after it failed—making no excuses, blaming no one else and not hiding in her office waiting for the storm to pass. *Side note– I want to believe that in a meeting (when the planning of this promotion was being discussed) there was a staff member who probably said that this was going to be a HUGE day and probably mentioned that a fully stocked (or overstocked) inventory as well as fully staffed stores may not be all they need to pull this off. I want to believe that an organization this successful has to have someone mention that this may not go as smoothly as it sounds. Someone to play devils advocate?? Maybe not!? I bet they will analyze differently going forward with any promotions.

So truly, what is the big deal about this? What is the bigger underlying issue here? What I think has hit a nerve (or 12) of mine is all the negative reaction from some of the people that attempted to go that day. It has truly made me stop and say ‘Really? Is that where we are today??’ I can hardly believe the barrage of social media posts that are ranting and raving that someone’s child is ‘devastated, overwhelmingly disappointed, heart-broken, and having had their worst day ever’. Wow! Really? Are you telling me that young children today are going to be so emotionally devastated over this that they may not actually get over it? That day was truly ‘their worst day ever??’ What about baby shots, teething, having their first cold, having to be away from their mom or dad for the first time….” I could go on and on. I think that not getting a Build-A-Bear on THAT particular day (but getting the opportunity to get one on another day instead of not at all) should probably not be their ‘ the worst day ever’ but I am only trying to be real here.

So, what happens now? How are these kids supposed to grow up and face REAL DISAPPOINTMENT? What about the college they don’t get into, the team they don’t make, the grade on the test they don’t earn even though they tried their best, the job they don’t get…. Again, I could go on and on. What happens to them then? How are they EVER going to be prepared for the disappointments in life if their parents are making this out to be the worst day ever and putting it on social media? I am not cold-hearted folks but how are these children going to grow and be prepared for life?? I am a mom and stepmom to 6 kids total ranging in age from 19-7 and I have lived some, so I am not on a soapbox with no life experience. But seriously, people. Why can’t we just tell these kids that the humans at Build-A-Bear gave it a try and it didn’t work. We ALL bite off more than we can sometimes chew, including the parent’s who are blasting their disdain on social media with hashtags!

Did Build-A-Bear let down their customers? Sure they did. Was it intentional? No way! Did they apologize and are they doing ALL they can at this point to right the situation? Yes, they are. So what about teaching the disappointed children out there the valuable lesson of making mistakes and how to correct them. The lesson of trying something new that you hope will work, about owning your failure when it hurts someone else and about counting all the blessing you have instead of focusing on what you don’t have at that moment. I can’t help but think about all the kids all over the world who for one, don’t know what Build-A-Bear is because they live in an orphanage in Russia and would like to ‘Build-A-Family’. How about the homeless kids that want nothing more than a loving parents, hot meal, shower, clean clothes and a bed to sleep in. Or the children who live in other countries who want clean, safe running water. It sort of puts it into perspective, doesn’t it?

In my humble opinion, we are better than whining and complaining over this. I know we are. I fully understand the frustration of this as I equate it to standing in line at the DMV only to have the day end before my number is called and them telling me I have to come back tomorrow, but let’s try to turn this situation into something that we can teach our youth instead of pitching a two-year-old fit over it. I am happy to say that there were some real mom’s out there who posted pictures saying things like “my child and I stood in line, and we didn’t get a build a bear. She isn’t whining, and she will be just fine”. Thank you for seeing it for what it is!  I commend you Build-A-Bear and I asked my husband to go buy some of your stock!

Thanks for reading friends,

Kimberley 🙂

My friend. It has been exactly 591 days since you left us.  While at my desk that Tuesday, just like for all of us who love you, the world changed.  I will never forget the words Rick spoke into the phone.  I will never forget hearing Hannah’s voice on the other end of the line when she called me.  I will never forget hearing our friends David and Julie voices or Janet or Dee Dee’s sobs when I had to make the call I never thought I would have to make.  Not you.  You couldn’t be gone.  No way, no how.  I know you didn’t leave us by your choice, but my head and heart are still wrestling to put some explanation together about why.  591 days ago.

There is a HUGE VOID where you once stood.   Still, a huge void.  I believe there will always be a huge void.  I know in my head that time should be healing some of the raw of that October day, but reality is that it still feels as huge today as it did on day 1.  591 days later.  If I am being completely honest, I am still SO MAD.  I am still SO incredibly sad. I have thought over and over ‘if there was just a reason maybe I could process better’ but there really isn’t a reason that any person, medical or the like, can tell us.  How is it that this beautiful, full of life and love, happy, laughing, totally accepting, joy-giving girl could just be taken from this world in a moment?   HOW??  If I just KNEW the WHY,  then maybe the heavy wouldn’t be so heavy. Or maybe not…. but at least my head would perhaps understand what my heart just can’t.  You took NOTHING from anyone and you gave EVERYTHING to those lucky enough to know you.

We get together, our group of friends, and tell stories and laugh, but we cling tightly to each other while trying to protect Rick and your girls.   None of us ever thought YOU would be taken so young and I am sure I can speak for everyone who loves you,  when I say I feel robbed by all of this.  I feel like there is no explanation and no reason for any of this.  Selfishly we ALL need you still.  I know in my conscience mind that we don’t have control over our numbered days but in my heart, I just can’t explain it, justify it, understand it, reason it.

I see you in your girls.  Your beautiful girls.  Hannah has the crinkle in her nose when she smiles just like you.  She lights up the room just like you.  Her laughter sounds so much like you that I often have to stop and remind myself that it isn’t you in the room.  Sarah Cate has your hands.  She has your long fingers and so many of your mannerisms.  She has these very Sarah Cate expressions that look JUST LIKE YOU! I will see one in a moment and just like hearing Hannah laugh, it takes me back to our childhood and I could swear you are right there.  I believe in those moments that you ARE right there.  You are in the room with us.

Your girls are truly the best parts of you.  They are smart, creative, approachable, warm, loving, passionate and without question…. accepting of ALL people, just like you. You did an unbelievable job with them for the time you were given.  It wasn’t even close to enough but your impact on them is beautiful.   Do you remember how I always said I wanted you to raise my children?  You always made it look so effortless, even though we know it sometimes is anything but that!

Your Rick is doing amazing things with taking the reins.  He has had some HUGE moments of accomplishment with them that he maneuvered alone these last 591 days.  We were there for a lot of them, so he wasn’t really ‘alone’ however these are moments that you two needed to be able to look at each other and celebrate the amazing of your girls.  We can’t replace the presence of you, but he really is doing an amazing job considering no one gave him a ‘how-to book’ at your funeral.  I have told him as have many others have,  how much you loved him and the life you two built.  That couldn’t be truer.  You always had this sparkle in your eye when you talked about him.  It is a love that everyone should know and feel at least one time in their lives.  He is still SO lost without you.  Hell, we all are.

I hope that one day the raw will not feel so raw although I know that no amount of time will pass that I won’t miss you.  I miss the warmth of your hugs, the safe I always felt with you, the gift that you always have been to me.  I savor the time I get with your girls as they always make me feel close to you.  And I am forever grateful for the 90-minute phone call I had with you just 4 days before you were gone.  That was as big a gift to me as was the day your beautiful soul became my friend in 1977.

Please keep watching over us….

Thanks for reading friends,

Kimberley 🙂